The Outsider by Melinda Metz Read Free Book Online

first year of junior high. He didn’t tell his insurance company when Maria dinged his car in the school parking lot last year.
    It’s like she’s forgotten all the nice things he’s done for her — and for half the other people in school, Liz thought. Now he’s just the alien boy.
    No wonder it was so hard for Max to tell Liz the truth about himself. He probably thought she was going to treat him like some kind of freak.
    And I did, Liz realized. I practically
ran
out of his room.
    She shivered as she pictured Max’s eyes. The pain and humiliation filling his beautiful blue eyes as she backed away from him.
    I never even thanked him for saving my life.

4
    Come on, Max, Michael thought. Get me out of here.
    Right on cue he heard the horn of Max’s Jeep. Yes! He couldn’t stand being in this house one more second. Michael strode toward the front door, shrugging on his jacket as he walked.
    â€œHold it,” Mr. Hughes called as Michael started past the kitchen. “The backyard looks like a jungle. I want it mowed before you go anywhere.”
    â€œIt’s going to be dark in half an hour,” Michael protested.
    Mr. Hughes smirked at him. Michael hated that little smirk. “Then you’ll have to work fast, won’t you?”
    Michael didn’t want to get into a shouting match with the guy. It wasn’t worth it. He struggled to keep his voice calm. “Is there some reason you couldn’t have told me you wanted the lawn mowed this morning, or this afternoon, or even an hour ago? Max is outside waiting for me.”
    â€œWell, he’ll just have to keep waiting. Come and get me when you’re finished. I want to see what kind of job you did before you take off anywhere.”
    Michael hated the way Mr. Hughes was always playing his little power games. Hughes didn’t care about the backyard. That old green truck of his had been up on blocks in the far corner since before Michael moved in. It had totally destroyed that patch of grass, but he didn’t care. Hughes only cared about showing Michael who was in charge.
    In less than a year I’ll be eighteen, Michael thought. Then I’m out of here. No more foster homes. No more foster parents. No more being told that an endless string of strangers are my family.
    â€œFine. I’ll mow the backyard,” Michael muttered. Then he walked out the front door and closed it quietly behind him. He trotted over to Max’s Jeep to tell him he had to wait.
    But when he reached the Jeep, he snapped. Forget Hughes. Forget the idiotic social services people who thought sticking him in strangers’ houses meant he was being taken care of. He just couldn’t deal with it tonight. He couldn’t stand out in the backyard while Hughes inspected his work, finding a dozen little things Michael forgot to do or did wrong.
    He climbed into the Jeep. “Floor it,” Michael ordered.
    Max didn’t ask any questions. He just took off down the street, past the well-tended houses and neatly kept yards of the south side.
    Michael had lived in every neighborhood in town — from the run-down section by the old military base to the historic district with its big houses and big trees. Living in the historic district was cool. He didn’t really care about the nice houses, but he liked living so close to Max and Isabel.
    â€œWhere to?” Max asked as they headed out of town, miles and miles of flat desert stretching in front of them.
    â€œI want to try that arroyo we saw on our way back last week.” Michael pulled a battered map out of his pocket. He popped open the glove compartment, grabbed a pencil, and began shading in the area he planned to search tonight. It was about sixty miles out of Roswell and fifteen miles from the crash site.
    Max glanced over at him. “A couple more years of this, and you’ll have half of New Mexico colored in.”
    â€œNot quite,” Michael