Aliens Among Us

By Tracy Krauss

Trust your instincts.

Francis Greenwater has a crush on the new girl--until he finds out she's an alien! But before he can sort out his feelings, he must save the planet from impending doom as another of their kind goes rogue. An unlikely teenager turns super-hero in this coming of age romantic Sci-fi action-adventure. Full of wit and hunor it's a story for the ages. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fictitious Ink Publishing
• Release date: Feb 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781988447858

Tracy Krauss

Tracy Krauss is a best selling and award winning author and playwright. "Fiction on the edge without crossing the line"

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

There is something unsettling about the new neighbours. That’s the best way to describe it—unsettling. The feeling started right when the moving van arrived.

That was exactly two days ago when the big box van rolled up in front of the house across the street. The one that had been vacant for over a year, which is no big deal in a town like ours. Mining towns are like that. Boom and bust. It’s just part of life.

Strange furniture came out—really strange furniture. Not that I was staring, but, hey. There’s not much to do in Mineral Gorge. The furniture was modern, I guess—all chrome and glass and weird angles—but one piece in particular really got my attention. It looked like a glassed-in shower, tubular in shape with flashing lights running up and down one side. Right out of a sci-fi movie. It reminded me of a torture chamber from one of those old black and white horror films—the kind that aren’t actually scary but still make you jump.

That was day one. I didn’t get a glimpse of the actual occupants until the next day. In fact, I probably wouldn’t have cared much, except that’s pretty hard to do now that I’ve seen one of them with my own eyes. She is, well… Never mind. I’m just being stupid.

My name is Francis. Francis Greenwater.

I’ve tried to convince my Mom to call me Frank, but she insists on Francis. If I’d wanted to give you a nickname I would have called you that, she always says. I’m named for her dead brother and he went by his given name, so there’s no arguing. It’s like the name is sacred or something, which makes sense in a way since he was her only sibling. He died young, when my mom was just a teenager. So, I’ve resigned myself to being Francis and don’t even flinch anymore when someone implies that it’s a girl’s name.

I open my front door and hop-skip down the cement steps, sheltered as they are under the eaves. As soon as I come out from under the shade, the afternoon heat hits me like a furnace blast. The weather in Mineral Gorge is hot and dry in the summer, but really cools off in the evenings because we’re in the mountains. Summer vacation is my favourite time of year, not because of the weather because it’s actually too hot for my liking, but because there’s no school. I mean, who doesn’t love not going to school?

Okay, I admit that I’m actually bored right now and in some strange way I’m looking forward to heading back in a couple of weeks. Just to reconnect with some of my friends, mind you. No other reason.

I’m heading to the skatepark to meet up with my friend Stu. We’ve been friends since Grade Two when my Mom and I moved to MG—that’s what I call Mineral Gorge for short. It’s a really small town, so now that we’re in high school we have to take the bus to Copper Quarry, which is the next bigger town about fifteen minutes away.

When I was in elementary school I had a larger pool of local friends to choose from, but lots of them have come and gone. Stu and I are still here in MG, so we’re good buddies by default. It’s like that when you live in a place like Mineral Gorge. It’s less about finding friends who have similar interests and more about settling for the constants in your life. I know that sounds terrible. It’s not that I don’t like Stu, but I find him annoying at times. He talks too much and he’s loud. Asks too many questions. It’s like he doesn’t know there’s this thing called boundaries.

Sometimes I like to be alone to think about stuff. Let my mind take me places. Stu just wants to hang out all the time. It’s like he can’t stand to be alone with himself, so he’s constantly messaging me or wanting to hang out. I know if I don’t meet him at the skateboard park this afternoon, he’ll come over instead and then I’ll have trouble getting rid of him. He’ll stay and stay and then my Mom will invite him for supper and I won’t have any time to myself. Not that I have anything better to do.

I throw down my skateboard, give it a push forward with one foot, and hop on, gaining momentum down the driveway. That’s when I see someone coming out of the neighbour’s house across the street. I make an inelegant dismount; my balance is off. I never lose my balance.

It’s her. The same girl I saw yesterday. She has a large tabby cat in her arms which she sets on the step before sitting down beside it.

I realize I’m staring and manage to roll my tongue back into my head. She stares back at me and I nod in response.

Before I lose my nerve, I hop back on the board and scoot across the street, coasting to a stop halfway up her driveway. I flip my skateboard into my waiting hand—a trick I’ve been practicing hard to perfect—and tuck it under my arm with as much bravado as possible.

