«You know, we could probably have a showing of your art in one of those galleries along Main Street," she suggested with mounting excitement. «Or we could do it at the Crashdown. It would be a great gimmick-the cook-slash-artist. The local papers love that human interest
stuff, and Mr. Parker would probably love the free advertising for the place. We could put all your work on display.»
«All what work?» He was afraid where this was going. «It's one painting.»
«Sure, now," she replied, moving into the kitchen with him. «But I think you've got this artist in you struggling to emerge. All you need is my inspiration. Think of me as your muse.»
«Not interested.»
«You haven't even thought about it," she whined. «Artists can make a lot of money.»
«Once they're dead," he said, reminding her of the odds of successful living artists. «Like I said, I'm not interested. What happened to the promise you made last night to stop trying to change me?»
«I was emotionally touched by the painting at the time," she explained. «The moment passed. So, do you think you're more into oils or acrylics?»
«I'm more into being left-"
Michael didn't have the chance to continue his thought, because someone frantically started banging on his door.
Maria started to open her mouth to respond, but Michael quickly covered it with his hand. The look of anxiety on his face begged her to remain silent, and she gladly agreed. His biggest fear was that one day the wild pounding on his door would be the FBI… or worse. It was actually a fear that he had encountered in the past and was not in a hurry to repeat.
«Michael, it's Kyle. Let me in. Quick!»
Michael and Maria let out heavy sighs of relief as he
removed his hand from her face. «Don't ever bang on my door like that," Michael said as he opened the door to find an out-of-breath Kyle.
«Isabel's in trouble," was all he could say.
After finally catching his breath following the sprint from his car, Kyle quickly detailed the situation of his finding Isabel in her comatose state. Breakfast forgotten, the three of them were out the door as Kyle returned to his convertible while Maria and Michael went to follow him back to the Evans home in her mother's Jetta.
Unaware of the fact that Isabel was trapped in his mind, Kyle led his friends back to her unconscious body, reenter-ing the house by way of her window. He stood over her bed while Michael studied her prone form, not really knowing what to do. Regretfully, this was not the first time they found themselves in a situation where they didn't have a clue how to proceed.
«You found her like this?» Michael asked anxiously.
«Well, she was kind of slumped over," Kyle explained, «but I just straightened her out a little.»
Sitting beside her, Michael placed his hand on Isabel's forehead. «She doesn't feel warm. Her face isn't flushed.» He took her by the wrist and felt for a pulse. It seemed fine to him-neither noticeably fast nor slow. Her chest was rising and falling steadily. «Was she sick yesterday?» he asked.
«No. Not at all," Kyle quickly replied. «She was fine.»
«Did you see anyone strange hanging around?» Michael pressed on. «Following you?»
«No one," Kyle answered. «No one at all.»
«And she spent the entire day with you?»
«Well, she did disappear for a few minutes to run an errand, but she wasn't gone long at all. Nothing seemed wrong when she got back, either.»
Having come in through the window, neither of them noticed the yearbook on the floor, hiding slightly under the other side of the bed.
«I can't get Liz or Max on their cell phones.» Maria came back into the room from the hall carrying her own cell phone, also oblivious to the clue hiding out of her eyesight. «They must be out of the service area, but I left messages. I also called the number Liz gave me for her friends' place. They have to check at least one of those phones eventually.»
«Did she give you the address?» Kyle asked, relieved now that he had someone to help him with the crazy situation. «I could go get them. Artesia's only about an hour away.»
«I don't know the address.» Maria readied her fingers on the cell phone to hit a preprogrammed number. «But I could ask her mom.»
«No parents," Michael stopped her. «The more people who know about this, the worse things can get.»
Maria sat on the bed opposite Michael and performed her own check for life signs just to confirm everything for herself. «We should think about maybe taking her to the hospital.»
«And then what?» Michael's usual hostility intensified the more frustrated he became by the lack of action. «Let them run tests? Maybe draw some blood? Good idea, Maria.»
Even though she was used to his antagonistic attitude, Maria was still hurt by Michael's words, but she tried not to show it, knowing he was already under a tremendous amount of stress. «Well, the next person we let in on our little secret had better be a doctor… preferably a world-renowned
surgeon who specializes in bizarre cases. I'm tired of relying on guessing games and Native American rituals.»
«Maria, you're a genius," Michael said, giving a rare compliment as he got up off the bed and moved to the window. «I'll be right back. Kyle, can I borrow your car?»
«Why not take the Jetta?» Maria offered up her mom's car instead since it was parked right next to Kyle's.
«Take the old beat-up Jetta over a Mustang convertible?» Michael was already straddling the windowsill. «Are you out of your mind?»
«Hey, remember who's to blame for the Jetta being so beat up," she replied.
«Kyle?» Michael was still waiting for an answer.
«Sure," Kyle said, fishing in his pocket. «Here are the keys.»
«Don't need 'em.» Michael was gone before Kyle could even reply
«I guess that's what it means to be second in command," Maria said regarding her boyfriend's quick exit. «And to think I always dreamed of falling in love with a mysterious man of action.»
Kyle took Michael's place sitting on the bed, and gently stroked Isabel's hair. «I don't get it. Nothing alien happened at all yesterday. What could have occurred between my place and here?»
«In Roswell? It could have been anything," Maria replied. «I mean, really, take your pick. We got aliens, alien hunters, Feds, Skins, and even a not-so-crazy self-made millionaire who owns the UFO Center.»
The silence that fell over the room was broken by the doorbell.
Kyle and Maria froze.
«Don't look at me," Maria said. «I'm not going to get it.»
«Do you think Michael forgot something?» Kyle innocently asked, wondering whether he should answer.
«He's not really a doorbell kind of guy," Maria said. «Or a front door kind of guy, for that matter.»
«Wait here," Kyle replied. «I'll see who it is.»
Making his way through the house, Kyle wondered who could be at the door, since all of the members of their inner circle were currently accounted for except for his dad. In vain, he hoped it could be someone soliciting charity donations, selling cleaning supplies door to door, or anyone else who would not ask for an explanation for what he was doing answering the Evanses' door. He tried to come up with excuses as he walked through the house, but realized he didn't have a clue what to say.
The bell rang once again as Kyle unlocked the door and turned the knob. Swinging the door open, Kyle initially thought he had lucked out, since it wasn't someone he immediately recognized. Please be selling something, he thought once again. Then, a slow realization crossed his mind as he thought he recognized the face as being slighdy familiar.