Starstruck (23 page)

The next day was as bright and sunny as the day before had been gloomy—at least, the weather was. My mood, not so much. But then I remembered that Rigel and his parents had come to our church last Sunday, which meant they might be there again today. That perked me up a little and, after spending more time than usual deciding what to wear to church, I went down to breakfast in a slightly more hopeful frame of mind.

Sitting in our usual pew with Uncle Louie an hour later, I couldn’t help darting anxious glances toward the door. I knew it was silly—and kind of pathetic—but I felt an actual physical longing to see Rigel again and hoped I wouldn’t have to wait until tomorrow at school. Even my unobservant uncle noticed my preoccupation.

“What has you so jumpy?” he asked when I looked over my shoulder for the dozenth time.

“I, um, just hate sitting still, indoors, on such a nice day,” I improvised. After that, I forced myself to keep my eyes forward, though I didn’t relax.

I felt him before I saw him—like last week, only stronger. The moment I felt that now-familiar tug, I relaxed a little. It was all true. It must be. And he was here.

Of course I had to peek, just to be positive, and sure enough, there he was, coming up the center aisle with his parents. This time, instead of sitting on the opposite side of the sanctuary, they joined us in our pew with whispered greetings. Rigel sat beside me, with his parents on his other side. Again, I felt something inside me shift and settle, almost like I was completed by his nearness.

“Everything okay?” he whispered, his eyes holding mine for a long, delicious moment.

“Fine,” I replied, silently adding,
now
. I wished I could touch him, just brush his hand with mine, but since it was church and Uncle Louie and his parents were right there, I didn’t dare. I was going to have a hard enough time trying to pay attention when the service started as it was.

Aunt Theresa filed in with the choir and I watched her eyebrows practically disappear into her hairline when she saw the Stuarts sitting with us. She frowned then, but only for a second, because the music started and she had to sing. I hoped she wouldn’t say anything to embarrass me when she joined us later.

Usually I enjoyed the music, but today I couldn’t seem to focus on it very well, even when the congregation was singing along. I felt really self-conscious with Rigel standing next to me, especially when I noticed that he had an excellent singing voice. Mine was nothing special, so I sang much more quietly, partly so I could listen to him—and to his parents, who also had very good voices.

That got me wondering about why they attended church at all, and what kind of religion people on Mars might have, if any. It was a fascinating line of speculation, and made me miss most of the sermon—not that that was anything new. I frequently daydreamed in church. It had always been less likely to get me in trouble with my aunt than fidgeting.

Though she’d shot a suspicious glance toward the Stuarts when she joined us in the pew just before the sermon, Aunt Theresa’s old-fashioned courtesy forced her to smile a greeting before sitting down. That reassured me a little, but when the service ended and we all rose to leave, I was suddenly nervous again.

Dr. Stuart spoke before Aunt Theresa could. “It’s so nice to see you all again,” she said, with what sounded like genuine warmth. “Such a lovely little church. The people are so friendly.”

What could my aunt say to that, except, “We’re glad to have you here”? Which she did, though her tone could have been more welcoming.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Dr. Stuart continued, smiling even more warmly. “We’re having a few friends for dinner tomorrow night and Rigel would like Marsha to join us, if that will be all right with you? We won’t keep her late, I promise.”

Aunt Theresa primmed up her mouth, clearly trying to think of some reason to refuse, but Uncle Louie came to my rescue again.

“Well, that’s really nice of you folks,” he said. “That’ll be fine, won’t it, Theresa?”

At that point, she’d have needed a really good excuse to contradict him without sounding rude. So, since she didn’t have an excuse and wouldn’t dream of being out-and-out rude in church, she gave a stiff little nod.

“Of course. You’re very kind. Would you like her to bring anything?”

Dr. Stuart shook her head. “Just herself.”

We all said our good-byes, but a moment later the choir director came over to say something to Aunt Theresa, so I snatched the chance for some private conversation with Rigel.

