I'm an Alien and I Want to Go Home Page 4

  Gordon put his hand in the bath water and yanked it out superquick.

  “No need. It’s still cold.” He peered at the thermometer again. “Aha! It’s down to ninety-seven degrees at last. Eddie—the ice!” he said triumphantly.

  He didn’t ask me if I still wanted to be frozen alive. I didn’t know the answer anyway. I didn’t know much about anything anymore. Even though my head wasn’t under the water, my brain had already turned into a zombie’s ice pop.

  My two best friends stood over me and dumped ice into the tub.

  I had ice between my toes. Ice crammed under my armpits. Ice piled up on my chest.

  My knees stuck up above the sea of mini icebergs. Eddie draped bags stuffed with slushy ice over those last bits of visible skin and another bag over my head.

  They didn’t pile ice on top of my swimming trunks. I guess they realized the contents had already gone into hibernation.

  Gordon held his thermos in front of my face. I nodded. He took off the lid. Smoke curled up from the opening. Whatever the Cryogenics Practitioner’s Secret Ingredient was, I was ready for it.

  Gordon poured something in the gap between my frozen feet at the bottom of the bathtub.

  A cloud of billowing smoke erupted over the surface of the water. It spread out over my chest and head, engulfing me completely. The temperature of the freezing bath water dropped another zillion degrees, squeezing the last warm breath out of my body.

  My jaw dropped open. The thermometer dangled from my iceberg lip. I breathed in the weird dry smoke that didn’t smell of anything. The chill entered my lungs and spread through my body from the inside out.

  Then a really weird thing happened. Instead of feeling cold, I started feeling warm. My teeth stopped chattering, and the surface of my body glowed hot as if I was wearing some sort of fiery onesie. Maybe being cryogenically frozen wasn’t so bad after all.

  My brain and my body weren’t on the same planet anymore. My brain was on Kepler 22b, my body somewhere else a million miles away. In the space in between, a geeky kid peered into my face. I knew him from somewhere. His glasses were familiar. A knobby hand reached out and turned the weird tube sticking out of my mouth.

  “Ninety-five degrees. It’s working.” His mouth cracked open, and I could see a row of teeth and a pink tongue.

  “Show me,” another familiar voice said.

  I was aware of someone with a mouth full of string.

  I might have known him once.

  A voice cackled. Another howled. Only there weren’t two of them now. There were two, four, eight, sixty-four. The faces multiplied rapidly, until all I could see was a million cackling idiots.

  Then, just like his portrait on the Wall of Wonders, the alien known as Daniel Kendal blacked out.

  11

  The Big Thaw

  “Wake up! Wake up!” Something solid hit my face, and my cheeks exploded with ten thousand volts of pain.

  Something rough rubbed over my arms and legs, turning them into zinging electrified eels.

  “Hand me those hot-water bottles.” A fluffy warmth was pressed under my armpits.

  “Wake up! Do you think we should call an ambulance?”

  These were the words I heard, but I can’t remember what order they came in. Blurry faces, lots of shouting, and the excruciating pain of heat applied to my cryogenically frozen body.

  These Keplerites were expert at defrosting their species, and they spoke English. Somewhere in among the ice crystals, I remembered thinking, I’ve arrived.

  “Thank you,” I said, even though I was in total agony.

  “He’s alive!” a voice shrieked. It sounded just like Mom. My human mom who had brought me up on Earth.

  What was Mom doing on Kepler 22b? I thought I’d be the only alien around here.

  I flickered my eyelids and checked out my home planet.

  Doctor Who posters on the wall.

  Battered Buzz Lightyear hanging from the ceiling.

  Stick collection on the windowsill.

  That’s when I realized I wasn’t on Kepler 22b. I was in my bedroom. The one at 26 Beechwood Road on Earth.

  I opened my eyes properly so I could be one hundred percent certain about that.

