ET- Energizing Lance

“Spell fast,” said E.T., and Elliott pumped for all he was worth, angry with himself now for being so confident, for showing E.T. off to the world. But how can you keep a secret like E.T. from the world? You want to show him off, want to see people’s jaws drop open.

  But you shouldn’t show him to a nerdy kid like Lance, because nerds can’t be fooled. A nerd knows a spaceman when he sees one.

  E.T. rode in the bicycle basket, head down, but feet sticking out. What would Lance do? Go to the authorities? Will I, he wondered, be stuffed after all?

  Elliott turned and looked over his shoulder, back into the darkness. There was no sign of Lance, who probably couldn’t pedal a bike very fast.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ve lost him.”

  But they had not lost him. By shortcuts known only to nerds, Lance sped along through the night, ever in touch with his quarry. How did he know just when to turn, and how sharp to cut it? Something was drawing him telepathically. He was tuned, he was in touch with E.T.’s system; he rode like a maniac, faster than the ordinary nerd ever dreams. Red hair pressed flat, jug-ears sticking out, he wheeled like crazy in the moonlight, block after block, on Elliott’s trail.

  His bicycle light was off, only his reflectors spun patterns in the dark, but no one saw them. Lance felt hot, and cool, and with it, for the first time. In his brief life as a nerdish youth, things never really turned out right, and he’d just shuffled around and played electronic games with himself. But tonight—tonight his bike was boiling with power, he was skidding through turns like a professional rider. His buck teeth clicked with excitement. The wind blew over his cowlick. The night was kind to him.

  He bounced over a curbstone, came down squealing his wheels, caught sight of Elliott up ahead, Elliott’s tail reflector caught in the glow of a streetlamp near the edge of town.

  He’s heading for the hills, thought Lance, and smiled to himself as his own bike zoomed beneath the streetlamp, swift and silent, commanded by a cycler who couldn’t miss the trail if he tried; he was beaming in, his whole forehead buzzing now.

  He leaned over the handlebars, feet spinning the pedals. Deep thoughts of space were appearing in his brain, and he felt he could almost glide into the sky. He smiled again; the kids all laughed at him because he only ate Swiss cheese. But so what? What did that matter now, now that he was floating in this incredible power?

  He left the last streetlamp behind and took the high road into the hills.

- E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial in His Adventure on Earth, chapter 9