“Your mom handled that perfectly,” I told him quietly. “Thank her for me, okay?”

He grinned. “I’ll thank her for myself. But yeah, she’s good at that kind of thing. It should help—” He broke off, like he’d almost said more than he meant to.

There wasn’t time to cajole him into explaining, unfortunately, so I just asked, “When does your grandfather get here?”

“Late this afternoon—in time for dinner, my dad said.”

“So . . . do you know who all he’s bringing with him yet?”

He hesitated, making me think he wasn’t going to answer—and then he couldn’t, because my aunt and uncle joined us. I grumbled, but only to myself, and managed a fairly cheerful parting smile.

Monday morning I woke up with a sense of anticipation bordering on dread. Bri had never returned my call, so I still had that problem to deal with, plus whatever awaited me at Rigel’s house tonight.

No sense borrowing trouble, I told myself as I boarded the bus. Dinner might be great—a whole new group of people I could relate to. Like the family I’d never had. I tried to keep that positive attitude as Bri and Deb got on the bus a few minutes later. I put on a bright smile and waved, scooting over to make room on my seat. “Hey, guys!”

But Bri walked right past me, not even making eye contact. I couldn’t believe it. I looked up at Deb, who was behind her. “Deb?”

She paused, looking uncertainly at me, then at Brianna’s retreating back, then at me again. Then she shrugged and mouthed, “Sorry,” and followed Bri to a seat further back.

A few people followed Trina’s lead and tittered, but no one said anything. I stared out the window, trying to pretend I didn’t care, that I hadn’t even noticed, but my eyes were stinging with unshed tears. I blinked and bit my lip, determined not to cry. I would
not
give Trina—or Bri—that satisfaction.

It felt weird, in a terrible way, to lump those two together: my nemesis and my best friend. To avoid thinking about it, I tried to go back to worrying about dinner at Rigel’s tonight, but it was hard to work up the same apprehension I’d had before. It was like I couldn’t hold all those conflicting emotions at once. Still, it distracted me enough that I didn’t cry.

I tried again as we all got off the bus, standing up right in front of Bri so she couldn’t ignore me—or at least, couldn’t get past me.

“Bri, I apologized. What else do you want me to do?” I asked her, point blank.

She had to stop, but she didn’t have to look me in the eye, and she didn’t. “Nothing, Marsha. I don’t expect anything from you. You made it pretty clear I shouldn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hey, who’s blocking the aisle?” came a boy’s voice from further back.

Reluctantly, I started moving toward the door, glancing back at Bri, waiting for her answer. But the second we were off the bus, she hurried into the school without another word to me. Deb did look back at me once, but followed Bri inside. Grumbling with frustration, I went to my locker, then to class.

“Hey,” Rigel greeted me when I got to Geometry. He was leaning against the wall, just inside the door and his gorgeousness—and the soothing tingle I always got from his presence—made me momentarily forget my issues with Bri.

“Hey,” I responded. Last week, it would have sounded lame, like I couldn’t think of anything better, but now it just felt normal. Comfortable. Much better.

But then I noticed a tightness in his expression.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just thinking. You look nice.” His eyes were approving now, as he glanced at my dark green broomstick skirt and yellow eyelet top. But I couldn’t help feeling like he was being evasive.

“Thanks. You’re sure everything’s okay?”

Now he shrugged, which I considered almost an admission. “Yeah, I guess. You’re still good for tonight, right?”

I nodded, eyeing him uncertainly. “Any reason I wouldn’t be?”

“No, no, just making sure. Oops, there’s the bell,” he added unnecessarily, since I’d obviously heard it, too.

Clearly he didn’t want to talk any more right now, so with a last, confused frown at him, I headed for my seat. Whatever was bothering him, I’d make him tell me at lunch.

Right now, I’d use this chance to confront Debbi.

