Beach culture and UFOs collide in this lighthearted adventure story about an alien encounter at an aging Cocoa Beach motel. Twelve-year-old Aidan lives and works at his parents' motel on the Space Coast in Florida, so he's seen a lot of weird stuff. Even his best friend, Louis, is a little bit crazy―he's obsessed with UFOs and swears he saw one two years ago. But things at the Mercury Inn are about to get a whole lot weirder. When an actual unidentified flying object suddenly appears in the sky over the motel, Aidan begins to realize that some of the residents of the Mercury Inn may be much more unusual than he thought. And Louis might not be so crazy after all. Filled with quirky characters and atmosphere, this beachy alien caper, like the aging motel where it takes place, is anything but ordinary. “. . . a gentle liftoff on the alien invasion concept.” ― BCCB “Spot cartoon art with a retro space-age feel work well with the wacky characters and situations in this enjoyably beach-y sci-fi escape.” ― The Horn Book “The quirky setting and diverse characters add originality . . . An accessible and whimsical read.” ― School Library Journal “Twelve-year-old Aidan's life at his family's motel gets a whole lot more interesting when aliens arrive.” ― Kirkus Reviews “Arnold's skillfully drafted spot cartoons give this offbeat story a lively layout and match Smith's light and breezy ton, grounded by the occasional serious moment.” ― Publishers Weekly Award-winning author Greg Leitich Smith has never seen a UFO, but while growing up spent many family vacations in Cocoa Beach, Florida, where he watched numerous space shuttle and unmanned rocket launches. He is the author of Little Green Men at the Mercury Inn . Originally from Chicago, Greg now lives in Austin, Texas, with his wife, Cynthia, and four cats. Andrew Arnold is an author-illustrator and co-creator of the award-winning Adventures in Cartooning series from First Second Books. He writes and draws from his home in Brooklyn, New York, in the company of his wife and their son. What's the Matter, Marlo? is his debut picture book. 1 Like most of humanity that morning, I wasn’t thinking at all about aliens from outer space. I was thinking about garbage. To be exact, I was confronting the piles of trash that the Williamses had left scattered around the courtyard and pool areas of the Mercury Inn and Suites the night before. My parents owned the motel, and because any bit of food left out overnight attracted roaches the size of Volkswagens, sanitation was my life. That morning, my life was not so good. Plastic wineglasses from the Williamses’ anniversary party were strewn across the grass next to the koi pond. Paper plates and napkins lay beside the azaleas and underneath the coconut palms. Near the cocktail tables, a seagull pecked at an overflowing garbage can, knocking the remains of serving trays and chocolate layer cake to the ground beside it. Staring at the job in front of me, I didn’t really pay any attention to the telltale flip-flop of slippers behind me. I jumped when I felt a finger tap my shoulder. “Did you hear what I said?” It was Mrs. Fleance. She was decked out in what she called her “fancy” swim garb: a pink robe over a flowered swimsuit, fuzzy slippers that made slapping noises when she walked, and a swim cap with white plastic daisies. A blue-and-yellow beach towel and mirrored goggles were clutched in one hand, and a pair of flippers dangled from the other. “Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I must’ve spaced out.” Mrs. Fleance’s eyes narrowed in that creepy way she had, and she pointed with the goggles. “Are you aware that there are a table and chairs at the bottom of the pool?” “Yes, ma’am.” I grabbed a garbage bag and shook it open. “But it’s the deep end. They shouldn’t really be in your way—” “You know,” Mrs. Fleance interrupted, “they don’t have problems like this at the Ritz-Carlton.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. Once. “No, ma’am,” I said again, and heroically didn’t point out that we charged a lot less for an ocean view than the Ritz-Carlton. Also, they had a virtual army of all-night staff, and we had only José at the front desk and, occasionally, his grandsons, Jaime and Eduardo. “Well?” Mrs. Fleance prompted. I sighed. “I’ll get them.” I stepped around her and strode across the wooden bridge over the koi pond, past the new building, to the pool. The “new building” wasn’t really any newer than half the buildings at the motel, constructed when my parents did the big renovation just after I was born. The Mercury Inn included an original lobby building with a diner off to the side and four two-story guest room buildings flanking the courtyard and koi pond (where the swimming pool used to be). The new building, with its ocean-view guest rooms and suites, sat opposite the lobby to enclose the courtyard on its fourth side. There was also a new pool, cabanas, and four cottages that each held two suites with their ow