All those cliches about the bad boy? The rebel? They come true when you look at him. He doesn't come to school most days of the week, but when he does, he slouches in with this chip on his shoulder and those dark, dark, eyes that dare the teachers to say something. They never do, because I think he scares them. He scares everybody a little. Brown. His eyes, I mean. They're brown. . .but instead of being warm, they're as cold and deep as a tunnel in the middle of an ice cube. I've looked into them at close range. . .and gotten frozen.

He's every mom's nightmare. . .dresses in black t-shirts and black jeans. Skips class. Lives in a trailer and doesn't seem to give half a damn about anything. But he's every good girl's secret fantasy, too. I can't tell you how many times I've heard the gossip at the mirror in the Girl's bathroom.

"Oh, my God. . .Audra, did you see him today?"

"Yes! He nearly told that battle ax off when she gave him a detention. He's so. . .ugh! Creepy!"

"But you'd do him, wouldn't you?"

"Duh, Denise! Yeah!"

Of course. . .Audra would and Denise would and any other girl at Roswell High would jump at the chance to get him into bed. Not that they'd ever admit it the next day. Because he might be good enough to screw on a dare, but he's still not good enough to admit to. He's that kind of rebel.

Which makes me wonder if I should tell them all. . .if I should tell them all they're full of hypocrisy because I've spent time with Michael Guerin and I don't mind admitting it. I know he wouldn't want me to, though. . .

He's a loner. A proud loner. Max is the only one he really trusts--and, by extension, Isabel, too. They all have some weird kind of bond that doesn't include me or anyone else in this town. . .and not just because they're "Czechoslovakian". They're alien in a wholly different way, too. . .more self-contained or something. Sometimes I think he forgets who I am because I'm so outside their private little sphere. But, I remember every detail. . . everything about him. The way he walks. . .the way he sprawls low in his chair. . .the way he tilts his head and stares at things as he thinks. The way his eyes go all smoky when he leans down like he's going to kiss you. . .

Not that he did. Kiss me, I mean. I felt his breath on my lips. . .the brush of his hands on mine. . .and then. . .nothing. He pulled away from the counter and walked out of the Crash Down without saying another word. All I could do was look down at the journal he'd given back to me.

I'm Liz Parker. . .and I just made my life even more complicated than it was before. I think I'm in love with two aliens instead of just one.