The Other Me Part 4

"Really?"

"It was like poetry. You just closed your eyes, and the next second, the dude was down. You're a natural at this."

This time the flush of warmth beneath my skin has nothing to do with shame. "My alien side kicking in."

"Whatever it is, I like it." She grabs me with two hands as we start the next formation.

AFTER CLa.s.s CLa.s.s, we bow and mumble thanks in putrid j.a.panese before hitting the showers. Refreshed and feeling better than I have in forever, we join Sheryl at the pool. we bow and mumble thanks in putrid j.a.panese before hitting the showers. Refreshed and feeling better than I have in forever, we join Sheryl at the pool.

"That better not be a b.l.o.o.d.y Mary." Jordan's expression darkens even though her mom's been sober for almost a year now.

"Virgin. I promise." Sheryl offers the gla.s.s of tomato juice to Jordan, who takes a sip and nods. "Learn anything useful?" Sheryl asks.

"Ree is a machine, Ma. You shoulda seen this chick all kick-a.s.s."

"Good for you." Sheryl waves over a waiter and orders us lemonade.

"And the instructor is super cute." Jordan slips off her slops and dangles a toe in the swimming pool.

"Is he?"

"Ja, and he happens to play piano for our choir."

"That a coincidence?" Sheryl gives Jordan a knowing look over the tops of her sungla.s.ses.

"How did you know, anyway?" I sit cross-legged on a pool chair as the waiter hands me a tall gla.s.s full of ice.

"There's this thing called the Internet." Jordan slurps and then waves to someone behind me. Gabriel ambles over, his wet hair plastered in unruly strands across his forehead. He's got an earring I never noticed before.

"Ladies," he says. I wish I could see his eyes, currently hidden behind aviator Ray-Bans.

"This is my mom, Sheryl. Mom, this is Sempai Gabriel."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." Afrikaans boys are nothing if not politeness personified.

"And you." Sheryl shares a look with Jordan before removing her intimidating parental aura from the vicinity.

"So how does getting your b.u.t.t kicked by a girl feel?" Jordan asks.

Gabriel laughs, the sound deep and rich, sp.a.w.ning not b.u.t.terflies but colossal fire-breathing, blood-warming dragons in my belly.

"Keeps me on my toes." He grins at me. "You should think about coming to the dojo and doing karate."

"Why?" I squeak.

"Because you're really good. You take lessons before?" he asks.

"Never."

"Impressive." Gabriel smiles, and I wish I could see his eyes to see if it's genuine.

"So, same time same place next week?" Jordan sips her drink.

"For sure. But I'll see you girls at choir practice, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it." Jordan pinches my leg, waking me from the dragon-storm stupor.

"Yeah, choir. Thursday. See you." I am such a spaz.

"Cheers." He waves and heads for the parking lot.

I watch him walk away, watch the way his s.h.i.+rt falls over his broad shoulders and billows around his waist in the breeze, how his feet turn out a little with every step in his Nike takkies.

"You should ask him to the ball." Jordan nudges me.

"On what planet would a girl like me get a guy like that?"

Jordan finishes her drink and gathers up her stuff before answering. "I know you think you're from Kazar or Andromeda or something, but on Earth all it would take is a simple question."

And what if he says no?

Gabriel

I WALK WALK away feeling their eyes on my back. away feeling their eyes on my back.

"Friends of yours?" Nathan asks as we throw our kit into the car.

"Not really." The last person I expected to see at the cla.s.s was Treasa.

"That redhead's not half-bad. She done karate before?" He tosses me a bottle of water before reversing out of the lot.

"Apparently not."

"She should come to cla.s.s. We need more women at the dojo. Work on it." He nudges me as he changes gears.

"If I'm going to be recruiting for you as well, then I think my fees just went up."

"Here, take the cash." Nathan hands me his wallet as we pull up to a red robot. Even in broad daylight in the northern suburbs, my palms start sweating, and I shove the wallet under my leg as I search the faces of the guys handing out fliers and offering to wash the windscreen, as if I can spot criminal intent. The lights change and we pull off without incident.

I take my twenty-five rand and shove the wallet into the cubbyhole. Nathan says nothing about my paranoia, and I turn up the radio, letting the Billboard Top 100 drown out any chance of conversation. Fifteen minutes later, Nathan drops me off at Dirk's.

"YOU RECKON RECKON it was just coincidence?" Dirk asks as he slides Vienna sausages into a pot of water for hotdogs. it was just coincidence?" Dirk asks as he slides Vienna sausages into a pot of water for hotdogs.

"No idea."

"I told you, Catholic chicks. You should take full advantage of your situation." He licks his fingers, nails painted black for the weekend. His folks don't seem to care about their son wearing nail varnish and eyeliner or that he wants to study ba.s.s and be a rock star. They actually encourage him. A pang of jealousy skewers my chest.

"She's not half-bad," I say.

"The black-haired one?"

"The redhead."

Dirk nods and hands me a knife so I can b.u.t.ter bread rolls. "That black-haired chick is hot."