Now to think of something to say. Hi. You’re new here. Duh. That was obvious. I feel the blood creeping up my neck. What a moron. So much for first impressions.

She appears to be about my age—sixteen, and she is hot. Nothing short of stunning which sounds super lame now that I’ve said it. It isn’t her looks exactly. It’s this invisible aura that envelops her. I know it sounds stupid to put it that way, but I don’t know how else to say it.

The girl nods. Yes. My family just moved in.

Yeah. I saw the moving van. Not too many new people in Mineral Gorge these days. Where you from?

She shrugs noncommittally. Not from anywhere near here.

I live across the street. In the green house. I point just in case, although she obviously knows that already. Hopefully she didn’t see the near fumble on my skateboard.

I know.

Did I say stunning? Revise that. She’s out of this world.

Straight jet-black hair frames smooth, almost transparent skin. Her eyes are electric green. They are exotic eyes—turned up slightly at the corners and fringed with thick dark lashes. Her slim body is encased in a fitted jump suit of sorts.

Am I staring again? I blink and clear my throat. My name is Francis.

Francis, she repeats, testing the sound, and cocks her head to one side.

Greenwater. Francis Greenwater. I focus on my toes and try to laugh like I don’t mind the name in the least. Thanks to my Uncle Francis, I’m stuck with it. Explaining. Always explaining. What’s your name? I peek up at her. She’s totally unruffled.

Sola. She strokes the tabby and blinks once.

That’s a nice name. I shove my free hand into my jeans’ pocket.

Thank you.

The front door opens and another teenager emerges. A male with dark skin. He directs a pointed stare right in my direction.

Luna, this is our neighbour, Sola says. His name is Francis. She turns back to me. This is my brother Luna.

I flash the newcomer a quick nod of acknowledgement. Luna nods back. He is very different from his sister. His skin is the colour of dark chocolate; his eyes a golden amber with the same exotic slant as his sister’s. The straight orange hair doesn’t faze me—people try to make a statement with their hair all the time. But the eyes… They’re animal eyes.

A shiver runs down my spine and I pull my gaze away. Nice to meet you. What made you move to Mineral Gorge? Your parents work at the mine?

A look passes between the siblings. They’re scientists. Doing research in the area, Sola says.

I nod. For the mine I take it?

Another almost undetectable exchange happens between them. I’m not sure it’s our place to say, Sola responds.

Okay…. Weirdly secretive, but the fact that they are scientists explains the portal contraption I saw coming out of the moving van. I laugh, the sound nervous to my own ears. Not some kind of conspiracy, I hope.

Sola just blinks. Conspiracy?

Never mind. Just kidding. What’s with the suits? I gesture at the form fitting lycra jumpsuits they’re both wearing.

Suits? Sola glances down at her attire.

Never mind. I drop my board to the cement and absently roll it under one foot. I am reluctant to say good-bye, but afraid to stay for some reason, too. Besides, Stu will be waiting. You play basketball?

Luna and Sola exchange another glance. Um, maybe, Sola finally replies.

Good. We can always use a few imports. What grade are you in?

We’re Juniors, Sola says, her tone matter of fact. She seems to do all the talking.

Grade Eleven?

Yes.

Me, too! Both of you? I look directly at Luna, hoping he’ll speak for himself, although it shouldn’t matter.

We’re twins, Sola says.

Oh. Confusion clouds my mind for a second, but I nod. I get it. Like a blended family.

No, we’re biological twins. Luna corrects. I’m not sure if I’m more surprised by hearing his voice or the insistence that they are biological twins.

Sola flashes her brother a warning look as she stands up. The cat jumps from her lap with a meow. We better get back to work, she says. We have lots of unpacking to do. Nice to meet you.

You too.

Sola has already turned her back and is opening the front door.

I can show you around sometime, I interject before she disappears inside. All the hangouts…

The cat scoots inside the house, brushing past her legs.

Thanks. Sola nods and enters the house. Luna stays silent but makes eye contact before following his sister inside.

I stand for a minute, unsure what to do next. Of course, Stu is waiting, so I hop on my board and coast down the sidewalk a ways. Then it hits me like a slap in the face.

I flip the board into my hands and turn to take another look at the strangers’ front door.

No wonder their eyes seem so exotic. Their pupils are elongated slits just like those of their cat.

