Michael knew what was coming next. One of Max's I-love-you-man moments. "We're not going to have to hug or anything, are we?" Michael joked. "I mean, I'm glad you're still alive. You're glad I'm still alive. But we're guys. We-"

"What I wanted to say is that I think you're wrong about Adam," Max interrupted. "And if he does anything to hurt anyone, I'm holding you responsible."

Alex glanced at his watch, then immediately returned his gaze to Adam. Not that the guy had moved for the past hour. When they got to the museum, Alex had practically had to carry Adam inside. He'd dumped him on the couch by the information counter, and Adam hadn't even twitched a finger since then.

Alex definitely wasn't complaining. It's not like he'd been hoping they could shoot some hoops or anything. Basically, he'd been hoping that Adam wouldn't toast him the way he'd toasted Valenti. And it looked like this was his lucky day. Yeah, Alex was going to get through this stretch of guard duty with his pale, freckled hide unsinged. The others should be back soon, and Adam would probably still be zonked.

The others. That meant Isabel. Well, he could cut out once they showed up. He wouldn't have to endure too many minutes of Isabel contact. It hadn't been so bad when the two of them were in the middle of breaking Michael out of the compound. When the walls were bursting into flames around you, you didn't have time to think, Hey, this girl running for her life next to me is the one who just stomped on my heart.

But now that they had all survived, Isabel really wasn't someone he wanted to spend any quality time with.

Not that Isabel wanted to spend any time with him, either. That was pretty much the reason she broke up with him, right? A girl didn't break up with a guy because she really wished they could spend more-

Oh, just shut up, you whiner, Alex ordered himself. She did you a favor. The girl's an ice sculpture, cold to the core.

And beautiful. And willing to do anything to save the lives of the people she loved. And-

A small squeaking sound jolted Alex out of his thoughts. The saliva evaporated from his mouth as he realized the sound was coming from the old leather of the couch. Adam was waking up.

Before Alex could make a move or even decide what move he should make, Adam rose from the sofa in one fluid motion. Why didn't I find the fire extinguisher when I had the chance? Alex thought wildly.

"So, Adam, uh, how're you doing?" he asked. "I thought we could go upstairs and watch TV Maybe make some toast. I know you like toast, right?"

Oh, perfect. Of all things, I had to mention toast, Alex thought.

But Adam didn't answer. He didn't react at all. He stared straight ahead, his green eyes as lifeless as a couple of painted Ping-Pong balls. Lights on, but nobody home.

Alex had no clue what Adam would do next. Which meant it might be a very good idea just to knock him out right now. Alex took a quick glance around. There was a three-foot-high ceramic alien almost within reach. He could grab it, swing it up and around, and connect with Adam's head.

But if he did that, he better make sure to make it an out-of-the-ballpark swing because if Adam didn't lose consciousness instantly, he'd be able to heal himself in about two seconds. And then Alex would be doing his impression of the world's biggest piece of burnt toast.

Pass.

"Or if you're not in the mood for TV, we could do something else," Alex burst out. "Like, uh, we could stand here and see how much sweat my body is able to produce." He tried to laugh, but all he could squeeze out was a weird barking sound.

Adam didn't seem to notice-he was still in zombie mode.

Without a word, Adam turned on his heel and strode behind the information counter. He slid out one of the drawers and dumped the contents on the counter in front of him. His eyes flicked over the paper clips, scissors, tape, staples, pens, and rubber bands, then he swept everything onto the floor. Immediately he yanked out another drawer. Dumped it. Scanned. And swept the countertop clean again. Third drawer. Same deal.

Bizarre.

Adam knelt down and flicked open the double doors of the big cabinet under the drawers. Alex took two steps closer and watched Adam yank out a half-empty box of museum maps, a couple of rhinestone-studded jumpsuits, a first-aid kit, and a bucket of cleaning stuff.

A low growl of frustration escaped Adam's throat. He thrust himself to his feet. Without hesitation he turned to the double row of bookshelves behind him. In an instant the complete collection of UFO books was on the floor.

This was bizarre. Alex was too intrigued to say anything. If Adam wanted to indulge in a little rock-star-in-a-hotel-room action, cool. Alex was up for anything that would keep Adam occupied until some kind of backup arrived.

From the bookshelves he worked his way down the closest wall, tearing each framed photograph off the wall and ripping open the back. That brought him to the little coffee shop. Adam felt under each of the tables and chairs and tossed the contents of the cabinets in the kitchen.

Alex just watched. He felt like an idiot. No, more like a wuss. Ray Iburg had loved this place, and Alex wasn't doing a thing to stop Adam from destroying it.

But Ray was dead, and Alex was hoping to live long enough to at least graduate. So he trailed after Adam like a pathetic little puppy, not saying a word as Adam worked his way to the front of the museum, darting from photo to photo, pulling the back out of each one. When the last one was on the floor, glass shattered, Adam bolted for the spiral staircase leading up to Ray Iburg's apartment.

Alex followed. He watched as Adam yanked the drawers out of Ray's dresser and dumped them. He watched as Adam shoved the mattress off Ray's bed and ran his fingers over every inch. He watched as Adam did an anticleaning job on Ray's closet.

It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to realize he was searching for something-apparently something little. And something very important to Adam. Important enough to squeeze every toothpaste tube in Ray's bathroom. Important enough to empty every box of cereal in Ray's kitchen. Important enough to slit open every beanbag chair in Ray's living room.

Alex's stomach clenched as Adam hurled the last empty plastic beanbag skin to the floor. This was it. Adam had searched every inch of the place. Now what was he going to do?

He turned toward Alex and spoke for the first time since he'd gotten up from the couch. "I need to know where Ray Iburg would have kept anything valuable," he demanded.

Alex decided this was not the time to show any kind of intimidation. He stepped up to Adam and forced himself to look right into his empty eyes. "You've trashed his museum. You've trashed his apartment. Whatever it is you're looking for, it's not here, all right? It's not here!"

Adam blinked once. Then he collapsed into a heap on the floor, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Maria leaned against the closest locker and opened her algebra book. No, that didn't look casual and cool. It looked dorky. She sighed and stuffed the book into her backpack.

Just give it up, she told herself. It's not like Michael's ever going to believe you just somehow happened to be hanging out two feet away from his homeroom door one minute before the bell rings. He's going to know you're waiting for him.

At least I'll get to him before Isabel, Maria thought. Duh! Spoke too soon. Seeing Isabel coming her way down the hallway, Maria dropped down on one knee. She untied the lace of her boot and retied it in a double knot, keeping her head as close to her toes as she could get it. Just let her walk on by, she silently begged.