Invaded (Alienated, #2)(12)
The ambassador caught her eye and instantly silenced her with a stern private message. Aelyx didn’t need Silent Speech to understand what was transpiring between the two of them. Stepha’s narrowed gaze and Syrine’s darkening cheeks said it all.
After a few moments, she forced a grin that wouldn’t fool a blind man. “A wonderful idea. I will gladly participate.”
“Then we’re agreed,” said the director-general. “I’ll have my staff make the necessary arrangements and book your first appearance. We’ll want to get the ball rolling right away, so go ahead and pack a suitcase.”
“Cool,” David said with the only genuine smile in the room. “We’re going on tour!”
“We?” Syrine turned to Aelyx for clarification.
David is our personal bodyguard, Aelyx told her. He’ll be living with us for the rest of our stay on Earth.
Bleeding Mother. Syrine didn’t bother disguising her distaste for the young man. Why couldn’t The Way simply give us a dozen lashes with the iphet instead?
“How exciting,” she said aloud, then faced their new bodyguard. “I can hardly wait.”
Chapter Four
FRIDAY, JANUARY 16
What the FAQ?!
It’s Sh’ovah Day, and what better way to celebrate my impending L’eihr citizenship than to feed your inquiring minds? Without further ado, here are the most frequently asked questions this week:
Sarah in San Marcos asks: Are there really no sweets on L’eihr? Can we send you a Hershey’s care package?
Thanks, Sarah, that’s so SWEET of you. Hardy-har-har. To answer your question: yes and no. Natural sugars don’t exist here, and my nutrition counselor won’t let me have candy from the transport. He claims I’m an addict and that my body is going through detox. Maybe he’s right. You don’t want to know what I’d do for some Pixy Stix.
Tori in Midtown (my paranoid BFF) asks: Why aren’t you posting any pics? I want to see for myself that you’re okay. How do we know you’re the one who’s writing all this stuff?
Step away from the National Enquirer, my friend. I’m not preggers with an alien baby or being held here against my will. The L’eihrs have requested that I don’t share photos or video of their home without prior approval. And how do you know this is me? I’ll prove it: in seventh grade, you burped really loudly in Social Studies, and I took the blame so you wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of Jared Lee. You’re welcome for that, by the way. Also, lay off the onions.
Dixie in Columbus asks: How do you get news on L’eihr? Do you watch television?
Great question! Nope, there are no TV shows or movies here. News is delivered to our com-spheres, and we’re expected to listen to the updates immediately. Think of a com-sphere as the ultimate iPhone. It emits a frequency only I can hear, and if I ignore my sphere, it’ll keep pestering me until I answer it.
Okay, guys, that’s it for now. I need to get ready for my Sh’ovah. Just think: the next time I post to this blog, I’ll be an official L’eihr citizen! Isn’t that awesome?
Posted by Cara Sweeney
“Psh,” Cara whispered. Getting naked in front of aliens wasn’t her idea of awesome, but whatever.
She closed her laptop and crept to the door as quietly as possible to avoid waking Elle, who snored softly from the top bunk. Eron had been right when he’d called the sound “endearing.” Elle slept on her tummy with both hands tucked beneath her chest, snuffling like a child. It was such a cute contrast to the businesslike way she directed Cara from class to class during the daytime.
Cara slipped into the hall and tiptoed to the community bathroom, pleased to find it vacant. Privacy was a rare delicacy in the Aegis, and she needed a few moments to herself today.
She snatched a microfiber towel from the shelf and blotted her face. Her impending Sh’ovah had her perspiring like a linebacker, but whether on Earth or in another galaxy, high school was a battlefield. Cara never let anyone see her sweat.
After wiping down the back of her neck and the crooks of her elbows, she balled up her towel and chucked it into the waterless purifying chute, where ultrasonic waves and infrared technology would decontaminate it.
Cara fingered the lapel of her stiff white ceremonial robe. A quick glance over one shoulder showed she was still alone, but she knew from experience the bathroom wouldn’t remain vacant once the sun rose in a few minutes. So without wasting another second of rare solitude, she dropped her robe to the floor and regarded her naked body in the reflective wall opposite the showers.
Right away, she noticed a slight roundness to her lower abdomen—that troublesome spot no amount of crunches would flatten. She sucked it in, and from there, her gaze moved from ankles to thighs, noting the smooth, polished effect she’d achieved last night from scrubbing her skin with a mixture of oil and salt procured from the kitchen. Her ivory complexion glowed, and with any luck, it would reflect the high-noon sunlight and blind all her guests.
She loosened her ponytail and pulled her auburn strands forward to see if they’d cover her breasts, but no dice. With a frown, she secured her hair with the jeweled clasp Elle had given her as a sponsor gift, then donned her robe as the first yawning clone shuffled in, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.