Sami could not stop herself from sticking her head out the door every half hour to see if Mr. Sombra was still there.
He was always there. He never budged during the rest of the afternoon and evening.
It drove Sami crazy knowing that Brian was just next door but that she could not go see him. She was worried about how he was doing. After all, his parents and all of his people were locked in jails, and he was in hiding. That had to be scary.
Shortly after the man in the suit and the police had left, Mr. Sanchez had called Sami's mother to say that “everyone” was fine, and that it probably was not a good idea to talk on the telephone. So calling Brian was out, too.
Sami was stuck with worrying.
Mrs. Lightfoot was, of course, overflowing with questions. They sat on the sofa, nose to nose, as Sami described to her all of the crazy things that had happened that day. At first, Mrs. Lightfoot tried to look shocked and stern as she listened to the outrageous things Sami had done. But when Sami got to the part about Brian standing on the toilet in the girls’ bathroom, Mrs. Lightfoot had to give up pretending to be angry, and the two of them smiled and giggled through the rest of the story. It was a good time for them both.
Then they watched the news. Again and again they saw the film clip of Shareen and Alexi being taken out of a police car and marched into the police station. (Sami was surprised that there was nothing said about Brian missing.) There were also many other news clips of the same thing happening to aliens all over the United States. In many of these clips the alien parents were holding their children close to them as they were walked out of their homes or into jails. Even on the television screen you could see the fear in the golden eyes of the alien children as they were led with their parents through mobs of police uniforms and suits and cameras and microphones. Mrs. Lightfoot kept bursting into tears when she saw those little faces, so they had to turn off the television.
Seeing those children made Sami sad, too. But the clip of Shareen and Alexi going into the Police station was the hardest one for her to watch. After all, she knew them. She knew they were good and nice and normal. She knew that they would someday be her friends.
Maybe.
She and her mother talked a lot about what to do. But neither of them had any idea, let alone a good one.
Late that night, before dragging herself off to bed, Sami cracked open the door and peeked into the hallway once last time. Mr. Sombra stared back at her from his chair. She shut the door and turned a sour face to her mother. “Doesn’t he ever go to the bathroom even?”
When Sami awoke the next morning it was already very sunny and warm, and a lot of traffic noise was drifting up to her room from the street. She must have slept late, she realized, and sprang out of bed to the window. The sun was well up in the sky and that the streets were busy with people and cars. A police car was parked at the curb in front of her apartment building. She dashed out of her room, past her mother, (who was asleep on the sofa) and to the front door. As carefully and quietly as she could, she opened the door and peered out.
Mr. Sombra was gone, but a policeman was now sitting in the chair. His chin was on his chest and he was gently snoring. Thinking this was her chance, she opened the door wider. The hinges squeaked and the policeman snorted and sat up, awake and looking around. Sami ducked back inside and gently click-closed the door.
She and her mother spent the rest of Saturday morning inside the apartment, worrying and feeling depressed. They did not want to leave in case something happened with Brian. Since they had awakened late they had to hurry to take their showers before the water was turned off for the day. In fact, it went off just as Sami was about to rinse the shampoo out of her hair. She stood in the shower with her eyes squeezed shut against the suds dripping down her face and squawked, “Mom! Maaawm!” Mrs. Lightfoot had to use some of the precious water she kept in bottles for drinking and cooking during the day to rinse out Sami’s hair.
While they ate breakfast they tried to cheer themselves up by telling over and over again the best parts of yesterday’s adventures. This helped. But not very much. After every laugh came the question, But what do we do about Brian now? They saw nothing on television that made them feel it would be okay to have him join his parents in jail. Rover was everywhere on the news, crowing about the US First! triumph in getting the government to round up the aliens. But now he was demanding that the president launch an investigation to identify those humans who had undoubtedly been helping the aliens with their sabotage The talk was ugly, and getting uglier.
“Why are they doing this?” Sami asked her mother.
“They’re scared, honey” Mrs. Lightfoot explained. “There are just a lot of scary and confusing things going on in the world right now.”
Mrs. Lightfoot had been scheduled to work at the hospital that day, but she called in sick. She wanted to be with Sami and, if she left, Sami would have to stay with Mr. Sanchez. She was afraid of bringing any more attention to him as long as Brian was hiding in his apartment.
