The Resisters (7 page)

“How late was I out?” Ethan asked, not entirely sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“Don’t be a jerk. You know you got in after midnight. If Mom and Dad found out—or the School Board—you’d get detention until you graduated.
If
they let you graduate!”

Ethan gulped. His sister was a practical joker, but she wouldn’t kid around about something like this.

“I don’t remember,” he whispered. “Really. I don’t.”

Emma sighed. “Okay. Fine. Don’t tell me. But if you were with Mary Vincent, you’re going to get her in trouble, too.”

“But I wasn’t …”

Ethan was about to say he wasn’t with Mary, but he did remember
a
girl. Not Mary. The girl he imagined had an angular face, kind of cute, spiky hair … a mean stare.

Ethan spotted the suitcase that Emma had dragged down the hall.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“Oh … I don’t remember,” she said with maximum sarcasm. Then she smiled and relented. “Well, word has it that a certain Miss Blackwood got Early Honors Admission at Vassar. One of the other six honor students got sick, and since I was the first alternate on the list …” She beamed. “So instead of going next month like I was supposed to, I’m leaving tomorrow on the Geo-Transit train! I’ll get four weeks to meet teachers, get a head start on studying, and have first pick of the dorm rooms. It’ll look supercool on my record.”

“That’s great!” Ethan said. He went to hug his sister.

She hesitated a moment—deciding if she was still mad at him or not—then decided not, and hugged him back.

“You’ve got to help me figure out what to take,” she said. “There’s not a lot of time.” She glanced into his room and added, “Speaking of which … why aren’t you ready for school? Don’t you have a test today? Or did Mr. Lee stop torturing his jock students?”

“Mr. Lee!” Ethan smacked his head. “I forgot all about his pre-algebra quiz!”

He raced back to his desk.

Thankfully, his notes and flash cards were all there.

“Hurry up.” Emma started down the hallway. “Mom made pancakes and bacon. There won’t be any leftovers for slowpokes.”

Ethan flipped through his flash cards, reviewing how to graph a parabola, how to convert fractions into decimals. He barely knew this stuff. Why hadn’t he crammed last night?

He couldn’t concentrate.

He’d think better with food in his stomach. Maybe Mom would let him review while eating. She didn’t approve of him studying at the dining table, but this time she might make an exception. She knew he couldn’t afford to mess up anything before state finals.

He headed downstairs … but paused to get those wadded-up clothes. Ethan couldn’t stand seeing such a mess.

He grabbed the crumpled jeans and his red Grizzlies
T-shirt—then stopped, feeling like someone had dumped a cup of ice water down his back.

Under the clothes was a parka.

It was the kind you’d put on to go out in a blizzard for a snowball fight. Or maybe something you’d wear into a walk-in freezer. It was white except for the sleeves, which were covered in gray-green slime to the elbows.

Ethan turned it over. There was a patch on the chest. It had an embroidered cow holding a big glass of milk. The cow had a ridiculously large milk mustache.

It was the logo of Blanca Dairy, where they got their …

 … milk.

Delivered by Miss Jenkin in her white milk truck.

Ethan suddenly remembered everything that had
really
happened last night.

ETHAN TOUCHED THE GOO ON THE PARKA’S
sleeve. It was oily and smelled of fried food and honey.

This was the stuff that had oozed from inside the wasp armor’s limbs.

He shuddered and pulled his hand away.

Ethan remembered—

—starting from when he’d left the battle on the mountaintop.

He’d flown away fast! It had taken only minutes to soar back down the mountain—over the valley—to the outskirts of Santa Blanca—over his street—and his house—which, before he blinked, he’d overshot by three blocks.

He’d touched down instead in the biggest open spot he saw—the soccer field.

The wasp had hit and tumbled and crashed into the goal.

His impact had crumpled the painted green titanium soccer field like it was tinfoil, and wrecked the goal.

It had been so late at night, no one was around, but Ethan knew
someone
would’ve heard that crash landing and come looking.

He felt like he had been beaten up. He somehow, though, found the strength to limp the wasp to the gardener’s shed behind the gym.

He had the wasp snap off the padlock, then entered and maneuvered into the corner of the shed—pushing aside the tractor mower like it was an empty cardboard box.

When he tried to get out of the suit, he realized Felix had never told him how.

He panicked and struggled and then stopped, exhausted.

That was when he spotted a blinking red light with a weird symbol. Ethan couldn’t read it, but the symbol looked like the armor segment that had moved to access the cockpit.

He tapped it a few times.

The light changed from red to amber to green. The abdomen cracked and automatically opened.

He scrambled out. Quick.

The wasp armor shut behind him.

Ethan gulped in fresh air, even though the gardener’s shed stank of weed killer and of the armor’s pungent smell of frying fat.

The sight of the giant wasp standing inert in the corner repulsed Ethan. The black striped patterns on the gold exoskeleton rippled and morphed to blend with the shadows.

Geez—a
tiny
wasp usually made him jump. This thing made Ethan want to scream.

He found that his hand, though, on its own, had reached out to touch it.

Creepy.

He curled his hand back.

Ethan promised himself he’d never get near one of these things again.

Dizzy and dazed, he tossed a plastic tarp over the insect and left it there. What else could he have done?

Ethan staggered home down the deserted streets. He snuck in the back door (miraculously without waking anyone up), and although he’d planned to get his parents and tell them everything, he changed into his pj’s and climbed into his bed … just to rest for a few minutes.

