Part XVII Isabel
Michael Guerin is the single most annoying, infuriating, adorable alien on the face of the planet.
Don't laugh. It's the truth. I swear it. It would be true if we were on an entire planet of aliens. But we aren't, and here his only competition is my brother. I think. We never met any other aliens, except for Tess, but she belonged with us and was a girl anyway. Is a girl.
Actually, I still wonder about Tess. I worry about her. The world can be a cruel place. I entered a few of her dreams without her knowledge. They were horrible.
Sometimes I wonder when she's gonna come home. But, ironically, I was not wondering at the time it would've been most appropriate to wonder. Michael and I were in my room, with the door shut.
Oh, not like we were doing anything! Michael's my friend. My BEST friend, after Max. I love him.
Don't raise your eyebrow like that. I do love him. As a friend. As family. That doesn't explain this little twist I get in my stomach every time he flirts with those stupid waitresses at the Crashdown, or some of the other girls at school. He doesn't flirt with me.
We never talked about it but we both agree—what we have is too good, too important to risk on a romance. Cause after a romance goes sour there's no going back. Trust me. I know. Behind my back some of the bitter ex-girlfriends of the boys I date call me—no. It doesn't matter. I have it all. A pretty face. A mind behind the face. Money. Parents and a brother who loves me. A best friend I would walk through fire for. I'm popular. I have safety and security. I have a future outside of Roswell. And I'm an alien, so that means that even when I spill (which hasn't happened in years) I always look perfect. Not a hair out of place.
That makes some people, especially girls, jealous. Not that anyone knows about the alien part. They just know that I always seem perfect. They don't understand that I'm not really a "serial dater." (I'll bet you anything Perfect Parker coined the term. She hates me.) I can't help it if I flirt a little, and then guys dump their girlfriends. I don't encourage them. That's why I flirt with the attached guys, so they won't get any ideas. Somehow it doesn't really work like that.
Three guys are different. Max, my brother. Michael, my very best friend. And Kyle. I couldn't tell you how or when exactly Kyle turned different. He's just never really been romantic to me. Max likes to joke that they're the only decent guys in Roswell, and that's why I won't date them. He says I intentionally go for morons with the same IQ as a rock or sleazeballs my dad will chase away so I won't get hurt. I tell him to shut up.
But, anyway, Michael and me in my room. I was putting together a photo album at my desk. He was sitting on the bed, watching me and teasing me. I was teasing him back. I'm not sure exactly what I said—something about never getting a waitress when I'm with him. He said it's cause they know they'll look like dogs next to me. I said they've heard of his reputation and know he'll maim their hearts.
He was insisting that they knew no man, particularly him, would even dream of glancing at another woman while I was around. Then (not to sound like a character on Beverly Hills 90210) my heart stopped for a beat. I turned around, and he was standing right behind me. I forgot about the photo album, I forgot what we'd been talking about, forgot everything except his face. His eyes were soulful. Yes. I know that sounds corny as hell. It's true. His mouth—words have not been invented that can describe his mouth.
He leaned down. He was going to kiss me! I knew it. I knew it from years of dating clumsy human boys. I knew that all those idiots and lechers had been leading up to this. To Michael, who is, in spite, or maybe because of being, my best friend. And then Max barged in.
Max does not barge. He knocks politely. And usually if he saw us like this—well, on a GOOD day he would laugh at us and leave us alone to be embarrassed. On a bad day he would threaten to kill Michael.
He didn't even notice. We jumped apart as guilty as sin and he didn't even notice. He was glowing. "She's back." He said. "She's back, she's with me and Perfect Parker is off my case forever."
"Wait a sec." I'll never know if I said it or Michael.
"Who?" I'll never know who said that either.
Max looked at us like we were out of our minds. "TESS." He cried. "Tess is home."
Then Michael and I understood. Max was too blinded by happiness to care that we were confused. Or crazy.
"Where is she?" I know I said that.
"She's with Jim and Kyle. She wanted a little time alone with them. They're her family too. I wanted to tell you, she's got something big to ask us."
"What?" Michael said. "Something big like what? What's she know Max? Where we came from? Why we're here? If we're going back?"
"Those are questions the humans can't answer for each other. It's personal, your answer. But yeah, we have some choices to make." Max was calming down. "Oh, did I interrupt something?"
"Shut up Max." I said. I say that a lot.
Michael was as red as I felt. "Shut up." He said, at the exact same time I did.
"I did, didn't I?" He grinned, looking positively delighted. "Oh, I can see what I'll get out of this now."
I grabbed scissors off the desk. They were very dull manicure scissors. I'd been using them to clip my nails earlier. Now I used them to menace my brother. "Mention this to anybody and I'll cut you apart with these and I'll leave you for the scorpions in the desert."
Max stopped laughing. "I interrupted something serious." He declared. "From now on you leave the door open."
Michael removed the scissors from my hand. "Max, buddy, it's me. Chill."
Max looks doubtful. I grin at him. "Come on Max. He was just showing me what to watch out for on my next date with Jerry."
"Ri-I-I-ight."
Not even I bought that one.
"When's Tess coming?" I ask. "What's she like? Is she still sweet? Is she tall like me? Is--?"
"She is beautiful." Max says. I suddenly realize I've never heard the word beautiful said quite that way before. And suddenly there's a little knot in my stomach. It's familiar from when Maria or Courtney flirts with Michael. It's jealousy.
But why? I've always known that half of Max belonged to Tess. But he's my brother and a lot of him has always been mine. He's the one who used to wake me up from nightmares—but I won't revisit that. It was a dark time. It took Michael to banish the nightmares, to know I am not that mysterious and shadowy dream-creature-demon called Vilandra. That's why I never considered kissing Michael before today. Well, I mean considered doing it in real life. Daydreaming about kissing him has saved me from MANY a boring Trig class. But I've never actually thought about kissing him for real. It's a dream. Because I could never ever bear to lose him. Literally, I think a part of me would die. Not that a part of me doesn't die every time I see him with girls like Maria Deluca. She's Perfect Parker's best friend, and she's terrified of me. But for all that she's a nice girl.
Back to Max. He's experiencing such a soul-stirring emotion, one that has changed him already from the brother I know. Things will never be the same for any of us. I don't know if I'll ever feel the way Max is feeling right now. But if Michael HAD kissed me—I bar my mind from that road.
I'm not jealous because my brother has Tess now. I'm jealous because even though a lot of people have called me beautiful, no one's ever said it that way. That way means inside and out. I'm jealous because I don't know if I'll ever be knocked over the head with love like that.
I smile a little at Max as he continues to rave about how perfect Tess is. This is the first time in years I've seen Max this excited, this full of life. It's a good sight. I smile up at Michael, who smiles down at me. Not a real smile. Michael doesn't do real smiles. It's a Michael smile, and I know I'm the one of the few people who has ever gotten that smile. And I'm probably the only one who appreciates how much it means. I smile my special smile at him, and we tune Max out. For a second it's just him and me. And confusing as that is, for a little while it's enough that we're in it together.