Dark Energy by Robison Wells Page A

open?”
    â€œThe army is putting up tents,” Brynne said. “But I bet they’re cold. Fox News has a picture of a woman alien holding a baby.”
    â€œReally? Does it look like a human baby?” Rachel asked.
    â€œIt’s not a larva,” I answered.
    A girl popped her head in the door. “Hey, guys.”
    â€œHey, Emily,” Brynne said.
    â€œThe president is speaking tonight, now that he’s had a chance to communicate with the aliens.”
    â€œThat’ll be weird,” I said. “How much could they have communicated this fast?”
    Emily moved into the doorway and leaned on the jamb. “Faster than you might think. There was a study out of the University of Utah—”
    â€œNerd!” Brynne called out, and threw her pillow at Emily.
    Another girl appeared behind Emily—a girl dressed like one of the aliens, in mummy rags. “Today I officially say, ‘Who cares?’ You know what this school needs? A party. And what would a party be like without the succubi?”
    It turns out that it’s not that hard to throw a party if you go to the Minnetonka School. The cafeteria is always stocked with a hefty array of desserts, and there’s a soda machine and chips with six different kinds of salsa. It’s a wonder that everyonein this school isn’t overweight. Well, not really—pretty much every student is a type A personality with an eating disorder.
    Not me, though, and I made sure to force chips and pie and cheesecake onto everyone.
    We were wearing our alien suits, of course. It only took Brynne trying on her skintight mummy costume (a leotard wrapped in strips of cloth from cut-up bedsheets) and parading down the hall for all the other girls to decide they needed to compete or be completely overshadowed. And somehow the boys got wind of it, and they were doing their best; there were a lot of abs, biceps, and pectorals on display. None of us looked exactly like the aliens, but we looked like their alternately sexier/shabbier versions.
    Someone plugged their iPod into the TV, and we all danced as we waited for the president to speak.
    I learned a lot at the party. I learned that Sunglasses Girl always wore sunglasses in her hair, even when she was dressed up as an alien. I also learned that her name was Hannah, and that her dad was a senator from South Carolina. I even learned that she knew how to dance really dirty and attracted a lot of attention from the guys. So, enlightening.
    I overheard one of the dorm resident assistants asking another if we should be acting like this in the middle of a national emergency, and the other one said that everyone mourns in different ways. It hadn’t occurred to me that we were even mourning—I had been so caught up in the alienscoming out of their ship that I hadn’t thought much about the people in the path of the crashed spaceship. But I also got the feeling that the counselor thought we should be mourning all the time, for the sake of our waning youth, or our uncertain future, or for all the people who were outside Minnetonka and not getting to dance like aliens. Maybe he was right. Or maybe he needed to eat more habanero salsa.
    The music cut out and everyone turned to look at the TV. The shot had changed to the president standing at a podium. He was in a tent by the spaceship, dressed in a suit and tie, like always. Beside him stood four of the aliens—the four who had first emerged from the ship.
    â€œTonight I greet not only my fellow Americans, but also the people of the world. An historic step has been taken today, and we now know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we are not alone.
    â€œLet me begin with what we know. Six days ago, an alien craft crashed onto Earth. We now know that this crash was an accident, and I want to stress that this disaster was in no way a part of our alien visitors’ plans. I have assured them that the American people will recognize this