Race Around

AN: Branching out from Newsie fiction. And trying to get this new system under my belt. My word processor hates it. My Roswell world is strange. I pick and choose the details that I want to include and all I can guess is that this picks up where Season Two dropped off, sort of.

Chapter 1

He could tell by the "one beep, two beep" rule that Monday morning had not started off smoothly within the Evan's household. Checking the lock on his door he jumped down his front steps, slapping his back pocket so that his wallet and keys jingled, as Isabel pushed the horn for the third, fourth, and fifth time.

"Whys she driving?" Michael asked, throwing first his book bag and then himself into the backseat of Max's jeep.

Max turned slowly around in his seat, not wanting to make any frantic movements in fear of another Isabel attack. He shrugged, eyes widening as Isabel only paused at the street's stop sign. "Michael, Max, we've gone over this." All three lurched forwards as the jeep stopped for a red light. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel Isabel glared at Michael through the rear view mirror. "Today is Susanna's first day of school and we're picking her up so that she doesn't have to take that nasty bus…"

"Who's she talking about?" Michael interrupted causing Isabel to growl loudly and stop shortly in one of the newer neighborhoods of Roswell. She jumped out of the jeep, throwing Max the keys before running up to a house whose windows still had the brand new stickers on them.

Max shifted over to the driver's seat, amused with Isabel's anxiety and Michael's blatant disregard. "Susanna's a family friend, Michael. Remember? She used to live in Roswell. Her and Iz were like, best friends in first grade."

"Ah, so, we're giving the girl a ride to school. Lovely."

"They're only going to be here a couple months. I guess her and her dad move around a lot." Max started up the car as both girls exited the house. Isabel was beaming as she helped carry one of Susanna's many bags. "We can entertain her for then and hopefully stay out of trouble long enough to avoid any more explanations."

"Preaching to the choir Maxwell." Michael grumbled just as the two girls reached the jeep. He always knew when to take a jab at Max for starting this whole thing of introducing humans into the bunch. Liz had only opened a portal for more to follow.

The girl beaming in the seat next to him tucked a backpack in between her legs before grabbing a large black portfolio from Isabel and resting it on her lap. "Hi, you must be Michael." She offered her hand for him to shake.

"Yup."

"I'm Susanna."

"Hey."

From the driver's seat, Max caught Susanna's eye. "He's not much of a talker."

Isabel twisted in her seat, deftly changing the subject. "What's your schedule like?"

Susanna leaned easily against the frame of the Jeep after passing Isabel a heavily folded and unfolded paper. Notes were written on all sides and Michael glanced a quickly written phone number with the words 'UFO Museum' in one corner. He thought nothing of it, about to mention that Max worked there, when Susanna herself began to speak.

"American Lit. with Mr. Tuner. He any good?" The duo in front nodded their heads. "Then Environmental, some Virtual High School class and Art 4 last. Perfect end to the day." Susanna tilted her face towards the blue New Mexico sky. "You guys have any of the same classes?"

Max shook his head while Isabel frowned quickly. "Michael, aren't you in that Art class?" She remembered.

"Yea."

Susanna smiled, bouncing in her seat to face him better. "Really? Do you like it? I have a meeting with Mr. Gerwick this afternoon. He wants to look at my stuff so that I don't have to start at Art 2 or something."

"He's okay. Pretty much lets you do your own stuff." Michael ran a hand through his hair and Susanna laughed. She reached out to touch where a long blob of red paint had landed on his forearm.

Michael reacted slowly, too surprised to pull his hand away as quickly as would have been expected. Still laughing at the other spots of paint she encountered as she moved up his wrist to his broad palm, Susanna was unaware of Isabel giggling at Michael's stunned reaction. "I should have known. You're covered in paint!" She let her fingers rest in his palm, revealing her own blue and red colored fingernails. "Acrylic. Do you use oils?"

She looked up into Michael's eyes just as a small glow of light began to circle around Michael's palm. He noticed the extraterrestial reaction starting to grow brighter, surprised to find his powers working so easily. Concentrating enough he tried to stop the light, hoping off hand that Susanna would think nothing of it. When the pulsing only continued to expand, as if tracing the veins in his palm and down his arm, he pulled away harshly. He was too confused by his body's reaction to notice Susanna blush in embarrassment and shrink back into her own seat.

