They got into fights every single day.

The first day of school. The first day of school. I heard about Maya's fight from Ruth King, whose daughter, Jenny King, had befriended Maya. Maya got away with it – who knows how – but Oscar got a detention for his fighting.

They perplexed me, they really did. They went mad over the waffles and syrup we had the next day – Maya actually began squirting the syrup into her mouth while Oscar wolfed down the waffles until I thought he would choke.

And when I took them shopping once, they started eating the raw eggs right out of the carton.

Street life, I assumed. It was sad, actually. That these kids had never eaten an egg. I cooked every variety of egg I knew for them, in hopes that they wouldn't try that stunt again.

But if they weren't around food, they were so cold. Unbelievably distant. After we caught them stealing once we realized that they had grown up with absolutely no morals whatsoever.

But underneath their steely front, there was love. I knew it, when I found out that the stuff they had been stealing was for their street kids that they left behind.

Sam tapped into their love better than I ever could. The boy, Oscar – he clung to Maya as if she were his mother. No, more than a mother – almost like a wife that held in her hands the purpose to his life.

But still, I couldn't figure her out. There was something about her, from the way she loved to work in our garden, to her excessive eating habits which she always controlled through strict exercise – "I need to be fit," I heard her tell Oscar once.

But fit for what? As far as I could tell all she did was go to the mall after school with Jenny. She didn't do anything that required a lot of energy.

Until that one day I found her in the car of a high schooler with only an undershirt on.

"Where is Maya?" I wondered aloud as I set down the groceries on our kitchen table.

Oscar looked up. "She said she'd be at the mall with Jenny."

"Again?" I asked. "How many times can one visit that mall?"

Oscar shrugged, and went back to reading his book. Sighing, I picked up the phone and dialed Ruth's number, hoping that she could tell me Jenny's cell phone number so I could contact Maya and tell her to come home.

Jenny picked up.

"Hello, King's residence, how may I help you?" her sweet voice said on the other line.

"Jenny?" I asked, incredulously. "I thought you were at the mall with Maya."

"No, I'm not," she replied, sounding confused. "Was I supposed to be?"

"Well, she's missing," I told her. "I better go to the mall and see if she's there."

I called Sam and he said that if I couldn't find Maya at the mall he would call the police for him. Worried, and beginning to feel anxious – what if the Yeerks got her? – I got into the car and drove away.

On my way there, I pulled up next to a convertible which had stopped at a red light and I happened to glance over.

There was Maya, sitting in the front seat with a teenaged boy wearing a cap.

I was furious! How dare she go off consorting without telling me where she was going! And on top of that, why was she only wearing an undershirt? And she wasn't even wearing her seatbelt!

I rolled down my window and said with suppressed fury, "Maya Lancing. What are you doing – and who is that young man, and where is your shirt?!"

She gave me the biggest smile I ever saw her smile. What made me even angrier was that there was no guilt in her eyes – none whatsoever – as she said, pointing to the boy driving the car, "This is Jag. Mom, meet Jag. Jag, meet Mom."

Jag tipped his baseball cap at me, and said, "How do you do, ma'am?"

I completely ignored him and focused on Maya who was actually smiling. Did she know how worried I had been! That girl…

"Maya, you are in big trouble. You know how worried Dad and I were? You told us you were going to the mall with Jenny, and here we find you in the car of a stranger! We called Jenny and you weren't with her! Young lady, you are grounded for the next month. No mall trips, and you have to come straight home after school."

The boy chuckled, and she glared at him while I said, "Maya, get in this car right now."

She stepped in, and as the light turned green I started to speed away. Jag, the boy smirked and called out, "See ya, Princess," as I stepped on the gas.

Princess? What in the world? Was he talking to me?

Whatever. It didn't matter. Right now, only Maya mattered.

And she had broken through the thin ice and was drowning in hot water now.

I heard Maya open her mouth to speak, so I cut her off with, "No. I don't want to hear any of your excuses or lies. Don't say a single word until we get home."

We drove silently the rest of the way home, as I grew more and more suspicious of Maya's activities. How many of Maya's "mall trips" had actually been "mall trips?" What had she been doing with that guy, who was at least five years older than her?