The morning dragged on. Nothing moved in their apartment. Nothing moved in the apartment building. Outside, the sun had finally chased everyone inside, so nothing seemed to be moving on the street, either.
And Mr. Sombra was back in the chair in the hallway.
Sami sat sideways on the sofa, doodling on a pad of paper propped up against her knees. She was imagining that she was a Masai like Konoko, and that she lived in Kenya. She drew herself with one of the colorful cloths that they wore draped across her shoulder, and she added the big necklaces and bracelets as well. Then she started planning what her family compound would look like. She drew several huts, all facing each other so that everyone who lived with her could see each other whenever they wanted to. She drew in some cows, then started drawing the thorn bushes that would form a protective wall around herself, her three huts, her family, and her cows. Sami stopped drawing to glance up at her mother. Mrs. Lightfoot was curled up at the opposite end of the couch, reading a book about chess.
Melanie loved to read books about chess. She had stacks of them. Her father had taught her to play chess when she was a little girl. He was a welder who spent his workday making showers of gold sparks as he welded big pieces of metal together. At the end of every workday he would walk through the front door, slick with sweat and grimy, and pretend not to notice little Melanie sitting beside the chessboard. As usual, she had the chess pieces neatly set up on the board, ready for a game. “Can we play?” Melanie would beg him. “I’m too tired, darlin'. I don’t want to do anything!” he would always answer. He said this to make Melanie think that there would be no chess game that evening. Then he would disappear down the hall to take his shower. Melanie sat listening to the shower run, as patient as a dog, waiting for her father to return. After a while he would come back into the living room, his face and hands shining, his hair still glistening with water. Melanie would stare up at him, waiting for what he always said next. “Well… since you have the board set up, I guess we might as well play a quick game.” Then he would sit down across from her and they would play. These were Melanie’s favorite memories of her childhood.
And chess was how Melanie had met her future husband. It had been autumn. The campus of the University of Arizona was cooling down in the early evening. You could almost hear it ticking quietly as it cooled, like a car engine that has just been shut off. She was walking home from her biology class and decided to cross through the park, rather than stick to the sidewalk. Two men were playing a game of chess in the shade of a tree. Naturally, she had to take a look. The older man was relaxed and moved very quickly. The younger man, however, frowned and stared a long time at the chessboard. He was thinking very deeply about what move he should make. At last he nervously reached out to move his knight. Melanie saw at once that this was not a good move. Before she could stop herself she urped out, “Uh!” The young man’s hand froze, and he looked up at her.
She turned red with embarrassment and shook her head apolog
etically. “Sorry.”
The young man pulled back his hand, brushed his long, black hair away from his forehead and took another good look at the chessboard. Then he started to reach for his queen. But before touching it, he glanced up at Melanie. She smiled and nodded. So the young man moved his queen. And fell in love with Melanie before the game was over. His name was Wesley Lightfoot. He was also a student at the university, studying astrophysics. Melanie and Wesley were married by the time they had graduated, and a few years later there was Sami.
Sami looked up from her drawing and watched her mother reading the chess book. These books were filled with drawings of chessboards with chess pieces on them. Each drawing was a chess problem that you were supposed to solve, and Melanie loved solving these problems. Sami had looked at them a few times, but she did not know how to play chess so, of course, the problems made no sense to her at all. She thought of her father’s chess set in its felt-lined box in her room. Then she remembered lying to Brian about knowing how to play chess and felt a twinge of guilt. Many times her mother had tried to interest her in learning to play the game. But each time Sami had said, “No. It takes too long.” And each time she had said no, her mother had looked really disappointed. Sami decided that the next time her mother offered to teach her how to play chess, she would say yes.
Sami went back to her drawing. She was using her pencil to scratch in the wall of thorn bushes. It was a lot of work because it was just hundreds of little lines going every which way. She became so focused on making those little lines that she jumped and gasped with surprise when someone knocked on the front door.
Mrs. Lightfoot set down her book and stood up. “I’ll get it.”
When she opened the door, Alejandro was standing there.
“Hi,” he said. “Is Sami here?” Alejandro was nervous. He glanced down the hallway at Mr. Sombra, who was staring at him.
