Starstruck (31 page)

He shrugged and his eyes slid away from mine. “Maybe not, if . . . if it looks like I’m with someone else instead. Then you’d be—”

“Yesterday’s news,” I finished for him, and though he frowned, I could tell that was pretty much what he’d meant. Unfortunately, he was probably right, since gossip had a half-life of less than a day if anything juicier came along. But that didn’t mean I was going to agree to this.

“I don’t think I can do it. Pretend I don’t . . . care about you?” I’d almost used a stronger term, but we hadn’t progressed to the L word yet. “Besides,” I added as I thought of an actual argument, “wouldn’t you be putting anyone else in danger if you spent too much time with her?”

Now he managed a half-hearted smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe a little, though I don’t think they’re going to come in with guns blazing or anything like that. Anyway, that’s why I was thinking it should be Trina.”

That almost made me laugh. Almost. But my heart was hurting too much for that. The idea of not being able to talk to him, to touch him again, for who knew how long, was horrifying. Not to mention all the stares and snickers at school when word got around that Rigel had dumped me. No one else would know it was because he wanted to keep me safe. Because he cared.

I shook my head. “I don’t think that would be fair. Not even to Trina.” I didn’t actually care one atom about Trina, but it was all I had.

“I don’t care about Trina,” he said, echoing my thoughts perfectly as he so often did. “I’ll try to make sure she’s not a target, but all that really matters is keeping you safe. I won’t risk losing you, M.”

This time I did manage a shaky laugh. “But isn’t that exactly what you’re planning to do? To lose me? I’d rather risk the bad guys, thanks.”

“But
I’m
not willing to risk it. To risk you.” There was no compromise in his tone. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Even stronger than yesterday, panic started to set in. “Rigel, please. We don’t have to do this. We don’t even know for sure—”

“I’m sorry, M. I think we do. You can make up whatever story you want. Tell everybody I cheated on you, you dumped me, I have bad breath, whatever. But stay away from me.”

Again with the gut punch. “You . . . you really want me to stay away from you?” I whispered.

For a second, an expression like pain crossed his face, then it was gone. “Yes,” he said, and there was no wavering in his voice. “I do. I have to go. Wait a few minutes before you leave here, so no one sees us together.”

“But—”

“Goodbye, M. I . . . Be safe.” Then, so quickly that I couldn’t have caught up with him if I’d wanted to, he was up and gone without a backward glance.

I sat there, stunned. He really meant it. I had no doubt that tomorrow at school he would play his part perfectly, acting like we’d had a bad breakup.

Well, it felt pretty bad to me. I wondered what he’d almost said, right before he left. Not that it mattered. Not that anything mattered. Rigel had just removed himself from my life and I wasn’t at all sure I was going to survive that.

CHAPTER 19

Implosion

School the next day was even worse than I expected.

I barely remembered walking home after Rigel left me in the arboretum. Once home I’d somehow maintained the illusion that my world hadn’t caved in, or so I assumed by my aunt’s and uncle’s lack of concern. I’d even managed to hold off crying until I was in bed. But then I fell apart, sobbing so hard I had to muffle my mouth with my pillow so my aunt wouldn’t hear and come to investigate.

Waiting for the bus, I told myself I should have realized it was too good to last. For two weeks everything had been perfect. Beyond perfect. I’d never been happier in my life. But now it was over. Maybe not forever, but probably for a long time.

I almost hoped the bad guys would get here quick and get it over with, one way or the other. Except that even if I survived whatever they did, I’d probably end up exiled to some Martian compound.

Without Rigel.

In a daze of loss and lack of sleep, I boarded the bus.

“Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed,” Trina snarked as I walked past her. Then she dropped her backpack right in my path so I’d trip.

Instead, I kicked it—hard—and it skittered to the back of the bus. I didn’t apologize. I didn’t say anything at all, even though she was sputtering and calling me names. I just sat down a few seats behind her and stared straight ahead.

