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"Gimme a U!"

"Yeeewwwwww!" Michael Guerin bellowed in a high-pitched shriek.

"Gimme an F!"

"Eeffff," Alex Manes breathed in a husky voice, imitating Marilyn Monroe.

"Gimme an O!"

"Ooohhhhh!" they cried at the same time.

"Gimme a break," Max Evans muttered. But a smile lit up his face as he watched his friends, who were standing on the bench of the bleachers, imitating the cheerleaders.

A perfect, beautiful, sexy smile.

Stop staring at him, Liz Ortecho ordered herself, dragging her gaze away from Max. Some guys might be happy to have Liz drooling over them-half the guys at Ulysses F. Olsen High, according to Liz's best friend, Maria DeLuca. But Max was not one of those guys. Max wanted to be friends. Just friends. Was there a more horrible, painful, heart-squishing phrase than just friends? Liz didn't think so.

Look at Michael. Look at Alex, Liz thought. They were both worth looking at in spite of their ridiculous behavior. Michael had jet black hair, muscles in all the right places, and a killer smile. Alex had a lean, sinewy body, deep red hair, and these bright green eyes.

Not as bright as Max's. The thought just popped into Liz's head. Her eyes wandered over to Max again. Nope, Alex's eyes were nice, very nice. But Max's eyes were breathtaking. Really light blue, with almost a touch of silver.

Sometimes Liz found it hard to believe Sheriff Valenti could look at Max and not know he was an alien. Max's eyes gave his secret away. They were unearthly. Strange and beautiful.

Lucky for all of them, Valenti never studied Max as closely as Liz did. The sheriff was a member of an organization called Project Clean Slate, and his mission was to track down all aliens living on Earth-which basically meant that he was searching all over for Max, his sister, Isabel, and Michael. They were the only survivors of the famous spaceship crash that happened in Roswell years ago.