by Brenda Hiatt
We’d reached the front doors and he pointed at a rather battered maroon minivan with rust spots along the wheel wells. A far cry from the shiny Audi and SUV Rigel’s parents drove. But then, Rigel’s parents had been on Earth for seventy-five years, plus his mom was a doctor and his dad a computer consultant.
The O’Garas might have had to leave Mars with nothing, for all I knew. I felt a surge of sympathy since I knew what it was like to be one of the have-nots in school.
Sean opened the front passenger door for me. “Mum, this is . . . M. That’s what people call her here.”
Their mom looked about the same age as Rigel’s folks—meaning not old enough to have teenaged kids. Not to mention a forty-year old daughter! She was a little on the plump side, but very pretty, with red hair bordering on orange and eyes as bright blue as Sean’s.
“Hi,” I said cautiously. Careful not to touch Sean, I climbed in next to her.
“Oh, my,” she almost squeaked. “I mean, it’s such an honor, Excellency. I hope these two scamps haven’t taken any liberties.”
“Um, liberties?” Confused, I glanced into the back seat, where the other three were buckling their seatbelts.
“I mean, I hope they’ve shown you the proper respect,” she clarified.
“Oh, um, yeah, they’ve been fine. Er, I should tell you, Mrs. O’Gara, that nobody around here knows who I am except Rigel and his folks. So I’m not used to being treated special or anything. I’m just M, and that’s fine.”
Clearly startled, she stared at me for a long moment before suddenly relaxing into a smile. “Of course. How silly of me. You didn’t even know who you were until quite recently did you, luv?”
“Not till a couple months ago, no. But Sean and Molly said you guys moved here because of me? I’m still a little confused about why.” Maybe she’d be more forthcoming with reasons than they’d been.
She put the car in drive and pulled her gaze away to watch the road. “It was . . . thought that we could be of the most use here.”
So she was going to be evasive, too. I started getting nervous again, though it was hard to imagine this warm, motherly woman having a sinister motive.
“Thought by who?” I prodded, hoping to shake loose more information.
“It was the consensus of quite a few people, actually. And, of course, we felt it would be good for Sean—and Molly—to get to know you, given our political connections. No doubt you can learn from them, as well.”
Again with the politics. “Was there anyone specific who asked you to come here?” I was getting tired of the runaround.
She hesitated so long I thought she wasn’t going to answer. Several fields of corn stubble went by my window before she finally said, “Well, yes. In fact, I believe you’ve met him once or twice. Allister is pleased that you’re adjusting so well to your new status, but wants to be sure nothing, er, interferes with your continued progress.”
“Allister?” Rigel asked sharply from behind me. “Allister Adair?”
“Aye, that’s right, dear,” Mrs. O’Gara replied, never taking her eyes from the road. I thought her expression looked a little tense.
“But . . . he’s staying at our house right now. And he never mentioned anything about another Martian family moving to Jewel.” Suspicion rang in his voice.
I gauged how fast the car was going, wondering how much it would hurt if I jumped out at this speed. If these people were all lying, there was no knowing what they really intended. They could even be another group sent to kill me. What if—
“Our house is a bit small for guests, you see, especially with all the boxes and clutter, as we’re just moving in. I’m sure he felt he’d be more comfortable with you. As for not mentioning us, he, er, implied he isn’t precisely your favorite person, Excellency. He may have wanted you to meet us without any preconceptions.”
I relaxed slightly. Much as I disliked Allister, I was pretty sure he didn’t want me dead. Just practically in prison.
“In fact,” she continued, “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned the connection at all just yet. I do hope he won’t be put out with me.”
“What connection, exactly?” If Allister had specifically sent for them—
She turned onto my street, making me wonder how she knew where I lived. Or did all the Martians know that now? I hoped not, but she pulled right into my driveway without me giving her any directions. She stopped the car and turned to face me, her expression anxious, which lessened my own fear a little.
“Allister Adair is my brother, Princess. Uncle to Sean and Molly.”
