“Aha,” said J.Lo, then he made another Boovish noise. The glass of his helmet turned a dark blue. “Better?”
“Yeah. Really good. Now follow my lead.”
Then I walked out from the trees, bold as anything.
The boys were still looking at the car. Some of the adults had formed a little huddle to decide their next move. Others searched the bushes. None of them were looking our way. I cleared my throat.
“Hi!” I said.
“Gaa!” said the closest man, and fell backward on the seat of his big khaki shorts.
“Where did you come from?” he asked.
“Pennsylvania,” I answered.
Everyone gaped. A stout woman wearing a T-shirt that read, “Don’t blame me, I voted for Spock” stepped forward.
“Well, hi there. I’m Vicki. Vicki Lightbody,” she said, offering her hand. “You don’t have to call me Mrs. Lightbody, you can call me Vicki.”
“I’m Gr…Grace,” I said. I didn’t feel like having that conversation. “This is my little brother…JayJay.”
J.Lo had been sort of half hiding behind me, but now he poked out his sheet-covered head and made like he was going to shake Vicki Lightbody’s hand, too. I pushed him back.
“Hey, Halloween’s not for a few months, kid,” said Kat.
“Yeah…” I said, “but when the aliens invaded he got real scared and he put his ghost costume on, and now he refuses to take it off. Mom says he has a condition.”
“Yes,” said J.Lo. “I am conditioned.”
I could have slapped the both of us. “Plus, he talks with a funny voice,” I added. “It’s part of the condition.”
“Is not funny,” J.Lo whispered, but I kicked at him with my heel.
Vicki looked at us with a sad, oh-you-poor-things sort of look. It stinks to have people look at you like that, but it was the effect I was going for. Kat wasn’t so sympathetic.
“I’ll take it off him,” she said, and strode forward.
“No!” said J.Lo.
“No!” I said. “Don’t do it. If anyone tries, he starts screaming and…wets himself and stuff.”
That stopped Kat cold. She stepped back again.
“Well, he sounds like a Boov.”
Vicki clucked her tongue. “That’s a terrible thing to—That’s not true, JayJay. You don’t sound anything like a Boov.”
“Sounds exactly like a Boov.”
“Shut up, Kat.”
Vicki Lightbody gave her a look, a look that said the subject was closed, and Kat backed down; but not without stealing little glances at J.Lo from time to time. I casually stepped between them.
“Where are your parents?” asked one of the men.
“It’s just me—just us and our mom,” I said. “And hopefully she’s in Arizona. That’s where we’re going.”
“But why—”
“We got separated because of the aliens,” I continued. “I thought I could make it to Arizona on my own.”
“That’s a lot to handle for two children all alone,” said Vicki Lightbody.
I’m not a big fan of the word “child.” I don’t know any kid who likes it. But somehow we all grow up to be adults who say it all the time. It’s an insult when they use it to describe another adult, but they still turn around and use it to describe us. Like we’re not going to notice. Mostly adults only talk about “children” when they’re trying to make us seem precious and defenseless anyway.
“It’s a lot for anybody to handle alone,” I said. “But…luckily, we met this Boov in Pennsylvania who…wasn’t all mean and stupid like the rest of them. He fixed up our car so the trip would be easier. It might have taken a little longer without him.”
Nobody said anything for a few breaths. The rustling leaves sounded like faint applause.
“Well,” said Vicki, “one of the guys will drive your car back, and we’ll all see about some dinner.”
“Why…why don’t we just leave the car here,” I said. I couldn’t mention the brakes—we were going to have to fix that problem on our own, and do it without letting these people know how handy my so-called little brother was with Boovish machines.
“It has a sign sticking out of it,” said a man. He tried to pull it out but snapped his hand back with a yelp and a spray of blue sparks.
“Yeah, it always has that,” I said. “Should we go?”
Vicki Lightbody had a baby daughter named Andromeda They mostly lived alone. I say “mostly,” because everyone else apparently came and went through Vicki’s apartment as they pleased, as though it were the only place in Roswell with a shower.
Vicki busied herself in her kitchenette while Andromeda sat in her high chair and banged a spoon against the tray. J.Lo and I shifted our feet, not knowing where to stand.
“You said I was not mean and stupids,” J. Lo whispered.
“I know. Shut up.”
“You like me.”
“Shut up.”
I saw Vicki watching us.
“So…you all decided to stay in Roswell?” I asked.
“It’s my home,” Vicki answered. “I’ve lived here for forever. And it’s a pretty important place, don’t you know. It’s smack in the intersection of two powerful ley lines. That’s why so many spacecraft crash here.”
J.Lo and I glanced at each other.
“And the other people…” I said, “they’re your family?”
“Oh, no. No. They’re just visitors that got stuck here when the Boov closed the roads. They were in town for the big UFO festival we have every summer.”
Kat and one of the men entered the apartment and said they were using her bathroom because “David” was “stinking up the one in the museum.” J.Lo went to get a better took at Andromeda. I thought about what Vicki said.
“So…this UFO festival was when?”
“Last month, just like it always is. Right before the Boov announced Moving Day, as it turned out.”
“So you still had your UFO festival? I mean, the Boov had already been here for five months.”
“Ha!” said the man. “You catch on fast, kid.”
I didn’t know what he meant.
“What better time to hold the U-Fest-O than after the invasion?” asked Vicki. “It’s a meeting of the greatest minds in paranormal research from all over the world! We know more about the Boov than anybody.”