Blue Bug From Outer Space - Part Two by: Enemyoffun Jaime Reyes is kid out of his element, who dreams of a life better than his own. He finds such a life when he stumbles about a strange blue stone in the garbage and his whole world changes.

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Author's Note: Here's chapter two. The story is progressing at its on interesting pace. It might not be as fast as some of my others but it will pick up pace. This chapter opens with a dream, there will be at least one more of these sequences, possibly more.The Blue speech that appears in the dream is important and will be explained. I'd like to thank djkauf for the wonderful editing and DC Comics for Blue Beetle.

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Chapter Two:

The girl walked across the pool deck, her hips swaying back and forth to the music. All I could do is sit and watch, drooling. It was one of those summer days where it was so hot that you didn’t want to do anything. I was lying on a lounge chair, wearing nothing but my trunks. We were at some swanky resort, a place that my family could never afford. I think Mr. Queen paid for the whole thing because it was definitely in some tropical paradise somewhere. It’s funny but I’m not even sure how I got to this place. The last thing I remember is…well I’m not really sure. I think I was home but it was kind of fuzzy. I knew it wasn’t summer though, it was March, I think. Even that was kind of fuzzy now that I think about it. March was a winter month I think but I’d never actually seen snow. It didn’t snow in El Paso and if it did in San Fran, it was so light that it melted as soon as it hit the ground. In this place, there was definitely no snow.

I screamed and everything went black.
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I screamed and jumped awake, tossing my covers in the air. I was kicking and fumbling and nearly rolled off the bed. My heart was pounding in my chest, my body was drenched in sweat, my nightshirt, and boxers were soaked. I started breathing heavily, trying to sort real from fake. I rubbed my eyes then ran my fingers through my hair. That was a dream right? I took a couple of breaths, trying to calm myself to think rationally. It took me a few minutes to calm myself. My heart was racing, my body tingled and I swore I still felt the pain in my back. It was the strangest feeling too because it was right in the center of it and felt like it was under my skin.

Once my heart stopped pounding, I reached my arm back, trying to scratch at the spot where the pain was. It was kind of a dull itch now but it was in that spot where no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t quite reach it. I tried for a couple more minutes but finally gave up. Instead, I checked my pulse, to make sure I wasn’t going to have a heart attack. My heart rate seemed to be back to normal, which was a good thing. I used to have a lot of nightmares when I was younger, I was convinced that Freddy Krueger lived in my closet and was trying to get me. I went as far as trying to nail my closet door shut, which ended badly when I missed one of the nails and broke my thumb. My abuelo told me that fear was healthy and a part of life but that dreams were just dreams and they couldn’t hurt you. I stopped having nightmares after that.

I wish that was true about the one I’d just had.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed and looked at the clock. It was a little after eight in the morning, I’d only been asleep for about seven hours. I’m so glad it was Saturday, or else Mom would have killed us. On school nights, she liked me in bed by ten and Milagro in bed by eight. My father was only allowed to keep me late hours on the weekends or when I didn’t have loads of homework. She didn’t care if my slaving for him was a part of my punishment either. She said rules were rules and they were not meant to be broken. My father rarely argued with her. It was a rule with Hispanic women, they were right all the time and it didn’t matter what you said to contradict them. My father learned a long time ago that my mother was the boss in the house and he accepted that except when it came to things doing with business. That was his domain and she respected that.

I rubbed my neck, looking at my clothes lying on the floor. It was strange because I remembered taking off my work jumpsuit but my jeans, t-shirt and sneaks were on the floor too. I couldn’t remember taking off the rest of my clothes. I stared at them for a few seconds. Maybe my Dad did it for me. It was usually something my mom did but Dad was known to give me a hand from time to time. But the last time that happened, I was like ten. After puberty, we kind of avoided those awkward moments. I couldn’t even remember the last time I saw my Dad in his boxers and vice versa.

