About halfway across the lot Maria grabbed the back of Michael's shirt with both hands and pulled him to a stop. He turned to face her, and their bodies brushed together, sending a shiver straight through him. He could smell eucalyptus oil on her and the cedar oil she always used when she was stressed. Mixed with that, something sweet and flowery. Michael took a step back. "What?" he said, his voice coming out harsh and hoarse.
"I know you never listen to me. I know I have no influence over you. But Michael, I really don't think you should try to shatter the consciousness alone," Maria said in a rush, her blue eyes wide. "What about Isabel? Couldn't she-"
Michael took another step away from her. Her scent was fogging his brain. "Isabel hasn't had any practice with the Stones," he answered.
Maria closed the distance between them until their bodies were almost touching again. "So take a couple of days and let her practice," she begged in a whisper.
"I can handle it," Michael told her. He turned and started toward the Cadillac again, Maria trotting to keep up with his long strides. "And if it's dangerous, it's better that only one of us is at risk."
He heard a horn honk and glanced over. The Jeep was pulling out of the lot with Isabel, Liz, Trevor, and Alex inside. Which left Michael and Maria making the trip to the UFO museum in the Caddy-alone. Great. Yeah, this was great. He needed to be concentrating, focusing, getting ready to shatter the freaking consciousness.
Now all these Maria thoughts would keep invading his head. Not to mention all the Maria smells. And the closeness of the Maria skin. Michael climbed into the car and slammed the door as hard as he could.
The second Maria got in beside him, he threw the gearshift into reverse and jerked the car out of its parking space. He saw Maggie McMahon getting ready to pull out, but he cut her off. There was no time to be nice and polite. The sooner he got out of this car and away from Maria, the better off they'd both be. It was only fair to Maria to taper off his contact with her. And as for touching of any kind-even basic friend touching-there would be no more of that. He really had to go cold turkey. Maybe it would help if he imagined her skin was… cold turkey. Instead of soft. Instead of warm. He glanced at her bare shoulder peeking out from her tank top. Instead of very, very tempting.
"You nervous?" Maria asked, fidgeting with her colorful beaded bracelets.
"No. Of course not," he snapped.
"Oh." She reached over and ran one finger lightly across the back of his hand, and he almost veered into oncoming traffic. "So the way your knuckles have turned all white, that's just normal?"
Michael realized he was gripping the wheel way, way too tightly. He forced his fingers to relax, letting the blood flow return to them.
"Don't touch me while I'm driving, okay?" he said. He checked the rearview mirror. He checked the side mirror. He checked the street in front of him. There was a little splotch on the windshield, and Michael hit the button to squirt some water on it, then started the wipers. Lots of stuff to think about when operating a vehicle, he thought. Lots of non-Maria stuff. He snapped the wipers off and scanned the gauges-no attention available to think about Maria. Or the way her lips really were almost the color of raspberries. Juicy raspberries. Sweet raspberries.
"Michael, we just passed the museum," Maria announced, glancing behind them, confused.
Crap. Michael made a squealing U-turn, eliciting a little squeal from Maria, and pulled into the museum parking lot. He got out of the car in record-breaking time without a second glance at his passenger.
The rest of their friends were waiting outside, and Trevor walked over to Michael as he hurried toward the outdoor stairs that led to his apartment.
"I'll wait down here," Trevor said. "Come get me as soon as it's over. Or have someone else call me if…"
He didn't finish the thought, but Michael knew what he was about to say-if you're getting beaten so badly, you need backup just to get out alive.
"I will," Michael promised solemnly. It seemed like there should be something else to say, but he couldn't think what it was.
"You two could hug, you know," Maria said from behind him. "You are brothers and everything."
Michael and Trevor stared at each other. Then, with a what-the-hell shrug, Michael jerked his brother to him and hugged him tightly, releasing him with a thump on the back. Very manly.
"We'd better get up there," Michael said. He reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the Stones, then trotted up to the stairs and took them two at a time. Isabel, Liz, Alex, and Maria were right behind him, causing the steps to creak and moan as the crew pounded upward. Michael was comforted to know they were there, but he was ready to get this thing done.
"Is there any way we can help once we get inside?" Alex asked, just behind Michael. It was better than having Maria right there, Michael supposed.
"Nope," he answered firmly, sounding calm. He yanked open the door and strode into the living room, where he could hear the TV on. He found the Max thing sitting in front of the tube, which was where it had been when he left for school that morning. Michael walked straight over to him-it. "Hey, Max. I've been thinking about it a lot, and Isabel and Liz and Alex are right. If you want to get home, we should all be helping you."
Here goes, he thought. He clamped his hand down on Max's shoulder and focused on making the connection.
Am I in? Michael thought. He wasn't getting any images, the way he usually did when he connected, but he had felt kind of a click-a meeting of two pieces.
He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to relax, trying to let the images in. All he saw was blackness. Did the consciousness sense his intention? Was it trying to keep him out?
Max! Michael thought. Max! I'm here. But I'm getting blocked.
A rushing sound filled his ears, and he could feel pressure building inside his brain. Pushing from all sides. Squeezing his gray matter into a tennis-ball-size lump.
Michael's eyes began to water, feeling like they would pop any second with the pressure. The pressure…
He dug his fingers into Max's skin, refusing to break the connection. He knew the Stones could help him, but it was too soon to use them. He had to wait until he was sure he could direct the power into the consciousness.
The rushing sound grew louder. Something warm and wet trickled out of his left ear. Michael gathered all his energy and threw out one more mental shout. Maaaax!
The image of Max's face flared in Michael's mind, obliterating the darkness. He felt his brain expand, the horrible crushing pressure easing up, the roaring in his ears dimming. His whole body lightened until he was no longer sure if his feet were on the floor. Max's face disintegrated into a swirl of colors. The most beautiful colors Michael had ever seen. So rich and vivid, he could almost feel them.
He rolled onto a patch of tangerine, letting it soak into every pore, mix with his blood, seep through every cell membrane, stain his protons and electrons and neutrons. He became the color. And the color became him. And the tangerine Michael felt good.
Above him was an expanse of saffron yellow. He stretched out his arms and pulled the color toward him, opening his mouth so he could swallow it. It traveled like liquid fire down his throat and into his stomach. The heat turned Michael saffron from the inside out. And the saffron Michael felt good, too.
He spun, weightless, free, and spotted a geyser of indigo. He had to experience it. With a hoot of pleasure he propelled himself under the spray, tilting back his head, letting the color drench him, letting it-
"Michael! No.'"
Michael snapped his head up. That was Max's voice.
You've got to get out! Now! Max ordered, speaking thought to thought with Michael.