Free The Dark Side of Nowhere by Neal Shusterman

all that.
    As she came closer, I noticed that her hair had a silkysheen to it, as if she had brushed it half a million times or so. She was wearing a baseball cap, so I had to look close to tell. Which I did.
    â€œHi,” I said. “You look nice.”
    She smiled, seeming pleased that I was really looking. “Thanks. I wish I could say the same for you, though.”
    I glanced down at myself, to realized that I was an unqualified mess. I was still wearing the same pants and wrinkled shirt from the day before, and my tangled hair must have looked like it was harboring a fugitive tornado.
    I sighed, too tired to feel the appropriate level of embarrassment. “I’m not really this gross,” I explained. “There have just been some problems at home. My head was somewhere else, I guess.”
    She took off her baseball cap and slipped it on my head. “Here,” she said tenderly. “You need it more than I do.” Then she tossed me a smile and headed off to class.
    It took me only an instant to realize what she had done. Most of the guys on teams, they give their girlfriends their caps or jerseys or whatever—but I wasn’t on a sports team, which meant I didn’t have anything to give to Paula. So she had given her cap to me, and she’d done it in a way that was easy and didn’t make either of us feel self-conscious about it. I didn’t know ifthere were any other guys in school who dared to wear their girlfriend’s accessories, but I, for one, was pretty pleased to have this particular Billington Bullet’s cap on my head.
    â€œPaula,” I called to her before she went into her classroom. I wanted to tell her the whole thing. Everything I knew about myself. I wanted to share my amazement with her, and somehow make her a part of this, too. But with all the nerve I’d developed lately, I didn’t have the nerve to tell her.
    â€œThanks, Paula,” I said. “You’re great.”
    O n my way home, I spotted Wesley in Banzai Burger, sitting alone, scarfing a Triple-Patty Deluxe. That was the way Wes dealt with problems—he ate them alive, and for a guy so skinny, he could sure put it away. I went in and sat down next to him.
    â€œYou’re gonna blimp out if you keep eating like that,” I said, pointing at the ketchup-oozing burger clamped between his fingers. There were two empty wrappers already on the table.
    â€œMy parents always said I got a black hole in my stomach. Now I figure, they might have been telling the truth.” He took a healthy bite, almost getting one of his fingers. He glanced up, clearly noticing Paula’s cap on my head, but didn’t say anything about it.
    â€œHow’d your parents tell you?” I asked him.
    â€œWe played twenty questions,” he answered, then took another bite of his burger and spoke through a mouthful of food. “Y’know, Ralphy Sherman always said there were aliens in town.”
    I smirked. “Yeah, and Ralphy Sherman also says he was Elvis in a previous life. This time I think it was just a lucky guess.”
    Wesley swallowed such a huge bite that I could see his throat bulge, and then he forced up a shrug. “So, we’re alien—so? What’s the big deal?”
    But it was a big deal. You could tell by the way he inhaled the rest of that hamburger. It got me thinking about that black-hole theory, too.
    â€œWes,” I said, “this is a good thing.”
    He wiped the ketchup from his face and examined me, trying to see how sure I was. “You think so?”
    â€œOf course it is. We’ve got something that no one else has. We’re special. We’re better .”
    Wes slurped his soda. “You know, your dad’s in charge,” he said. “My parents say he walked right into the church and took over. Grant just stepped down.”
    I was thrilled to hear it but tried not to overstate my enthusiasm. “So was