Pulling into the school parking lot, Max noticed Michael's shocked expression and Isabel's unusual silence. He parked and turned in his seat, "Okay, Turner's class. I'm in the room next door. Want me to show you the way?"

Susanna recovered easily, stumbling from behind the passenger seat that was pulled forward and adjusting her backpack. "Thanks Max." She waved to Michael and planned to meet up with Isabel for lunch, before turning back to Max and confessing how nervous she was. Their laugher drifted away as Max led Susanna towards the front door, turning back to give the duo a look that said they'd be having a meeting later. "I wanna introduce you to my girlfriend, Liz. I'm pretty sure she's in your American Lit class…"

"What was that?" Isabel asked, flat out, eyes reflecting a worry Michael never liked to see.

"So you saw it, I wasn't just, imaging it?"

She opened the passenger side door. "No, it was there."

"But why?" Michael jumped out after her, turning to lean his back up against the side of the Jeep, still holding his right hand oddly in his left.

"I don't know, Michael." Isabel shoved him and walked in a quick circle, obviously frustrated. "It was coming from your hand!"

"But I couldn't control it. I tried and— " He grabbed his bag from inside the Jeep and started towards the school. "that wasn't me. Those weren't my powers."

"Look, whatever it was, it happened because Susanna was touching your hand." Isabel stalked after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to a stop before they reached the groups of kids waiting around outside. "We'll talk to Max during free period but until then, don't touch her!"

Michael huffed. "Fine by me."

"But be nicer Michael, this is like the sixth school she's moved to within ten or so years. And while she's here, we're her new circle of friends."

Michael shook his head at Isabel's hypocrisy. Stay away from Susanna but be her friend? He didn't feel the childhood connection he knew Isabel remembered with this new girl. And steering towards his locker, his hand twitching uncontrolably, a thought hit him.

Why move back to Roswell?

"A light?" Max turned as Liz placed a hand on his shoulder, sliding into the seat next to him after showing Susanna the art room.

"A glowing, pulsating, alien light." Michael corrected, supsiciously scanning his eyes around the cafeteria before leaning closer to Max and Isabel.

"From your hand."

Michael shrugged. "Well, yea. On my skin, but I think it was because of Susanna."

"Wha--? Why do you think that?"

A group of cheerleaders approached the table, about to offer a petition for new uniforms when they caught Michael's more than unwelcoming expression. He cleared his throat as the group skittered away and the other three at the table leaned in closer. "Oh c'mon Maxwell. A distant friend whose been travelling around the country with her father suddenly ends up in Roswell, of all places, and you take that as customary?"

"She told me just now that she grew up in Roswell, left when she was eight." Liz popped a carrot into her mouth, "I knew her name sounded familiar."

"Why'd she leave Roswell anyway?" Michael eyed Isabel and Max, both having suddenly turned to share a secret message.

Max placed his hands on the table, spreading his fingers wide, as if preparing for another one of Michael's crazy schemes. He was still recovering from the jump out of Valenti's office window. "What are you suggesting Michael?"

"Don't avoid the question, Maxwell." He mimicked his friend's accusing tone.

Just as Max sighed, glancing at Isabel who shook her head, Liz's phone interuppted. The group turned as she answered, two out of the three happy for the delay until Liz spoke. "Hey! Maria!" All eyes floated back to Michael, his arms crossed protectively across his chest. "No, no, I'm in the cafeteria. How are—oh sure. Hold on a sec." Liz dropped the phone from her lips and whispered. "Maria says hi. I'll be right back."

As Liz drifted through the crowded cafeteria to the outside terrace, Isabel and Max wondered whether or not they should comment on Michael's obvious Maria issue. "Don't say it." He beat them to it, rubbing his hand roughly across his face. "Just tell me why Susanna left."

"Her mom died Michael, unexpectedly." Isabel shifted in her seat. "Happy now?"

"And they split after? That just makes this even more suspicious. Why return to a place filled with memories of your dead mother?"

"So sensitive of you Micheal," Isabel interupted, "and Susanna is not with the FBI."

"I wasn't thinking FBI." Michael rolled his eyes, spinning an empty coke bottle on the lunchroom tabletop. "I was thinking alien."