Mrs. Lightfoot glanced back at Sami, who now looked even more surprised. “Uh, sure,” said Mrs. Lightfoot. “Come in.”
Alejandro again turned his head to briefly look at Mr. Sombra. Mr. Sombra was still staring at him. Then his eyes narrowed as he recognized Alejandro. Mr. Sombra pointed at Alejandro.
“You!” growled the huge man. He leaned forward, as though he intended to stand up.
Alejandro didn’t wait to see. He slipped into Sami’s apartment so quickly that Mrs. Lightfoot had to jump back. Alejandro slammed shut the door.
“What are you doing here?” Sami wanted to know.
Alejandro turned to her, a little out of breath and sweaty. “I just wanted to see you and Brian, that’s all.”
At the mention of Brian’s name, Mrs. Lightfoot’s body tensed up. She glanced at Sami, then put a firm hand on Alejandro’s shoulder. “What do mean?” she said. “What are you talking about?”
Sami dumped her pad of paper on the floor and jumped up. “It’s okay, mom,” she said. “This is Alejandro.”
“Ahhh,” said Mrs. Lightfoot, tilting her head back in a slow nod. She smiled at him. “So you’re the one.”
Alejandro shrugged. “I guess so.”
Sami hissed at them and they turned to her. Then she jabbed her finger at the door and whispered with a very dramatic face, “Get away from the door!”
“Good thinking,” said Alejandro, and he and Mrs. Lightfoot joined her at the sofa.
As Alejandro stepped into the brightness of the living room, Sami and her mother saw that he had a nasty looking purple and red bruise on his right cheek. Sami screwed up her face, bent forward to get a better look, and pointed at the bruise.
“Did I do that?” she wanted to know. (She was hoping that she had.)
Alejandro put up his hand protectively over the bruise and shook his head. “Naw, you hit me with your right, on this side,” he explained, and pointed to his left cheek.
“Well then—” Sami began.
“My dad,” Alejandro said.
Sami and Mrs. Lightfoot froze for a moment, then Sami’s mom said, “Here, let’s put something cold on that.” She hustled to the refrigerator, shaking her head.
“When my dad heard about what happened at school yesterday he was pretty sore,” he explained to Sami.
Mrs. Lightfoot came back with a pack of frozen peas. “Hold this against your cheek,” she said.
“It’s okay,” Sami added. “My mom’s a nurse.”
Alejandro touched the pack of peas to his face, winced, then pressed it against the bruise. He nodded to Mrs. Lightfoot. “Thanks. That feels good.”
Sami was working herself up into a fury. “Just because you helped us?!” She was almost shouting. “He hit you for that?!”
“No.” Alejandro explained. “He grounded me for a month.”
Mrs. Lightfoot and Sami looked at each other, confused. Then Sami spread her hands out to the apartment and said, “Uh, grounded?”
“I snuck out through my window.” Alejandro added, “It’s okay, Mrs. Lightfoot, I do it all the time.”
“Well, why did he hit you?” Sami demanded.
Alejandro pursed his lips together tightly and frowned. After thinking for a moment he shrugged and said, “He was just saying some things.” Alejandro looked up at Sami and then at Mrs. Lightfoot. “He’s a police Lieutenant. He’s at the jail where they took the aliens—”
“Brian’s mom and dad,” Sami corrected him.
“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Anyway, he sees them all the time. He was just saying things about them.” Alejandro stopped, not sure if he should say anymore. Then he looked down and added, “Making jokes about them. Called them monkeys.” Alejandro glanced up briefly at Sami, then his eyes shifted back to the floor and he shrugged. “I told him to knock it off.”
Mrs. Lightfoot sighed, then gave him a gentle shove toward the couch. “You two go sit down. I think we have a little lemonade left.”
As they sat down, Alejandro jerked his head toward the door and asked Sami, “Is that goon there all the time?” He meant Mr. Sombra, of course.
“Yeah,” she said, “except at night. Then a policeman is there.”
Alejandro leaned forward and whispered, “Well, so, where is he?”
Sami motioned with her head and whispered, “He’s next door. With Mr. Sanchez.”
“Can we see him?”
“I don’t think so. It isn’t safe.”
“That stinks.” Alejandro sank back against the cushions. “Now I’m going to get another smack for nothing.”