“So what’s the deal?” I asked as I sat down. “What horrible thing does Bri say I did?”

She gave a little shrug, not quite looking at me. “Look, I really don’t want to be in the middle of this. Don’t make me take sides, okay?”

“I’m not asking you to. I just want to know what she’s saying.”

Again, that half shrug. “She just . . . thinks you’re acting kind of stuck up now that you’re with Rigel. Her feelings are hurt, that’s all. Give her a little time to—”

“Stuck up?” I hissed, outraged. “What have I said or done that was stuck up? She wanted me to set you guys up with football players, and I don’t know any! And then she—”

“Miss Truitt, would you like to teach class today?” Mr. Benning’s acid tone made me suddenly realize class had started and I was the only one talking.

I gulped and slumped down in my seat. “No, sir,” I said meekly. “Sorry.”

Giving me one last quelling glance, he turned around and started the lesson, leaving me fuming silently about Bri. Stuck up? How dared she? She knew me better than that.
She
was the one giving
me
the silent treatment, which meant
she
was the one acting all stuck up! And I’d tell her so, the first chance I got.

But I didn’t get a chance. Not in English, where she waited until the bell was ringing to hurry straight to her seat. And not at lunch, where she and Deb went to sit with some girls from the chorus without even stopping at our usual table. I nearly followed her, but chickened out. I didn’t want to confront her in front of a crowd.

Besides, I needed to figure out what was going on with Rigel. He wasn’t avoiding me, exactly, but he seemed . . . guarded around me, like he was afraid of saying or doing something he shouldn’t. I’d been half afraid he’d come up with some reason not to sit with me at lunch, but to my relief, he didn’t.

Frustrated by Bri’s behavior as well as Rigel’s, I set down my tray with a thump. “Okay, what’s up? You’re acting really weird today.”

Like he’d already done a couple of times today, he just shrugged, not quite meeting my eye. “Everything’s fine.”

“It’s not. You’re not acting like yourself at all,” I insisted. “Am I scheduled for execution tonight, and you’re not allowed to tell me?”

His beautiful hazel eyes snapped to mine, both stunning and stunned. “What? Of course not! Why would you say something like that?”

“At least I got you to look at me. Come on, Rigel. Tell me what’s going on.”

To my relief, his lips twitched. Which surely meant it couldn’t be
that
bad. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m just worried I’ve . . . well, tried to push things too fast. Push you too fast.”

I tensed. I wasn’t sure I could take it if he was going to apologize
again
for kissing me. “What do you mean? I haven’t felt pushed. At all.”

“It’s just—” He glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot “—you’ve had so much thrown at you so fast. I feel like maybe I’ve taken advantage of that. Of you. Of the confusion you must be feeling about all this.”

“I don’t feel taken advantage of, either.” I didn’t untense. Was he about to break things off, after practically declaring us a couple on Friday?

Now his look was pleading, which scared me even more. “I like you, M. A lot. But that might not be . . . I mean, I might . . . we might be reading more into this, um, connection we have than we should.”

Even though his words confirmed my fears, I jutted out my chin stubbornly. “Are you saying you don’t think we have something special between us? Because I don’t believe you.”

“That’s not—” He broke off, shaking his head. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about it yet. I’m not sure exactly what I mean. Just wait until after you’ve talked to my grandfather tonight. He’ll be able to explain it better. I hope.”

Those last two words were spoken so low, I wasn’t sure I was supposed to hear them. He looked so unhappy now, I felt an instinctive need to cheer him up.

“Hey, it’s okay, really,” I said, forcing a heartiness I didn’t feel into my voice. “I know how families can be. They’ve got their own ideas about what’s good for us, no matter how wrong they might be. I mean, my aunt isn’t exactly thrilled about me seeing you, either.” I let that last bit turn into a question.

To my relief, he smiled—really smiled. “True. I guess maybe it’s not all that different. Anyway, let’s not worry about it before we have to, okay?”