I slipped off the bed; my bare feet on the cold floor a definite jolt to wake me in the morning. My room isn’t the biggest in the house---that honor goes to my parents---but it was the biggest on the second floor. It had all the typical things that one would expect in a room: a bed, a desk, a dresser. One of my walls was covered in charts and star maps while the rest were covered in comic posters and newspaper clippings from the various real life super-heroes that were springing up all over the place now. My most recent clippings were about the disappearance of Green Arrow, of course, most of them clipped from the Planet where Lois Lane seemed to think that the Arrow was off on some intense soul searching. Most of the clippings were written by her, she seemed to be someone with a bit too much hero worship going on. What’s worse is that they all seemed to center on who these people really were. She was obsessed with it and as far as I was concerned, she really needed to get a life or at least another hobby. But there I go digressing again.

I stumbled through the dark, not bothering with the lights. I know my own room well enough to not need lights. I walked to the door, pulled it slowly open and padded to the bathroom. I was usually the first one up in the morning. My mother was often sleeping in due to her graveyard shifts and my father liked to get a few extra winks in before he headed to the garage. I was responsible for Milagro in the morning, usually. I’d wake her up, make sure she was fed and then head off to school. Usually by the time she went to school, Dad was up to take her. Her elementary school was only a few blocks away and my father walked her most days. It kind of annoyed her but he was unwilling to let his little girl walk to school by herself, especially in our neighborhood.

Our house had two bathrooms. The one on the second floor was bigger than the one downstairs. It was used mainly by me and Milagro. The one downstairs was actually in the basement, attached to my parents’ room. It was more for them than anyone else. I’d only been in there once or twice, to clean it when I was punished. I’d only actually cleaned it once though, seeing as it was fairly new and I’d only been in real trouble this one time. Yeah, that’s right; I just cleaned it yesterday. Go figure, my father made up that little rule so he’d get out of cleaning up after himself. Adults are so lazy sometimes. Take chores for instance, I think they make kids do them so they don’t have to do them themselves. How lazy is that?

I like showers better than baths; I think most teenagers do. I used to like baths when I was Milagro’s age and could bring my action figures into the tub with me. Yeah, so I used to play with action figures, so what. A lot of guys my age used to when they were younger. Most may deny it, but they’d be lying. I still have them; they’re in a bucket crammed with the rest of the junk in the back of my closet. I don’t know why I brought them with me from our old house, sentimental value I guess.

Have you ever looked in the mirror in the morning and noticed something wasn’t right? I walked up to the mirror, scratching an itch and turned on the water. I filled up my cup and paused when I looked at my reflection in the glass. There was something off about it. I’m not sure what exactly but my face looked softer. I turned my head left and right. My features were finer too; more smooth and my nose looked a little narrower. I sighed; maybe my dream scared me a little more than I thought. I groaned as I opened the cabinet and took out the toothpaste and my toothbrush. I closed the cabinet and began brushing my teeth. As I did, I noticed something else too: my hair seemed different. It was a bit longer this morning and looked softer. I finished brushing and touched it. It was definitely softer and the ends of it had a slight curl.

Maybe it’s puberty. I was only half way through it. I know that’s strange but I’m only fourteen after all. My father said he was sixteen before he started growing any facial hair and even then, it wasn’t much. He had a goatee now but it was fine and thin, not like all the hair that a lot of guys had. But I didn’t even have any peach fuzz yet, how strange is that?

I stripped off my shirt and boxers and stepped into the shower. Some people like to turn the water on first then get in. I like to get and then turn the water on. The shock of it is better to wake one up in the morning. As I reached for the knob to do just that, I noticed that my skin was softer too. My arm brushed against my bare chest and a shiver went up my spine. It was a tingling feeling and my nipples started to harden. I looked down at my chest and was surprised at how puffy things looked down there. I turned the water on; the hot water caressed my body, sending shivers up and down it. It felt so good. I closed my eyes and stepped into the stream. The water was intense as it washed over me and invigorating. I couldn’t remember the last time a shower felt so good.

