by Brenda Hiatt
I grab my bike from the rack by the arboretum entrance and take one last look down Diamond toward M’s house, just in case. Nope, no sign of her. Feeling like my skin is too tight, I start home. Wasted evening.
I’m not blaming M, since she doesn’t have a cell or even a private landline to let me know what’s going on. Another one of her aunt’s archaic rules. She’s probably as pissed as I am that she can’t get out of the house.
I go three blocks before I realize I’m pedaling way faster than a normal Duchas, even a jock. Luckily hardly anybody is around this late, since Jewel rolls up the sidewalks after dark. If it weren’t for M, this town would suck.
‘Course, if it weren’t for M, we never would have come here at all. I’d probably have spent the last six years in California, going to the same school with the same kids, having actual friends—
I cut off that thought with a shudder. Because my life started, in every way that matters, when I met M in August. I can’t think of a single thing I’d trade for what she and I have now.
Too keyed up to slow down, I make it home in about ten minutes. Unfortunately, Mom and Dad are in the kitchen when I come in through the garage, so there’s no fudging how late I am.
“It’s a school night, Rigel,” my dad says. Duh.
“I know. Sorry.” I try to sound it, even though I’m not. “I finished all my homework before I went out.”
He frowns anyway, but Mom is more understanding. “Wasn’t it awfully late for M to be out? How is she?”
I shrug. “She couldn’t get away, so I waited. Longer than I should have, I guess.”
They both know where I go on my evening bike rides. And they were fine with it until Allister got here. Which reminds me.
“Is our guest in bed?” They nod. “So, you don’t think it’s weird that he never mentioned he had family moving here—that he even had any family on Earth—until they were already in Jewel?” I couldn’t ask before, since was within earshot from the moment the O’Garas left until I escaped on my bike after dinner.
They look at each other for several seconds before answering. I used to hate when they did that—communicating telepathically so I can’t hear. But now that M and I are starting to be able to do it, I don’t mind so much.
“Maybe he didn’t want to name drop,” Dad suggests. “Though of course it’s no real secret what his sister’s family has done, since he used it to his advantage when petitioning to be on the Echtran Council. I understand why you don’t like Allister, Rigel, but I hope you won’t allow that to influence your opinion of the O’Garas. They’re true heroes.”
I manage to nod, trying not to show how his attitude irritates me. Okay, so Quinn and Lili O’Gara were like these legendary resistance fighters back on Mars. So my folks—especially my dad—practically idolize them. That doesn’t mean their kids are anything special.
“It was pretty obvious you and Sean didn’t start off on the right foot,” my mom points out gently. “But your father’s right. You shouldn’t let your feelings—justified feelings—about Allister keep you from making friends with Sean. I’m sure he could use a friend right now. You remember what it was like, always being the new boy, and he’s had to make a much bigger adjustment than you ever did.”
“I guess.”
Knowing they’re right doesn’t improve my mood. Besides, it’s not just his relationship to Allister that makes me not trust Sean. He pissed me off before I knew anything about that, the way he looked at M when he met her at lunch today. Sure, any Martian would be blown away by meeting the Princess everyone thought was dead. It is a big deal.
But there was more in his expression than that. Something . . . possessive. I didn’t like it. Still don’t.
My folks going all fan-club over his family doesn’t help. Or Allister treating Sean like the son he never had, when he always treats me like some nobody trying to worm my way into the Sovereign’s affections. Like what’s between M and me is all in my head.
“I’m going to bed,” I say, not wanting to talk about it any more.
“Do the dishes first,” Dad says.
I blink at him. I do the dishes at least half the time, but I always volunteer. I can’t remember ever being told to do them.
“You promised you would when you left,” he reminds me.
Oh, yeah. “Because Allister was giving you guys that look about letting me go out after dinner. Why do you let him tell you what to do in your own house?”
“He’s a powerful man, Rigel,” my mother murmurs. “There’s nothing to be gained by antagonizing him.”