Bri and Deb were more observant than my aunt and uncle. “Omigod, what’s wrong?” Deb demanded as Bri slid in next to me a few minutes later.

“You look like your cat died,” Bri stated, “except I know you don’t have a cat.”

I figured I might as well tell them—they’d find out soon enough anyway. And as soon as word got around school, they were likely to be the only friends I had. “Rigel and I broke up.” My voice sounded as dead as I felt.

“What?” they chorused. “But you two were so
perfect
together,” Bri said at the same time Deb asked, “What happened?”

Though I’d spent half the night thinking about how I’d answer that question, I still hadn’t decided what to say. I couldn’t bring myself to take Rigel’s suggestion of putting the blame on him, not when he was doing this to keep me safe.

“I’m . . . not sure,” I finally said when they started to bounce impatiently. “We . . . kind of had a fight.”

That wasn’t good enough for Bri. “So? Who dumped who?”

Like anyone could
ever
believe I’d dump Rigel? But even though it was true, sort of, I couldn’t bring myself to admit out loud that he’d done the dumping. Especially with half the bus listening in.

“It was sort of mutual,” I mumbled.

Now Deb was shaking her head. “No way. It has to just be some huge misunderstanding, like the shock thing. We’ll sit you two down and make you talk things out, and—”

“No, Deb, it’s over. Really. Please don’t make things harder.”

She didn’t look satisfied, and from the looks she and Bri exchanged I could tell they weren’t going to give up that easily. But much as I wished they could be right, I knew they weren’t. Rigel had said, “Stay away from me.” And he’d meant it.

Even though we’d had our heads together for the whole conversation, by the time we got off the bus, the news had already spread. Trina was waiting on the curb with a big, nasty smile when I stepped down.

“Gee, no wonder you’re in a foul mood, Marsha. Guess Rigel finally came to his senses, huh? How’s it feel to be the dumpee?”

“You should know, Trina,” Bri said before I could answer. “You’ve had plenty of experience.”

Trina glared, then turned away, but the smirk never left her lips. I had no doubt the whole school would know before first period started.

I wasn’t wrong.

I took my time getting to Geometry, wanting to put off as long as possible the embarrassment of Rigel ignoring me, as he’d pretty much promised to do. When I walked in, one of the last to arrive, a storm of whispering broke out, along with a few giggles. I knew Rigel was there even before I broke down and glanced his way. I’d felt him the moment I entered the room.

And sure enough, when I did look at him, he was looking the other way. My feet slowed a little without my consent and I had to force myself to keep walking, to take an empty desk on the far side of the room. The whispers got louder and I even heard a gasp or two. A girl—I couldn’t tell who—hissed, “It’s true!”

Slumping into my seat, I stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, even Deb. I did
not
want to see the pity on her face. Any more than I wanted to see pity—or gloating, depending on whether they liked me or not—on anyone else’s face.

The whole day was like that, though it was worse in the four classes I shared with Rigel. Lunch was the very worst of all. Bri and Deb sat with me, but so did a couple of the football players they were almost-sort-of seeing. Neither of the guys seemed to know what to say to me and I knew my friends didn’t want them to leave, so I just pretended to eat without taking part in the conversation . . . or taking my eyes off my tray.

As I sat there, feeling as awkward as my numbness would allow, Trina and her posse went past, talking and giggling. When she was at her closest point to me, Trina loudly said, “Well, a guy like that can only stand slumming for so long, you know. It’s sure to make him appreciate what else is available.” They all laughed uproariously as they moved away.

I hoped fervently that Rigel wouldn’t go through with his plan of pretending to go out with Trina. Or, if he did, that the bad guys really would mistake her for me and kill her. It would serve her right.

The next day was only marginally better. There was less whispering and staring, but Rigel still resolutely ignored me. I had enough pride that I refrained from making puppy-dog eyes his way, but it was hard. I missed him even more than I’d expected to. More than I would have thought was humanly possible.

