CHAPTER ONE: TOBIAS

It was my fault for being distracted. I should have known better—did know better. But I still let my mind wander.

In my defense, I had a lot to think about. For one thing, my friends and I had just been flying, and it's always hard for me to come back down to earth after I've been riding the thermals. I spend a lot of time up there, as much as I can get away with between school and homework and trying to re-bond with my mom.

My mom...that's a long story. To sum it up: all my life she's been the crazy lady who claims she met aliens, and I got sick of being treated like a freak because of her. So we kind of drifted apart, or at least, I drifted away from her. Only I recently discovered that she isn't crazy and she wasn't lying. So I'm not too proud of how I acted these last few years, and I'm trying to make up for it.

See, I've met some aliens as well now, and they were definitely real. That's how I could be flying on thermals, my friends and I: we can take on the form of any animal we can touch and acquire. In my case, that meant turning into a red-tailed hawk. How do I describe the feeling? Well, the morphing itself is...disturbing, to say the least. Imagine your whole body, right down to your organs and eyeballs, twisting around and reshaping itself. It doesn't hurt, but you know it should. Once you're done, though…

Wow. There are no other words for what it feels like to fly, under your own power, using your own wings. It's a freedom, an ecstasy, the likes of which I've never even imagined. There is nothing in the world that feels as great as flying, nothing.

But coming back down to earth, putting on this heavy, clumsy, ill-fitting human body again, well...that's less awesome. But see, you can only spend two hours at a time in a morph, or else you get stuck permanently. So I had no choice but to land and trade my wings for these weak, dull eyes and soft, sad lips and big, clumsy feet and arms. I had to stop being Tobias the hawk, and become Tobias the boy again.

I've never really liked being Tobias the boy.

And, lucky me, lots of other people don't much like him either. Case in point, these two jerks named Andy and Tap-Tap. (Yeah, I know, but I'm not the one who gave him the nickname, okay?) They weren't any of my usual bullies, but they'd started harassing me lately and I've had enough years of being one of the school's favorite punching bags that kids like that have become pretty interchangeable to me. Rick, Steve, Jesus, Dan, Andy, Ricardo, Ted, Mitch, Tap-Tap...it doesn't make much difference what their names are once they start pounding me.

It's funny, because you'd think that after what I did a few days ago I wouldn't be afraid of jerks like that anymore. It's not everyday you walk downstairs into Hell and fight for your life against a bunch of ferociously dangerous aliens. And compared to a Hork-Bajir or a Taxxon or especially to Visser Three, two dudes who wanted to give me kidney punches and a swirly should have seemed like so much chopped liver. But I guess being afraid of guys like that was habit by now.

You ever hear of a guy named Pavlov? I guess Andy and Tap-Tap were my version of the bell, because the minute I realized I'd walked into their ambush, I froze-up.

"Hey there Tobias," Andy said. "Did the loony bin let out early today?"

Tap-Tap chortled at this exceptionally witty observation and said, "Yeah man, what are you doing walking around our streets on a Saturday, huh?"

I, like an idiot, mumbled, "They're everybody's streets."

That set them off, like I knew it would.

"Uh no, dude," Andy corrected me, "they're every normal body's streets."

"Yeah do you see a lane marked 'whackjob walking path'?" Tap-Tap asked. "I don't think so!"

The two jerks high-fived each other and I ducked my head, letting my hair slide forward like a curtain I could hide behind. I have really plain, dirty-blonde hair that I don't get trimmed often enough and that never wants to stay in place, but it's long enough that when I drop my chin it flops forward past my nose. I knew it doesn't actually help, but it makes me feel better to have any layer of protection, no matter how flimsy, between me and everyone else.

"I'm just trying to get home," I mumbled.

"Well you're going the wrong way," said Andy. "Area 51 is that way!" He pointed off in some random direction and they both laughed again.

"Hey," Tap-Tap said suddenly. "Hey, why aren't you laughing, weirdo? Don't you think we're funny?"

"You're hilarious," I said obediently.

"Nah, I don't think he means it, Tap-Tap," Andy said. "I think he's lying to us."

"Oh man, are you lying to us, Tobias? Tobias the weirdo, Tobias the nutjob, are you telling lies now? Just like your mommy, you're gonna start making up stories too now, huh?"

I don't know why I did it. I really don't know why I did it. I never fight back. I learned long ago that it doesn't help, that it just makes things worse; learned that when I fight back I'm the one who gets in trouble instead of them. Granted, I'm usually the one who gets in trouble either way, but when I fight back I get in more trouble. And I'm not much good at fighting, anyway. So I don't know why I did it…

But all of a sudden, I'd had enough. My mom wasn't crazy and she wasn't lying and I should have believed her. I, of all people, should have had faith in my mom. But I hadn't. I'd let what other people thought matter more, and I'd betrayed her. I was sick of it. I was sick of all of it.

So I punched Tap-Tap right in the face.