Which is when his brain must have shut down and pushed these memories into some deep, dark corner.

And the bruises covering his body this morning?

He’d gotten those from fighting giant robots, flying around at crazy speeds, and his less-than-perfect landing.

Maybe Ethan shouldn’t trust his memory. It could have been a nightmare.

But the parka in his hands, that was real—which meant
being kidnapped by Felix and Madison had really happened, too.

His thoughts smashed to a stop.

If Felix and Madison’s story about alien invasion and people being mentally absorbed was true … it meant
everything
in his neighborhood was a lie. Emma wasn’t going off to Vassar Prep tomorrow! She was going someplace where the Ch’zar would take over her mind.

He had to warn her. Stop her.

Ethan tossed the parka and ran down the stairs three at a time.

He skidded to a halt in the dining room.

His parents, Franklin and Melinda Blackwood, sat at the table. Dad wore a black suit and tie. Mom had on the navy blue dress that she saved for formal parties.

Although the dining table had platters of pancakes and bacon, syrup and jams, stacks of toast, and a pitcher of juice, the plates before his parents, even their coffee cups, were empty.

As if they’d been sitting there waiting for him.

Ethan’s dad looked serious. Sometimes people mistakenly thought he was serious because of his strong Cherokee jaw. This morning, though, his dark eyes looked deadly.

Mom smiled at him, but Ethan recognized it as her nervous smile.

She’d had on that same wavering smile when she’d stood in front of the School Board of Ethical Behaviors and
explained how shooting off his model rockets into the neighbor’s garage (and almost burning that house down) had been a stupid accident.

These were his parents—the ones who’d cheered him on at every soccer match, bandaged his scrapes, tucked him into bed when he was a little kid. Parents who loved him—weren’t they?

How could Franklin and Melinda Blackwood be mentally controlled by aliens?

It seemed impossible.

“Where’s Emma?” Ethan asked, growing concerned.

“We sent her out into the driveway to wait,” his mom said, and glanced out the curtained window.

“It’s to give us time to talk.” Dad set his large hands on the table in what looked like a normal, relaxed gesture … if not for his fingers turning white from how hard he pressed down.

“Sit, honey.” Mom pulled out the chair next to her.

Ethan took a step back. “I’ll stand.”

His parents looked startled at his disobedience. Ethan
always
did as he was told.

His dad’s hands relaxed. “Listen, Ethan,” he said. “We know what happened last night.”

Ethan stopped breathing.

Were they saying they knew about the fight on the mountain? Were they saying they knew
he
knew about the Ch’zar?

What would the Ethan Blackwood who was supposed to know nothing about the real outside world tell his maybe-mind-controlled parents?

Ethan slowly exhaled and tried to slow his racing pulse. “Yeah … sorry about not getting the trash off the lawn,” he said. “Just don’t ground me—or if you’re going to, please do it after state finals. The team needs me.”

Mom continued to smile, but somehow it looked like she was about to cry, too.

“That was good,” Dad whispered, leaning forward. “Very good, Ethan. Not so much a lie, but not giving away any real information, either. Remember that. It will come in handy.”

Ethan stood perfectly still, shocked, trying to understand what his dad had said.

Had he just given him advice on how to
lie
?

“You know?” Ethan whispered. “Everything?”

“Shhh,” his mother said. She wasn’t smiling anymore.

“We knew this day would come,” Dad said. He looked suddenly weak and helpless.

“But it wasn’t supposed to happen,” Mom said, turning to his father. “Not Ethan first. It was supposed to be Emma—”

Dad set a hand on hers and she fell quiet.

Ethan wanted to run to his mom, hug her, but he didn’t even know if she
was
his mom anymore.

Or if she had
ever
really been his mom.

“We’ve done everything we could to get you and
Emma ready,” Dad said. “We can’t tell you more, Ethan. We don’t know how this will end. If it goes bad … then you can’t know.” He looked away, unable to meet Ethan’s eyes. “And if it goes well, then you’ll understand. Maybe you’ll even forgive us one day.”

“Remember what we’ve taught you,” Mom whispered. There was a hitch in her voice. “Not just what we’re
supposed
to have taught you, but everything else that makes you a Blackwood. You and Emma aren’t like anyone else here. You’re smarter. Tougher. And you’re able to think for yourselves.”

Ethan didn’t understand.

He knew what he felt, though—confused, lonely, and very scared.

He couldn’t stand it anymore. He
had to
tell them everything that had happened. He didn’t care if they were controlled by the Ch’zar.

They were his parents. They had to understand. They
had to
really love him.

Before he could say anything, Ethan heard his sister stomp up the porch steps (making much more noise than she usually did with her big feet).

The front door opened.

Coach Norman was with Emma.

Behind him were two police officers.

“Ethan,” Coach Norman said. He looked relieved to see him. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Ethan turned to his parents, hoping they’d get up and
stand next to him—just like they both had when he’d been in real trouble before.

He had a very bad feeling about Coach and those policemen.

His mom and dad sat there with no expression … then his dad gave him the slightest, almost invisible shake of his head.

“There’s been some vandalism at the school,” one of the police officers said. “We’d like you to come with us.”

“Just to answer a few questions,” the second officer added. He smiled, but it wasn’t friendly.

Ethan’s knees wobbled.

Coach Norman crossed the room, took Ethan by the elbow, and steadied him. “Don’t worry, Blackwood. Everything’s going to be okay.”

But for the first time in his life, Ethan knew that Coach Norman was lying to him.