"How was your day?" Mendje asked, kissing the top of Mace's head as he entered the kitchen with Minion. A quick look around the room told him that someone had been experimenting with cooking again. The walls around the stove were blackened, and most of the ceiling had been covered with a thick, purple goop. He guessed it was Idna—Idna had always had a thing for purple.
"It went very well," Mace said enthusiastically. Then he frowned. "Then it went turri—tarri—Fargon, it went terribly!"
"Watch your tongue, Mace!" Mendje scolded, then gave the teenager a hug. "Don't upset yourself, sweetheart. It only makes it worse. Now, tell me what happened," she added, picking up a plate full of cookies and offering it first to Mace and then to Minion. They both declined.
"I don't really want to talk about it," Mace answered, seating himself at the table and pulling a small black bag from his pocket. Minion was quick to hand him a glass of water, which Mace set aside. He turned the bag upside down, dumping tiny blue cubes onto the tabletop. He studied each of them, growled something about labeling, and started dropping a tiny amount of water onto each. Mendje just watched as the cubes exploded, one-by-one, into a number of various school materials.
A dehydrating beam had been one of the first things Mace had invented, finishing the design when he was four and perfecting the early version when he was five. He had more recently reworked the beam so that the glowing blue cubes were smaller and easier to transport.
"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?" Mendje prompted as Mace found the notebook he was looking for and flipped to a page already filled up with sketches and scribbled notes to himself.
"Positive," Mace answered. "Tell me about your trip back to Crypt. How was it?"
"Alright," Mendje sighed, then launched into a quick summary of what had happened. "The trip was alright," she answered. "There was a great deal of traffic on the way over, and a comet was reported in the vicinity, so we could only go half the speed of light."
"I wondered why you weren't home this morning," Mace put in, turning to a fresh blank page and beginning to sketch something out. He was good at multitasking.
"Mhm," Mendje agreed. "But, like I said, it was relatively pleasant. I think Krut must have taken quite a shine to Aida," Mendje added with a smile. "He went on about their six-minute conversation for a good ninety minutes before his parents finally got him to switch topics. What did I tell you?" Mace looked increasingly aggravated as Mendje went on, pressing his pencil hard into the paper as he tried to focus on his sketch.
"He claimed that she was a lot better looking than any of the girls he knows from back home, and even started talking about wanting to come back and visit. I think that girl might just have a good chance at becoming the next Queen of Crypt, and—"
Mace's pencil snapped, and he stood quickly, nearly shouting, "I'm going upstairs!" Mendje watched in slight confusion as Mace swept all of his things together and headed out the door. She set her hands on her hips and gave Minion a look.
"What has gotten into that boy?" she asked the green fish. Minion just shrugged before heading up after him. Mendje shook her head. The only answers that both Minion and Mace never seemed to have were the ones about her son.
Roxanne spent the rest of her day doing what she usually did on the last day of the week—homework, followed by playing cards with Gilda before settling in for the night.
She spent the next day helping Isst in the garden and drawing in her room. The day seemed incredibly dull, more so than usual, and she tried her best not to regret what had happened the day before. It wasn't her fault that no one could see her as Cerulean—besides the fact that she was an alien, at least. And she'd known he would have just played some kind of prank on her or something, so she shouldn't really be upset. But she was. And she still had the biggest crush on him.
Roxanne didn't really look forward to going back to school once the next week began, but she knew she had to. But she still had today and two days more before she had to go back, so there was that.
She expected that Mace would be back to ignoring her by then.
Roxanne and Gilda were woken late that night by a loud thump on the wall. Roxanne was quick to launch herself out of bed and scramble to the window, Gilda's portable sphere tucked under her arm. They didn't even bother asking questions, because they both knew the other had no answers, and what good are questions that just serve to waste time?
They looked left as they threw open the window, then right, then up, and finally down, shocked and afraid to see a shadowy figure lying face-down on the ground. "Who's there?" Roxanne demanded sharply, glaring down at the shape. A groan floated up to the two of them, and Gilda and Roxanne shared wary looks as the shape stood, brushing dirt from its clothes.
"It's just me!" a familiar voice called up, and Roxanne pulled back in surprise before leaning over the window ledge.
"Mace!" she hissed. "What are you doing down there?"
"I missed," he answered simply, as if it explained everything.
"What?"