CHAPTER 2

One last push with my right foot gets me up and over the deck of the main skatepark bowl and then I coast down the curved slope. Stu is already there, gliding up the steep incline and swinging back down again with the elegance of a swooping bird. Our skatepark is actually pretty amazing for such a small town. Three separate but connected bowls with lots of swells like waves on the ocean and a small halfpipe. There’s a rail for doing tricks, too, but my railside sucks. Apparently, the town got some kind of government grant to build it. A way to keep teenagers off the streets. Not that it’s really a problem in MG. There aren’t that many of us.

Except now there are two more.

Stu acknowledges me with a nod and drops in for another run. By this time, I’m on the upswing. Then I shift my balance for a backside slash, turning on the upper edge so I can descend again. Stu and I don’t need to stop to greet one another. Our long relationship precludes unnecessarily mushy greetings. We sweep back and forth, crossing paths at times like pendulums.

I can’t stop thinking about those eyes with the elongated pupils. Mesmerizing. I wobble and almost lose my balance. Probably had their tabby cat’s eyes stuck in my brain. Or maybe they were both wearing those crazy fake contact lenses which would also explain the vibrant green and shimmering amber of their irises.

Yeah, that was it. They probably did it to see if they could get a reaction. Just like the whole ‘twins’ thing. Twins, nothing! There is no way those two are twins. They’re obviously playing some kind of weird game. And who has names like Sola and Luna, anyway? Nobody names their kids ‘Sun’ and ‘Moon’. At least not normal people.

Next time I see them they’ll probably look different and they’ll likely have a good laugh—at my expense. Let them have their fun. I don’t care. I have enough friends. By the looks of them, they’re weirdos. Outcasts. Anybody can see that.

I try a kickflip—kicking the board into a spin before landing back on it—and lose my balance. I manage to stay upright, landing on my feet, but just not on the board. Stu rolls up beside me.

Not bad. You’ve been practicing, he says.

I just shrug.

Stu and I are polar opposites. Everything comes easy to him whereas I have to work at it. He’s got natural athletic ability no matter the sport. He’s already moved on to some pretty difficult tricks while I’ve barely perfected an ollie. Basically, an ollie is a jump performed by tapping the tail of the board on the ground and is the foundation for most other tricks. An ollie is child’s play for Stu. He’s way out in front in the tricks department.

We look totally different, too. Beyond our height, which is pretty average for both of us, we’re opposite in every way. Stu is skinny and angular and I’m… well, I’m not. I was chubby as a kid, put it that way, and although I’ve lost my ‘baby fat’ as my mom calls it, my face is still round. I’m reminded of it whenever my grandparents come for a visit. Nan can’t help herself from pinching my cheeks and saying, My cherub! You’re such a cute boy! What sixteen-year-old male wants to be compared to a baby angel?

My hair is strawberry blonde—a nice way to say it’s on the ginger side, which is okay except that I also have the skin to go with it. I’ve had my share of severe sunburns and I have the freckles to prove it.

Stu’s hair is black and straight and often sticks out in odd places. He’s always patting it down when we’re around girls. Stu’s real dad is First Nations, or so he says, but he’s never met him. That’s something that we do have in common. Not the First Nations part, but the fact that I’ve never met my real dad either.

My mom doesn’t like to talk about him. She was relatively young when she got pregnant—eighteen or so, which is strange because that’s only two years older than I am now. My father was young, too, apparently, and they went their separate ways. They were never married, so I guess it was an easy out for him. Who wants to be saddled with a kid when your life is just starting?

I have vague memories of living with my grandparents for a time—or maybe they’re planted memories from old photographs. In any case, Mom and I moved to Mineral Gorge when I was about seven. She got a job at one of the copper mines near here. We’ve done pretty well for ourselves. She likes to call me the man of the house, although she is one of the strongest women I know.

She drives a haul truck out at the mine, which isn’t unusual in these parts. Lots of women do non-traditional jobs out there. It’s a progressive company, I guess. She’s pretty, for a mom. You wouldn’t think such a little woman would drive a huge truck for a living, but she does. It’s good money and has allowed her to buy a house and live independently as a single mother. I used to wish we lived in Copper Quarry because it’s a bigger town with more to do, but houses are more affordable in MG.

Of course, it wasn’t easy back in the day when I was younger and she had to work night shift. I had a revolving door of teenage girls looking after me, making sure I got to bed on time. (Or not. Some of them let me stay