Roswell Fanatics

Alexander

Being inside the house sends a wave of warmth through me, a huge sense of relief that I was once again surrounded by all these familiar things. I'd expected to see a thin film of dust around the house, but it looked practically the same as we had left it. Grandma must have had a part in keeping the place clean.

"Hey guys, slow down before you rip her arms out," I told the boys laughingly before realising that Xadalyn had yet to be acquainted with the thing we call humour.

"It was a joke, a figure of speech," I added quickly to her. "We tend to, uh, well, say a lot of things in the name of fun and laughter."

When we got to the kitchen, I realised that I was parched. I opened the refrigerator and found a jug of lemonade. Trust Diane Evans to take care of everything. "Come here and give me a hand, will you?" I called to my cousins.

We brought out a bunch of glasses and poured out the ice-cold lemonade. No one would have guessed this was an alien family just back from a trip 'abroad'. But we were and this was our welcome home feast. And over it we'd be talking about my father's home planet and the political problems it was facing. Just your average dinner table talk.

I offered my sister a glass. "Here, try some."

*It's Diane Evans and Nancy Parker.

Great post.

LOL, I can't believe I made that mistake! Thanks for pointing it out!

*Justin*

I watch as everyone starts in and Alexander takes charge of Jacob and Jonathon. They're still jostling with each other but they don't argue with Alex. They just fall into place like he was born to be in charge. I shake my head, wishing I could have gotten them to respect me like that. Well, at least nobody's asked me to help set up.

I slide over next to Sarah. "At least I know the food here will be safe, eh?" I say. Then suddenly, I wonder. Is their "favorite food" at home also spicy?



*Max*

I smile as everyone settles into place. I move over next to my Mom and give her a warm hug. "I miss you, too," I tell her. I normally see her once a week or so, not every day, but it was odd knowing that I couldn't hop across town to talk to her or dad or Isabel -- or even pick up the phone. At least with Isabel I had my dreams.

"What about your other mom?" She asks. I hear the playful tone in her voice but her face doesn't match. She looks tense, worried.

"Nothing like you," I say with a smile. "For one thing, you're a much better cook!"

I can hardly believe I'm saying that, but Mom's cooking has improved a lot in the last ten years. Besides, my Antarian mom doesn't cook at all so it doesn't take much to beat that.