  My human mom and dad stood by my bed. Mom with staring eyes. Dad’s forehead lined with worry.

  Hot blood thumped through my veins, defrosting my confusion.

  I wasn’t on Kepler 22b. Eddie, Gordon, and I were only trying out the freezing process. I hadn’t made the journey yet. I was still on Earth. I hadn’t gone anywhere.

  “Daniel, look at me,” Mom said, and slapped my face again.

  “That’s child abuse,” I said.

  “Thank goodness. He’s back from the dead.” She threw herself on me, smothering me with her hair. I didn’t have the strength to push her away. It was pretty tragic that I had survived the deep freeze only to be suffocated by my human mother.

  “I’m calling the child-abuse hotline,” I said, spitting out a mouthful of hair.

  “Hotline? They can’t help you. It’s a psychiatrist you need,” Mom said.

  “Calm down, Liz. Calm down,” Dad said. “It was just a prank. Gordon and Ed said they were doing an experiment for science club.”

  “They nearly killed him!”

  “They were trying to find out how long a body can survive in freezing water.”

  “Did they force you?” Mom patted my burning cheek.

  “No,” I said.

  “If you’re being bullied at school, I need to know about it.”

  “It was an experiment that went wrong.”

  “Don’t they experiment on rats anymore?” Mom said.

  “The ASPCA wouldn’t like it,” I murmured.

  “You made yourself a giant guinea pig instead?”

  “I think I need a nap now,” I said. Mom’s shrieks were giving my frozen brain a headache.

  “Yes, of course.” Mom patted my hand and I let out a guinea pig squeak. “I’m going to look up hypothermia on the computer, in case you need to be in the hospital.”

  “Where are Gordon and Eddie?” I said.

  “Gone home! They aren’t allowed in this house ever again!” Mom stormed out, banging the open door against the wall.

  Alone at last. The experiment had worked. I could survive being frozen and defrosted, but I didn’t want to do it too often. Next time would be the real thing. The day I shipped out to Kepler 22b.

  We needed to move on to step two. How was I going to get to Kepler 22b?

  12

  The Boy Who Came from Earth

  Because Mom thought I’d nearly died, she said I should stay out of school for a week. She arranged to work from home and left Timmy at daycare so she could look after me.

  But when she said I could stay home for a week, she meant I had to stay in bed. Freakin’ boring! She gave me the bell from Jessie’s bicycle and told me to ring it if I needed anything.

  An hour later she took the bell downstairs, muttering about slavery.

  Five Alien Activities to Do When Imprisoned in Human Bed

  Reread Simpsons Comics.

  Reorganize Deadly Venomous Snakes cards.

  Count the cracks in the ceiling.

  Take a nap.

  I can’t think of another one.

  By midafternoon I was ready to get up and start researching which countries had the technology to get me to Kepler 22b.

  “Can I come down and use the computer?” I asked Mom when she came up with a snack.

  “No. I need to do some work.”

  “Can I watch TV?”

  “No. I can’t concentrate if the TV is on.”

  My human mom is very fond of the word no.

  “Why do we have the computer in the same room as the TV?” I said.

  “Not again!” Mom sighed. “The computer lives in the family room because I like to know what you’re doing on the computer.”

  “Why?”

  Mom left the room witho
ut answering.

  Human parents don’t understand the basic needs of alien kids like me.

  I bet kids on Kepler 22b had their own computers or some other alien technology. And they were going to share it with me. The Boy Who Came from Earth. They’d probably think I was exotic. They might even think I was cool. I thought Kepler 22b would be the coolest planet in the universe, and I kept thinking about all the cool stuff I’d find there.

  My Wish List for Kepler 22b

  A laptop wired into my brain, so I’d know everything without having to ask anyone.

  A teleporter, so I could go anywhere instantly without having to walk.

  A full set of fifty Deadly Venomous Aliens cards so I’d know who I could be friends with.