Plus, he actually sat at Trina’s table at lunch. As soon as I saw him sit down, I moved to the other side of my table so I wouldn’t have to see them together. Needless to say, in Health class that afternoon, Trina had to gloat.

“I thought it was really sweet of Rigel to ask if I was still going out with Bryce,” she said, ostensibly to Amber, but loudly enough for the whole class to hear. “He said he didn’t want to hurt Bryce, or come between us if we were serious.”

It made me unwillingly remember when Rigel—and I—
had
hurt Bryce, with that electric jolt that had been my first clue something enormously weird was going on. Which had led to me finding out the truth about Rigel and then myself. Though painful, it was also a reminder that I was a princess, even if no one in Jewel knew it except the Stuarts.

Hanging onto that thought, I lifted my chin higher and ignored all the “Aw” sounds Trina’s friends were making as they congratulated her on Rigel’s renewed interest. His interest in her was fake. Part of the plan. I just had to cling to that fact, and to the knowledge of who I was, and let anything Trina said or did roll off my back.

I wished it were that easy.

As the week wore on, nothing changed except that no one was paying much attention to me anymore. Just as Rigel had predicted. Well, almost no one.

I was leaving first period when Jimmy Franklin—yeah, the guy I’d had a crush on for almost two years—stopped to talk to me.

“Hey, M. How you doing?”

Startled, I blinked up at him, though I was actually more aware of Rigel’s retreating back than of Jimmy’s wholesome, handsome Midwestern face. It was the first time he’d ever actually spoken to me, other than the time we’d been part of the same group for a social studies project in eighth grade.

“Um, fine?” Rigel was almost out of sight now. “What’s up?”

He shrugged, looking a little bit embarrassed. In two years, I’d never imagined the godlike Jimmy Franklin ever being embarrassed, especially around me.

“I just . . . well, I was wondering if you might go to the Homecoming dance with me, now that you’re . . . I mean—”

I knew what he meant. But I shook my head. “That’s really nice of you, Jimmy, but I don’t think I’ll be going to the dance. Thanks, though.”

He looked surprised, but not upset. “Oh. I kinda thought . . . But hey, that’s cool. Maybe some other time?”

“Yeah, maybe.” I wasn’t going to make any promises I had no intention of keeping. “Talk to you later, Jimmy.”

A grin broke across his face and a detached part of my brain noticed it made him even cuter, though it had no effect on me. “Yeah, definitely! Later, M.”

As we went our separate ways, I couldn’t help musing on the fact that just two months earlier, this would have been the answer to all of my romantic dreams. But that was before Rigel. My dreams were completely different now. And had even less chance of coming true.

“What do you mean you’re not coming to the game?” Bri demanded Friday afternoon as we got on the bus to go home. “You always come to the games. Just because you and Rigel—”

“I’m not coming, okay?” I repeated. “My aunt doesn’t like me going to the away games anyway, so I thought I’d humor her this week. Maybe it’ll put her in a better mood for the next time I want something.”

She gave me a dark look as we sat down, then turned to Deb for support. “She has to come, doesn’t she, Deb? If you don’t, it’ll be like admitting, I don’t know, that Trina’s won and you’ve lost. And I can’t stand it. What does he even see in her?”

“Besides the obvious?” I said. Since Tuesday, Rigel had been spending almost as much time with Trina as he used to spend with me. So much that I couldn’t help wondering—a little—if this breakup was
just
about keeping me safe.

“Trina’s obvious, all right,” Deb said with a snort and Bri laughed in agreement. “She can’t hold a candle to you, M, and Rigel can’t be so blind he doesn’t know it.”

I shrugged, pretending an unconcern I didn’t feel. “What he does is his business, not mine. Not anymore.”

Some of the pain I was feeling must have leaked into my voice, because they left me alone after that, except for furtive, pitying glances I did my best to ignore. I found myself secretly hoping Rigel would play badly tonight, and that it would make him miss me. Plus, it would piss off Trina. It wasn’t nice, but I couldn’t help it.