There was a knock at the door and the three of them stopped moving, stopped breathing, and stared at the door. Mrs. Lightfoot gently set down the glasses of lemonade and looked over at the children. Alejandro looked scared. “That big guy in the hall,” he whispered nervously, “he recognized me.”
Mrs. Lightfoot held her hand up to the children, like she was a traffic cop, so they would know not to move. She walked soundlessly to the door, leaned her face close to it and peered through the peephole. She turned to the kids, smiling, and said, “It’s okay.”
She opened the door. Mr. Sanchez took one step inside, jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the hallway, and said angrily, “I don’t like that man.”
“Just get in here,” ordered Mrs. Lightfoot as she pulled him the rest of the way inside and closed the door.
As soon as the door was shut, Mrs. Lightfoot put her arms around Mr. Sanchez. He patted her on the arm. “Todo está bien, mi amiga,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
Sami leapt from the sofa and ran to him. “Mr. Sanchez!”
He snatched her up into a big hug. “Chica!” Then he noticed Alejandro sitting on the sofa, watching them. Mr. Sanchez set Sami down and asked, “And who is this?”
“That’s Alejandro. From my school,” Sami explained.
Mr. Sanchez’s smile faded. Now he looked very serious. “Ahh,” he said, nodding, “so you’re the one.”
Alejandro dropped the ice pack, turned up his palms and said, “Why is everyone saying that about me?”
Mr. Sanchez walked over to him. Alejandro tried to back up further into the sofa cushions. Mr. Sanchez stood in front of him for a moment, and then held out his big hand and said, “Mucho gusto.”
Alejandro hardly knew what to do. He carefully shook Mr. Sanchez’s hand. “Mucho gusto, Señor Sanchez,” he said.
“You have a very cold hand, mijo,” said Mr. Sanchez, and winked. “You are also a very brave and clever young man, I hear.”
Now, this was probably the first time in Alejandro’s life that anyone had said something like that to him. As far as Sami was concerned, Alejandro had two faces: one was sour and angry, the other was grinning and mean. So she was surprised to see a real smile spread across his face as he heard these compliments from Mr. Sanchez.
“Thank you for your help,” added Mr. Sanchez, as he let go of Alejandro’s hand.
“You’re welcome,” answered the boy in a dreamy voice, still grinning, still staring up at Mr. Sanchez. Mr. Sanchez tapped his own cheek and raised his eyebrows. Alejandro understood immediately. “Oh, yeah,” he said, and quickly picked up the pack of frozen peas to press against his bruised cheek.
Mrs. Lightfoot sat down beside Alejandro. Sami slid herself under Mr. Sanchez’s arm and, in a hushed voice, asked him, “How’s Brian?”
“He’s okay,” said Mr. Sanchez quietly. “Look.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and opened it.
Sami was quite surprised. “I didn’t know you had a cell phone!”
“There is a lot that you don’t know about me, mija.” He punched a couple of buttons. “Ah! Here!” He held up the phone screen so they could see it. They crowded close together.
Brian was on the tiny screen, standing in front of the post card wall and looking at them. He glanced above the screen and asked, “Is it working?” “Yes,” they heard Mr. Sanchez answer. “Should I talk now?” Brian asked. “Yes, yes, go ahead!” Mr. Sanchez urged him. Brian nodded, took a breath, then said, “Hello, Sami. Oh, and Mrs. Lightfoot. Uh, I’m okay. Mr. Sanchez has been playing a lot of interesting music for me. Uh…uh, I’m okay.” At this point, Brian looked past the screen and asked, “What should I say?” Mr. Sanchez’s voice answered, “Just tell them whatever you want them to know.” Brian nodded and thought for a moment, then he looked again into the cell phone camera and said, sadly, “I miss you, Sami. I do not”—(“Don’t,” whispered Sami)—“know why I am here.” He looked even sadder. “I don’t know what to do.” He closed his eyes and hung his head for a moment. (Even on the little cell phone screen Sami could see his lovely, long eyelashes.) Then he shrugged and muttered, “That is all, I guess.” He started to walk away and the image froze as the recording came to a stop.
Mr. Sanchez flipped the phone closed. “Excuse me,” said Mrs. Lightfoot, as she hurried down the hall to her bedroom. She was crying. Sami, Alejandro, and Mr. Sanchez stood there quietly for only a moment before Sami put her fists on her hips.
