by Brenda Hiatt
“Maybe in a day or two?” I suggested.
“Absolutely,” Molly agreed. “I’m sure Mum can make her see reason. She thinks your aunt is so strict because she worries about you. Plus she, um, doesn’t seem to relate very well to teenagers.”
Bri and Deb burst out laughing at this massive understatement. “I think M’s Aunt time-traveled here from the 1930’s,” Bri declared between giggles. “They don’t come any more old-fashioned.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty old school,” I agreed. “Thinks kids should be seen and not heard, never out past ten until they’re either twenty-one or married, that sort of thing.”
“We’ll still try,” Molly promised as she turned to go, then whispered to me, “We’ll use the tutoring excuse if nothing else works.”
When I got home to a long list of chores and explicit instructions not to use the phone, the idea of running away appealed more than ever.
At bedtime I tried to comfort myself by rereading the endings of a couple of books where the main characters had gone through hell before finally getting their happily-ever-afters. It only helped a little.
By the next morning I was ready to tell Molly I was willing to accept any help she or her parents could give me. Unfortunately, Sean was waiting at the bus stop, too, and they both wore such troubled expressions, I was immediately distracted.
“Hey, guys, what’s wrong?” I greeted them.
“Why didn’t you tell me the real reason you were grounded?” Molly asked, hurt evident in her gray eyes. “It wasn’t about the party at all.”
I had a serious oh, crap moment but tried to hide it. “What do you . . . I mean, who . . . what did you hear? And from who?” Okay, so I didn’t hide it all that well.
“Your aunt told our mum about you and Stuart sneaking out at midnight Sunday night.” Sean looked totally judgmental. “What were you thinking? What was he thinking?”
Irritation wiped out embarrassed confusion. “We needed to talk—privately.”
“Like you can’t do that at school? Like, say, during lunch yesterday? Without taking any stupid risks with your safety?”
Even though he was right, even though Rigel had pretty much said the same thing, I flared at him. “Why is it any business of yours? Or your mother’s?”
Sean glanced down the street. The two other kids—both freshmen—who boarded at our stop were heading our way, so he lowered his voice. “You know exactly why it’s our business, Emileia. Anything that puts you at risk is the business of every Echtran who cares about our people’s future. But maybe you don’t count as one of those?”
“Sean!” Molly hissed at him, clearly aghast. “Of course she cares!”
I just glared at both of them, since the two freshmen were close enough to hear us now. Plus I wasn’t sure what to say in my defense, since I didn’t care as much about the future of the Martian people as they clearly did. Not as much as I ought to, if I was ever going to be their Sovereign.
But hey, it wasn’t like I’d grown up steeped in all this stuff, or like I even wanted to be their stupid leader. And if they expected me to do it without Rigel, I never would be. They could find themselves another Sovereign and let unprepared, disloyal me go my own merry way. The O’Garas would probably consider my thoughts blasphemous, but I didn’t care.
I boarded the bus with a combination of rebellion, fear and guilt churning in my stomach.
Sean sat in the back with a couple of other jocks but Molly, to my surprise, sat next to me. The guilt got worse, since none of this was her fault. I had lied about the reason I was grounded, and then I’d snapped at her along with Sean when he went all protective and patriotic on me. I was groping for a not-too-embarrassing way to apologize when she beat me to it.
“M, I’m sorry if I sounded judgmental, and I’m sorry Sean got so sarcastic and all. He really does mean well, I swear! But I should warn you our mum made us both promise we’d, ah, keep an eye on you at school. She said your aunt asked if we could, and she gave her word. Only it would’ve been nice if she’d asked us first!”
Outrage immediately swamped all traces of guilt. “Wait. So you and Sean will blab to your mother if I talk to Rigel at school? And then she’ll tell Aunt Theresa, so she can make my grounding even worse?”
Molly nodded, looking completely miserable. “We told Mum it wasn’t our place to spy on you. But she kept after us till we both promised.”
“That’s just great,” I said, facing forward again to avoid looking at her, my insides burning and churning again. “Did I tell you how sick Rigel and I get when we can’t be together?”
Her gasp made me glance at her. She looked horrified. “Sick? No! I though the tinneas part of the graell stories was totally made up.”
“Shh!” I cautioned. She looked even more upset at her slip, which made me feel mean, though I hadn’t meant to be.
