Invaders From Mars by Ray Garton

then looked back at David, her face determined. “Don’t you want to give your mom a hug?” she asked with a tight smile.
    David continued toward the doorway, saying, “My bus is here.”
    Mom put her beer down and stepped toward him. Before he could go around her, she grabbed his shoulders, squatted clumsily, and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.
    Chips of ice ran through David’s veins. This was not a hug his mother would give him. It was cold, clutching, possessive. He trembled in her arms and did not return the hug; his head was on her shoulder, against her neck, and his eyes moved to the spot just below her head, knowing what was there even though he was unable to see it. With a sudden jerk, he pulled away from her and saw the look in her eyes. She looked, for a moment, like a cat about to pounce.
    David turned and ran as fast as he could from the house.
    George and Ellen Gardiner followed David out of the house. They walked slowly down the drive as he boarded the bus.
    “I told you we should have taken him last night,” Ellen said impatiently. “He’s becoming a problem.”
    George squinted in the morning sun. They stopped at the end of the drive. Shaking his head slightly, George said, “No. Everything will be fine.”
    As the bus drove away loudly, George raised a hand and waved with a smile. When it was gone, he looked at Ellen.
    “Midnight,” he said quietly.
    At recess, David sat alone at the jungle gym, gazing through the bars like a prisoner. He certainly felt like a prisoner, alone and trapped.
    On the bus, David had tried to tell Doug about the UFO he’d seen, about his parents’ frightening behavior, and the cuts and everything. But Doug had only laughed.
    “I never thought I’d say this to anybody,” Doug had said and chuckled, “but maybe you’ve been reading too many comic books!”
    David had stopped talking then, realizing no one was going to believe him. He was on his own.
    As he sat on the jungle gym, he stared at the cut on his hand. He’d taken the Band-Aid off in the shower. A scab had formed; the cut was healing. Why didn’t the cut on his dad’s neck heal? What was it and who had put it there?
    And what did they want with David’s pennies . . . ?
    David started at the skull-splitting slam and turned to see Doug pounding his baseball bat on the jungle gym.
    “Hey,” Doug said, tilting his head and squinting, “you weren’t shittin’ me about that spaceship crap, were you? I mean, you’re . . . well, you’re pretty upset.”
    “Just forget it, okay?” David turned from him.
    “Y’know, all the guys think you’re really spaced.”
    “Great.”
    “You sure you don’t wanna play?”
    David shook his head. “Nah.”
    “Okay.” Doug ran across the playground, stopped, turned back to David, and shouted, “Hey, why don’t we go fly on our bikes this afternoon, huh?” Laughing, he rounded the corner of the school building to the baseball field in back.
    David stood and walked slowly across the playground, his hands in his pockets, his toes scuffing the pavement. Children played around him, throwing balls, jumping rope, laughing. As he watched them, he wondered how long it would be before this thing had them, had everyone in the school . . . in the whole town.
    He went into the building and wandered down the empty hall toward his locker. When he rounded a corner, he spotted Mrs. McKeltch down the hall, just outside her classroom, talking with the chief. He quickly ducked back around the corner, out of sight, cocked an ear, and listened.
    “Midnight,” the chief said.
    “No problem.” He heard Mrs. McKeltch open her door as the chief’s footsteps faded down the hall.
    Peeking around the corner, David spotted the chief disappearing through the side exit. He looked all around; he was alone. Walking on tiptoe, David went to Mrs. McKeltch’s room and silently peeked in the open door.
    She was standing at the blackboard, her back to him, writing