I found one of my hands absently straying toward my groin while the other started rubbing my chest. I kept rubbing and then started to moan. I got aroused very quickly and was amazed at the feeling that it created. I’ve self-gratified before---you know what I mean, right---but it’s never felt like this. The whole orgasmic feeling was all over my body and so intense that I actually moaned out loud. It was overwhelming fantastic as I brought myself to climax, nearly toppling out of the shower as I did so. It felt kind of strange and I didn’t realize I had been rubbing my nipples until I brushed against them again and felt how hard they were. Were guys supposed to get hard nipples when they masturbated? I tried to think back to the video in Sex Ed but I was drawing a blank.

I finished my shower and grabbed a towel from the closet. I wasn’t paying attention and actually grabbed one of Milagro’s. We had towels that were different colors so as to not cause problems. I didn’t care but Milagro didn’t want to use anything that I used. So we had separate towels, separate toothpaste and separate shampoo. Milagro’s towels were pink; mine were blue. His and Hers, kind of annoying but a towel was a towel. I started wrapping the pink towel around my waist but stopped. I’m not sure why but it felt wrong. Before I knew what was happening, I pulled it up and wrapped it around my whole body like the girls on TV did. Something about it felt better to me.

I scooped up my discarded clothes, dropped them in the hallway hamper and walked quickly back to my room to get dressed and start my day.

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“Son, have you been plucking your eyebrows?”

We were sitting at the kitchen table, breakfast laid out before us. I didn’t make it this morning so I wasn’t surprised to see burnt toast, gray oatmeal and something I think was eggs. My father isn’t the greatest cook and it definitely shows. It doesn’t taste all that good either but it was food and I didn’t complain. He and Milagro were sitting at the table when I came downstairs. I was wearing a belt today because my pants felt a little off. They were loose in one place and too tight in the other. My shirt felt different too. I couldn’t quite place it but there was something about it. My father didn’t seem to notice anything wrong until the eyebrow comment.

I grabbed my spoon and looked at my reflection in it. He was right; my eyebrows did seem kind of thinner this morning. I cast an accusing glance at Milagro, waiting for her to burst out laughing. This had her written all over it. I think it was payback for yesterday when I wouldn’t let her have the stone. Speaking of which, I think she got into my room last night and stole it somehow. She usually wasn’t that forceful when it came to things she wanted but there was a first time for everything. I didn’t notice the stone was missing until I got back from the shower and saw it wasn’t on my dresser. I opened the drawers and looked under the bed, the usual places where I stashed stuff. But it was nowhere to be found.

“Did you do this?” I asked, pointing at my forehead.

She looked at me like I’d grown a third eye. “Why would you pluck your eyebrows. I don’t even know how to do mine?”

‘Your sister has been with me all morning,” said my father, hidden behind the paper.

“What about the stone?” I asked.

“What about it?”

I hated when she answered a question with a question. She did it just to annoy me.

“Did you take it?”

She shook her head. ‘I tried but I couldn’t get your door open. It’s a dumb old rock anyway; I only wanted it so I could put it in Rocky’s tank.”

Rocky was her pet tortoise. He usually went everywhere with her, even the table sometimes. He was on the floor now, chewing on a piece of lettuce.

“What’s this stone?” asked my Dad, still reading his paper.

I told him about finding it in the old lot. I said I wanted to use it as a paperweight or something and asked if he’d seen it. Then for good measure, I asked if he’d undressed me last night. He answered both questions with the same answer: no. He then clarified that I probably misplaced the stone and undressed myself without realizing it. Sometimes people did strange things when they were half asleep; he used to sleepwalk when he was my age.

I knew for a fact I was no sleepwalker, but I had to admit he was probably right. Mom came down in the middle of breakfast, groggy and half awake. She poured herself a cup of coffee, kissed all three of us and groaned when she looked at the meal laid out before us. She gave my father a look and then served herself. She didn’t touch much of it though and instead kept to her coffee. I don’t usually get seconds of something my father cooked but for some reason I did. Everyone in the room gave me a look; even he lowered his paper. I shrugged and ate. My mother watched me through most of the meal, giving me a look that seemed to ask, “Who is this child and what have they done with my own?”