CHAPTER 5
Duchas (doo-kas): normal Earth humans
A whole different fear assailed me. “Wait. You mean, he moved you all to Jewel to . . . indoctrinate me or something?” I demanded.
“It’s not like that,” Sean said from behind me.
I turned around to glare at him and noticed Rigel wasn’t looking happy, either. “So what is it like?”
Molly answered me. “He—we—thought you should get to know other Martians. Besides the Stuarts, I mean. You haven’t had a chance to meet many, especially our age. And it will be important later for you to have . . . friends.” I could tell she’d almost used a different word.
Still, her explanation did remind me of my earlier thought, how it might be nice to be friends. “I . . . guess that makes sense,” I said slowly. I wanted to talk privately with Rigel before deciding how I really felt about all this, but now obviously wasn’t the time.
“Thanks for the ride, Mrs. O’Gara. I’ll see you guys at school tomorrow,” I added to Sean and Molly. Then, in the half second when nobody else was looking, I mouthed “Call me” to Rigel.
Without a backward look, I went up the steps, across the wide porch and into the house—a supposedly historic two story, two bedroom, one bath house that had seen much better days. After pouring myself a glass of milk, I spread out my books on the kitchen table and started on my homework while waiting impatiently for the phone to ring.
I hoped Rigel would get a chance to call before my aunt got home, since the only phone in this creaky old house was the one in the kitchen, hardwired to the wall. It wasn’t even a cordless. Which meant no private phone calls. Ever. I hated that.
I made my distracted way through Geometry, History and French, glancing at the clock every five minutes, before the phone finally, blessedly rang.
“Sorry,” Rigel said as soon as I picked up. “The O’Garas came inside and only left a minute ago.”
Just the sound of his voice calmed me. “That’s okay. But my aunt will be home any time now. What’s the deal? Did you find out?”
“Some, but I’m sure there’s more they’re not telling. It’s pretty much what they said—Allister getting all proactive about preparing you for your role and stuff. According to them, more Echtrans will be moving to Jewel soon. Sounds like Allister wants to turn it into a kind of headquarters.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. On the one hand, it was appealing to think I might meet more Martians who didn’t want to kill me, maybe even make some friends. On the other hand, they’d probably gawk at me, the way the few who’d come through town so far had done. That wasn’t appealing at all.
“What, since he can’t convince me to go to Montana, he’s going to bring everyone here? Turn Jewel into a new compound?”
I thought maybe he’d laugh, but he didn’t. “Something like that. He probably thinks if you meet lots of other Martians you won’t spend so much time with me. He’s never been exactly happy about, you know, us.”
Yeah, I knew. He’d made that pretty obvious. “Hasn’t Shim convinced him we’re really bonded by now? He said he was going to try.”
Rigel’s sigh came through the line. “He has tried. I’ve heard him. But Allister doesn’t believe in the graell. Says it’s just myth and wishful thinking and teenage hormones, and that Grandfather is only seeing what he wants to see.”
“Sounds like Allister is only see
ing what he— Oops, Aunt Theresa is home. Talk to you later. Arboretum after dinner?”
“I’ll be there. Love you, M.” He hung up before I could say it back.
“Talking to that boy again?” Aunt Theresa asked before even saying hello. Then, before I could answer, “Take your homework upstairs. I need the table to grade papers.”
She knew Rigel’s name perfectly well, but she never used it—to me, anyway. She was more than willing to say it when bragging to her friends that her niece was dating the champion quarterback. I’d overheard her a few times. To me, she acted like he was a budding sexual deviant or something.
“Nice to see you, too,” I muttered under my breath as I gathered up my books so she could savage her poor third graders’ assignments with her red pen. If she heard me, she pretended not to.
As usual, Uncle Louie didn’t get home from work until after seven and, also as usual, dinner conversation consisted mostly of stories about the car lot where he worked as a salesman.
“So I told him, sure, I’d call him if we get a Porsche in,” Uncle Louie was saying. “Like anybody in this town has one to trade in?” He laughed loudly.
