He laughs, a full-on belly-rumbling laugh that leaves me mortified even as it dispels the tension.

I try to place my trembling fingers in the correct place. My blood's going to turn into red steam if I blush any hotter, so I'm going to pretend I didn't just say that and keep breathing.

"It's the G position, Treasa." He shifts my hand up a few notes. "Let's try again."

Yes, please, let's. Let's just keep kissing and let everything else fade away. At least when I've got my eyes closed and my body pressed against his, I can almost believe I'm not Treasa, not an alien, and not this girl I don't want to be.

Gabriel

WHEN SHE SHE asked about s.e.x, I should've said yes and either chased her away for good or been able to score. It was a win-win situation for me, and instead I sat down and taught her to play C major. Now she thinks I'm perfect. Perfection doesn't even exist. It's some imagined perceptual construct designed to drive people mad in the search for this nonexistent ideal. asked about s.e.x, I should've said yes and either chased her away for good or been able to score. It was a win-win situation for me, and instead I sat down and taught her to play C major. Now she thinks I'm perfect. Perfection doesn't even exist. It's some imagined perceptual construct designed to drive people mad in the search for this nonexistent ideal.

No piece of music, no matter how exquisite the melody, no matter how complex the harmony or detailed the dynamics, can ever be perfect. A person is like that too. Sure, you can have perfectly straight teeth or a face free of acne, you can have symmetrical facial features and Michelangelo-like muscle definition, but that's superficial. If you start deconstructing the whole, you'll start seeing the tiny imperfections-the parallel fifths in the chords, the stray sharps or erroneous slurs... the scars and shame and guilt, the conceit and selfishness, ego and eccentricities.

I'm not perfect, and while it might seem flattering to have Treasa think I am, it's really terrifying. If she only knew the truth about my mom.... Treasa's got me on a pedestal, and I'm getting vertigo. The problem with being put on a pedestal is that when you tumble off it-and you will-you don't just break. You shatter.

Am I an Alien, Treasa Test #05

HYPOTHESIS: Extraterrestrials possess superhuman abilities such as telepathy or the ability to share images from memory or thought during s.e.xual contact. Extraterrestrials possess superhuman abilities such as telepathy or the ability to share images from memory or thought during s.e.xual contact.

GOAL: To prove a telepathic connection is possible during s.e.xual contact, specifically kissing. To prove a telepathic connection is possible during s.e.xual contact, specifically kissing.

METHOD:.

Kiss Gabriel-with tongue.Gauge reaction-shock or disbelief may indicate visions occurred during kiss.Ask Gabriel if he saw anything-without sounding too weird.

RESULTS: Kiss was successful. However, there was no evidence to suggest Gabriel was shocked, creeped out, scared, or otherwise surprised during or after the kiss, suggesting he saw/felt nothing out of the ordinary. Step 3 was deemed unnecessary. Kiss was successful. However, there was no evidence to suggest Gabriel was shocked, creeped out, scared, or otherwise surprised during or after the kiss, suggesting he saw/felt nothing out of the ordinary. Step 3 was deemed unnecessary.

CONCLUSION: Since this alien power may require certain chemicals in the brain (serotonin and oxytocin) in order to occur, kissing alone may not be enough to produce desired effects. Inconclusive. Since this alien power may require certain chemicals in the brain (serotonin and oxytocin) in order to occur, kissing alone may not be enough to produce desired effects. Inconclusive.

Will have to try again.

Treasa

I SPEND SPEND Friday afternoon with Jordan under the pretense of studying for a math test on Monday. So far there's been no apparent backlash over the note I sent to Hannah, although word has spread throughout the grade that a Stormhof boy has seen her naked. I've heard various versions of the story, and they all have one thing in common: little miss perfect is sleeping around. Hannah did her best to ignore the comments today, neither confirming nor denying the rumors. I almost feel bad for her, guilty about what I did, but after all the nasty things she's said about Jordan, Hannah deserves it. Friday afternoon with Jordan under the pretense of studying for a math test on Monday. So far there's been no apparent backlash over the note I sent to Hannah, although word has spread throughout the grade that a Stormhof boy has seen her naked. I've heard various versions of the story, and they all have one thing in common: little miss perfect is sleeping around. Hannah did her best to ignore the comments today, neither confirming nor denying the rumors. I almost feel bad for her, guilty about what I did, but after all the nasty things she's said about Jordan, Hannah deserves it.

I'm bursting to tell Jordan about my kiss with Gabriel. Given her reaction to the previous almost-kiss discussion, I'm going to play it cool.

"You think I could ask Gabriel to the art expo?" I ask Jordan as we float around the swimming pool on lilos.

"Why not?" She drags her fingers through the water and flicks droplets at me.

"Do you think I should sleep with him?"

Jordan pushes her sungla.s.ses up her forehead and meets my gaze. "Does he want you to?"

"I think so."

"You haven't even kissed yet."

"Well...."

"Did I miss something?" She sits up on her lilo and peers at me over the rim of her sungla.s.ses.

"We did kiss. Yesterday."

Using her hands like spades, she chucks water at me until I'm begging her to stop. "Why didn't you tell me?" She gets just as drenched as I do.

"Because...."

"Bryce? I'm so over that." She wrings her hair out. "Soooo, tell me about this kiss."

And I do.

"Do you want to take it further?" she asks after I've described the kiss in extreme detail, twice.

"I think so."