When I finished my second helping, my mother set down her cup of coffee and continued to stare. It was starting to freak me out. I opened my mouth to say something but she beat me to the punch:

“Jaime, have you done something different with your hair?”

I reached up and instinctively pulled a strand of it in front of my eyes to take a look. I was hoping someone wouldn’t notice. I rubbed it between my two fingers, feeling its softness. To my mother I shook my head but I don’t think she believed me. Instead of saying anything, he leaned forward and felt it herself. She ran her fingers gently through it and then brushed it out of my face. My hair was always getting in my face, especially my eyes. The length of it was always up for debate in my household. My mother seemed to think it was too long while my father felt it was my decision to decide how long my hair was. He took that stance in almost every argument about either me or my sister. He said that every person should be responsible for his or her own bodies and if I wanted to do this or that then it was my choice.

I left after my second helping. I went out the side door into the back, making my way toward the shed back there. It was my unofficial workstation, where I did all my sculpting. I got about half way there when I stopped. I’m not sure why but I just didn’t have the urge today. It was strange really because I spent most of my weekends sculpting. Instead, I turned around and went to my bike. I undid the lock, hopped on and took off. I’m not sure where I was going, I let fate guide me. It didn’t take me long to realize that fate was guiding me up the street. Brenda used to live a couple of houses down with her father but after he tried beating her to death with his bare hands two months ago, she moved across town with her aunt. I think I might have mentioned that, I did say I was going to get back to it, didn’t I?

I passed by Brenda’s old house, there was a For Sale sign on the front yard. Amparo, Brenda’s aunt, hired a big attorney and took her brother-in-law to court. The judge wasn’t very lenient on him, what judge would be. Mr. Del Vecchio was currently spending the beginning of his very long sentence in a nice prison upstate. Brenda moved in with her aunt and the house was put up for sale. It was kind of sad because her father was a pretty upstanding guy before Brenda’s Mom died. At least that’s what the neighbors said. Brenda’s mom died two years ago, long before me and my family moved into the neighborhood. Brenda’s Dad fell into a drunken depression after that which led to a rather nasty night for Brenda back in January.

I stared at her house as I passed. I’d only been in it once or twice and it never seemed very inviting. Paco lived two doors down from her. When the beating was taking place, he was outside with one of his sisters. He heard the screaming and told his sister to run inside to call the cops. Then he sprang into action. The cops said if it wasn’t for him, Brenda probably would have been dead. He broke Mr. Del Vecchio’s nose and fractured a couple of the bones in the bastard’s face. Paco wasn’t a violent guy except when one of his friends was in danger. Mr. D tried to press charges but Amparo’s lawyer squashed that pretty quick.

I pulled into Paco’s driveway. His father’s pickup was gone but his mother’s little Toyota was there. The Tejas house wasn’t that much bigger than ours but what it lacked in size it made up for in occupants. Paco and his little brother, Raul, actually shared a room in the attic. His oldest sister, Soledad had a small room to herself and his two youngest sisters, Viviana and Teresa shared the last bedroom. His parents slept on the pull out couch in the living room. Paco’s father was a truck driver---so he was rarely home---and his mother worked as a waitress whenever she could find the time. Paco, like most of the older siblings in the neighborhood, helped out raising his younger siblings.

As I pulled up the driveway, Viviana and Teresa were in the front yard with their beagle, Chico. The dog was running around as the two six year olds were trying to put a frilly bonnet on him. I smiled as they ran past me and into the backyard. I got about halfway to the porch when the front door opened and Soledad came out, carrying a fake leather purse. She was Milagro’s age, the two of them were the bestest of friends, according to them.

“Is your sister home?”

I nodded and off she went, marching across the lawn.

Paco appeared at the door a few seconds later, Raul hanging off his back like a monkey. Paco dropped his brother gently on the floor and stared at me through the screen door. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes and then cocked his head, squinting his eyes as he did so.

“You look different, bro.”

I sighed. What was with everyone this morning?