“He was powerful back on Mars, in the old days. What power does he have here? Really? What can he do to you—to any of us—if we don’t listen to him?”
I really want to know. But instead of answering, my dad says, “Just do the dishes, Rigel.”
“Fine.”
I go into the dining room—we never eat in the kitchen when we have company—and gather up the dinner dishes. It takes me like two minutes to put the dishes in the cupboard that doubles as an ionic sterilizer and push the button. Presto. Dishes are washed and put away in one easy step. Allister must not know about this little remodel, or he’d have suggested I do some other chore instead. I almost find it amusing.
Almost.
Because I know these extra chores are just one more way for him to put me in my place. A place that’s miles beneath the Sovereign. One more reminder that I’m nowhere near her class. That if Faxon had never overthrown the monarchy and we were all back on Mars, I’d never be allowed anywhere near her. That I’m not good enough to speak to her, let alone be her boyfriend. Her soulmate.
The worst of it is, sometimes I worry he’s right.
I’m still in a lousy mood the next morning. I haven’t had any serious alone time with M since Friday and being apart from her sucks. And she’ll have taekwondo this afternoon, so we won’t get a chance today, either. At least we have four classes together.
Feeling a serious need to see her, I walk a little faster to Geometry. Before I even reach the classroom, I sense her brath and the knot inside me starts to relax. I turn in the direction of her vibe and see her hurrying toward me, a worried expression on her adorable face.
“I’m so sorry!” she whispers the moment she reaches me. “I couldn’t get out of the house last night. Would you believe—”
“Hey, M!” It’s Sean, striding down the hall like he owns it, a big grin on his face. “It was great meeting your family last night. Hope we can all get together again soon. Oh, hey, Rigel.” He totally says it as an afterthought, like he didn’t even notice me standing here. Jerk.
I barely nod. “Sean.”
“Well, catch you later, M.” With another smile and a wave—completely for M—he continues on his way.
“He met your family last night?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” It sounds way more like an accusation than I mean it to. Insecure, much?
And it makes M look worried again. Maybe I’m the jerk.
“I was just about to. It’s why I couldn’t get out to meet you. The O’Garas—all of them—dropped by right when I was about to leave. And get this: they bought a house right around the corner from me, and bought their van from Uncle Louie! All those Echtran paparazzi are bad enough, but this is taking stalking to a whole new level.”
No kidding! “Last night was totally not your fault, M,” I say, trying not to frown so she won’t think I’m mad at her. Because I’m definitely not. But this Sean thing is even worse than I thought. “I’ll bet Allister’s behind this. He probably found that house for them, maybe even convinced the previous owners to sell.”
“Now that you mention it, I don’t remember a house that close to ours with a “For Sale” sign. So . . . you really think he brought them here to spy on me?”
I can tell she doesn’t want to believe that. I don’t blame her, after those evil Echtrans almost killed her last month. We both assumed—hoped—the threat was over for good after
that. And maybe that threat is. I have a growing suspicion that this is a completely different one. Not to her life, maybe, but to her happiness. And definitely to mine.
“To spy . . . or maybe to influence you,” I say carefully. “Allister knows you don’t like him much, which means it’ll be hard for him to do that himself. Maybe he figures people your own age—”
The bell rings and we have to sprint for our seats. “We’ll talk more at lunch,” she whispers.
I just nod. Because I’m not sure I want to tell M what I really suspect—that Sean was brought to Jewel to steal her away from me.
CHAPTER 7
Bailerealta (bay-luh-ree-AL-tuh): an all-Martian village on the west coast of Ireland
I was antsy during my next few classes, anxious for lunchtime so I could hear the rest of Rigel’s theory about the O’Garas. But when we got to the cafeteria, Molly was already sitting at our usual table along with Bri, Deb, and a few guys from the football team. At least Sean wasn’t there. I could see him at another table with most of the basketball team.