"Ahh!" I cried, and shook my hand. Punching people hurts.

"Ahh!" Tap-Tap shouted. "What the hell—he hit me! The little freak attacked me!"

He was clutching the side of his face and glaring at me like I'd just done something outrageous, like he and Andy hadn't each hit me half a dozen times before, like I was the one in the wrong.

But I didn't care. When Andy lunged for me I swung for him, too. I missed and he punched me in the stomach.

I bent over, all the air leaving my body suddenly in one great rush. Tears pricked my eyes and I didn't know if it was because of the pain or because of how angry I was—angry at Tap-Tap and Andy, angry at the world, angry at myself.

This is for you, mom, I thought, and I head butted Andy in the chest. He fell over backwards into the gutter and groaned, cradling the elbow he'd cracked on the curb.

"The little freak's lost it!" he snarled. "Get him, Tap-Tap! Kick the stuffing out of him!"

I guess at this point I should have run, should have taken advantage of them being off-balance and gotten out of there. But I didn't.

"That's right!" I yelled instead. "I'm a freak, and I'm done getting kicked around because of it! You want some more?"

They did. And like I said, I'm not actually much good in a fight. And now the surprise of me fighting back was passed, and they were both on their guard again.

So I got the crap kicked out of me. Like usual.

In a few minutes I was curled up on the sidewalk, hands over my head, gasping and heaving as the round rubber toes of their sneakers slammed into my back, my ribs, my shins, again and again and again. The world shrank down around me until the only things I could hear were my own ragged gasps and their cruel, cheerful laughter. Then suddenly, a voice—

"Hey! Hey you dweebs, yeah you! Get off of him!"

"What the—?"

Andy and Tap-Tap turned to face the new threat, or more likely the new target. The world was swimming from the tears in my eyes and my head was ringing. I just lay where they'd left me, panting on the sidewalk, wondering if I'd be able to summon enough energy to stand up and stagger away before they got bored and came back for more. I could still hear them laughing, and I wasn't sure if it was my ears or my imagination.

"Are you kidding me? Hey, Andy, is this dude kidding me?"

"He's gotta be kidding, Tap-Tap. Hey, bozo, you're kidding right?"

"Nah, dude, that's not kidding." The new voice...it was familiar, somehow, but who…? "I heard that the circus was going to be in town this week, but you know they aren't going to let you two join, right? Their monkeys have to be attractive enough to be in show-bizz, and their freak show requires an IQ of at least five, so you're out of luck." A pause, like a showman waiting on his audience. "That's kidding."

The words were followed by a sharp, clever laugh—and suddenly an image formed in my befuddled head to match the voice: Marco. A short, smirking, cute Hispanic boy with black hair a little longer than mine and a lot neater. He was, like me, an Animorph, but that was where the similarities ended. Marco wasn't some incredibly popular jock, but he wasn't a bully-magnet either. He was a class-clown, if you needed a label for him, but he was a smart class-clown not just some dumb jerk who thinks that fart-jokes and armpit squeaks are the height of intellectual comedy. Marco was way too smart to pick a fight with two muscle-bound idiots like Andy and Tap-Tap...so what was he doing?

I forced myself to push off the concrete and open my eyes. The world swam around my head a few times before I could focus, squinting, on the sight of Andy and Tap-Tap looming in front of me, their backs turned as they sized-up Marco. He was standing half a block away holding a plastic bag, the kind you get at a cheap convenience store that can't afford their own branding.

"Marco, get…" I had to stop and clear my throat before my voice would come out as anything more than a harsh whisper. "Marco, get out of here. This doesn't have anything to do with you."

Marco glanced at me and shrugged, then returned his attention to Andy and Tap-Tap. "You done?" he asked them coldly.

"Nah," said Andy, starting forward. "I think we're just getting started."

Tap-Tap laughed and followed him.

I expected Marco to turn and run. It would have been the smart thing to do. It's what I would have done, if I'd been in his shoes. I think. But he stayed right where he was. He was smirking, so I figured he had a plan, but then I noticed the way his eyes were darting around nervously above the smirk. That was when I started to worry.

This wasn't the first time that one of the other Animorphs—that's us, the five kids whose morphing powers were the only weapon that Elfangor could leave us to fight the Yeerks with—that one of the others had stood up to my bullies for me, although the last time had been before the fateful walk through the construction site that had forever changed our world. Last time it had been Jake telling two jerks giving me a swirly to back off. They'd backed off, but...well, Jake Berenson is almost as different from Marco as I am. They've been best friends for longer than I've known either of them, but Jake is—well, he's the type of guy that weasels like Tap-Tap and Andy would never stand up to. He's big, but not scary-big, and his size isn't the reason that bullies crumble in front of him. Jake just has this...this presence about him. He's not super popular or the star of any sports teams or anything like that. He's just not a dude you mess with. Not because he's mean. Not because he's violent. Just because you don't.

