"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."
Max raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really?" he teased.
"Okay, every once in a while, like when I'm sick or something, I still sleep with him," Liz admitted, blushing. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"
"Lucky guess. You sounded just a little defensive when you said you put him on your dresser," Max explained. "It really bothers you that I got images from your mind, doesn't it?"
Liz looked down at her boots. Even though Max had only seen stupid little things from her childhood, it did bother her. What if he were just being polite, telling her the stuff that wasn't important? What if he really had seen everything, like how angry she felt at her sister for dying? He would think she was a horrible person-and she couldn't bear that.
Max wouldn't lie to me, she told herself. If he says he only saw the ugly cupcake dress, then he means it.
"Maybe I overreacted," Liz said slowly. "It's not like you were intentionally spying on me. But, well, how would you feel if I knew all your secrets?"
Max stared at her as if she were an idiot. And suddenly Liz felt her face flush. How could she have said that? She did know Max's biggest secret, something much more intimate and personal than anything he knew about her.
Max sat down on the little bench. He patted the spot next to him. "Come on, I want to try something."
"O-kaay." Liz wished that hadn't come out sounding so apprehensive. Why couldn't she remember how to act around Max anymore?
She sat next to him. Her shoulder brushed against his. She wanted to move back, but she held herself perfectly still. If she kept jumping away from him, Max might think she was afraid of him or something.
And I'm not, she thought. Not much.
She wanted to feel completely comfortable around Max, the way she used to. But it was like there was a loop in her head playing the words he's an alien, he's an alien over and over.
"I've never tried this before, but I thought maybe I could make the connection go the other way," Max told her. "So that you could invade my privacy and get some images from me."
Liz blinked in surprise. What would it be like to see into Max's thoughts? I'd probably be the first human to ever see into the mind of an alien, she thought. The scientist in her was totally excited by the opportunity. But it wouldn't be fair to Max.
"You don't have to do that, Max," Liz said softly. "I was being a jerk about the whole thing. You saved my life-I should be down on my knees thanking you, no matter what your method was."
"No, we have to try this," Max insisted. "Think of it as an experiment. Or as a free movie-the Max Evans Show."