Michael didn't know why he was bothering to think about this. He was never going to have a little brother. Or a big brother or a sister or parents.
"Michael, come on," Maria called from the living room. "I want to shake my groove thing."
He laughed. Maria could always do that. She could always make him laugh. And that's what he needed-especially when he was about to sink into a bunch of pathetic thoughts about not having a family. He grabbed a few CDs, then jerked open his middle dresser drawer and snagged a sweatshirt and hurried back to the living room.
"I thought you might be cold. You got all wet," he told Maria. He threw the sweatshirt to her, and she pulled it on. Good.
Michael popped one of the CDs into the player and cranked it.
Dylan instantly stiffened up. "So what do I do?" he asked.
"Whatever you want," Maria cried over the music. "That's the best thing about dancing." She twirled around the room, giving little hops, doing her happy dance.
Michael attempted to keep his thoughts in line by focusing on Dylan, who looked totally panicked. "Don't worry, not everybody dances like Maria," Michael said. "All you have to do is kind of shuffle your feet around."
"It's true," Maria said. "That's what Michael does. And there are usually a few girls desperate enough to dance with him."
Dylan laughed. Maria grabbed his hands and pulled him around the room a few times. Michael stepped back and watched. Maria was right about him. He was an okay dancer, but he never got into it the way she did. It's like the music took her over, from all those springy blond curls to-
Get a grip, Michael told himself. As soon as the song was over he killed the music. "You'll be fine," Michael told Dylan.
"But what about, you know, slow dancing?" Dylan asked.
"Even easier," Michael answered. "You don't even really have to shuffle your feet. You just kind of hold the girl and sway."
"But"-Dylan lowered his voice, sounding embarrassed-"but where… where are you supposed to hold her?"
Maria changed CDs and a slow song started up. She turned off the overhead light. "You can't slow dance when it's this bright," she said. She stepped up to Michael. "You can use me to demonstrate."
He didn't want to touch her right now. Not with all those thoughts about her wet shirt filling his brain. But he couldn't think of a way out of it.
"There are a couple of places your hands can go. I usually put mine here," Michael told Dylan. He positioned his hands in the curve of Maria's waist.
"A good choice," Maria said. "The girl might do something like this." She linked her hands behind Michael's neck.
This felt… pretty nice. It didn't feel all wrong and awkward the way he thought it would.
"Is that how far away I should be?" Dylan asked. Any second Michael expected him to pull out some paper and start taking notes.
"Probably to start," Maria said. "But there are signals that a girl wouldn't mind being held a little closer. Like she might stare into your eyes."
Maria looked up at Michael. Man, her eyes were blue. And she always smelled so good.
Michael wondered what the deal was with her dream. Was there some guy out there she had a thing for, some guy she wanted to kiss? Or did she wake up the next morning going, "That was weird. I guess I shouldn't eat pineapple pizza before I go to bed."
"Or she might move her arms around your waist." Maria demonstrated on Michael, and it continued to feel good. He kept waiting for that wave of but-this-is-the-girl-who's-like-my-little-sister feeling to sweep over him. But it didn't come.
"That's a pretty clear signal she wants to be held closer," Maria said. "Of course, some guys, like Michael, are kind of slow. They miss the more subtle hints."
"I'm not missing any hints," Michael answered. He pulled her up against him and slid one of his hands up her back. She snuggled closer, resting her cheek against his chest. That little-sister feeling still didn't come.
"So that's it?" Dylan asked.
"That's it," Michael answered. He started to pull away, but Maria tightened her arms around him.
"There is the kissing thing," Maria said. She lifted her head and stared up at Michael again.
"The kissing thing?" Dylan repeated in horror.
"Yeah, sometimes during a slow dance people kiss," Maria said.
Michael's eyes drifted down to her lips. The color of them reminded him of raspberries. He wondered how they would taste.
But kissing was a whole different deal than dancing. Dancing was kind of a borderline. You could be friends and dance together. But if you started kissing, you crossed the border from being friends into… something else.
"I think you've learned enough for one night," Michael told Dylan.
Max glanced at the clock. Almost eight. Was Liz changing clothes right now, trying to decide what to wear to UFOnics, trying to figure out what Jerry Cifarelli would think was hot?
"What do you think of a display on the Hollow Earth Society?" Ray asked. "Maybe right over there, next to the one on the Elvis-alien connection." He jerked his chin, nodding toward the back wall of the UFO museum.
"I don't know what that is," Max admitted.
Maybe Liz and Jerry are already at UFOnics, dancing to some slow song, Max thought. Why had Maria told him that Liz was going out with Jerry tonight? If she wanted to torture him, why didn't she just pull out his fingernails or drip water on his forehead?
"And you call yourself an alien," Ray scolded. "Don't you know we've been colonizing the hollow center of the earth for hundreds of years?"
"Wait. What? When were you planning on telling us?" Max demanded. He understood that talking about their birth planet was painful for Ray. But if there was a whole group of aliens on earth, he should know about it.
Ray shook his head. "Max, Max, Max. You really should have told me you'd gone in for that lobotomy. I'd have given you the night off."
Oops, Max thought. "I guess the words hollow center of the earth should have tipped me off, huh?" he said. "I don't have much of a sense of humor tonight."
"Don't worry about it," Ray said. "And just for the record, as far as I know, you, me, Michael, and Isabel are the only aliens on earth."
"So what's this Hollow Earth Society deal?" Max asked. He wanted to check the time again, but he wouldn't let himself. If he kept thinking about Liz and Jerry, he really would need a lobotomy.
"Just one of the wackier human theories," Ray explained. "You want to hear about it-or you want to tell me what's got you in such a fever?"
"Nothing really to talk about," Max said. What was he supposed to say? That he was losing his mind because Liz-the girl he told he wanted to be just friends-was going out with someone else tonight?
"If you change your mind, you know where to find me." Ray glanced at his watch. "Blow the whistle-it's quitting time," he said. "You go ahead and take off. I'll close up."
"Thanks," Max said. He bolted out to his Jeep and swung into the driver's seat. Now what? he wondered. Go home and spend the night imagining Liz in Jerry's arms? He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. I'll go to a movie, he decided. That will keep my mind off what Liz is doing with Jerry.
He pulled out onto the street and headed toward the mall. When he made a left onto Cordova, he could see UFOnics' bright orange neon sign, with its spaceship crashing over and over. Max planned to just drive on by, he really did, but it was like the Jeep had a mind of its own.