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I was more than unhappy to see him come into my math class after lunch, which meant he was now in every one of my classes. He stopped by my desk. “My Albuquerque friend will be at the party, won’t she?”

I put on a smile as fake as his. “Maybe.”

“Good.” He winked and continued down the aisle, inviting each student he passed.

Later that afternoon I stepped into Dr. Alison’s classroom with a vacuum strapped to my back and practically walked into Everett, who was talking to Dr. Alison. I resisted the urge to rush from the room and instead headed to the farthest corner. I picked up a scrap of paper I could have just sucked up and tossed it into the trash can. If I turned on the vacuum I might miss an interesting conversation.

“I’d better go,” Everett said.

I picked up a pencil from the floor and glanced at them.

“Thank you for your help,” Dr. Alison said in an even tone.

I studied the floor, hoping to find something else I could pick up, but the area was perfectly clean. Everett glanced in my direction, hesitating, then dashed out the door. Dr. Alison remained at her desk and wrote in a notebook. I turned on the vacuum, but stayed in the far corner longer than I needed to. At some point, I turned around to discover Dr. Alison had left. I vacuumed faster than usual in the direction of the desk, eyeing the notebook. I glanced toward the hall then hurried to the desk.

I positioned the vacuum hose under the desk and casually flicked the notebook open with one finger. The page I turned to was filled with hand-written lesson plans: Fauvism, Expressionism, Cubism, Futurism, Impressionism. Nothing suspicious. I glanced at the door and flipped to another page. The same thing. One more flip…and I saw it:
Everett
written in the margins. My heart pounded. I studied the page, but nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. No other student names. Nothing else in the margins. I closed the book with a shaky hand.

It
had
to mean something. Why would a teacher, especially one as sophisticated as Dr. Alison, doodle a student’s name in her notebook? It might not prove anything about Everett, but I was supposed to report anything unusual about Dr. Alison. And this qualified. It was little. But it was something.

I turned off the vacuum, hurried with my cart to the next room, and opened a stream to Mom.

I streamed.

she prodded.

I flipped on the vacuum. I paused, then sighed. The story clearly did not have the punch I’d hoped for.

Mom streamed.

Mom streamed. Patronizing. Definitely patronizing.

I hesitated…

Mom chuckled.

I adjusted the vacuum, deflated. Before I had time to gather my thoughts, Jesse appeared in the doorway. I took a step back in surprise, lost my balance with the weight of the vacuum, and accidentally cut the stream with Mom.

Jesse took a step in my direction, “You okay?”

Mom’s voice popped back inside my head.

I put up my hand to stop Jesse. “I’m fine. And I’m almost done,” I said. “I just have to finish this room. Sorry if I made you wait.”

“I’ll take your trash to the dumpster.”

I called out a thanks to him, then as soon as he was out of sight, continued streaming with Mom. I flipped the vacuum back on.

Mom replied.

I came across an area of carpet that was wet and reeked of human bodily fluid. I streamed with a sigh. Just my second day on the job and it felt like my second year. If I didn’t find something of real value soon I might die of the icks.

 CHAPTER TEN

It seemed like the only person who didn’t talk incessantly for the next two days about Everett’s upcoming party was Jesse. But then, he rarely spoke. He just kept me off balance with his brilliant smile—the one I couldn’t figure out. Like he was concealing a joke that I should be in on. The result was always the same, I’d look away feeling weak kneed and confused.

I had no plans of going to the party, and knew that nothing in the world could get me there—at night, with boys, and alcohol—or worse. Not to mention the creepy host. A party would violate dozens of rules and would do nothing to help my job of watching the Stones. Mom would never let me go. I wouldn’t even ask.

But as much as I knew it was the last place I should want to be, I couldn’t help feeling left out. It was in my nature to want to be included, which was just one more reason that I shouldn’t have been assigned this job. They should have known that from the three-day assessment I’d taken. Maybe this was just part of the game Keddil was playing, to see how many ways he could torture me.

I decided that what I needed was a girl’s night. Just me and Mom. Earth style. On my way home from work Friday afternoon I took a detour to the Lucky Grocery Store and stealthily followed a mother with two children. Whenever the children asked for something, I found the item and put it in my own cart. Within twenty minutes my cart was overflowing with food that had absolutely no nutritional value but looked and smelled divine. I paid with currency from my emergency fund and congratulated myself on my brilliance. Of course the food part of the party would have to happen before Mom got home, but that was okay.

At home I changed into the swimsuit the agency had provided. The lightweight fabric was closer to what I was used to than anything else in my closet. Unfortunately there wasn’t much of it. The two small strips of fabric seemed like an odd fashion choice for females so neurotic about their bodies. I suspected it had something to do with a primitive need to attract men.

I was, for once, almost grateful to be alone when I traipsed nearly naked into my backyard, clutching a package of red licorice candy and a towel. I scooted a lounge chair beneath the large palmaceae—
palm tree
—with its odd shedding trunk and gigantic leaves for branches.

After a few moments of resting in the lounge chair, I noticed just beyond the cinderblock wall that bordered the yard a blur of red rise and quickly fall again. It appeared briefly a few seconds later, this time accompanied by a pair of green eyes.

I chuckled. “Hey, Becca.”

The little girl’s head popped up again, then disappeared. A tiny voice came from behind the wall. “Do you like to swim?”

“Uh…yeah,” I replied. “I guess.”

“So do I.” The red head popped up once again.

I put my head back on the lounge chair and rubbed the bridge of my nose. I was tired of being alone. A little kid wasn’t my first choice for company, but it was probably the most harmless. “You can come over if you want.”