  A telepathic phone so all I’d have to do was think Eddie and I’d be able to talk to him without opening my mouth.

  A loft bed. I’d always wanted one, but Mom kept saying no.

  I had to switch off my alien fantasy pretty quick when Jessie came in and plonked herself on the end of my Earth bed.

  “You still here, Beanpole?” she said.

  “Yes, but I’m not a beanpole. I’m an alien, remember?”

  She looked puzzled for a moment, but then her lip-glossed mouth cracked into a smile. “You really have to meet Serena Blake.”

  “Who is Serena Blake?”

  “She’s in my class. Dyed black hair cut short. She says she was snatched into a spaceship by one of you guys, then dumped back on Earth when they’d finished with her.”

  “She’s human, though, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, but she has a thing about little green men. Martians. The man in the moon. Whatever. She yaks about them all the time. She wants to go back to alien land and live there. She’s nuts.” Jessie stood up. “Mom says she’s finished using the computer. But you can’t use it, because I am.” She poked her human tongue out and left, slamming the door, of course.

  Jessie was the worst kind of human sister. The sooner I left this planet, the better, and that wasn’t going to happen if I was chained to the bed. I needed my team and the Geek’s technology to get me out of here.

  “You need to stay home all week,” Mom said when I went downstairs.

  “But I’m not sick.”

  She held me by both hands and looked into my eyes.

  “You nearly died,” she said.

  “If I was so near death, how come you didn’t take me to the hospital?”

  “I decided it was best to care for you at home,” Mom said.

  “It had nothing to do with wanting to stay at the barbecue?”

  Mom blushed.

  Cryostasis messes with your brain, but once you’ve thawed out, the brain works perfectly. Mom and Dad thought I was still in the fuzzy phase of hypothermia when they had a fight about whether I should go to the hospital.

  But I’d heard every word. And understood all of them.

  Dad said, “He’s sleeping now. We shouldn’t disturb him.”

  Mom said, “But I’m worried.”

  Dad said, “If his lips are still blue in a couple of hours, we’ll take him.”

  “Good thing I thawed out without dying, isn’t it?” I picked up Jessie’s bicycle bell from the kitchen table and rang it endlessly.

  “You can go back to school tomorrow.” Mom snatched the bell out of my hand and threw it in the trash.

  13

  Teacher Spit and Other Problems

  The desks in my classroom were grouped in pairs and lined up in three columns. Five pairs in each column. I sat next to Eddie, of course. He was my best friend, and no one else wanted to sit next to a long-legged alien or a potato-chip-encrusted fart monster.

  But things had changed while I’d been in the deep freeze. Gordon was sitting in my seat next to Eddie. Gordon’s usual seat was empty.

  “What’s going on?” I said.

  “Wasn’t sure you’d want to be friends anymore, since I nearly killed you,” Eddie said, keeping his eyes focused on the inside of his potato-chip bag.

  “You didn’t nearly kill me. It was voluntary cryo­stasis.”

  “That’s not what your mom said. She went on and on about me bullying you into doing it. She told the school we’re not allowed to sit next to each other because I might try to kill you again.” He bent down to tie his shoelaces. He didn’t seem to realize his sneakers had Velcro.

  Thanks to Mom, I had to sit in the center aisle, front row, right next to a girl.

  “Welcome back!” Mr. Pitdown shouted in a fake-cheery voice. I could tell by the evil glint in his eye that he wished I’d stayed at home.

  At that moment I wished I was still at home too, instead of sitting at the desk closest to him and his spit spray.

  I didn’t know how Gordon had coped with sitting in the front row all year. No wonder he sprayed his whole desk with disinfectant at the start and end of every class.

  “I’m pleased you’ve found your new seat, where I can keep an eye on you, make sure you’re okay.” Mr. Pitdown was talking loud enough for everyone to hear.

  A snicker rippled through the class.

