"You're young, and you should be able to act young," Jesse went on. "You deserve to have a boyfriend you don't have to lie about."

Isabel pulled her hand away. "I can handle it," she said shortly. Her whole life was a lie; why should her love life be any different?

Jesse shook his head. "I know this sounds condescending," he said, "but I don't think you can handle it. I don't even think I can handle it."

Isabel kept her eyes on the picnic basket she'd packed with such care. "Are you breaking up with me?" she whispered.

There was a long pause. Finally Isabel couldn't stand it. She raised her eyes to Jesse's distraught face.

"Yes," he said.

"Score!" Michael yelled. "I am the greatest!" He began his ridiculous victory dance around the foosball table, making his stomach ripple as he shuffled his feet.

Maria shook her head. Michael would never do this dance in front of anyone else. In a way, it proved what a deep intimacy he shared with her. And in another way, it proved what a total loser he was.

"It doesn't count if you're controlling both teams," Maria pointed out.

Michael stopped mid-ripple. "If you would just play with me, I wouldn't have to be both teams."

"Foosball is stupid."

"You only think that because you suck at it," Michael said. He halfheartedly continued his dance. Maria returned to reading the Rolling Stone that lay open on her lap.

"I could coach you," Michael offered.

"No thanks."

"I'll let you win the first game."

"How sweet," Maria said dryly, keeping her attention on the magazine.

Michael suddenly leaped across the room, planting himself right in front of Maria's face as she lounged on his filthy couch. He snatched the magazine away from her.

"Hey!" she yelped. "I was reading that!"

He began his dance again, holding up his T-shirt to show off his bare stomach as he sucked it in and out. "You know you want to play with me, baby," he cried. "You can't resist me!"

Maria stared at him, openmouthed. He looked like an idiot. She started to laugh.

Michael grinned back at her, then flopped down on the couch and took her in his arms. "Told you you couldn't resist me," he said, kissing her.

It was true. As much as he drove her nuts, Maria couldn't stay away from Michael for long. Even on those days when she couldn't think of a single thing that was attractive about him, all she had to do was look in his eyes and she was a goner. "I thought we were gonna do

something today," she said against his mouth.

"We are doing something," he murmured, slowly moving his hand down her side.

"Something outside," she said.

"This is better."

Maria closed her eyes and kissed him some more. She could do this forever, just lie in Michael's arms and forget about everything else. "No," she said abruptly, pushing him off her. "You said we could go out."

Michael ran his hand through his long hair. "It's a figure of speech," he said, his voice frustrated.

Maria jumped up from the couch and began to pace around his small apartment. "I'm sick of hanging around here all the time, Michael," she complained. "Other people go to movies, or go bowling, or… or whatever. I blew off my mother today when she needed my help. I thought we had plans."

She glanced out the small window in his living room, and stopped in surprise.

"Fine," Michael sighed. "What do you want to do?"

But Maria barely heard him. She stepped closer to the window and peered outside. There was that kid from the Crashdown, that strange little girl. She was sitting on the hood of a car parked across the street from Michael's building. Just sitting there, writing in a notebook. Suddenly the girl glanced up… right at Maria.

Maria gasped and leaped to the side, out of sight of the window. "There's someone out there," she hissed.

Michael was instantly on alert. "Where?" he asked, rushing to Maria's side.

"Across the street."

He eased himself up to the side of the window and peered around the edge.

Maria chewed on her lip, worried. Who was this kid? And what was she doing here? Seeing her at the Crash-down was one thing, but why would she be in Michael's neighborhood? Why was she watching Michael's apartment? Was she some kind of alien-hunter? Or one of the Skins who had somehow survived Tess's firestorm?

"It's a little girl," Michael said dubiously.

"Uh-huh." Maria took some calming breaths. They had managed to handle every alien threat so far. They would get through this one too.

Michael stepped out in front of the window.

"What are you doing?" Maria shrieked. "She'll see you!"

Michael pushed open the window. "Hey, kid! Scram!" he yelled.

Maria couldn't believe it. She pushed him aside and stared through the window. The girl hastily threw her notebook into a backpack and jumped off the car. She ran off down the road.

"She's not a stray dog, Michael," Maria snapped. "For all you know, she's going to get reinforcements."

He rolled his eyes. "Think about it. Did she look dangerous?"

Maria pictured the little girl, her hair in a ponytail, dressed in a skirt and a really cute tank top. A really familiar tank top, come to think of it. "I think she had the same shirt as me," Maria said.

Michael frowned. "Then maybe she is dangerous."

For a moment, Maria gave him her meanest glare. Then she pounced on him. Really, she never could resist him.

"Two hundred thirty-two one hundred by fifteen millimeter petri dishes," Liz said into the mini-tape recorder Dr. Sosa had given her. "And, for the record, no scholarship is worth this."

Liz hit play, listened to her last remark, and then erased it from the tape.

She put the newly counted carton full of petri dishes onto a shelf labeled PETRI DISHES. She had never been so bored in her life. Dr. Sosa had left for a meeting about an hour before, leaving Liz to take inventory of everything in the lab. He'd said he wanted to make sure he'd accounted for every piece of equipment in the move. But Liz thought he really wanted to drive her crazy. Maybe he was trying to get her to quit.

Her stubborn nature arose at the thought. She wasn't going to quit, no matter what kinds of menial labor he gave her. This job was an important stepping-stone to her future, and she would stick it out.

"I work in a famous cancer research lab," she said out loud. That made her feel better. Maybe this was what lab assistants did… count and label and organize. She'd done a lot of actual research on her own, working on all sorts of alien-related chemistry. But Dr. Sosa didn't know that. He thought she was just a typical high school student, and that's how he was treating her. She would simply have to prove him wrong.

Liz picked up the box cutter and opened another carton of petri dishes… this time the thirty-five by ten millimeter ones. She ran her finger slowly over a stack of dishes, counting. She lost count by the time she got to ten.

I need a break, she decided. She made her way out of the supply closet where she'd been working, and wandered back into the main lab. It was deserted. Dr. Sosa didn't seem to have any research assistants except her. Liz didn't know what to make of it… a world-famous doctor, a brand-new lab, groundbreaking research. There should be about thirty people working round the clock on this project. But she'd met no one other than Dr. Sosa.

Liz stretched her arms in the air, trying to ease the stiffness from squatting all day, counting things. She glanced around the lab, reveling in the neat chrome countertops, the high-powered microscopes, and the centrifuges. She loved laboratories, the way everything was in order, everything was under control. This was her natural environment, she was sure of it. All her life, she'd felt most comfortable in a lab.

Until Max. With Max nothing was under control… least of all her own feelings. She simply melted whenever he was near her. As if he were my destiny, she thought. Too bad I wasn't his.