Michael glanced at the TV. "Is this the show where she's trying to have a baby?"

He stretched his arm out along the back of the couch. It brushed against Isabel's shoulders, and she felt a tingle go through her. Which should not be happening. It hadn't happened before-at least not since she was twelve, when she was like a walking joy buzzer whenever Michael was anywhere near her.

"That's her old show," Isabel answered, sitting up a little straighter to lose the connection between her body and Michael's. "In this one she's the single mom of these two twins who are always trying to get her married."

"Oh yeah. They have witch powers or something," Michael said. "I can't believe you're watching this."

"No, that's their other old show. And I'm not really watching it. I'm watching what comes on next," she answered.

"So that guy, he's the principal of their school, right?"

Isabel shook her head. "That's his old show. He's their soccer coach."

"Okay, I can see that I need to be in charge of the remote," Michael announced.

He reached for it, but Isabel got there first. She held the remote behind her back.

"News flash. I'm not Alex. So I don't do that whole Princess Isabel thing," he said.

He started to reach behind her. Isabel leaned back so she was half lying on the couch and wedged the remote between her body and the cushions.

Michael studied her for a moment, his gray eyes narrowed. Another one of those tingles raced through Isabel's body, chased by a wave of guilt. She could only imagine how Maria would react if she saw this little flirt session.

"We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way," Michael informed her.

"We're not doing this at all. This is my house. That means I control the remote," Isabel insisted.

"Okay. Be that way." Michael straddled her legs and started to tickle. And of course, he knew exactly the spot to go for. He'd known it for years.

Isabel squealed as he dug his fingers into her sides, right below her ribs. She couldn't take it. She grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him away from her. At least she tried. It moved him about half an inch.

But she had other ways of winning this fight. She dug her fingernails into his back.

"Unfair. I don't have claws," Michael protested, without stopping the tickling.

"But you weigh, like, twice as much as I do," Isabel cried. "And you're practically lying on top of me."

She and Michael locked eyes, and they both froze. Isabel could feel his chest heaving. Was he just out of breath from all the tickling?

Because Isabel was sure that's why her heart had starting slamming against her ribs again. It was just because she'd been squirming around so much, trying to keep the remote away.

It had nothing to do with her sudden and intense awareness of Michael's body pressing against hers. Nothing.

Isabel pulled the remote out from behind her back and thrust it at Michael. "Here, watch what you want. I'm going to… go get some homework done."

Liz glanced at her watch. If she walked fast, she'd have time to stop at the UFO museum before her shift at the Crashdown. Good. Max would be there, and she needed to see him. Just see him and reassure herself that he was okay.

She had a bad feeling deep in her gut that he wasn't. Every day at school, he looked like more of a wreck. And there was that weird thing that happened with the Bunsen burner. Max had tried to convince her that the bubbling skin was just an optical illusion. But the smell of burning flesh had been too distinct.

"Liz, want a ride?" she heard a voice call from behind her. She knew without looking that it was Max.

"Great," she answered as she turned around and climbed into the Jeep.

She studied his face as he pulled back out onto the street. He looks like a cancer patient, she decided.

"You're staring," Max told her.

Liz decided to go for the direct approach. "I'm worried about you," she admitted. "You keep telling me nothing's wrong. But I don't buy it anymore."

"I'm just sort of tired," he told her. "I haven't been…"

His words trailed off. His eyes rolled up in his head until only the whites were showing.

"Max!" Liz screamed.

A long, loud horn blast yanked her attention away from him. She jerked her head up and saw a Lime Warp delivery truck about two feet away from them. They'd driven straight through a red light.

Liz reached over and jerked the wheel to the left, the Jeep's tires squealing in protest. She kicked Max's foot off the gas and pressed down on the brake, resisting the urge to slam it straight to the floor.

"Okay, okay. Now park it," she muttered to herself. She maneuvered the Jeep over to the curb and turned off the ignition, then she spun to face Max.

"Can you hear me?" she cried. She checked his eyes. Still staring white balls.

Liz swallowed hard. She had to keep it together. She had to help Max. But what should she do? She could run up to somebody's house and ask to use the phone to call an ambulance. But she didn't want to leave Max alone. Not for a minute.

"Max, come on," she shouted, her voice cracking. "Say something. Can you hear me? It's me. Liz."

His eyelids began to flutter. "Yes! That's it," Liz exclaimed. She pulled one of his hands off the wheel and rubbed it between her own. It was limp and lifeless.

She spotted a sliver of blue under his lashes, then his eyes rolled back into place. His hand gave a twitch. He was coming out of it. Oh, thank God.

Max shook his head. "I guess I dozed off at the wheel. I've been really wiped out lately. Maybe you should drive. You can drop me at the museum, and I can get the Jeep from you later."

Liz stared at him. He was in shock. Had to be.

"Max, you had some kind of seizure," Liz said gently. "I'm taking you to the emergency room."

"To the alien section?" Max asked curtly. He slid his hand away from hers and rested it on the wheel. "Liz, you know I can't go to the emergency room. Please, just drive me home. I'll call in sick to work and take it easy, try to rest up. That's all I need. Just some rest."

"That won't make me feel much better," Liz shot back. The adrenaline was still blasting through her body. All her nerve endings felt as if they'd been electrified. And Max expected her just to drop him off at his house and cheerfully wave good-bye.

She reminded herself that he hadn't seen what she'd seen. He hadn't seen his eyes roll up and-

"Max, you've got to trust me. This isn't something you can pretend didn't happen. You've got to get yourself checked out," she told him.

"Look, I already talked to Ray about it," Max muttered. "It's not a human thing, okay? It's not a doctor thing."

Liz's stomach tightened into a twisted ball. "Then what is it? Tell me, Max."

Max ran his fingers over the grooves in the wheel. "I need to get to work. Or at least I have to call."

Liz took his face in her hands and forced him to turn to her, but he still wouldn't meet her gaze. "We aren't going anywhere until you tell me."

"I'm dying."

Liz tightened her fingers against his face. "What?"

Finally he raised his eyes and looked directly at her.

"I'm dying."

Michael pulled the Pascals' old station wagon up behind Alex's Rabbit. He couldn't believe he'd been summoned to a meeting. The six of them saw each other every day at school. What could they possibly have to talk about that they couldn't have talked about yesterday at lunch?

He climbed out of the car and slammed the door. Whatever it was, it better be good. He was missing the game on TV. He and Dylan had a bet going, and if things went the way he thought they would, Dylan would be cleaning the toilet and polishing the bathtub in the bathroom they shared for a very long time.