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We played video games for the whole morning and into early afternoon. Paco didn’t mention how I looked after the first time on the front porch but he kept looking at me strangely every few minutes or so. I tried to ignore it but it was pretty hard when one of your best friends kept looking at you like you were blue or something. I managed to concentrate on the game though. He and I were huge Halo fanatics. It was only the first one, on an old second hand Xbox, neither one of our family’s could afford one of those new 360’s. It was still good game though and like they say, nothing’s better than the original. At least I think that’s what they say; I hear the new Halo game is a killer. Any way we played until at noon before Viviana came into the room wanting lunch.

We took break then. Paco scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the kitchen. I followed for lack of a better thing to do. As Paco started making grilled cheese, I sat at the table with Viviana. She started to stare at me too. I groaned, when would the weirdness stop? About three minutes into the staring, she broke the silence.

“Can I braid your hair?”

I blinked for a few seconds and then looked behind me, wondering if she was talking to Soledad. Her older sister had long, silky black hair. But there was no one else in the room. I was about to tell her that my hair wasn’t long enough to be braided when a lock of it fell down in front of me. It hung down my chest, reaching well past my shoulders. I freaked and jumped from the chair. Paco snapped around, nearly dropping the pan on the floor. I didn’t bother to explain and ran down the hall where the bathroom was. I pulled open the door, locked it behind me and rushed to the mirror. What I saw scared the hell out me. My hair, my normally shoulder length locks, was well past my shoulders now. I’m not sure how long it was but it was definitely several inches longer than a few hours ago.

I panicked, not sure what to do. I stared at myself for the longest time, freaking out. How can hair grow that fast, it’s scientifically impossible? I grabbed a strand of it, giving it a tug. I thought maybe his sisters were playing a cruel trick on me and put a wig on my head when I wasn’t looking. Sometimes I got so engrossed in a game that not even a bomb going off would shake me. I tugged on the strand as hard as I could and let out a shrill scream. I snapped a hand over my mouth, not sure, what scared me more, the hair or my girly scream.

The pounding knock on the door made me jump about ten feet in the air. I looked away from the mirror and slowly walked over to the door, unlocking it. Paco tore into the room, not sure what to expect. When his eyes fell on me, that opened wide, his mouth forming a giant “O”.

“Dude, what the heck happened to your hair?”

I shook my head, tears starting to form in my eyes.

Viviana slipped between her brother’s legs, half a grilled cheese in her hand. “Can I braid it now?”

‘What the hell am I going to do?” I sobbed, covering my face with my hands and falling forward to cry on Paco’s chest.

He put a hand gently on my back. He said something about making a phone call and led me out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen. He left me at the table and went into the living room to use the phone there. I was crying softly now and not really paying attention when a chair slid across the room to stop next to mine. I vaguely felt little fingers playing with my hair, twisting and looping it. I didn’t pay attention though. All I could thing about was how much of a freak I now was.

I sat at the table thinking for at least ten minutes. Viviana had finished braiding my hair and was now sitting across from me, a little doll on the table between us. Her sister was still eating her half of her sandwich, staring at me with those big eyes of hers. They were twins but whereas Viviana was very outgoing, Teresa was very shy. Viviana was telling me all about her doll and all the adventures they had together. She kept going on and on and I only half paid attention. I kept thinking about my hair, trying to figure out how it could have grown like that in only such a short period of time. Five more minutes into my thought processing, Brenda walked into the room in a huff, carrying a duffel bag on her shoulder.

“What’s the big emergency” she said and stopped when she saw me.

I looked up with more tears in my eyes. Her face was a mimic of Paco’s a few minutes ago. She sat numbly across from me in one of the other chairs, her bag sliding off her shoulder as she did so. She didn’t say anything, she just kept staring. Paco came back into the room and sat in the last chair at the table.

He waved his hand first in Brenda’s face then mine. Brenda snapped out of it first, about a minute or two later.

“This is a cruel joke right” she finally said, turning to glare at Paco. “My tia was giving me a yoga lesson; I had to drop everything to come here. This isn’t very funny you guys.’