There was no reply. After several moments I assumed the conversation was over, until Becca ran through the side gate in a flowery pink swimsuit. “You sure it’s okay?”

“I guess,” I said. “As long as you know how to swim and I’m back here anyway.” I offered Becca a piece of the red candy, which she held while jumping feet first into the sparkling blue water.

Becca appeared to be a competent swimmer, so I couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t be here, besides the various rules about being alone with a human. But she was just a kid. What was she going to do? Notice me streaming and report me to her mom?

I closed my eyes and felt aware of a cool evening breeze kissing my nose. I opened my eyes to see the palm waving its leaves above my head. I took a bite of soft chewy candy and drank in a deep breath filled with a combination of new smells—mostly citrus and salt. Not one emotion.

It was going to be a perfect evening even without the stupid party. I’d just have to send Becca home before Mom arrived. Then the two of us would enjoy some visual media on a real-live television set. I’d never done it before, but it seemed much more intimate than streaming media—with both of us viewing the same external media at the same time.

The sun had dropped in the sky. My stomach churned uncomfortably from my candy diet when Becca suddenly stopped on the diving board and looked towards the house. I reduced the volume of the music playing in my head—one of a couple hundred Earth tunes I’d downloaded before losing my UNID—and heard Mom stomping around in the house. Becca jumped onto the concrete from the back of the diving board and dashed out the side gate without a word.

I slipped the empty candy box under my towel.

Mom streamed to me from inside the house.

I silenced the music.

I found Mom in her bedroom, dumping what appeared to be her entire human wardrobe into a suitcase on the bed.

“What’s up?” I said out loud.

“I’m going on an assignment!”

I dropped onto the edge of the bed. “You’re leaving? For how long?”

“Just for the weekend. You’ll be all right, won’t you?”

“Sure.” It was a lie Mom should have been able to detect if she hadn’t been so distracted. “What’s your assignment?”

“Senator Simmons.” Mom tossed a pair of slacks in the suitcase, her face flush with excitement. “I’m following him to Sacramento.”

“A rogue?”

Mom scooped up several pairs of shoes and dumped them in. “Suspected.”

“They think he’s from Nreim? A nafarian?” I pulled the slacks out from the bottom of the bag, folded them, and placed them on top of the shoes. “But they don’t know for sure?”

“Nope. Not yet.”

“And why can’t you just run a scan on him? Wouldn’t that be easier than following him across the globe?”

Mom smiled, and kneeled next to the bed. “Of course. But the council has very strict noninvasive policies.” She stooped with her head under the bed and raised her voice. “We can’t run a scan without the suspect’s consent. Just like we can’t stream with them.”

“But that’s stupid. They think it’s less invasive for you to run around spying than to do a simple scan he won’t even know about?”

Mom laughed and pulled her head from below the bed. “Ah, my brilliant child.” She stood up with a belt in her hand and dropped it in the bag. “You said it, I didn’t. The Waikish Directive was just approved by the council. As of this week, we have to submit a request, accompanied by a body of evidence, before receiving permission to run any tests on a human or nafarian, even suspected rogues.”

“Waikish Directive?”

“Authority Yoseemer Waikish. You must have heard of him. He’s one of the humans’ biggest advocates.”

“Keddil may have mentioned him,” I said. I watched Mom for a few moments, frantically and randomly throwing clothes in her bag.

She looked and felt…
nervous
. Definitely an emotion I’d never seen in her before. “I didn’t realize you have even more stupid rules than I do,” I said.

 “It’s frustrating, but the humans don’t even know they need their rights protected. They need people like Authority Waikish looking out for them. You know how easy it would be for us to take advantage of their kind.”

I picked up a silk blouse, folded it, and slipped it into a pocket in the top of the suitcase. “Oh yes, I know.” The many ways I was a threat to this planet was the primary focus of my training. My hand touched something hard in the suitcase. I pulled out a small weapon—a gun of some sort. I looked up, even more worried than I’d been seconds earlier. “Is this…human technology?”

Mom snatched it and put it back. “Don’t worry. I’m not likely to use it. It’s just a precaution.” She zipped up the bulging suitcase. “I’ve really got to go. Just remember—rules are good. Hang back and observe as much as you can and you’ll do just fine. I’m only a thought away.”

Minutes later, I stood in the driveway watching my mother’s car pull out onto the road. I knew I shouldn’t be angry. Mom had spent years training for an assignment tracking rogues only to be sent to Earth as just a babysitter to me. Nothing would thrill Mom more than uncovering an actual rogue. I should be happy for her.

I pulled out my cell phone and stared at the number two button. Pushing it would supposedly reach Lacey. I slipped it back in my pocket. I wasn’t that insane. Yet.

I thought about inviting Becca to come back, but that felt exceptionally pathetic.

At least with Mom gone I could eat my candy and watch my movie at the same time.

***

I was in the middle of
Pretty Woman
when I heard a knock on the door.

I scrambled to remember how to pause the movie with the remote control. The first result was a change in the channel. The second increased the volume. The knocking turned into pounding, from what sounded like multiple fists. I gave up on the television, but hesitated at the entry to the living room, until I heard Lacey’s voice calling my name.

I unlocked the door and swung it open. They were all on the porch—Lacey, Serena, and Camille. Their exaggerated clothes, hair, makeup and jewelry looked like an amateur version of the way the Skinnies dressed. Tiny Camille especially looked like a young child playing dress up. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Kidnapping you,” Lacey said. “You
cannot
miss this party. It is
the
party of the year.”

“Of the century,” Serena corrected her. A bead that was strung to a short lock of hair bobbed against her forehead.