  Oh, great! I’d been promoted from class misfit to class wimp. I plopped down in my new seat and glared at Mr. Pitdown. I’d been out of school for one day and I’d already lost my best friend. Now I had to sit in the front like a real dork.

  “Hi,” the girl next to me said. She pulled one of her pigtails around the edge of her jaw and popped the end into her mouth.

  “Sorry you were sick,” she said. “Are you better now?”

  “Hmph!” I said. I didn’t want to break my personal rule about not speaking to girls (except my sister, who doesn’t count).

  Sitting in the front row is a total nightmare if you want to make plans to escape from this solar system. Mr. Pitdown was a pacer, the kind of teacher who strides back and forth as he talks. He probably didn’t have time to go to the gym because of all the papers he had to grade, so he needed the exercise.

  I’d heard other teachers complaining about how much time they spent grading papers. Didn’t they realize that if they gave us easier work, we wouldn’t make so many mistakes, and the grading wouldn’t take so long? Thirty check marks would take less time to write than correcting 30 x 19 spelling mistakes and 30 x 67 punctuation errors, and writing thirty comments about students not having written enough.

  Teachers can be amazingly clueless sometimes.

  Anyway, Mr. Pitdown did his workout right there in the classroom. Today he even worked up a sweat, because every time he crossed the room, he had to jump over my legs. The sweat dripped down to join the spittle on the edge of his mustache.

  I’d have to bring an umbrella to school.

  He walked back and forth and jumped over my legs so often, I couldn’t concentrate on how I was going to get to Kepler 22b.

  At the end of the class, Mr. Pitdown made me change seats with Gordon again. He must have decided that it wasn’t such a great idea to have a long-legged alien in the front row.

  Now I could return to making my plans for getting out of here. I figured that three brains would be better than one. I decided to call another mission meeting.

  14

  До ыоу спеак Руссиан?

  Eddie, Gordon, and I met in the dark corner under the fire escape to discuss what to do next.

  “We’ve figured out the cryostasis, sort of, but how am I actually going to get my frozen body up there?” I waved my hand in the direction of outer space.

  Eddie stuffed a fistful of potato chips in his mouth and started munching.

  Gordon was wearing his laptop as usual. He was totally focused on the screen as his fingers danced across the keys.

  Once again the best-friend telepathy must have been faulty. My first- and second-best friends were not picking up my thoughts even when I went to the trouble of speaking.

  “Hello? Is anyone listening to me?”

  “Sure we’re listening, but you’re not saying much,” Eddie said
. He ripped open the empty potato-chip bag and licked the salt and grease from the inside.

  “I’m looking for suggestions,” I said.

  “Join NASA, I guess.”

  “No point,” Gordon said. “The space-shuttle program is over, and NASA only has plans to go to the International Space Station. You’ll have to go to Russia.”

  “Russia?”

  “Only way to get to space is via Russia.” Gordon pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Unless China has a space program they’re not telling us about, and if it’s that secret, they aren’t going to let you join, are they?”

  I could always borrow a Russian-language course CD from the library.

  “How do I get to Russia?” I asked.

  “The next flight to Moscow leaves at three thirty,” Gordon read from his computer screen. “But that won’t leave you enough time to get through security. It’s one o’clock now.”

  “Do you think if I show up at the Russian space agency and offer to go to Kepler 22b under cryostasis, they’ll let me?”

  “No!” Eddie said. He flicked his crumpled potato-chip bag at me.

  “Why not?” Gordon said. “They aren’t allowed to use animals anymore.”

  “Okay. How much is the airfare?”

  Gordon turned his computer around and showed me a spreadsheet. First class: $6,000. Business class: $3,000. Economy: $500.

  I pulled fifty-two cents out of my pocket. “How much money do you have?”

  Eddie had $2.60, but he needed $1.75 for potato chips on his way home, so he only gave me eighty-five cents.

  “Gordon?”

  Gordon didn’t flinch. He kept on tapping.