I paused for a second before Molly saw me, then decided I might as well give her the benefit of the doubt—for now. She’d seemed nice enough so far.
“Hey, Molly,” I greeted her cheerfully. Then, to Bri and Deb, “Thanks for inviting her to sit with us, guys.” I sat down next to her, across from my friends, and Rigel sat on my other side.
“She was just starting to tell us about Ireland,” Deb said. “Doesn’t she have the coolest accent?”
Molly laughed. “I told them it’s nothing special—this is how everyone sounds in Ireland.” Her accent was noticeably stronger than it had been yesterday.
“I guess you’d know,” I said, amused. Could I put on accents that easily if I tried? “It’s special to us, since we’ve never met anyone from Ireland before.”
Molly echoed my amusement with a glance, and I felt a little glow of pleasure at sharing a secret with her. Of course, I’d been sharing the same secret with Rigel since learning the truth in September, but somehow it was different with a girlfriend.
Prompted by questions from everyone at the table, Molly talked about the tiny village of Bailerealta, things like always having to wait for sheep to cross the road, and being in a school so small that two or three whole grades shared a room and teacher.
I was at least as interested as the others but the stuff I really wanted to know, like whether everybody in the village used Martian technology and how often new people arrived there from Mars, were things I couldn’t exactly ask about at lunch.
Twenty minutes later, just as we were gathering up our trays, Trina approached our table—something she almost never did. Even when she flirted with Rigel, she didn’t do it here.
“Hi, Molly—it’s Molly, right?”
Molly nodded.
“I’m Trina Squires and I wanted to officially welcome you to Jewel.”
Bri and I rolled our eyes at each other. So Trina was the “official” voice of the whole town now? We weren’t being subtle, but she ignored us.
“I also wanted to say you should totally try out for cheerleading before basketball season starts. You look like you’d be perfect, and you could cheer for your brother. Have you ever done any cheerleading?”
“Um, no.” Molly was looking more confused than flattered by Trina’s attention.
“Any gymnastics?” Trina prodded.
“A little, when I was younger.”
Trina beamed at her. “Perfect! Come by the gym after school and I can introduce you to the squad.” Without giving Molly a chance to reply, she gave her a last smile that pointedly did not include anyone else at the table and sashayed off to join her friends, who were waiting by the door.
Molly turned to me, still looking confused. “I don’t really have to go, do I?”
“Of course not,” Bri answered before I could. “Trina only thinks she’s the queen of the school.”
“But she can make things sticky for you if you piss her off,” I felt obliged to admit. “Believe me, I know.”
“Don’t do anything you don’t want to, though,” Deb said. I thought she looked just a little bit envious.
“Maybe I can stop by and make up a good excuse why I can’t try out?” Molly suggested. “I don’t want to make any enemies my very first week.” She sent a quick look Rigel’s way—or maybe I imagined it.
As we all headed to History together, I managed to hang back a little with Rigel. “You were really quiet at lunch,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“Still not sure,” he muttered. “How about I walk you to your taekwondo class today so we can talk?”
“Sounds good.” We were way overdue for some alone time—plus I was dying to know what he really thought about the O’Garas.
Neither Sean nor Molly were on the bus that afternoon. I assumed he had basketball practice and Molly must have gone to talk to Trina—who maybe convinced her to try out for cheerleading after all. I tried not to mind.
I spent the half hour before I had to leave for taekwondo doing a little bit of homework and listening for Rigel’s bike—not that he made any noise before ringing the doorbell. I bounced up and raced to the door.
“Hey!” I greeted him. “Come on in while I get my bag.”
“I’d better not,” he said, cocking his head. “Your neighbor’s watching.”
I looked over his shoulder and saw Mrs. Crabtree across the street spreading mulch under her front hedge and peering nosily at us. She’d definitely tell Aunt Theresa if she saw Rigel come into the house—in fact, she’d already done it once and I’d caught holy hell for it. I suspected my aunt had enlisted every neighbor who was home during the day to spy on me when she couldn’t be here.
