Daniel X: Watch the Skies by James Patterson; Ned Rust

Author:James Patterson; Ned Rust
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Action & Adventure - General, Social Issues, Family, Action & Adventure, Extraterrestrial beings, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), Juvenile Fiction, Orphans & Foster Homes, Fiction, Science Fiction, Fantasy (Young Adult), Human-alien encounters, Suspense, Values & Virtues, General, Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction
ISBN: 9780316036184
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2009-07-27T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 50

I MATERIALIZED AN extra helmet and helped Judy onto the back of my motorcycle.

“Where’s a good place to eat in this town?” I asked through the intercom as we sped down her street. “Besides the diner, I mean.”

“There’s not a lot. There’s one of those all-you-can-eat Lobster Hut places that my parents like, but I’m not really into seafood.”

“That’s understandable,” I said, quickly logging onto the Internet. Another little perk of being an Alien Hunter is that I have wireless broadband connectivity… in my head.

There really wasn’t much in the way of five-star restaurants in Holliswood. I took a few seconds to scroll through the customer comments on cityguide.aol.com and found that the At-Least-It’s-Not-Monday franchise across from OfficeMax had the best reviews.

It wasn’t exactly the sort of place in which you’d expect to bump into a New York Times food critic, but the HELP WANTED sign in the window gave me an idea, and I quickly summoned two characters from my imagination—Wolfgang, a chef trained at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, and Jean-Luc, a headwaiter with the skill set of an employee of Le Cirque in New York.

They rushed in ahead of us, and the stunned manager hired them on the spot. Jean-Luc complimented a wide-eyed Judy on how much she resembled young Greta Garbo as he led us to a secluded table in the corner that was already set with starched white table linens and a floral arrangement that Judy said was the most beautiful she’d ever seen.

“I knew Thursday was ‘Chicken Finger Night,’ ” she said as our third course, Canard à l’Orange, arrived at the table. “So I guess tonight must be ‘Haute Cuisine Night.’ ”

“You should tell your friends.”

“Are you sure you didn’t have anything to do with this, Daniel?”

“Hey, if I had the kind of money to make something like this happen, would I be in Holliswood?”

“I guess not,” she said, and laughed. “But I’m glad you are.”

Whereupon I once again blushed as only an alien can.

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