I used to wonder if there were aliens. Whenever I ask she just says "You never know." But her response isn't what bothers me, it her expression that does. She always gets this haunted look and nearly always scolds at me afterwards. Something about that look disturbs me.

I used to stare in the mirror at night and wonder where I got these funky ears from. They aren't like my mothers, only they are sort of. I don't know. They just confuse me. And my eyes.

My mother said something about my father once, only once. Once, in my whole 14 years. She has refused every single one of my attempts to get her to talk about it. The only remark she said about him was "He had these incredibly soulful eyes. They were beautiful, I thought they could see into my own soul." Then she turned to me, "You have his eyes."

I understand why she never talks about him, I understand this haunted look she gets whenever she looks into my eyes. What I don't understand is how the word aliens cause her to react the same way.

I look at her, she's staring out the window again. Just staring, hardly even there. She's dressed for work already, a simple blouse and matching miniskirt. She looks beautiful standing there. She wanted to be so much more than a manager for a restaurant downtown, I can see it in her eyes every time she leaves for work. She wanted to be a scientist, but never had the chance.

"Mom?" I ask quietly. She doesn't hear me.

"MOTHER!" I yell louder, still no response.

"ELIZABETH PARKER!" I yell again, close to a scream. She whirls around.

"Honey!" She yelps in surprise.

"Mom, I've been screaming your name for the past five minutes." I exaggerate giving her a raised eyebrow.

She smiles knowingly, "Yeah. Oh, Aunt Maria is going to stay over tomorrow, is it all right if she stays in your room? You can share the bed with your old mum."

"Oh mum," I say in a childish voice, "That would be so fun!"

She laughs, "Will you though? Maria's going through a tough time and . . ."

"Don't worry, I can share the bed with my old mum." I say in her voice.

She smiles brightly, "Thank you Natalie."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I say and smile back. "You owe me." She only laughs at this.

"Well I have to go to work, see you around seven. Have a good day at school. Oh, and Maria will be here around five ok?" She kisses me on the forehead and leaves the room. I hear the front door slam shut and her footsteps receding down the hall. I glance at the clock and discover I have a little over an hour before school.

The phone rings, I answer it. "Hello?"

"Hi Natty!" Someone yells into my ear.

"Wow, turn down the volume Jess!" I say laughing.

"Sorry Nat." She answers and giggles. "Did you hear about the new kid?"

"New kid?" I ask grabbing an apple for my lunch.

"Yeah, he's new from somewhere in New Mexico."

"Ah, and does he have a name?" I ask smiling.

"Jeremy Evans."

"Ah, and I see you already have a crush on him." She giggles, I shake my head. "Have you even seen him?"

"No, but I hear he's a hottie. Just like his dad."

"His dad?" I wonder how his father got into this conversation.

"Yeah, he's about your mom's age and he's supposed to be really cute."

"Girl, where do you get your info?" I ask laughing. How could she get so much info on two people she's never met?

"I have my sources." She says slyly. I laugh.

"Well see you at school."

"yeah, see you Nat."

I hear her pause, "What?"

"How old is your mom?"

I frown wonder why she wants to know this. "32, why?"

"Then your mom is the same age as Mr. Evans." She says laughing, "Hmmm, maybe we should set them up."

"No way, my mom would freak. She hasn't dated in. well I don't even know if she dated when she was a kid! She rejects any man that comes within a ten foot radius of her!"

She laughs at this, "If she didn't date when she was young, how'd she get pregnant at 18?"

"Uh, I'm not going to answer that." Then I change my mind, "She said she and my dad were close. well actually she didn't but-" She cuts me off.

"Don't worry! I know your mom isn't a hussy, believe me, I know. She's like the coolest. You worry too much."

I smile, "Ok, now I'm hanging up. See you at school." She laughs and says bye. I hang up wondering about this Mr. Evans person. Jess is like a second daughter to my mom, and a sister to me. We've been friends practically forever and she knows just about everything I do. She knows about my moms dateless condition and has been trying to set her up for years. But she doesn't see the look she gets when she looks deep into my eyes. It's almost like she forgets who she's staring at.

"Why do you do that?" I asked once.

She blinked and looked sad, "Sometimes I forget you're my daughter and not him. The eyes are the windows to the soul you know. I see him in your eyes." With that she turned away. These little tidbits of my father are all I got from her then, now I get nothing unless she's caught off guard.

I shake my head sadly, "She still loves him, whoever he is."