Submitted for the July 2025 prompt: Aliens Among Us

Fifteen-year-old Tom Wiggins shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked at his watch.

 

“Oh, geez,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “One hundred twenty-two. I gotta relax.”

 

“One two two?” asked Ken, seated on the opposite side of the lunchroom table in the Riverside High School cafeteria. “What is one two two?”

 

“Pulse rate,” Tom answered, holding out his smart watch. “Mom says anything over a hundred is way too high.”

 

“Your parental unit is correct, Thomas,” Ken agreed. “The optimum heart rate for a human of your age and mass is between 72 and 74 beats per minute. My research on your species indicates that you are not able to operate efficiently for a sustained period at such a high reading.”

 

Ken reached out his hand and placed it on Tom’s arm. A faint yellow glow appeared on his forefinger. “There, how do you feel now?” he asked.

 

Tom closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

 

“Thomas, did you hear my question?”

 

“I did. I don’t know how you do it.”

 

“It is quite simple. By channeling the synaptic...”

 

“Shh!” said Tom, holding a finger to his mouth. Lowering his voice, he added, “You’ve got to keep it down — I don’t want others to know that you’re…”

 

“An extra-terrestrial?” Ken whispered back. “I understand. You had a hard time grasping this truth since my arrival last week. I expect others would too. I will practice discretion in my attempt to learn more about the inhabitants here.” He looked at the lunch before him and added, “And that which nourishes you.”

 

Tom grinned.

 

“I assure you that no one will suspect,” Ken continued, taking a bite from the apple slices on his plate. Smiling, he rolled his eyes in approval.

 

Tom’s grin disappeared as he moved his head to signal that someone was approaching.

 

“Oh no,” Tom whispered, his eyes widening. “It’s him!”

 

“Ah,” said Ken. “The one you have told me about. The one who...”

 

“Beat me up. Just because I’m… different.”

 

“Your species has a long history of violent behavior.”

 

“Not all of us. But keep your head down and maybe he’ll ignore us.”

 

Just then, a tall boy in a red varsity jacket and jeans with black curly hair beneath his ball cap appeared at their table.

 

“Hello, Derek,” said Tom, his voice cracking.

 

“Well, wooky here,” Derek said as he gripped Tom’s arm so tightly that he winced. “It’s my old friend Wiggins. Wiggins and…” The boy stopped and studied Ken for a few moments before adding, “You must be the new kid I heard about. The one who came here from — aw, it don’t matter.”

 

Ken rose, smiled and reached out his hand. “Yes, that’s right,” said Ken, ready to share his cover story. “My name is Kenneth. Kenneth Adams. I started at Riverside High Monday. My…”

 

“Save it, nerd,” said Derek, pushing Ken back into his chair.

 

Derek turned back to Tom and clenched one fist. “Wiggins, old pal, I need to copy your chemistry homework before sixth period,” he said. “If I don’t keep my grades up, they’ll kick me off the team. And I would not like that one bit.”

 

Just then one of the school’s cheerleaders passed by and giggled. “Coming to the pep rally after school, Derek?” she asked.

 

“Only if you’re there, babe,” he replied.

 

“Oh, I’ll be there,” she responded before joining her friends at a nearby table.

 

Derek watched the girl for a while before suddenly reaching out with his right hand to squeeze the open carton of milk on Ken’s lunch tray. The move caused a fountain of chocolaty liquid to shoot upwards into Ken’s face.

 

Derek laughed as Ken calmly wiped his face with a napkin.

 

“What — no response?” Derek wanted to know.

 

Ken said nothing. Instead, he reached out and touched Derek’s arm. Ken’s fingertip glowed as Derek’s face immediately went blank.

 

Tom gasped. “You didn’t turn him into a vegetable, did you?”

 

“I assure you, he is still quite human, Thomas.”

 

“But why isn’t he moving?”

 

“He will move now,” said Ken, letting go.

 

Derek’s head jerked to the left as he made his way to the table where all the cheerleaders sat.

 

“Look!” Tom heard someone say.

 

Tom turned just in time to see Derek pick up the plate of the girl he had just spoken to and dump it onto her head.

 

“What a jerk!” she cried, slapping him.

 

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on here?” said a middle-aged bald man in a blue suit and glasses who appeared from the crowd of students. It was Mr. Byrd, Riverside’s principal.

 

“Oh oh, Derek’s toast,” someone said.

 

Before the principal could continue, Derek jumped on the man’s back, took off his ball cap and began waving it in circles over his head.

 

“Ride ’em, cowboy!” the teen yelled.

 

The cafeteria erupted in laughter. Moments later two teachers arrived and dragged Derek away.

 

“Nothing to see here!” Mr. Byrd exclaimed, straightening his coat and tie. “Now… finish your lunches.”

 

Ken and Tom looked at each other before Tom pushed his chair back and began to tremble.

 

“What is wrong, Thomas?” Ken asked.

 

“If… if you can do that to Derek… let’s just say I’m scared,” Tom replied. “Maybe it’s time for you to leave.”

 

“Everything is going to be okay,” Ken whispered, placing a hand on Tom’s hand. The tip of his forefinger began to glow and the fear in Tom’s eyes suddenly disappeared.

 

“How is it possible to be so happy?” asked Tom.

 

“Because you understand that I will let nothing bad happen to you, Thomas.” Ken then carefully opened the second carton of milk on his tray, took a long sip and let out a sigh. “Ah,” he said. “That was delightful.”

 

Tom smiled.

 

“Yes, it was,” he agreed. “Quite delightful.”