"Now you're really out there Michael." Isabel tapped the countertop anxiously.

"Why? Because you were best friends when you were six? You said so yourself, the light started when Susanna touched my hand."

Isabel rested an aching head in her right hand. "Michael, I just can't believe it. Susanna was the first friend I had after getting adopted. We've kept in touch over the years, and…"

"So you knew she was moving back?"

"No, we—she stopped writing back a couple years ago. I guess they moved again, and I didn't get the new address." A silence settled between the trio. "Don't look at me like that, Michael."

"We've dealt with this before." He explained. "It's no different now."

"She could have been chosen because of your attachment, Isabel." Max remarked, looking between his sister and best friend. "Look, lets meet at the Crashdown after school. We can talk more about this then."

"Max!" His sister cried. "You don't possibly believe that Susanna's a skin!"

"I'll admit that it is weird Iz, for Michael's hand just to start glowing and for her to return so suddenly. Mr. Harris didn't even contact mom and dad about the move and they were friends since high school." He turned to Michael as he raised from his chair. "But we can't just jump to conclusions, Michael. She might not even be a skin. She could be something much more dangerous."

"Whatever," Michael jumped out of his seat, sending his chair angrily across the tile floor. "I'll see ya then."

Just then, Liz returned from her phone call. After watching Michael's hasty departure she decided against telling him about her most recent phonecall. Grabbing her books off the table she started towards the exit with Isabel and Max. "He's been even more moody lately," Liz commented. "Ever since Maria left."

The bell rang overhead and the sea of students rose to their feets. "Are you working this afternoon?"

Liz nodded, kissing Max quickly before heading for her next class. "Wait," she turned back with a new thought. "Don't you have to give Susanna a ride home?"

Max looked to Isabel for the answer. "No," she sighed heavily before pulling her book bag over her shoulder. "She has track practice, or some meeting with the coach."

"Okay, three o'clock. Tell Kyle if you see him."

Susanna raced around one corner of the school only to find another long hallway instead of the art room she'd been hoping for. After her meeting with Mr. Gerwick, a goofy old man who genuienly loved art and couldn't stop asking her questions about her summer spent in Florence, she'd been called down to the office to meet with her guidance counselor. Now, late for Mr. Gerwick's class by 15 minutes, she couldn't find her way back. Thinking back to the route that Liz had showed her earlier she recognized a partly finished mural on the wall. She hurried past a row of lockers and turned right, happy to find the large red door, painted with colored designs to set it apart from the other rooms. She opened the door slowly, apologizing for being late.

"Class, this is Susanna Harris, a new student here at West Roswell. Susanna, we started portraiture last week, you'll catch up quickly. Please take a seat." Mr. Gerwick turned back to the sketch on the difference between profiles and three-quarter views.

Susanna scanned the room of unfamiliar faces, smiling when she saw the brown bent head of Michael. Weaving through the tables towards the back of the room she seemed unaware of why there might be empty seats only at Michael's table. Pulling out a chair, it echoed louder than expected. Mr. Gerwick turned at the noise with the rest of the class, just as Michael pulled himself away from his own sketch in surprise. Susanna slipped her backpack to the floor, smiling at Michael with the enthusiasm of someone suddenly rescued. "Ah, Susanna…"

Both Susanna and Michael turned towards Mr. Gerwick, only one aware of why he broke away again from his instructions on the board. "Yes?"

"Can you see from back there?" Mr. Gerwick coughed lightly. Susanna smiled before nodding her head and turning back to ask Michael how his afternoon was, the only one in the room ready to move on from the awkward moment she was unaware of. "Mr. Guerin, a why don't, um…"

"Oh, don't worry 'bout a thing, Mr. Gerwick. I'll show Susanna the ropes." Michael teased, forcing a bright smile as the rest of the class rolled their eyes.

"Yes, well…" Mr. Gerwick attacked the board again with the chalk in his hand.

Susanna, sensing now the tension in the room, addressed Michael. "That was weird."

"He didn't want you to sit back here." Michael explained, speaking to the pencil and paper beneath his nose.

"Why?" Susanna whispered, bending so that her nose was level with his. She glimpsed a geometric dome before he sighed, covered the sketch with his hand, and raised to his elbows.