Marco...well, he's not a loser like me by any means. He isn't the sort of person that Andy and Tap-Tap would ordinarily go after. But he also isn't someone they'd be afraid to mess with, if he got in their faces. He isn't Jake.

Instead of walking away, Andy and Tap-Tap walked over to Marco.

"Did you say something to us, squirt?" Tap-Tap demanded.

"Yeah," said Marco. He had to crane his neck to look up at them but he didn't stop smirking. "I said you're both uglier than a monkey's butt and half as smart. Do you need me to put that into smaller words so you can understand it?"

Tap-Tap lunged. Andy swung. Marco ducked. Instead of punching Marco, Andy hit Tap-Tap in the ear and he went sprawling, howling and clutching at his head. "You hit me!" he cried, over and over. "You jerk, you hit me!"

"Like I said," Marco smirked, "stupid."

The next punch Andy threw connected solidly with Marco's face and he fell back, stumbling. As Andy moved for a follow-up blow, though, Marco thrust his arm out and swung like he was doing a shot-put for gym class. The plastic bag in his hand hit Andy right in the face and the carton of milk inside the bag burst. Andy staggered back, milk-drenched plastic covering his head. He flailed around wildly but he couldn't see anything. Marco ducked under the blows easily. He hopped over Tap-Tap, kicked him lightly in the other side of his head to make sure he stayed down, then sprinted over to where I was still sitting on the pavement, staring at them dumbly.

"Come on!" Marco snapped at me. He grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. "Are you waiting for a permission slip? Let's get out of here!"

We ran. I ran kind of hunched over, clutching at my sore ribs, and Marco ran beside me, one hand on my shoulder, kind of pushing me along. He kept looking over his shoulder to make sure neither of the bullies were behind us. After we turned down a few corners and ducked across a couple of alleys, he slowed down.

"Th-thanks," I panted.

Marco was prodding gingerly at his left eye, which was already starting to look kind of puffy. He grunted absently.

"You didn't have to do that," I added softly. I was hiding behind my hair again, not wanting to meet Marco's gaze. I felt pathetic enough without him looking at me pityingly.

Instead he shrugged. "No big deal," he said. He sounded a little funny, like he couldn't quite believe he'd just done that himself and was trying to act cool.

"Well, thanks," I mumbled again.

Marco shrugged. He looked uncomfortable. "I just thought—hey, what would Jake do?" He laughed sharply. "Maybe I'll get a bracelet. WWJD, right?"

I tried to smile. "I bet those would be big sellers," I said.

We walked in silence for a few minutes. I'm not sure if Marco was going any place in particular; I wasn't. I was still trying to get my breath back from the beating and then the sprinting.

"So who were those two jerks, anyway?" Marco asked eventually. "What'd you do to get their panties in such a wad?"

I shrugged. "Andy and Tap-Tap. They're eighth graders. I don't think I had to 'do' anything, they just think hitting me is fun." I winced; it wasn't until the words came out of my mouth that I realized how self-pitying I sounded.

Fortunately Marco was focused on something more important. "Tap-Tap?" he repeated. "That dude's name is Tap-Tap?"

I smiled. "It's probably not the name on his birth certificate," I said, "but it's the only one I've ever heard anyone call him."

"Man!" Marco complained. "I can't believe I wasted a monkey joke on somebody named Tap-Tap! There's like, a billion pages of material in that name, and I defaulted to 'you look like a monkey and also you're dumb'?" He threw his arms up in the air, like he was pleading for pity from an uncaring universe. "Ugh! I'm so disappointed with myself!"

I laughed a little. I stopped pretty fast because they'd split my lip open and it hurt, but it was still nice to laugh.

Marco sighed and shook his head. His complaints subsided into unhappy grumbles and we headed back to the main street together, where the buildings weren't so close together that they stopped any trace of sunlight from reaching the ground. I still wasn't sure where we were going, but I was content to just walk. It wasn't as good as flying of course, but it was better than getting kicked in the stomach.

"Ugh," Marco said after a while, poking gingerly at the bruise forming under his eye, "Why'd that jerk have to hit me in the face? I can't go home with a black eye. My dad'll think I've been fighting."

"You have been fighting," I pointed out.

Marco grinned. "I know that, and you know that," he said, "and even Andy and Tap-Tap know that, but there's no reason why my dad has to know it."

I hesitated, then said, "Do you want to come to my place?"

Marco looked at me oddly and I hurried to say, "To do something about your eye, I mean. We always have plenty of ice packs in our freezer." I laughed, like it was no big deal, but I think it came out kind of bitter.

I grimaced, afraid of what joke Marco was going to make at my expense, but he just said, "Yeah man, that'd be cool. Thanks."

I shrugged awkwardly and ducked behind my hair again. "Least I can do," I mumbled.

"No, no, that'd be cool. Cool. Because it's an ice pack, yeah? An ice pack? 'Cool.' Get it?"