I forced out a chuckle along with Aunt Theresa, who didn’t pay much more attention to Uncle Louie’s stories than I did. Not that he seemed to notice.
“You'd think someone who can afford a Porsche would be able to read the big 'All-American Auto Sales' sign, wouldn't you?” he continued. “I told him if he really wanted a foreign car, I could give him a great deal on one of the Toyotas in the back lot. We can’t give those suckers away in this town. But no, he said he’d just go to Indy for a Porsche. More than an hour away, but it’s his time and money.” He laughed again.
It really wasn’t funny, since I knew the dealership was struggling. If it closed, Uncle Louie would have to look for a job in Kokomo or even Indianapolis. Already, Aunt Theresa was working a couple evenings a week at Regina’s Flowers For All Occasions, and once I turned sixteen I’d probably try to get an after school job to help out, too.
Uncle Louie launched into the next story—something about one of the guys in the service department forgetting his lunch—and my thoughts drifted to everything that had happened today, and about my planned meeting with Rigel. I hoped Aunt Theresa wouldn’t figure out why I’d started jogging after dinner most nights.
I also wondered how Allister could be so willfully blind to Rigel’s and my bond. He’d heard about the bolt of lightning we’d generated to knock Boyne Morven’s sphere thingy out of the sky before it could kill us. According to Shim, that proved we had a graell bond. And what else could explain the miraculous cure of my nearsightedness, or even my acne? Or how sick Rigel and I both got when we tried to stay apart for a couple of weeks?
Oh, wait. We hadn’t really told anybody about that, though his parents had to notice. Still, there was plenty of other evidence, if Allister weren’t too stubborn to see it. Just because Rigel was from the wrong clan or party or whatever . . .
The second I finished eating, I jumped up to do the dishes so I’d be able to meet Rigel. Aunt Theresa didn’t like me going out alone after eight-thirty, now that the days were getting shorter.
After standing the last glass upside down in the drying rack, I bolted upstairs to change into my sweats and running shoes, then hurried back down. “Going running,” I yelled toward the kitchen as I headed for the front door.
“Wait, Marsha,” Uncle Louie called from the other side of the hall. “There are some people here I want you to meet.”
Irritated at the delay but curious, I went through the rounded archway into our little formal living room and stopped dead. The whole O’Gara family was sitting there—Sean, Molly, their mother, and a sandy-haired man I assumed was their father, chatting with Uncle Louie and Aunt Theresa like they were old friends.
“Um, hi,” I said, and they all looked up—the three I’d already met smiling and Mr. O’Gara with the slightly awed expression his wife had when I first got into her car today.
Uncle Louie, oblivious as always, stood up to make introductions. “Marsha, these are the O’Garas—Lili, Quinn, Sean and Molly. This is our niece, Marsha.” I guess they hadn’t had time to tell him we’d mostly already met.
He continued before any of us could speak. “They bought a minivan from me yesterday and when we did the paperwork, I saw they’d moved in just around the corner, on Opal. So I told them to stop by, especially since their kids are about your age.” He beamed around at all of us.
Right around the corner? No wonder Mrs. O’Gara had known where I lived. Or—a niggling suspicion arose—did they move into that house because it was right around the corner?
“That’s great,” I said, and hoped my cheerfulness didn’t sound forced. “So we’ll be riding the same bus and everything?”
“I guess,” Sean said. “At least until I get my Indiana driver’s license. And, er, a car.”
Mrs. O’Gara raised an eyebrow, then turned back to me. “Marsha, I have a favor to ask. I understand you take the same U. S. History class that Molly and Sean do, and it’s a subject neither of them has ever studied. Would you be willing to tutor them a bit, since they’re coming in mid term?”
“Sure.” My smile was genuine now, which seemed to reassure Molly, who’d been looking embarrassed. “It’ll be fun. And a good review for me, before finals.”
“That’s very kind of you, your, er, Marsha,” said Mr. O’Gara, who still looked a little nervous. “I’m sure Sean and Molly will appreciate your help enormously.”
They both nodded, Molly eagerly and Sean looking a little sheepish.