“Fine.” I gave Mrs. Crabtree a pointed glare that at least made her glance away. “Be right back.”
Leaving him standing on the porch, I ran up to my room, grabbed my gear bag and ran back down, not wanting to waste a moment I could be spending with Rigel.
“That was quick,” he said with a grin when I rejoined him, then took my bag to carry it for me.
I locked the door and we headed into town, all of a block and a half away. “So, tell me what you think the deal is with the O’Garas,” I said, once I was sure Mrs. Crabtree couldn’t hear.
“I really don’t know any more than I already told you,” he said—evasively, I thought.
I looked sharply at him, trying to decipher the mix of emotions I sensed. Uneasiness and irritation definitely, and maybe something else.
“I didn’t ask what you know, I asked what you think,” I pointed out. “This morning, you sounded like you had a theory.”
“I have several theories,” he said after just a slight hesitation, “but they mostly involve wildly improbable political and military scenarios. I’ve probably been playing too much Starcraft lately. Until we actually know something, there’s no point assuming there’s more going on than they’ve told us.”
He transferred my gear bag to his left hand so he could hold mine with his right. Though his touch gave me the same thrill as always, it also let his emotions come though more strongly and I was sure now that he was keeping something from me.
“So you don’t think they’re conspiring with Allister to ship me off to Montana or Ireland or something?” Those were the two main Martian settlements on Earth—and that was the possibility that worried me most.
Rigel gave my hand a squeeze. “I don’t think so, no. If they are, we definitely won’t let them get away with it.”
“Promise?” I stopped walking to make him look at me. He did.
“Promise,” he said, holding my gaze until I was sure he was telling me the truth. “Haven’t I sworn I won’t let anything happen to you, M?”
I relaxed enough to start walking again, but said, “There’s more you’re not telling me. Can’t you at least share one theory? What did you start to say this morning?”
“You’re a little too perceptive sometimes, yo
u know that? Okay, probably the most likely thing I can think of is that Allister’s hoping you’ll spend more time with Molly . . . and Sean . . . and less with me. That they’ll have an easier time getting you on board with the whole Sovereign thing than he’s had. Get you invested in it.”
“And that worries you.” It was a statement, since I could feel it from him.
He just shrugged, and I let it drop. For now. I’d get more out of him eventually. But as long as nobody was trying to take me away from Rigel, I could face whatever political machinations they might be planning.
“So, want to try meeting at the arboretum tonight, since last night didn’t work out?” I asked after we’d walked a little way in silence.
Rigel grimaced and I could feel a new frustration emanating from him. “I don’t think I can. My grandfather arrives tonight so they’ll expect me to stick around.”
“Oh, that’s right. But . . . I thought you were looking forward to seeing him?”
He shrugged. “I am. But I’d much rather spend time with you. It feels like we never get any time alone lately.”
It did feel that way. I mostly blamed Aunt Theresa and all her stupid rules, but Rigel’s folks didn’t seem quite as eager to have us spend time together as they used to, either. Or maybe I was just being paranoid.
“Once Allister leaves it’ll be better,” I said, willing it to be true.
“Yeah.” But he sounded less than positive about it.
The past month had been hands-down the happiest of my life. By, like, several orders of magnitude. Which meant I was both terrified it couldn’t last, and determined to fight tooth and nail if anyone tried to take it away from me.
That line of thinking—not to mention the energy boost from Rigel’s goodbye kiss at the door of the do jang—put me in an interesting mood for taekwondo class. I’d been steadily improving ever since Rigel and I had first touched in late August, but today it was like I was supercharged.
Master Parker came over to me after class ended. “Marsha, your sparring today was spectacular. I’d really like you to consider entering the regional tournament coming up in February. I think you’d do the school proud.”