And what had happened to her shirt?

Sam was waiting for us in the living room, and I ushered Maya in. Sam Jr. made some stupid joke about Maya being in trouble, and I gave him a Look. "Samuel Lancing Jr. go upstairs immediately."

I walked over to the kitchen and began unpacking the groceries when I heard Maya tell my husband, "J.P. says thank you."

I instantly grabbed the first knife I saw and rushed over to the living room, my fear taking control of me. I held it at her throat – how did she know about J.P.?! – and whispered furiously, "I'll kill you before I get infested again. I'll kill you!"

"Helen," Sam said disapprovingly.

"I'm not a Controller," Maya said. "I'm an alien."

"Explain," I hissed, not moving.

She looked at me, and said, "Ok. Ok. It's going to take a while, but ok."

"My story really starts with my mother's story. She was an Elemaki – a member of the inferior race on the Andalite Home World. She "got married" to Alloran-Semitur-Corass. Yes, Visser 3. Actually, he was an aristh then, and the other soldiers would have made fun of him if he hadn't mated with an Elemaki female – these soldiers were on a recruiting mission and one of their assignments was to take all the males as conscripts and to rape and kill all the females.

"Well, my mother survived. Alloran didn't kill her, obviously. She had twins – me and a brother, named Osgaron.

Maya was silent for a moment, and then she said, "Andalite soldiers set the Elemaki grazing lands on fire, and my mother – Mamai – died so that Osgaron and I would escape the fire. Even so, we became vecols – I lost my eye-stalks, and Osgaron lost his tail. We wandered around for the next two years, until an Andalite enslaved us. The family that owned us had a son, named Xelaman who used my brother as what you would call a punching bag, although he was more of a target for tail strikes.

"I lost control. I cut off Xelaman's tail, and they killed my brother for it. Then… I met this dude named the Ellimist."

My voice caught, and she looked at me. "You know him?"

I nodded.

"Oh. Well, anyway, this guy, he told me that he wanted me to be happy. Then he showed me some five-year-old humans and how happy they were. He promised to make me a five-year-old human."

Maya grinned crookedly. "He sure did. About three years later. I lived by myself for those three years until I ran into this guy name Solethi. He was a Nadar."

"A Nadar?" asked Sam.

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain. Let me transmit the memory to you."

I nodded, and removed the knife from her throat, reasonably convinced. She beckoned Sam to come closer, and then she put her hands on our foreheads.

We waited, and when her memories flowed from her fingers to our minds, I knew that Maya hadn't been lying.

I waited for three years.

Three years of running. Three years of hiding. Three years of torture.

Three years of hating.

I stumbled along a grassy plain, unaware of where I was going. The mud in my eyes half-blinded me, and the thick coating on my fur didn't help with my balance. I dropped to my side, trying to scrape off as much mud as I could off my body, and with it the humiliating scenes that kept playing over and over in my mind. The Andalite children shoving me, leading me to a mud pit that took me hours to get out of.

My hand pulled out the bit of fur that had been my brother's from my side. I had tied it onto my fur in order to keep it more securely and had often risked my life to hold onto it. I tried to clean it the best I could, but without water it was impossible. Instead, I created a tight loop and put it on my smallest finger. There. Now it would stay.

What are you doing here?

I scrambled to my hooves, and bowed my head, wishing I had eyestalks to bow. I apologize, Master Andalite.

A hand lifted up my chin. Two thumbs scraped off some of the mud that covered my face. A half-breed, he murmured, almost to himself. A female. And a vecol.

Yes. I am a half-breed female vecol. You just forgot to add that I'm an Elemaki.

As if hearing my thoughts, he echoed thoughtfully, an Elemaki. Then, follow me.

I numbly followed him, not daring to refuse. He led me further into his scoop, which was devoid of children.

Yelana! he called, and a female Andalite came out. Solethi! she scolded. Why are you forcing the poor child to stand there? Come, she beckoned to me.

Dazed, I followed her into a waterfall, where the Andalite female washed me. Were these really Andalites? Was I dreaming? Or was I dead? The Andalite female – Yelana, she was called – finished washing me, then led me out, where the male was waiting. Take it easy on her, Yelana told her husband. She's still dazed.