"Her name's Jordan."

"Like I ever remember their names." Dirk gives me a goofy grin. For all Dirk's talk about nailing chicks, I know for a fact he's full of s.h.i.+t. He falls in love, treats his girlfriends like princesses, and inevitably gets his heart broken, which he pours into the lyrics of his band. If that's what it takes to compose beautiful music, I'm not sure it's worth it, but I'll let Dirk keep pretending he isn't a supersensitive romantic sap if it makes him feel better.

"You think she's a virgin?" Dirk asks.

"Jordan? Does it even matter if?"

"Of course." His eyes widen in shock. "I don't want some oke's sloppy seconds."

I shrug, although I can't help imagining if Treasa's a virgin. h.e.l.l, it's not like I am. I lost that when I was fifteen to Janine in a tent on a camping trip. It wasn't romantic, not at all like in the movies. Just messy. Not that I didn't like it; it just wasn't all rose petals and candles. Then there was Karla last year. That girl is hot, and she knows her way around the bedroom. I learned a lot from her, and to be honest, I'd rather that than a girl who's never even seen a p.e.n.i.s, let alone touched one. Virgins expect fireworks and life-changing o.r.g.a.s.ms. It's not like that. At least, it wasn't for me. Who knows, maybe I missed out. The pressure to make the world spin for some first-time princess is just too much to live up to.

"Invite her to the party."

"What party?" Dirk's mom walks in.

"The party I was going to ask if I could have that weekend you're away." Dirk fishes sausages out of the pot and drops them into the rolls.

"What's the occasion?" She hands him the tomato sauce and mustard from the fridge, and I catch a whiff of her perfume. Chanel. The same one Mom used to wear. It's only a fragrance, and it feels like a steak knife slicing through my ribs.

"Nothing special. Just some buddies hanging out."

"While I'm away with my drama girls?"

"Perfect timing." Dirk gives her an Oscar-winning smile.

"No booze, no drugs, and you get your father to manage the braai. braai. Deal?" Deal?"

"So strippers are fine, then?"

She slaps his shoulder and picks up Dirk's plate.

"Thanks for the hotdog, dear," she says over her shoulder as she leaves the kitchen.

"You're welcome, Ma." Dirk starts smearing tomato sauce onto another roll. "So bring her to the party?"

"I'll think about it."

"Ask Jordan too."

"You want her so badly, you ask her."

"Maybe I will." He sucks tomato sauce off his thumb.

We take our hotdogs up to his bedroom. We're supposed to be working on his biology essay; we settle in front of the PlayStation instead.

"b.l.o.o.d.y Marlize." He throws the sparkle pony game across the room and goes in search of something with fast cars or guns instead.

"Where's your sister?"

"At the movies with her tween friends. If only she was, like, five years older, man. We'd have access to a whole herd of hot chicks."

"And some guy would be thinking about Marlize the way you're thinking about Jordan."

His smile becomes a scowl as the game starts up with a volley of gunfire. "Good thing I'm practicing now." He shoots an alien in the head. "And you better save up for bail."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to kill the first guy who touches her."

We leave all discussion of genetic mutation in plants and focus on saving our stars.h.i.+p from marauding aliens. At some point, Dirk's mom brings us c.o.kes and she tousles our hair, her hand lingering on my shoulder. I appreciate her treating me like one of her kids, I do, but sometimes being around a mother so much like my own is just too painful. Sometimes I wish Dirk's mom wouldn't hug me good-bye or make me birthday cake or buy me new socks. She means well, and I don't deserve any of it.

Treasa

RESA PULLED PULLED away, his emerald eyes widening in surprise. away, his emerald eyes widening in surprise.

"I'm sorry," Tristan mumbled, his face on fire.

"Don't be." Resa cupped Tristan's face with his long fingers and smiled. "Just wasn't expecting that."

"What the h.e.l.l is going on here?" Coach Daniels crunched over shattered lightbulbs as he surveyed the corridor.

"Let's get out of here." Resa grabbed Tristan's hand and dragged him out of the school into the crisp air of the spring night. "Up here." Resa jogged to the fire escape, gesturing for Tristan to scale the frost-slicked steel. Coach Daniels burst out of the doors, shouting for those responsible to own up, or else. Resa and Tristan hauled themselves onto the roof and lay back, gasping, stifling giggles as the coach continued to berate nothing but shadows.

Resa led Tristan up the slope of the roof to the apex. He straddled the join and flicked his hair off his face before casting his gaze upward. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

If not for the lights of the town and the smog of the city a few miles away, they'd have seen the Milky Way spill across the black sky. Despite the pollution, stars defied the grime, glimmering in their constellations.

"Which one's Kazar?" Tristan asked. He'd been made for Earth, birthed from a pod en route to the blue planet as a bodyguard for the young emperor in exile while war ravaged their home.

"You can't see Kazar, but you can see our sun." Resa inched closer to Tristan until their knees touched. He raised his index finger and leaned forward as he pointed out a star only visible because of their enhanced vision.