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name—just like Sandor’s drilled me to do.
    Tall Mike returns and hands me a vest. I pull it over my head and they show me how to adjust the straps.
    “So Stanley,” continues Short Mike, practically interrogating me. “Where do you go to school?”
    “I’m homeschooled.”
    “That explains your sparkling personality,” deadpans Short Mike.
    I think he just insulted me.
    Before I can respond, I notice her. She’s in the next line over. Maybe sixteen or seventeen, straight black hair, and eyes to match. She’s athletic looking, not like some of the flimsy girls I’ve seen jogging along the lakefront. She’s beautiful and she’s staring at me. How long has she been watching me? Has she been listening to my entire conversation with the Mikes?
    When she sees that she has my attention, the girl quickly looks away, her cheeks reddening. I can’t help it; I can’t look away. Eventually she glances back my way and nervously flashes me a tentative smile. I can only blink in response.
    Tall Mike waves his hand in front of my face.
    “What?” I snap.
    “It’s your turn, bro.”
    I turn and see the climbing instructor sarcastically tapping his watch. I step forward and he buckles the safety cords to my vest. I’m barely listening as he explains where the best handholds are, my mind too busy trying to figure out why that girl was staring at me. Instinctively, I try to straighten my mess of hair. I don’t know what to think about that girl; on TV, there’s always music that plays when a guy makes eye contact with a pretty girl. I’d kill for some soundtrack now.
    I wonder if she likes guys from other planets who can climb walls really fast.
    Guess I’ll find out.
    The instructor blows a whistle and I leap onto the wall. The start of my ascent is clumsy. I should’ve listened when the instructor explained the handholds. Even so, I quickly find a rhythm and begin swinging my body up the wall.
    Is the girl watching? I have the unbearable urge to check.
    I glance down. She is. She’s standing right next to the two Mikes, both of them nattering at her. She ignores them, watching me. No. More than watching me. She’s studying me like I’m the most interesting book in the world.
    My palms are suddenly slick with sweat.
    That’s not good.
    I realize too late that I’ve worked myself into the same trouble spot as the first climber I watched. I’m about halfway up the wall, but there is no handhold close enough to reach above me, and backtracking is out of the question.
    There’s only one handhold I can see. It’d be out of the reach of a human. With my strength, though, I can probably make it. I’ll have to jump for it.
    I hunker down on my footholds, putting as much weight as I can on my knees and hips, before springing upward.
    I grab the handhold and my sweaty fingertips scrabble across it.
    Then, it is gone. I’m falling. I can’t believe this, I’m falling. Defeated by a human wall and some sweaty palms.
    The mat cushions my fall. It isn’t my body that’s hurting, it’s my ego. I lay on the mat, not wanting to get up and face the eyes of the rec center.
    Her eyes.
    Tall Mike peers down at me.
    “Guess you did need the vest,” he says with a smirk.
    Short Mike helps me off the mat, telling me it was a good first try. I’m barely listening. My eyes sweep the room, looking for the girl.
    She’s gone.

Chapter Nine
    I keep my head down when leaving the Windy City Wall. I’ve spent pretty much my entire life in anonymity, but even when I’ve been on the run from killer aliens, I’ve never wanted to avoid attention as much as I do now. I know it’s ridiculous—kids must fall off that wall all the time—yet I’m sure that everyone in the gym is secretly laughing at me.
    I take the long way back to the John Hancock building and then walk past it. I keep replaying my fall in my head. I imagine seeing myself from that girl’s perspective; flailing, sweaty, legs kicking uselessly at air. I pass the