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“Thermal physics, huh?” she asked. “I breezed through that last night in the bath, right after Advanced Biotech.”

He shot a cold glare over the top of his book. Ouch. His mood sure had shifted since his lighthearted phone call that afternoon. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding at the plate.

“This, my alien friend, is pot roast.” She made a show of inhaling the steam wafting up from the dish, even though she didn’t like it. “I know I’ve said it before, but I think this is the one.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said skeptically. “Just like chicken noodle soup. Honestly, Cah-ra, I’m not—”

“Just come to the table and try it.” She backed into the hall and beckoned for him to follow. “It’s only meat and veg­etables. No seasonings. Mom didn’t even salt it.” To further convince him, she added, “If you don’t like this, I promise I won’t make you try anything else.”

“Really?”

“No, not really.” Like that was going to happen. “But I’ll leave you alone for a whole week.”

He gave a resigned sigh and closed his book, then sat up and refastened his hair at the base of his neck. “Fine.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Mom and Dad were ready and waiting when they joined them at the table. Mom had even busted out the Merlot, something she only reserved for celebrations or really lousy days. Judging by her silence while making supper, though, Cara guessed it was the latter.

“Giving it another shot, eh?” Dad asked Aelyx.

Aelyx settled in his chair. “Cah-ra can be very persuasive.”

“Damn straight,” she added, sliding in beside him.

Mom shot her a warning glare while pouring Aelyx a glass of iced tea. “I picked up some tofu while I was out—that’s tasteless protein—so I’ll fry some if you don’t like the roast. Just let me know, hon.”

Cara gestured at Mom’s wineglass. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You look like you want to rip someone’s face off.”

Mom opened her mouth to speak but stopped and glanced at Aelyx just long enough for Cara to understand it had some­thing to do with him. “It’s been a long day.”

Then Dad blurted, “Her numbnuts volunteer coordinator tried giving her the ax because—”

“Bill!” Mom whispered, not so discreetly kicking Dad under the table. “We have a guest!”

“How can the library fire a volunteer?” Cara asked. “They don’t even pay you.”

“I didn’t get fired. The head librarian stepped in.” Mom flapped one hand in the air in a message to let the subject drop. “Now let’s eat.” Then she dug right in before insisting they say grace. Wow, she must really be pissed.

Following Mom’s lead, Cara speared a forkful of beef and signaled for Aelyx to do the same. He stabbed a small bite.

Cara lifted her fork in a toast. “Ready?”

“No.”

“C’mon,” she said. “We’ll do it together on the count of three. One . . . two . . .”

Before she finished, Aelyx wrinkled his nose and shoved the bite into his mouth. He clenched his eyes shut and chewed while Cara braced herself to admit failure once again.

But then something phenomenal happened.

Mom’s pot roast brought Aelyx to life. He glanced at Cara and smiled—a real smile that reached all the way to his eyes and lit them up like a supernova. Even his body responded, relaxing against his chair the way hot wax conforms to the curves of a votive holder.

“You like it?” Cara asked.

“It tastes just like l’ina!”

“Please tell me that’s not someone’s name.”

He laughed in a warm, low chortle that made her want to say something funny so she could hear it again. “It’s my favorite dish from home.”

“That’s a relief.” She wiped imaginary sweat off her fore­head. “Hey, maybe my brother’s eating I’ina right now and comparing it to Mom’s roast.”

“Possibly.” Wasting no time, he shoveled in another bite and spoke with one cheek full. “It’s a staple on my planet.”

“If Troy ever decides to e-mail, we’ll ask him,” Dad grumbled.

“I heard transmissions from L’eihr are delayed because of signal problems on the main transport,” Aelyx said. “They should’ve given Troy a com-sphere—that’s our newest tech­nology. But e-mail is antiquated, so it’s only as reliable as the ships conveying the electronic data. Think of it as an inter-galactic Pony Express. All it takes is one ship to disrupt the chain. That’s probably why you haven’t heard from him.”

That wasn’t why, but Cara didn’t want to further upset Mom, so she kept quiet.

She couldn’t quit watching Aelyx for the rest of the meal.

It made her smile to see him eat with so much enthusiasm. He’d never looked more human.

After they’d finished, she asked Mom to make pot roast every night that week. Bland or not, Cara would gladly suck it up if it meant seeing Aelyx glow that brightly each night. Because, you know, it was her job. Nothing more.

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Cara pulled on her blue knitted cap, grabbed her backpack, and headed outside to wait for Aelyx.

A gust of wind from the east sent hundreds of burnt orange leaves bursting from their branches and whirling through the air. She lingered on the back steps to watch the sheets of foli­age flutter to the ground like sunset-colored rain. Aelyx was right—sometimes her planet’s beauty overwhelmed the senses.

Soon he joined her.

“Ready?” His breath condensed, lingering in the air, and he immediately wedged both hands deep inside his coat pockets and shivered. He didn’t seem to tolerate the cold any better than the heat—probably spoiled by L’eihr’s controlled climate.

They traveled the wooded path a while, chatting over the crunch of fallen leaves, until a girl’s shrill voice called out from behind.

“Wait!” Brandi Greene jogged toward them, blond curls bouncing around her deceptively angelic face.

“Hey,” Cara said, making an effort to play nice. She should have known better.

“Hi, Aelyx.” Brandi ignored Cara’s greeting and flashed her pearly whites at Aelyx. “I watched your interview three times! Literally!”

Aelyx didn’t give Brandi the slightest glance. Cara knew because she watched his face. Not that she cared or anything.

“Wonderful.” With an eye roll, he turned and marched onward.

“Tell me more about babies on your planet.” Brandi cozied up to Aelyx, and he veered away, colliding with Cara’s hip. Since he needed a wider berth, she fell back on the narrow dirt path and walked behind them.

“You said there’s no unauthorized breeding,” Brandi said without missing a beat. “So you have to have, like, a license or something? ’Cause I think it’s messed up that I have to get a permit to have a yard sale, but any idiot can have a baby.”

“No, there aren’t licenses for reproduction. You need to remember that our societies are different. On Earth you pro­create for love—”

Cara scoffed. Midtown High boasted a dozen teen preg­nancies each year, and most of those babies were conceived via sloppy drunken hookup, not love. “Or because we’re wasted.”

Aelyx quickened his pace and heaved a sigh. “As I was saying, before we abandoned the breeding program, scientists tracked each citizen’s genetic material to determine which pairings would yield the most favorable result.”

“No way!” Brandi’s voice sounded delightfully scandal­ized. “So they literally told people who to have sex with? What if the guy was ugly or something?”

“Sexual intercourse wasn’t required.”

“What?” Cara and Brandi said in unison.