Melinda Metz - The Outsider

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"One Sigourney Weaver and one Will Smith." Liz Ortecho slid two thick burgers onto the table-one with avocado and sprouts, one with jalapeno peppers and cheese.

Then she waited. The customers in the booth were obviously tourists. And every tourist who came to the Crashdown Cafe had at least one question about the Roswell Incident.

"So is your family from around here?" the guy in the Lost in Space T-shirt asked. The blond woman sitting across from him flipped open a battered notebook and stared at Liz.

"Yeah," Liz said. "My great-great-great-grandfather inherited a ranch outside town. My family's been in Roswell ever since."

The woman uncapped her pen. The man cleared his throat. Here it comes, Liz thought.

"So did any of your relatives ever tell you any stories about, you know, the UFO crash?" the guy asked.

These two were a total trip. I bet they have every episode of The X-Files on tape, Liz thought.

"Well" Liz hesitated. "I guess it would be okay to show you." She pulled a worn black-and-white photo out of her pocket and gently placed it in front of them. "A friend of my grandmother's took this picture at the crash site-before the government cleaned it up."

The two tourists leaned over the blurry photo and studied it carefully.

"Whoa," the woman mumbled. "Whoa."

"This looks exactly like the alien from the autopsy video," the guy exclaimed. "Same oversized head and small, hairless body. I've got to get it on my Roswell Incident web site." He reached for the photo.

"You'd be dead by the end of the week." Liz snatched the photo away. "Just because it's been more than fifty years since the crash doesn't mean the air force wants the truth exposed. They still want everyone to believe that weather balloon story they used as a cover-up," she explained.

Liz glanced around the cafe nervously. She wanted to make sure her father wasn't in earshot. If Papa heard her telling this story, he'd rip off her head and feed it to her for breakfast.

"I shouldn't have shown this to you. Just forget about it, okay? You never saw it." Liz rushed back behind the counter.

Maria DeLuca shook her head, sending her blond curls flying around her face. "You are so bad."

"Hey, they'll have a great story to tell when they get home. And I'll have a great tip," Liz answered.

Maria sighed. "You and your great tips. I've never known such a money-hungry waitress."

Liz shrugged. "You know how I feel. I need as much money as I can get because-"

"One day after grad it's adios and hasta la vista, baby," Maria interrupted. "I know, I know. You're not going to spend your life in a town that has two movie theaters, one bowling alley, one lame-o comedy club, one even more lame-o dance club, and thirteen alien-theme tourist traps."

Liz had to smile. Her best friend did an almost perfect impression of her. "I guess I say that a lot, huh?"

Maria grabbed a dish towel and started wiping down the counter. "Only ten times a day since fifth grade," she joked.

"If I didn't have five thousand relatives watching me all the time," Liz said, "maybe I could have some fun once in a while."

She sighed, imagining a life where she didn't have to worry about doing something-anything-that would make her large, loving extended family worry about her future. She was the first daughter in her family headed for college, and her family wanted to make sure that she stayed on track. And not turn out like her sister, Rosa.

Liz pulled a handful of change out of her pocket and dumped it on the counter.

"Wow," Maria said. "Great tips. Maybe I should get my own picture of a baby doll someone left put in the sun too long." Maria scrunched up her nose. "Though I don't know if I could do that whole 'you'd be dead by the end of the week' thing without cracking up."

"Just practice in front of the mirror. That's what I did," Liz told her.

"It would take a lot of practice," Maria complained. "Everyone always knows when I'm lying. My ten-year-old brother is a better liar than me. The guys my mom goes out with never believe me when I say how nice it is to meet them."

Liz snorted. "Big surprise." She popped open the cash register and traded her change for bills. Thirty-three more dollars for the Hasta la Vista Fund. Thirty-three seventy-three, actually.

The opening notes of the Close Encounters theme played as the cafe door swung open. Max Evans, tall and blond, with killer baby blues, and Michael Guerin, dark and intense, ambled over to the corner booth in the back. Both were students at Liz and Maria's high school.

"Of course they sit in your section," Maria grumbled.

Liz and Maria each covered six of the cafe's flying-saucer-shaped booths. They divided the dining room in half from front to back so they each got a couple of booths by the windows. Those were the most popular.

"You get the tourists and the cute guys, and I get those two," Maria continued. She jerked her chin toward the booth nearest the door. "They're having some big fight. They just scowl at me every time I get near them."

Liz glanced at the two men in the booth. One was big and beefy. The other was smaller but muscular. They were leaning across the table toward each other, talking intently. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but they both looked furious.

"I think you deserve a good table after dealing with those guys. You can take Max and Michael," Liz volunteered.

Maria narrowed her blue eyes. "Okay, what's going on?"

Liz wrapped her arm around Maria's shoulders. "You're my best friend. Can't I just do something nice for you out of the goodness of my heart?"

"Nope." Maria shrugged Liz's arm away. "I repeat-what's going on?"

"Nothing," Liz insisted. "I just feel like taking a little vacation from all the testosterone junkies."

Maria raised one eyebrow. "Translation, please."

"Guys," Liz explained. "I'm so tired of their guyness."

"All guys aren't like Kyle Valenti, you know," Maria told her. "Take Alex. He's totally cool."

Alex Manes was totally cool. Liz could hardly believe she and Maria had only been friends with him for a year. She felt as if she'd known him forever.

"You're right. Alex is the best. But he doesn't count."

Maria frowned. "Why not?"

"'Cause he's Alex," Liz said with a shrug. "He's not a guy guy. Not like Kyle. You should have seen Kyle after school today. He will not accept the fact that I won't go out with him again. He actually got down on his knees and followed me down the hall with his tongue hanging out, begging. All his friends were watching, laughing like the idiots they are."

It made Liz wish she knew karate. She could have really given his friends something to laugh about.

"How romantic. And that classy move didn't convince you to go out with him again?" Maria's voice rose in fake shock.

"Uh-that would be no. And I'm not going out with anyone else for a while, either," Liz declared. "I'm going to stay home, rent chick flicks, take bubble baths, and wear comfy old sweatpants."

Liz was looking forward to it. To be fair, most guys she'd been out with-not that there had been that many-weren't losers like Kyle Valenti. Kyle actually had thought Liz would enjoy sitting next to him on the couch watching him play Nintendo. He hadn't even offered her a turn!

But even with the other guys, there had just been that "sameness" about them.

"My love life is pathetic," Liz mumbled. "I just need some time to myself, for myself."

"Well, I can mix you up some great herbal bath oils," Maria offered. "But if you stop dating, there are going to be some very unhappy boys at Ulysses F. Olsen High."

"Like who?" Liz demanded.

Maria glanced over at the booth where Max and Michael were sitting. "Max Evans," she said.