“Arizona,” said Christian. “The Boov decided to keep Florida for themselves.”
Arizona. I couldn’t believe it.
“But…they promised it to us. They promised it to us forever.”
Curly snorted. I suddenly felt a little foolish. Naive.
“That was before they discovered oranges,” said Tanner. “The Boov really like oranges.”
“So they loaded everyone back up and took them to Arizona,” said Christian.
“They grow oranges in Arizona too,” said Yosuan.
“Bleep,” said Curly. “Nothing grows in Arizona. It’s all desert.”
“It’s not,” Yosuan said quietly. “My grandma lives there.”
I thought about J.Lo eating dental floss.
“Waitaminit. Oranges? The Boov actually eat oranges?”
“No…” said Yosuan, squinting. “They mostly wear them, I think.”
We lapsed into silence again, which Curly broke with a rude noise.
“Okay,” I said, “my turn. Which one of you guys is Boob?”
Most of the boys broke up into nervous giggling. Especially the younger ones.
“BOOB is an…acronym,” said Christian. “It stands for Brotherhood—”
“Brotherhood!” Curly interrupted. “No girls! And no pictures!”
I gave him a sour look. “The graffiti I saw said ‘humans.’”
“That’s because Marcos bleeped up.”
Marcos flinched.
Christian continued as if everyone were still listening. “Brotherhood Organized against Oppressive Boov. It stands for that.”
“Shouldn’t it be B-O-A-O-B, then?”
“We really wanted it to be BOOB,” said Marcos, and all the younger boys giggled again. Christian looked pained.
“Well…all right,” I said. “So what are you guys doing?”
“Doing?” said one of the boys.
“Yeah. ‘Brotherhood Organized against Oppressive Boov,’ right? So what are you doing to fight them?”
“Fight them?” said Marcos. There were general snorts of disbelief from all the boys. “Have you seen those guns they have?”
“We’re…we’re not letting them have us,” someone said. “We’re not letting them tell us where to go. That’s fighting them.”
“And we’re eating all this spoiled ice cream and corn dogs, and living at Happy Mouse Kingdom!” said another. “They’d hate that, if they knew.”
The boys mostly nodded to each other, and said things like “Yeah, that’s showin’ ’em,” and, “They can’t push us around.” I noticed only Christian looked sort of disappointed. I imagined he and I were thinking the same thing: Well, so much for the revolution.
The murmuring died down into uncomfortable silence. A silence as huge and awkward as a castle hanging from the ceiling.
“Okay,” I said. “Why are there upside-down buildings underground?”
“Ha! Dumbbleep. Everyone knows that.”
Christian looked at Curly. “You didn’t know it three weeks ago.”
“Three weeks? Is that how long you guys have been here?”
“Some of us,” said Christian. “Some not as long, some longer. Alberto and I have been here five months.”
Five months. Since the time of the invasion.
“Our parents worked here,” said Alberto. “So…so we knew about the underground…and—”
And suddenly, Alberto was crying. He made a fist with his face, and soon loud sobs filled the room.
“Oh, bleep. Here we go. You’re such a bleep, Albert.”
I didn’t know what I’d done. I looked to Christian for help, but he just continued the story.
“Our parents worked here. Alberto’s dad and my mom. They have two of every building—every big one, anyway. During the day they clean the one underground, repaint whatever needs repainting, fix stuff, that sort of thing. Then, in the middle of the night, fllip!”
“Flip?” I frowned. “What…You’re joking. You mean they flip all of the buildings around?”
“Yep. Clean one goes on top, dirty one swings underground for cleaning.”
“Huh.”
Alberto sniffed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. I felt bad for him. He was one of the little kids.
“We came here to hide out when the aliens showed up,” said Christian, “because our parents were gone.”
“Gone?”
“They disappeared. On Christmas Eve.”
Alberto started wailing again. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“On Christmas Eve,” I repeated.
Christian thought I was challenging him, I guess. “Believe whatever you want, but yes, they disappeared a day before the invasion. I think they must have known too much, and the Boov killed them.”
“No-no,” I stammered. “I believe you. My mom was taken, too.”
“Bleep, you’re a liar. Why do you lie so much?” said Curly.
But Christian and Alberto were listening. Everyone was.
“Taken?” said Christian. “Like…abducted?”
“Yeah. Not killed. Did your parents say anything about being abducted before then? Weeks before then?”
“No,” said Alberto, looking glum.
“Yes,” said Christian. “That is, my mom told me about this weird dream she’d had, about being taken by aliens and made to sew pillowcases.”
Curly laughed.
“I don’t think it was a dream,” said Christian. “The aliens she described, they were just like the Boov.”
“It wasn’t a dream,” I said, grinning, happy to have some good news to tell. “It really happened to your mom. Your dad, too,” I added, nodding at Alberto. “I’m sure of it. He probably just didn’t tell anyone, or he didn’t remember. They were only kidnapped so the Boov could learn our languages. My mom spoke two, I think that was why she was chosen. We’re Italian.”
They all gave me the sort of looks I usually get when I say that.
“My mom’s white,” I added.
Alberto looked better. “My dad spoke Portuguese! So do I, a little.”
“My mom spoke…speaks Spanish,” said Christian. “And you think they’re okay?”
“I have it on good authority that they’re safe, and with everyone else.”