“Well, what are we going to do?” she said. “He can’t stay there forever!”
“Yeah!” Alejandro agreed in his boldest voice. He tossed the ice pack onto the table. “We should bust his parents out of jail or something!”
“Yeah, why not?” said Sami.
Alejandro was excited. “I could get us in there because of my dad!”
“Cool!” said Sami. “Let’s do it.”
Mr. Sanchez flapped his hands at them and said, “Now, now, niños! Slow down.”
Sami shook her fists. “But we have to do something!”
“And you will.” Mr. Sanchez said this so strongly that it immediately stopped Sami and Alejandro. They looked up at him. He bent down close and took a moment to look each of them in the eye to make sure that he had their attention. Then he said, “Listen to me. We don’t have much time. Sami, you’ve been to Brian’s house.” She nodded. “Somewhere in that house will be a communications device.” He saw the kids frown, so he explained, “It’s a kind of radio… a cell phone—” Sami’s face relaxed and she nodded. “But,” continued Mr. Sanchez, “this will be a cell phone for calling other places—other planets—in the galaxy.” Sami and Alejandro’s mouths were both open now as they stared at Mr. Sanchez, trying to understand what he was telling them. “We need to contact Brian’s people—”
“His parents?” Sami interrupted.
Mr. Sanchez shook his head and said, “The Adonae.”
Sami’s eyes got bigger and Alejandro’s got squinty. “Who are they?” he asked.
Without taking her eyes off of Mr. Sanchez, Sami elbowed Alejandro and told him to shush.
Mr. Sanchez went on. “There is little we can do to help Brian and his parents—and the rest of their people here—but if we can get word to the Adonae… perhaps they can help.”
Sami said, “So you want us to find their inter-galactic cell phone and call 911?”
Mr. Sanchez chuckled. “Well, yes, that is exactly what I want you to do.”
“So, the Adonae planet didn’t blow up? They’re still out there?”
“Yes.”
Sami looked skeptical. “How do you know?”
“Think, mija. Think for yourself.”
Sami did start to think for herself. Memories and thoughts bubbled up in her brain like air bubbles being blown into a glass of chocolate milk. She remembered her conversation with Mr. Sanchez about the crash of the alien spaceship, how it was so odd that the ship was destroyed but that the aliens were all okay. But what if it was not odd? What if it was planned? If that’s true, then they’re here for a reason, she thought. She remembered the US First! people saying that the aliens were spies sent to destroy us. Is that why they were sent here? But if that were true, weren’t they smart enough to just send a bunch of spaceship bombs or something? And why would they even bother with us? And besides, she knows Brian, and Shareen and Alexi. And they aren’t spies or anything else!
“Well let’s go get it!” said Sami.
“Definitely!” said Alejandro.
“Okay,” Sami said, ready to get down to business. “Where is it?” she asked Mr. Sanchez.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Okay,” said Sami, “well, what does it look like?”
He looked embarrassed. “I—I don’t know.”
Alejandro’s sneer was back as he asked, “Then how do you know there is even one of these communicator things at the house?”
Mr. Sanchez looked strange, almost angry as he shot back, “I’m sure there is.”
Sami tilted her head to one side, and peered up at him. Then she asked, “Did Brian tell you there was?”
Mr. Sanchez did not answer right away. Sami could see that he was thinking. Then he finally said, “Yes. He told me.”
Sami did not believe this, and she hated not believing Mr. Sanchez. He must have seen this in the expression on her face, because at that moment he knelt down on one knee in front of her and took her hands in his. He looked her steadily in the eyes and said, “No, Sami, Brian didn’t tell me. I asked him if there was, but he didn’t know. But I know that there must be one there. The Adonae would not have sent their people here without some way to communicate with them. You need to find it, Sami.”
“I’ll find it,” Alejandro announced.
Mr. Sanchez glanced at him and nodded, then looked back at Sami and waited.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll find it.”
“Shwwwaantz!”
The three of them turned to the sound. Mrs. Lightfoot was standing there, wiping her nose with a damp tissue. Her breath blew a hole through the tissue as she asked, “Find what?”
Chapter 15
“Aack!”