"I don't think you should." She paddles closer to me and grabs hold of my lilo. "It's not something you can take back. Once you do it, that's it. No undo b.u.t.ton."

"Do you regret doing it with Callum?"

Jordan sucks on her lower lip. "Ja, I do. I liked him, but I should've waited. There's no rush, you know?"

"I know, it's just...."

"He's in Matric and you think he expects it?" Jordan raises an eyebrow at me.

"Kind of."

"That's the wrong reason to do it. You barely know this guy. If he's still around in six months, then maybe you should consider it. But definitely not now, especially not with Hannah on the warpath." Jordan hands me her sungla.s.ses and slips into the water. She's right, but without giving him more, I'm not sure Gabriel will be around in six months, and I don't want to lose him.

"Let's get ice cream." Jordan emerges at the steps and grabs a towel.

Fifteen minutes later, we're in the Spar up the road, contemplating the virtues of ice cream on a stick. I've made my decision and leave Jordan trying to decide between mint and caramel as I make my way to the toiletries section. The shop doesn't have much to offer by way of hair dyes, only three different browns. Maybe I can't change my eye color or my biology, but what I can change, I will.

"If you want to dye your hair, I've got tons of henna at home." Jordan comes up behind me. "It's better for you and not so permanent."

"Brown, though. Not black."

"Think I can manage that," she says, and I amble over to the nail polish to find the darkest color they have. Deep burgundy. That'll do.

"Will you dye my hair for me?"

"When?" We head to the cashier. Jordan says nothing about my nail polish purchase.

"Today."

She gives me a measured look, her eyes narrowed. "Why the sudden decision?" We walk out of the air-conditioned store into the blistering sun.

"Been wanting to for a while. Just haven't had the courage." I shrug. I'm not sure Jordan would understand why I want to look less like me and more like Resa, more like Gabriel.

"Your mom's going to have an apoplexy." Jordan grins through a mouthful of caramel ice cream.

"That's her problem." I'm done asking for permission to be the person I want to be. If Mom doesn't like it, then she can just give me back to the adoption agency. I'm not sure they have a return policy, but if Mom really can't handle me being a brunette, I'm sure they'll make a plan.

An hour later, I've got my now dark hair piled atop my head as we wait for the color to set. We're watching a daytime rerun of Project Blue Book Project Blue Book and painting our nails. I coat mine with several layers, trying to make the color darker, while Jordan paints hers with a single layer of bright blue. The episode is from last season, the one where Resa gets drunk and switches hair color. and painting our nails. I coat mine with several layers, trying to make the color darker, while Jordan paints hers with a single layer of bright blue. The episode is from last season, the one where Resa gets drunk and switches hair color.

"I wish I had that power." Jordan studies a strand of her own hair. "How cool would it be to be able to look different on a whim?"

"I'd kill to have that kind of ability."

"What's up, Ree?" Jordan turns down the volume on the TV.

"Nothing."

"Come on. I know you better than that. Piercing your ears, dying your hair, painting your nails." She s.n.a.t.c.hes the polish out of my hand before I can start applying a fifth coat. "You're changing."

"No, I'm not."

"Ja, you are, and you're changing for him, aren't you? Did Gabriel say something about your hair?"

"No!" Her a.s.sumptions are a little too close to the truth for comfort. "Just want to try something different."

"As long as it's not for him. Do it for yourself." She studies my hair and pats down a loose strand.

"Do you ever wish you were someone else?" I ask.

"Like who? Nicole Kidman or Alanis Morissette or something?" She gestures for me to follow her to the bathroom, and I do, not answering until she starts rinsing my hair over the bathtub.

"No, I mean.... Just like a normal person, only not yourself."

"I like being me."

"I don't."

Jordan puts down the shower spray and hands me a towel. "You don't like being you?"

"Not all the time. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be someone else."

"Like who?" She turns me to face the mirror. So I've still got a freckle infestation, but at least the orange hair has been replaced by shiny chocolate brown.

"This is perfect, thank you." I give Jordan a hug before I start tugging a comb through the damp strands.

"Like who, Ree?" She perches on the edge of the bathtub, studying my reflection as I work out tangles.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a boy?"

Jordan crinkles her nose in disgust. "Dirty, sweaty, h.o.r.n.y, and p.r.o.ne to erections at inappropriate moments? No, thanks. Being able to pee standing up is not worth body hair and prostate exams."

Tears p.r.i.c.k my eyes as I study my reflection. "So you want to be a girl?"

"I am a girl." Jordan gives me a puzzled look. "It's who I am. Who we are."

"I guess." I force a smile. I must be the only person on the planet who feels cheated by G.o.d or whomever decided on my double-X chromosome. No one ever gave me the choice, and if they had, I sure as h.e.l.l wouldn't have picked this body.

MOM SAID SAID nothing when she saw my hair, which was almost worse than if she'd started ranting. We drove home in stiff silence. Mom focused on the road, and I focused on the Chopin etude pouring out of the radio tuned to Cla.s.sic FM and wondering if Gabriel can play Chopin as well as Beethoven. nothing when she saw my hair, which was almost worse than if she'd started ranting. We drove home in stiff silence. Mom focused on the road, and I focused on the Chopin etude pouring out of the radio tuned to Cla.s.sic FM and wondering if Gabriel can play Chopin as well as Beethoven.

"Is it henna?" Mom asks as we pull into the driveway.

"Yes."