I finally found my voice. “It’s no joke.” I quickly filled both of them in, telling them about my freaking dream last night and how I’d changed when I woke this morning. They both nodded a lot but neither interrupted. When I was finished, Brenda sighed, running her fingers through her own hair. She looked at me and a small smile curled her lips. It scared me for a second because she got a twinkle in her eye too. She turned to Paco and barked at him to bring her a pair of scissors. He jumped up and ran out of the room.

“This isn’t the big problem that you thought it was,” she said as she got up and walked behind me, taking out the braid that Viviana put in. The little girl, who had been sitting there silently, huffed, grabbed her doll and stalked out of the room. Her twin sister squeaked, grabbed the rest of her sandwich and ran out too. “I can fix this.”

Paco came back into the room with the scissors she asked for.

Brenda led me to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She didn’t lock it but told Paco to remind outside as the guard. He did so diligently. Brenda out a photo of me. It was actually a picture of the three of us; it was taken a couple of months ago, right after she got out of the hospital and moved in with her aunt. Amparo took the picture, it was the three of us arm and arm at a local amusement park. Brenda was kind of black, blue, and swollen in the picture but none of us cared about that. We each had a copy of the picture; mine was tacked to my bulletin board in my room. Brenda apparently kept hers in her purse because that’s where she pulled it out of. She held it up and studied it for a moment, or rather me.

Then she took the scissors and started cutting. It took her over an hour. In the end, she was able to cut my hair to some facsimile of what it looked like before. It might have been a little choppy but it was definitely better than the long tresses. I cried a little when I saw the final result and gave her a big hug. She laughed and cried a bit with me. Paco ruined the mood by sticking his head into the room, clearing his throat.

“You guys done because I really need to go?’

I groaned. Brenda mumbled something about men and I absently nodded. I’m not sure why but it felt like the proper thing to do. She took my hand and led me out of the bathroom. Paco slipped past us and we walked into the living room and sat on the couch. She started talking about her yoga lessons and I found myself listening intently. I’m not sure why, her lessons never interested me before. Paco came in a few minutes later and asked if I wanted to continue playing our game but I waved him off. He shrugged and started playing himself. I continued to talk to Brenda; we started to gab about nonsensical stuff. I’m not even sure what we talked about but it was one of the most animated conversations I ever had. We talked for hours, all the while Paco played.

At about four, Paco groaned and stretched. “Are you two girls done yakking yet?” he asked in a joking matter.

I didn’t even take offense to the girl comment. I sighed and looked at my watch. “Holy shit” I gasped, jumping to my feet. “I have to get home and changed, my father was expecting me about ten minutes ago.”

I apologized to my friends and ran out the front door. I hopped on my bike and rode home. My father is the living room waiting, looking none too happy.

“Sorry, Papa” I said, running into the room and up the stairs.

It didn’t even sound strange to call him that. It was something my sister called him and something I used to do when I was about six. It didn’t take me long to get dressed and run back down the stairs. When I got to him, I was kind of in a huff but he didn’t seem to notice. He looked at me strangely again but shrugged it off. We rushed out of house and were able to beat the traffic. We made good time. Mr. CG was waiting at the door for us. Even he raised an eyebrow when the two of us approached. I barely paid attention as I rushed into the Tower Garage. I went right to work, mopping the floors. I was so caught up in my work that I didn’t even stop and notice that the Viper was missing today. I just mopped, completely oblivious to the world around me.

My father worked me to the bone. First, it was mopping, and then it was waxing again. After that, it was a dinner run. I did all without question. We took a break to eat and then we went right back to work. I got to change the oil on a couple of the cars tonight but it didn’t excite me like it should have. I was kind of in a funk for the whole night, barely paying attention to the time as it flew by. I should have been exhausted after working so long but I’d barely broke a sweat. When it was time to go home for the night, I even had a little bounce in my step. It was kind of freaky but I didn’t think about it until I got home and I was getting ready for bed. As soon as the thought occurred to me, I crashed.

I climbed under the covers, my body aching and went right to sleep.