“What the—?” Hundreds of green chunks permeated the water droplets, at first glance appearing plantlike. But he knew with complete certainty he’d gathered no such contaminants in his sample that day at the nature preserve. He isolated one furry bit and studied it under the highest magnification the tool would allow.
Within minutes, he’d identified the matter as Sphagnum squarrosum, or as humans referred to it, moss. But how could that be? Even if spores had been present in the water, they couldn’t reproduce so quickly under sterile conditions, not to mention devoid of sunlight in an insulated metal tube. He must have made a mistake while collecting the sample—it was the only possibility.
The stereo speakers mounted on Cara’s side of the wall broke the silence, vibrating the plaster in time with softly strumming guitar chords. If he listened carefully, he could just make out a man’s sullen voice asking, Please, please, please let me get what I want. Gods, it was the most depressing song he’d ever heard. Why did humans feed their despondency with music like this?
Enough! If Cara wouldn’t pull herself out of whatever hole she’d fallen into, then he would find a way to do it. And if winning at chess wouldn’t restore her good cheer, he’d have to find another way to release enough endorphins to improve her mood.
He left his room and marched into the kitchen, where he prepared the richest, most indulgent, and disgusting dish imaginable—a bowl of fudge ripple ice cream topped with chocolate syrup, semi-sweet chocolate morsels, chocolate sprinkles, and, for good measure, a chocolate brownie from the pantry. He even garnished it with a handful of M&M’s.
This had to help. After tucking a spoon inside the bowl, he knocked on Cara’s door and asked, “Can I come in?”
“S’open,” she called, voice muffled as if she’d pulled the comforter over her head.
He was partially right—a pillow, not a blanket, covered Cara’s face when he sat beside her on the bed. With his free hand, he yanked the pillow free, revealing blotchy, reddened cheeks and puffy eyes so bloodshot they nearly matched the rest of her. Tugging on her shoulder, he encouraged her to sit up while waving the bowl beneath her nose. “Look what I made for you. A bowl of diabetes.”
She peered at the concoction for a nanosecond, then pulled a wadded tissue beneath her nose and turned away. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
“But . . .” Aelyx looked down at the bowl in his hand. “It’s full of chocolate.”
“Just stick it in the freezer.”
Fasha. What now? Perhaps if he complimented her appearance . . .
He set the bowl on Cara’s nightstand and surveyed her wrinkled pajamas and the snarled locks of hair framing her face. “You look lovely today.” Was that a bit of potato chip stuck to the side of her forehead?
“Thanks, but you’re a liar.”
“Would you like me to . . .” He trailed off, grappling for inspiration. “Read to you? Or play your favorite video game? I’ll let you win.”
She released a hitched breath like tiny aftershocks following an earthquake. “I just wanna be alone, okay?”
Aelyx didn’t want to go, but he’d run out of ideas. “All right.” He pushed off the bed and retreated to his room for research. He had to find another way to help her.
Once seated on his carpeted floor, he turned on the laptop computer Colonel Rutter had given him, waiting patiently as it hummed to life before accessing Earth’s web of electronic data. After checking his school e-mail account and deleting half a dozen messages from Brandi Greene, he clicked a search engine icon, then typed the words how to and paused, considering what to query. Before he’d decided between cheer someone up and mend a broken heart, the search engine suggested how to kiss, how to make out, how to make love, how to boil an egg.
Sexual reproduction and food—humans’ two favorite subjects. He scoffed at their primitive drives, but then curiosity wrapped its fingers around his brain. Most humans expressed affection by pressing their lips together, a simple act, so why would anyone feel the need to research the process? Was there more to it?
He decided to find out.
Aelyx clicked the suggested links, and for the next two hours, he gave himself the kind of education they didn’t provide at the Aegis.
Cara felt something gritty against her cheek and lifted her head from the pillow to investigate. Potato chip? She brushed the crumbs onto the floor and snuggled deeper into her cozy flannel bedding. A persistent beam of sunlight had escaped from a gap between the curtains and crept toward her face all afternoon, so she thwarted its efforts by pulling the sheet over her head. Screw you, sunlight.
She’d survived the first week of HALO’s organized shun, but it left her feeling like a deflated balloon. Of all the students avoiding her, the only one who mattered was Tori, who looked almost as miserable as she was.
Tori clicked through the halls like a tiny high-heeled ghost. Shadows darkened the skin beneath her lifeless eyes, and she stared at the floor while loosely holding Eric’s hand, never once looking at Cara. Did Tori miss her? Probably. Did she spend her afternoons crying in bed and listening to her mom’s Morrissey collection? Probably not. But as much as Cara wanted to move forward, she didn’t know how. She hadn’t been able to blog since the day she found out about Tori and Eric. Heck, she hadn’t even checked her e-mail.
She heard a sharp knock on the door and threw back the sheet.
“Cah-ra?” Aelyx called. “May I come in?”
Again? As much as she appreciated his concern, she wished he’d leave her alone. “Sure.”
The door swung open, and he charged inside without hesitation, his hair loose and flowing behind him. He crossed the room and knelt on the floor beside her bed until they were at eye level.
“I made something for you.” Teasingly, he dangled a sheet of white drawing paper just outside her reach. “But you can’t have it until you get out of bed.”
She considered snapping at him, but curiosity got the better of her. She kicked off the covers and stretched out, yawning. Then with a slow roll, she scooted off the mattress and joined him on the floor. “I’m out. Where’s my prize?”
When he held up her reward, a tiny giggle rose to Cara’s lips. It was Aelyx’s pet, Vero, practically coming to life on the page. The animal did remind her of a lemur, but with the floppy ears of a Labrador and the thick body of a wildcat. Vero’s head was cocked to the side, and he held his paw forward while studying her with enormous black eyes. His skin looked baby soft and delicate, like a hairless cat she’d once petted. Extending her index finger, Cara traced the graceful curve of Vero’s tail, looking forward to the day she’d meet him in person. A year seemed far too long to wait.
“You’re so full of it,” she said.
“Me?” Aelyx said, pointing to himself with lifted brows.
“You said you were a bad artist. This is phenomenal.”
“I said I wasn’t great, and that’s the truth. You don’t know what Vero really looks like. I couldn’t get his face quite right.”
“Well, thanks for my present. Can I go back to bed now?”
“No.” He curled his large, warm hand around hers, then seemed to think better of it and tucked it beneath his thigh. “There’s more.”
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. Instead, his gaze darted back and forth between her throat and her lips while those silvery eyes darkened and jump-started her pulse. Seconds ticked by, but he kept watching her mouth. Was he trying to tell her something? Did she have food stuck between her teeth? She ran her tongue over the smooth enamel but didn’t feel anything. That only made it worse. Aelyx swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple shifted. He looked ready to choke. Or barf.