Chapter Six: Growing Up

September 27th, 1995

Liz was not in school anymore and Lyn was not the only one who noticed the way Max moped. Michael had teased him mercilessly about his 'crush' while Isabel seemed relieved that the one person outside their group that both Max and Lyn had been interested in was gone.

Raelyn was both sad and relieved. Sad because Liz was still the only friend she had made (she missed her more since she did not even have the option of talking to her) and relieved because she would not have to feel guilty anymore for ignoring her.

Isabel touched her shoulder to get her attention and she winced before she could hide her reaction. Isabel frowned and pulled her into a darkened corner of the playground, tugging her shirt down to expose the reddish brown bruise marring her pale skin. "You're supposed to tell me when he hurts you!" Isabel hissed quietly as she placed her hand over the bruise and watched it disappear under the soft glow.

Raelyn looked down at her feet. "I didn't want to worry you." In truth, she did not want Isabel to realize how frequent the abuse was becoming for both her and Michael. She was afraid that the other girl would break her promise and tell. So unless the bruises were somewhere that could be seen, which Hank was smart enough to avoid most of the time, she had not been telling Isabel and she did not plan to start then.

She knew Michael had a similar policy when it came to telling Max, and he had even less knowledge of what was going on than Isabel did, as Michael could heal all but the worst of his injuries on his own.

It was wrong, what was happening to them. Raelyn knew that, but it did not change the situation and telling would not help. Even if they stayed together and were able to stay in Roswell, which was a big maybe, if Michael knew what Hank had done to her, he would try to hurt him back and that would not end well.

There were too many things that could go wrong, too many things that could happen if anyone else found out, and she was not willing to take that risk. She needed Michael and he needed her so whatever they went through was worth it.

December 14th, 1995

Michael's head was throbbing and he stumbled to the kitchen for some ice. Hank had just found out that they were losing the house and his reaction had given Michael his worst black eye since the first time the man hit him when he was eight-years-old. He had managed to heal the visible signs of the bruise, but the headache remained and painkillers, assuming they had them in the house, did not seem to work for him.

Wrapping the ice in a towel that was only slightly dirty, he held it to his forehead and stalked back to his and Lyn's bedroom, wondering where they were going to live after the end of the month. Lyn was at Isabel's and didn't know yet; he didn't want to have to tell her but it would be worse if Hank was the one to do it.

Michael sat down on his too small bed and reached under the mattress to pull out the sketchbook Lyn had given him last Christmas. She had made it out of nice paper snagged from the Art teacher who came to their class once a week, and then bound it by heating rubber cement spread along the top with her powers. No money led to them being more creative in their gift giving.

Lyn had spent money on his birthday present though, nice expensive colored pencils from the arts and crafts store downtown. She had purchased them with the money Max and Isabel had given her for Christmas. When he had protested the waste of her money, she had just looked at him. Even at twelve he knew what that look meant and had promptly shut up.

Right then he was glad for that present as it was his only way of releasing pent up emotions aside from blowing up things, and once he started that, he did not think he would be able to stop.

Two hours later, he set the pencils down and stared at the page. There was not even a sliver of white showing, black and red shapes covered the paper from edge to edge. It looked chaotic at first but after a moment you could see the symmetry to the angry lines, a face peering out from the dark morass.

He did not think that the face was human, but it looked familiar and tugged on the back of his mind. The picture disturbed him and after a moment he slid the sketchpad back under the mattress along with the pencils. When they moved he would have to find a new hiding spot.

June 3rd, 1996

Their room was so small that they could not have two beds so they had a cheap metal bunk bed that they shared. The trailer was small and battered and the trailer park was so loud, that it had taken Lyn and him three weeks before they actually slept through the night. It had not taken the kids at school long to hear about the move and only the fact that Michael had hit his growth spurt last year, and towered over most of them, protected the two from schoolyard taunting.

Hank only worked a couple of shifts a week, mostly relying on the money from the government to pay for the few bills, and his alcohol. Being drunk all the time and with Michael being larger and more agile, the abuse was less frequent, but when it did happen Hank had become much more vicious, and Michael was afraid that he would start on Lyn, so he made sure that she was never home alone with Hank.

Neither of them spent much time at home, instead either hanging out with Max and Isabel or spending time in the desert. Michael with his sketchbook and Lyn with the camera he had gotten her as her combined birthday present from Max, Isabel, and him.

His sister seemed to really enjoy taking pictures, and since he refused to show or display his sketches to anyone but her, their bedroom walls were covered in various photographs of the desert and its skittish wildlife.

Michael had begun to practice his powers more while they were in the desert, trying to perfect his control so that he didn't accidentally blow up Hank or the trailer the next time the man was drunk. Lyn practiced with him sometimes and while she was hopeless when it came to his explosive abilities, she could move things with more control and precision than he would ever have in his opinion.

Yesterday she had sent almost thirty stones floating in the air, spinning and weaving around him as he tried to blow them up. Needless to say he ended up washing dishes that night while she teased him for betting against her.

That day they were taking a break from practice; Lyn was sitting completely still on top of a rock waiting for the rattlesnake who lived underneath it to come out for a meal. The first time she had seen it hunting she had missed the shot, so she had looked up rattlesnake feeding habits and figured out when it was due for another meal.

Michael was sitting with his back against another rock near the edge of a ravine, sketching the view of the crevasse from above. The sun was in the center of the sky and consequentially the small canyon was completely lit up, perfectly revealing the multicolored stone walls and glinting off the small trace of water at the bottom.

With his powers, Michael was able to alter the colors to suit his needs and as a result was able to create a more accurate picture than his box of pencils normally would have afforded. Shading in a shadow cast by scrub brush growing on a ledge below his feet, he held the picture out before him and eyed it with a critical gaze. It was better than the last drawing he had done; the colors blended together seamlessly and it captured the spirit of the rough and sparse beauty of the desert, but he felt it was missing something.

A sudden click from behind him interrupted his thought process and he turned just in time to see Lyn's triumphant smile as the snake lunged at a lizard skittering past. Her camera clicked several times in succession as the creature's fangs sank into the lizard before it swallowed it whole through its enlarged jaws and slithered back under the rock.

Michael smiled at her pleased grin and tucked his sketchbook back in his backpack along with the colored pencils before standing up. "Ready to go? It's game night at the Evans," he said with forced cheer, causing her to giggle.

"You big baby, you know you have fun."

"Whatever," Michael replied flatly as he rolled his eyes before taking her camera and gently placing it in the front pocket of his backpack.

Lyn just laughed again and linked her arm through his as they walked towards the road. "I vote for Risk."

He grumbled to hide his smile; she knew that was his favorite.