"I missed," Mace repeated, and Roxanne gasped as he shot straight up into the air, slowing as he drew up to the window.
"How are you doing that?" Roxanne demanded, her curiosity getting the better of her. "You aren't wearing a jetpack!"
"They're prototypes!" Mace exclaimed, drawing one of his feet up and pointing at the boot with the forefinger of each hand. The heel sparked and flared, and Mace was blown back, waving his arms wildly to try and gain control. Roxanne covered her mouth with a hand to keep herself from laughing.
He was back in a moment, this time grabbing onto the ledge to keep himself steady. "What are you doing here?" Gilda demanded, and Roxanne nodded to show her own interest in the answer to that question.
"It's already past midnight," the girl added, checking the clock on their wall.
"I have good news!" Mace exclaimed in a hushed cry. "I talked to the people at the 16th Wave, and they want to run your story!"
"What?" Roxanne exclaimed, stepping back.
"Yes!" Mace agreed, grinning from ear to ear as he tapped his heels together, deactivating the boots before he pulled himself up and over the ledge. He fell to the floor and scrambled back up onto his feet. Roxanne's heart fluttered. "I told them how wonderfully you did—and I may have accidentally forgotten not to turn on the Visio-audio recorder installed in my watch—and they said they want to film you doing the story a month from now!"
"What?" Roxanne repeated, eyes like saucers. Mace nodded enthusiastically.
"They said that they've been looking for more information on what made King Araust leave, and that there couldn't be anything more real, shocking, or crowd-pleasing than having the alien that wrote it pitch it!" Roxanne stared straight ahead. Her eyes hurt from being open so long and wide. She was absolutely shocked. There were no other words for it. Her head spun.
She was going to be on HWP. She was going to be on HWP! She was going to be on HWP! She didn't even know what to think, or what to say! It was too surreal!
"This is a dream," she accused, backing up. "And before it even ends, I'm going to wake up, and it will be morning."
"It's not a dream," Mace assured her. "It's real! This is so exciting! Cerul's first alien reporter! And you aren't even legal! Well, no, that came out wrong," he said, creasing his forehead and starting to pace, shaking a finger in the air. "Not that you're illegal—I've no doubt that you've been legalized as a citizen of Cerul, but I mean that you aren't yet seventeen, and therefore cannot be considered an adult, and…" Roxanne and Gilda were barely paying attention.
"Wow," Gilda breathed at last, interrupting Mace's spiel and speaking Roxanne's mind as well as her own. The human nodded.
"Yeah." Mace was grinning again in a moment, and jumped all over himself as he seemed to remember something.
"Oh oh oh oh oh oh OH!" he shouted, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a silver object. He motioned for Roxanne's wrist, which she gave him willingly, and he strapped the object on. She pulled it closer to her face, studying it in the light of the double moons.
"A watch?" she asked. Mace nodded.
"Yes! It's a communication device as well as a watch," he informed her. "It's linked to the one I have, and I made it along with Minion's, so you'll be able to contact either one of us if you ever need help! And I also drew this up," he added, pulling a piece of paper from the opposite pocket and unfolding it quickly. "It's the designs for a robotic kitten," he explained quickly, turning it around to show it to Roxanne and Gilda. "I thought that if I could mimic Quicksilver's body and decrease her age by maybe five or six years, then download her brain into—"
The door slammed open and Mace barely had time to look up before he fell to the ground with a cry of pain, a thousand volts of electricity flowing through his body. Roxanne shrieked and stepped back, clutching Gilda and looking up. Loral stood in the doorway, holding an electric-shock gun in his hands.
"What the Hell are you doing in my daughter's room, you blue ba—Mace?" Loral asked in surprise, realizing who it was that was writhing on Roxanne's floor. Loral cursed as Isst came running up behind him, Civ and Rit not far behind.
"Roxanne, are you alright?" Isst asked, moving past her husband and wrapping her daughter into a protective hug before she even took note of the teenager who was slowly becoming still.
"I'm fine," Roxanne insisted.
"We're fine," Gilda agreed.
"Mace Mind, what in Ferr's name are you doing in Roxanne's room!" Loral demanded angrily.
"Aida and I were dis-scoo-sing her career," Mace slurred as he slowly regained control of his tongue. A stray volt ran through his body, causing him to jump again. Roxanne felt terrible about it, but she had to giggle, if only softly. She had the sudden impression that if she had been the one getting shocked, her hair might have stood on end.