"He doesn't like me."

"Oh." Susanna replied, deciding not to ask a follow-up question when Michael returned to his drawing. She turned to watch Mr. Gerwick's instructions on the board, stuffing her hands beneath her thighs and tapping her toes to a beat within her head.

Michael stole a glance at her from underneath his bent head as she fidgeted in her seat. Mr. Gerwick finished quickly, allowing the rest of the class to return to what they'd begun last week. Susanna peered around the room, comfortable enough among familiar paints and brushes to search for a drawing board, paper and pencil for herself. When she returned, she was surprised to find Michael's raised head and attentive eyes. "You can paint for this project if you want." He ducked his head again when she smiled appreciatively. "He said that last class."

"Thanks," she dropped a couple pencils on the table, allowing them to roll to a stop by Michael's left arm. "I'm gonna sketch something first. That always helps."

Michael muttered an inaudible response but Susanna didn't mind. She noticed the concentration in his hand and the instinctive sweeps of his wrist as he continued to construct his dome.

Falling easily into the sketch in front of her, Susanna noticed Mr. Gerwick roaming from one table to the next to help any student in need. Listening to some of his comments and the questions of the other students, it seemed as if Michael was the only student not drawing a self-portrait of some kind.

She returned to her sketch, bored with the easy precision of drawing the eyes, nose, and mouth. She grabbed the eraser right above Michael's steadying left hand, returning her paper to the blank white canvas it had been moments before. Michael looked up when the eraser dropped back into it's place, surprised to find himself comfortable with the working silence between them.

She began to sketch Michael's profile, amused with her game and wondering how long it would take before Michael noticed.

"Very nice Susanna," Mr. Gerwick leaned to one side of the table, peering at the paper propped on the drawing board that Michael could not see. Susanna turned at the comment, smiling up at the old man but saying nothing before returning to her sketch. After a few more moments of silence Mr. Gerwick cleared his throat awkwardly and straightened to his feet, ready to move on. "Feel free to make the assignment more creative if you wish. I know you've already completed several self-portraits."

"Thanks Mr. Harris."

"Although I like your choice of subject. Maybe sketching Mr. Guerin will help us understand him better." Michael looked up at that comment, and noticed a light blush spreading across Susanna's cheeks as she bent her head towards the board.

Walking around behind Michael, Mr. Gerwick paid little attention to sketch on the table. "Mr. Guerin, again, perfect dome. Try branching out any time."

Just when Mr. Gerwick turned, satisfied or accustomed to a silent response from this particular student, Michael said, "I've taken that into consideration."

"Wow," Susanna watched Mr. Gerwick hurry away, pretending to answer the question of another student, "you're right. He doesn't like you." She tried to joke away the grimace on Michael's face. "How come?"

"Look, feel free to sit here, I don't care," He graced her with brief eye contact, "but I can tell ya that you haven't made any new friends in this class by sitting by me."

"That's alright." A small pink tongue slipped out of her mouth as she tilted up her drawing board and picked up another pencil. "I don't need to make friends." Her eyes studied the angles of his jawbone.

Michael paused in his drawing, the blunt and emotionless tone of her voice sparking in his mind. He hadn't been concerned with his alien theory when she walked through the classroom door, but now her statement seemed to allude at something else. "What?"

"Isabel's my best friend, Michael. And Max seems to have remained as friendly as ever. Liz is sweet and," she shrugged, long enough for him to look up.

He turned back to his sketch and Susanna continued working herself. "Why'd you move back here?" He asked, suddenly. She caught his eye before smiling slightly.

"Good question." She chuckled before picking up her pencil again. "I guess I…"

A knock at the red classroom door caused all heads to turn. Mr. Gerwick opened it quickly, conversing silently with the other man as only teachers know how to do. Before Mr. Gerwick even turned around, Michael started picking up his things, closing his sketchbook and sliding his pencil into his pocket. "Mr. Guerin, they'd like to see you in the principal's office." Mr. Gerwick annouced to the class.

Susanna noticed the other students snicker to themselves and the bored unconcern on Mr. Gerwick's face, as if he'd uttered that phrase many times before. Turning back to Michael's face she was surprised to find him looking at her. "This is why no one sits with me."