“Marsha is a very good student,” Aunt Theresa informed them, managing to sound pompous instead of complimentary.
There was an awkward silence, then Sean asked, “So, you like to run?”
I glanced down at my sweats and running shoes. “Um, yeah. It’s an easy way to keep in shape.” I wondered how soon I’d be able to get away. The clock over the fireplace showed it was almost eight-thirty now, which meant Rigel was probably already waiting in the arboretum.
“Marsha, why don’t you bring out coffee and some of those cookies I baked yesterday,” Aunt Theresa said, dashing my hopes. “You can run any time,” she added, which meant my disappointment must have shown. Oops.
“Sure, no problem.” I headed to the kitchen, wishing for the umpteenth time that I had a cell phone, so I could send Rigel a quick text or something to let him know what was going on. I got out coffee cups and a plate for the cookies, then glanced at the phone on the wall. Maybe, if I was really quiet—
“Need any help?” I turned to see Sean standing in the kitchen doorway wearing an apologetic smile. “Sorry to descend on you in force like this,” he whispered, coming over to pour coffee into the cups. “It was Dad’s idea to take your uncle up on his invite tonight.”
“That’s okay,” I lied, edging away from him. “Like Aunt Theresa said, I can run anytime. You’re new neighbors, and this is just standard Indiana hospitality. You might as well get used to it.” I gave him my best smile—the best one I ever gave to anyone who wasn’t Rigel—to gloss over my earlier reluctance, which he most have noticed.
I wondered if he also noticed how I avoided touching him as we put the filled coffee cups, cream and sugar on Aunt Theresa’s antique black and gold tray. Sean carried out the tray while I followed with a plate of oatmeal-cranberry-walnut cookies.
As the next half hour ticked past, Aunt Theresa and Uncle Louie made small talk with the O’Garas about mundane things like grocery stores and churches and dentists’ offices. Everything seemed so . . . so normal, it was hard for even me to believe our new neighbors had come to Earth from Mars barely over a year ago.
Finally, after receiving way too many details on what little Jewel had to offer, the O’Garas stood to go.
“Once we’re all unpacked, we’ll have to have you over for dinner,” Mrs. O’Gara said to Aunt Theresa as everyone headed slowly toward the front do
or.
“Why, how kind. We’d be delighted.” Aunt Theresa seemed to genuinely like these people, which was seemed unfair considering how stand-offish she’d always been toward the Stuarts. I’d assumed it was because they weren’t third generation Jewelites, like she and Uncle Louie were, but apparently not.
By the time all the goodbyes were said and the O’Garas gone, it was a quarter past nine.
“So, um, can I go running now?” I asked without much hope.
Of course, Aunt Theresa shook her head. “Not this late, on a school night. You can get your exercise in taekwondo class tomorrow.”
“But the reason I’ve started running is so I’ll have more stamina for taekwondo,” I explained in a last-ditch effort.
“I said no, Marsha. Not tonight. Now take all these cups into the kitchen and wash them so they can dry overnight.”
With a sigh, I complied. Rigel had probably given up and gone back home by now anyway. I dawdled around the kitchen, drying and putting away dishes, hoping for a few moments alone so I could call him. But Aunt Theresa and Uncle Louie stayed within earshot, mostly talking about how nice the O’Garas were, until it was too late to call. I’d just have to explain to him tomorrow.
CHAPTER 6
Rigel (RY-jel): the 7th brightest star visible from Earth
I check my cell phone again. 9:37pm. No effing way M is coming tonight. Her gorgon of an aunt never lets her out of the house this late.
Without her here, “our” metal bench in the arboretum is freezing my butt off, so I stand up.
I’m dying to talk to M. Shoot, just to be with her, since it’s been a while since we’ve had real alone time. Long enough that I’m feeling a little off. And grouchy.
But if I’m not home by ten I’ll catch hell from my parents. When Asshole Allister stays at our house, they’re suddenly strict about stuff like me staying out late on school nights. Like it’s a point of honor to prove to him they can control me.
