FOILS 2

"Ang!" footsteps on the stairs.


Angela was blown away by the straight-forwardness of the girl. She whispered under her dads thundering footsteps.


"My dads coming, so I need to hide you."
 
"Why are you hiding me? I can hide myself if you wish. But, since you have offered and I can observe you better this way I will be hidden by you." Ava appeared by the experiments side and looked at her as she jumped an inch into the air.
 
Even as her dad came closer, about to ruin everything, Angela was smiling ear to comically huge ear, exposing all of the missing teeth that made her painfully self centered, because she was beginning her own version of E.T.. And if the movie was anything to go by, she couldnt wait.


Angela had thought hiding her new alien behind the couch that came with the mansion would work. But pushing the girl was like attempting o make a dent in a cold steel wall. She made a mental note to work out.


As her dad padded barefoot into the room, calling, "Im serious, Ang, what are you doing?" she was whispering frantically to the alien to "get behind the couch!!"
 
Ava was confused as to why the girl was pushing her lightly, but did as she was told and went behind the couch. She stood behind the couch and stared at the girl who's name was "Ang" and was panicing. This was not a good hiding spot, she would be seen instantly. She was less noticable outside, but this was an interesting experiment to find out the intelligence of this child.
 
Angela faced her father. His figure took up the doorframe; he folded his arms and stood there in his navy-striped underwear and baby blue#1 Dad t-shirt, somehow serious.


Angela was a bad liar. She tripped on her tongue and said, "I was talking to myself, Dad. geez, isnt this a free country?"
 
Her dad, with his glazed over eyes, glanced at the couch, an then at Ang, who hovered on the balls of her feet in front of it.


"Ill ask you what you were doing down here in the morning," he finally compromised. "Now march."


He turned and went back upstairs, calling for Ang to follow. She peered behind the couch and pointed up the stairs, a "follow me" gesture.
 
this is a very intereting experience. I will follow the creature.


Ava snuck up the stairs hugging the shadows. The stairs were creaky but Ava went slow and steady as she followed "Ang" into her room and snuck in behind the door.
 
The moment Angela closed the door, she faved the alien with wide-eyed excitement.


"So... youre an alien, huh?"
 
"You look asgardian. We were here first. " Ava whispered. "So, why did you invite an alien who has harmed you into your room at night?"
 
"You do not know me, I injected you with a serum that you or the doctors who treated you, know nothing about, and now you have snuck me into your room. I was wondering why you did this."
 
Angela put her hand on her throat, where there used to but no longer be a small scar. She was still cold there.


"The person who came into my room was a druggie looking for a place to crash," she explained, recounting her earlier deductions. "You're not strong enough to be them," she added, even as she remembered how hard it was to push Ava back in the living room.
 
Ava raised her eyebrow. "What makes you so sure? People frequently underestimate me. My own Father did just yesterday when I took his life. Appearances are not what they seem."
 
"I came into your house and injected you with a serum." Ava frowned. "Were you not listening? Also I believe you said quiet was essential."
 
"No, I don't think you were listening to yourself," Angela corrected, pointing a finger at the alien. "You are so wrong. What did I ever do to you? What kind of psychopath are you?"
 
"you have done nothing to me. My father simply wanted to use your father as an experiment. While trying to inject him you got in the way. As to what type of psychopath I am I do not know, but I believe I am more of a highly functioning sociopath. You would know this if you did some research."
 
Angela tried to form words; she looked like a gaping goldfish. Her mind was blank and dark.


"...why... why... why would I do research on someone who tried to kill my dad?"


What was there to say to a mad person? To someone who talked about death as casually as to comment on the fall coming.


"You're loony. I'm getting my dad."


She spun around in the dark and put her hand on the doorknob.
 
"Then I see no point in remaining here. I will continue to monitor you, to see if anything interesting happens, but this conversation was a mistake. For all his failures, Father was right about this. Goodbye." Ava vanished into the still night and nestled into the top of another pine next to the Grahm household.
 
As Angela swung open the door and ran to dad's room, sweaty and cold and holding tears in the corners of her eyes, she reflected on the lack of good in their goodbye.


Nothing was good. Angela would die if she knew how not good things would get.


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


"BUT I am SO telling the truth."


"You're right, Angela. You're trying to get me to believe your farfetched version of what could have been a spider, or a cat, or the wind. I have t congradulate you on your imagination, though."


It was early morning- 5 oclock- and the sky was still blushing as the sun came up to kiss it. There were birds chirping. Angela kept glancing out the window and saw aliens everywhere, while Dad was obliviously drinking coffee.


"Dad. I'm not making this up. There was literally an alien in my room last night trying to kill us."


"And then she just disappeared, I guess?"


"Yeah!"


"What did she try to kill us with?"


Angela sucked on the insides of her cheeks. "...her steely sense of disinterest. She was creepy, dad!"


Dad sighed. "You know I'm fine with you having imaginary friends, even at your age," Dad mumbled into his coffee. "But you can't expect me to play along here."


"DAD-"


"Especially after what happened."


Angela slammed her hand on the table. "Would you shut up about what happened?"
 
Listening to the arguing Father and daughter was a new experience for Ava. She had never dared argue with her Father. Never, except once.
 
"That's all I ever hear anymore! In case you didn't notice, I was there. I know what happened. I don't need you to keep reminding me about it. You keep dragging your feet over here, taking weeks instead of days to pack this place up, to get us out of here, moaning about what happened. But you won't accept my help. You'd think I was made of glass."


Angela was wearing an ugly face. She saw it reflected at her everywhere: the side of the microwave, the window, the shiny refrigerator magnets, Dad's coffee, which he had set down with shaking hands. She was leaning over her father now, hair in her face, red in the cheeks. She was painfully aware of the need to stop. She took a deep breath.


And continued.


"You want me to get better? No you don't. Stop treating me like you are. I'm not making up jokes. The least you could do is believe me." She swallowed. "This is just how you were after mom left. Maybe this is why."


Dad stood up abruptly; his coffee spilled over and splattered on Ava's bare feet. It burned, but she didn't feel it. She panicked when she saw the expression on Dad's face, and ran.
 
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