Take it easy on me? Was he going to hurt me? Solethi must have seen me draw back in fear, because he was instantly soothing me. No, no, I'm not going to hurt you.

How did he know what I was thinking? I don't know what you're thinking, I- He could read my mind!

No, no, he soothed. I can't read your mind.

But you are! He sighed, while Yelana laughed. You had better explain it to her, Solethi. Solethi bowed his eyestalks in assent and turned to me. I am a Nadar.

A Nadar! Those warriors that are disgraces because of their love of war and death! Those Andalites that are exiled, or worse, treated like Elemaki!

I do not love war anymore, child.

This was frightening, but getting interesting. I wasn't saying a word, yet we were still maintaining a conversation.

Yes, he answered. I know that it is odd to have me answer your thoughts, as it seems. I merely read your facial and body expressions.

I know my incredulity showed that time because Solethi sighed again, and said, Believe me. It is a skill every Nadar eventually acquires. A genetic disease. Once you start to go to war, you can't leave it alone, and therefore you acquire a whole slew of special skills. One of which is to read body expressions. It takes some time, but yes, eventually every Nadar gets it.

I spoke for the first time since I met him. But I thought-

Yes, he interrupted, you thought Nadar were blood-thirsty warriors. This is only partially true. His speech took a more scholarly tone. There are, in actuality, three types of Nadar. 1st generation, 2nd generation, and 3rd generation, or 1st gen, 2nd gen, and 3rd gen respectively.

He paused for a moment, then continued. 3rd gen Nadar are those you would have heard of. They are the war-loving warriors like me. Solethi looked grim as he continued with a, since I'm a celebrated war hero they couldn't kill me or exile me so instead they forced me into retirement last year, once they found out I was a Nadar.

But why- I started.

Why do they exile or kill Nadar? Well... oh, come, don't be annoyed. Your body language is so apparent. Your whole body was showing annoyance at being interrupted. And how did I know that you were going to ask that specific question? It's the only logical question to ask, and your face showed puzzlement after I said that most Nadar are exiled for being Nadar, so I made an assumption.

I stared at him.

Well anyway, he continued, the government is scared of Nadar, because we are the perfect killers. 3rd gen are war lovers. 2nd gen are the apathetic killers. Killing is like breathing air to them. If you try and take the fighting away, they'll fight for it or die. If you give them more, they'll breathe it. Other than that, they don't care. 1st gen, now they scare me. Absolutely cold-blooded killers. They have horrible childhoods, and they are ruthless. 2nd gen usually are pretty miserable too, but they won't kill as often as they will, so they are not as bad as 1st gen who kill every chance they get.

My mind whirled. War-loving warriors. Apathetic killers. Ruthless murderers.

Solethi continued his lecture. No one really knows how many Nadar there are, since there doesn't seem to be a pattern of Nadar birth – 3rd gen Nadar have a genetic disease, but this disease is random – it tends to skip multiple generations, affecting only one person out of an entire family. 1st and 2nd gen Nadar are more common however. Wherever there is unhappiness, there will be 1st and 2nd gen Nadar. What does this have to do with you? he asked, again reading the question in my body. Well, after I was forced to retire, I began transporting Elemaki to the Island.

I stared at him again. The Island... a legendary place that Elemaki were free, the place that civilization was supposed to have started on the Andalite Home World. The Andalites attacked the Island over and over again, but somehow the Elemaki disappeared, even when the Andalites sent entire armies to wipe them out. I had never even considered once that it would be Andalites that smuggled Elemaki to freedom.

But who else? Elemaki couldn't – they had no power. But Andalites? My confusion must have obvious because Solethi smiled again. All Andalites are not evil, he said gently. They are just children, misled children who act evil because they are taught to be so. I have traveled far and seen many civilizations. Unlike other warriors I studied them in order to defeat them, and I learned to see their ways.

"I am a Nadar," Maya repeated. "A first generation Nadar. I live to fight, and I fight to die. And it was Earth that finally pushed me over the edge – it was on Earth that I became a Nadar."

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