"Don't let them, man," Michael answered. "If they can't accept you as you are, just walk away. Right, Max?"
"Every American has the right to wear flannel," Max answered. He leaned over the railing and stared into the fountain in the lower level. It was obvious he didn't really feel like talking.
Alex didn't know Max that well, but he'd always seemed like a cool guy. Alex wouldn't mind asking him a couple of questions about Isabel, something that would help him figure her out.
Maybe her brother would know which Isabel was real-the Isabel who had flirted with Alex and acted like she was totally enjoying herself? Or the Isabel who had cut him down behind his back?
"What is it with chicks?" Michael asked. "They can have a guy who's crazy about them, but that's not good enough. They have to get in there and start changing things. Guys don't do that. Max, you like Liz just the way she is, right?"
There was a strange little silence.
Liz shot Michael a look that said "back off" loud and clear. Alex frowned. What was going on with everyone? Liz wasn't usually so touchy.
"I mean, you'd never tell her what to wear," Michael amended, avoiding Liz's eyes.
"Liz looks good in everything," Max answered. He pushed himself away from the rail and turned back to face the group. "You even looked cute in that dress you hated, the goofy one with the cupcakes on it."
"You remember that?" Liz cried. "I hated that dress so much, but my abuelita gave it to me, so my parents were always making me wear it."
"I don't remember it. What grade was that?" Maria asked.
Liz thought about it a second. "Kindergarten. I remember Ms. Gliden let me wear one of the finger-painting smocks when I had to wear the dress to school. She was so nice. She…" Liz's voice trailed off.
Maria was frowning. "But Max wasn't in your kindergarten class, was he?" she asked.
Liz turned to Max. "I have to talk to you alone. Right now." She strode away from the group. Max hesitated a moment, then followed her.
Another strange little silence. Maria had gone pale.
"All righty, then," Alex muttered.
"I have to buy some nail polish," Maria blurted. "I'll meet you at the food court." She rushed toward the escalator.
Alex looked at Michael and shrugged. "You want to get some food?" he asked.
"I can always eat," Michael answered.
Liz and Maria must have popped a few psycho pills when I wasn't looking, Alex thought as he and Michael headed down the walkway. I hope they wear off fast.
"Don't even think about it," Isabel snarled at the perfume sample guy before he could spray her. She usually avoided this entrance to Macy's. It was like trying to maneuver through a minefield of perfume bombs. The smell of all the scents-flowery, spicy, fruity, powdery-made her stomach turn over.
"Hey, he was kind of a cutie," Tish protested.
Isabel glanced over her shoulder. "He's too bulky and bulgy. Look at those veins popping out on his neck."
"I thought you loved that muscle beach look." Tish held her wrist out to a pale woman in a white smock, who delicately spritzed her with a floral scent.
"I must be maturing. Guys like that seem a little too obvious to me now," Isabel said. "Besides, who wants a guy who spends more hours in the gym than he does with you?"
Yeah, that's it, Isabel thought. It didn't have anything to do with the memory of the way Alex's lean body felt pressed up against hers in their dream dance.
"I like it," Tish said. "I still say he's cute."
"You think everyone is cute," Isabel shot back.
"Pretty much everyone has something cute about them, even if it's just one little thing," Tish insisted. "Like that guy by the glove counter. Bad clothes, bad hair, bad skin-"
"Bad personal hygiene," Isabel cut in.
"But look at his mouth." Tish grabbed Isabel's chin and turned her head toward the guy. "Look at those big, cushy lips. Yum."
"Okay, what about him?" Isabel jerked her head toward a pudgy guy who would probably be calling the Hair Club for Men about a year after grad.
"How can you even ask?" Tish exclaimed. "Look at his butt. Pure Charmin. Don't you just want to squeeze it?"
"Uh, not really," Isabel answered. She scanned the crowd, then smiled. "Okay, I've got a tough one for you-over there by the Lancome counter."
Tish glanced over and started making gagging noises. "It's the Anticute. Let's get out of here. We see Stacey way too much at school."
"I want to talk to her," Isabel said.
"Is-a-bel." Tish said her name in a long whine.
"Come on." Isabel sauntered toward Stacey. She didn't bother to check and see if Tish was following her. Tish always followed Isabel.
"Hey, Stacey, looking for a lipstick to go with your lavender dress?" Isabel asked.
Stacey whirled toward them.
Tish gasped. "What happened to your face?" she exclaimed.
"I had this horrible dream, and I kept scratching myself in my sleep," Stacey admitted. She ran her fingers over one of the long red scratches covering her face.
I don't think I've ever seen Stacey when she's not bouncing or giggling or something, Isabel thought. Stacey was nauseatingly, unrelentingly bubbly. Even in classes she was constantly doodling little hearts, stars, and rainbows on the cover of her notebook.
"That's terrible. Do they hurt?" Tish asked.
Oh, please, Isabel thought. If Tish found a hurt rattlesnake on the sidewalk, she'd probably take it home, nurse it back to health, tie a bow around its neck, and then be surprised when it bit her. She should go out with Max. They'd make a perfect couple.
"They don't really hurt, but they look so gross. I'm trying to find something to cover them up." Stacey studied the foundations and powders in the case in front of her.
"What was your dream about, anyway?" Tish said.
"Oh, it was gross!" Stacey rubbed her face with both hands. "There were all these bugs crawling on me. I could feel all their little legs. I kept scratching and scratching, but I couldn't get them off."
Isabel gave a loud gasp. She opened her eyes wide. "This is so weird. I had exactly the same dream last night!"
"What's up?" Max asked as he trotted after Liz.
Liz didn't answer. She turned down a short hallway with a pay phone, a drinking fountain, and one bench. No one would bother them here.
She spun around and glared at Max. "How did you know about my cupcake dress?" she demanded. "Can you read minds? Is that one of your powers? If it is, you have got to find a way to turn it off because it's an incredible invasion of privacy."
Liz didn't even want to think about what Max could have seen in her head. All the embarrassing little things she'd never told anyone, not even Maria. The silly daydreams she let herself slide into when one of her teachers got so boring, she wanted to scream. The mean little thoughts she had about people sometimes.
But most of all she was afraid that Max had seen all the horrible things she'd thought when he told her he was an alien. Liz was ashamed of the mix of revulsion and fear that flooded her in that moment. If she'd felt those kinds of emotions directed at her, she'd be devastated.
"I can't read minds. At least not usually," Max told her. "But when I heal someone, I make a connection with them. I get this rush of images, so fast I can hardly take them all in. And somehow I just know things. Not thoughts, exactly. But like that dress-an image of it flashed into my mind, and I knew how you felt about it."
Liz folded her arms over her chest. "What else did you see besides the dress?"
"Um… I saw a stuffed dog with a chewed-up ear," Max said.
"Oh, Mr. Beans. He lives on my bed." Liz started to feel a little better. If Mr. Beans and the cupcake dress were the worst things Max saw, that wasn't so bad.
"Liz Ortecho sleeping with a stuffed animal. That's hard to picture." Max laughed. "You're always so intense and focused."
"I don't actually sleep with him," Liz corrected. "At night I put him on my dresser."