"What?" Loral demanded, and Isst pulled back to start fussing over Roxanne, who was, of course, still in her nightgown.
"Roxanne, are you sure you're all right? He didn't try to hurt you, did he?"
"What?" Roxanne asked. "No! He didn't hurt me!"
"Mr. Mind may be many things, but I doubt he's capable of causing my Mistress any harm," Gilda put in, surprising Roxanne a bit. She hugged the minion's globe tighter while Mace answered her father.
"I had an interview with the Ruler of Wave 16. I talked to them about Aida's reporting while I was there, and they said they want her to give a report next month."
"Well why in the world are you here at such an ungodly hour?" This time it was Isst who rounded on the boy as he stood up, her voice sharp and her features suddenly no less so. Mace grinned sheepishly.
"I didn't realize how late it was until Aida gave me the time?"
"Do your parents know where you are?" Loral demanded as Isst crossed her arms Roxanne stood off to the side, not sure whether she should be embarrassed for her parents' behavior or for Mace's.
"No," Mace admitted, lowering his head as his cheeks turned purple. "But Minion does!"
"Come with me," Loral huffed, motioning out the door as he turned. "I can only imagine what your parents are going to have to say about this—I have to say, I'm not looking forward to a discussion on the finer details of using an electro-shock gun on a teenager."
"Yes, Sir," Mace acquiesced, following Loral out the door with shame written all over his face.
"Honey, are you sure you're all right?" Isst asked again, the sharpness dropping from her face immediately as Rit entered the room, Civ staying outside.
"I'm fine," Roxanne insisted. "He wasn't trying to hurt me or anything. He just got overexcited, I guess?"
"Well, you never know," Isst said, hugging her daughter to her again, Gilda pressed between the two of them. "Especially with boys his age." Roxanne's face turned redder than Rit (who was quite red himself), and she could have died.
"Mom!" she exclaimed, Gilda's bowl bouncing to the ground, disorienting the fish and causing Rit to stoop over to pick the teenage fish up before the sphere could bounce and crack. "That's a terrible thing to insinuate about Mace! He's nice! And even if he wasn't, I'm…Me."
"It's the nice ones that get you at this age," Isst warned. "And that was exactly my point. It's you, my beautiful, darling girl. I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you, sweetheart. You keep yourself safe."
"I will, Mom," Roxanne promised, and before she could even add, "I promise," Mace came dashing back in the room. Roxanne could hear her father shouting and swearing behind him.
"I forgot," Mace said breathlessly, pressing his forehead to Roxanne's before scooping his paper up off the floor and shoving it into her hands and Loral came storming up the stairs. "Look this over," he said quickly. "I'll talk to you about it tomorrow. Bye!" With that he dashed off, and Roxanne could hear her father cursing as Mace shouted, "Sorry Mr. Cerebellum, I didn't mean any harm, I just—" Crash! Roxanne and the minions winced.
"I think he used the banister," Roxanne said.
"There goes the seventh century vase," Civ groused crossly. Isst wasn't paying any mind to that, though. She was smiling at her daughter with a knowing look planted on her face.
"Not a friend, hm?" she questioned, alluding to Roxanne's statement from when her father had come home a few days ago. Even Roxanne's ears turned red this time, and she mumbled something unintelligible before pushing her mother out the door, barely giving her mother time to touch heads. She shut the door only to realize that Rit was still in the room, holding Gilda's sphere.
"Out," she ordered, opening the door and pointing. Rit smiled and brought Gilda's sphere up to the glass of his tank.
"Goodnight, Gilda," he bid, squishing his face up against the glass as Gilda did the same.
"Goodnight, Father," she bid in return, and Rit handed the sphere off to Roxanne as he left.
"May you have pleasant imaginings this evening, Miss Aida."
"Night, Rit." The door shut and Roxanne glanced down at the paper in her hand and then at her bed. She bit her bottom lip, hugging Gilda's sphere to her. "Well," she said slowly. "I really should go to bed…But I wouldn't sleep anyway," she decided, carrying Gilda over to her desk and setting her down as she smoothed Mace's sketch out and began to read through the notes.
"You really should try to sleep," Gilda lectured, but it was a half-hearted attempt.
She was too interested in this sheet of paper to press her further.