“Sorry, sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not used to this, having so many people around who aren’t . . . who shouldn’t . . . who, um, don’t know.”
I faked a smile, to reassure her. “I know. Just . . . try to be careful, okay?”
She nodded vigorously but didn’t have the nerve to say anything else before Bri and Deb got on the bus and joined us. While the three of them chatted about school stuff, I wondered what it would be like to live around people who all knew, like Molly and Sean had all their lives. A lot like being at the Stuarts’ house, I decided. In other words, wonderful. But would I ever be allowed to go to the Stuarts’ house again?
I tried to remind myself that I wouldn’t be fifteen forever. In March I’d turn sixteen. (Interestingly, my adoption papers had listed my birthdate as a week earlier than it really was, probably to throw off anyone trying to track me down.) And in two more years I’d be eighteen and out from under Aunt Theresa’s thumb. But two years was an awfully long time.
Rigel was waiting for me again when I got off the bus, and with a defiant glance at Sean and Molly, I walked over to talk to him.
“Hey,” I said as we clasped hands, and knew he was feeling the same relief I was at the touch. I savored it for a long moment, then spoke quickly and quietly. “I just found out my aunt and Mrs. O are making Sean and Molly spy on us and report back if we don’t keep our promise. Maybe we should run away after all.”
He frowned at them over my shoulder. “Making them? Like they have no choice but to spy? I bet he was only too happy to go along with that.”
I shrugged. “Molly just told me on the bus. She doesn’t seem happy about it, and . . . it was nice of her to let me know.”
“Nice. Right.” I could feel his frustration building. “So if they blab to your aunt, you get in more trouble. And now my folks are saying it’s important we keep our distance until things get sorted out—whatever that means. Meanwhile, Sean gets to spend time with you and I don’t. Just like Allister wanted.”
“What, like that’ll suddenly make me fall for him? Not a chance.” I sent love and reassurance his way as hard as I could, and he relaxed a little.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess let’s pretend to cool it for a few days, see how it goes. Maybe if you can convince your aunt you’re playing by the rules, she’ll lighten up, and— Crap! There’s the bell.”
I squeezed his hand, then let go. “See you in class. We’ll get through this, Rigel. We’ve faced worse, remember?”
He gave me a quick nod, then sprinted off without a backward glance and I had a sinking feeling that pretending to “cool it” might be as hard as our fake breakup had been. At least for me.
Molly wasn’t in Geometry, English or Science, so we could at least sit near each other there and talk a little. Not that we did, much. We were both still trying to process everything, decide what we could reasonably get away with, and what risks we were willing to take. As soon as we headed to lunch, Rigel murmured something about working on a project in the library.
“What? Really?” I was so startled I forgot to whisper. “You’re not even coming to
the cafeteria?”
He gave a quick shake of his head and glanced behind me. Again I felt that combination of frustration and sadness from him. “I think that would be . . . harder. See you in History.” The lingering look he gave me before hurrying off comforted me more than his words did.
I glanced back and wasn’t particularly surprised to see Sean headed my way. Though he frowned after Rigel, his expression when he turned to me was perfectly friendly.
“I’m really sorry, M, for the way I went off on you this morning. I was totally out of line and it won’t happen again.” He remembered to whisper, showing more emotional control than I’d just managed with Rigel.
Not feeling particularly gracious, I just shrugged. Undeterred, he fell into step beside me as I headed to the lunchroom.
“Molly said she told you what our mum made us promise. Believe me, I don’t like it any more than Molly does. I may not be a fan of you and Stuart as a couple, but I’m no snitch.”
“Except you are,” I pointed out. “Or won’t you keep your promise to your mother?”
He didn’t answer for several seconds, which made me unwillingly glance at him. He looked troubled.
“I’ll do my best to fudge. Mol will, too. But you should know our mum, well . . . she always knows. Guess you could say it’s one of her special abilities.”
I blinked at him. “What, like a built-in lie detector?”
“Yeah, you could call it that. All she has to do is concentrate and . . . busted.” He didn’t look happy about it, which I could understand. Because how inconvenient would that be?
But right now it sucked worse for me and Rigel than for him and Molly. I huffed out a frustrated breath. “Fine. We’ll try not to do anything you’ll have to lie about, but we do have four classes together, so it’s not like we can totally avoid each other.”
“I know. I get that. As long as you at least try to stick to your aunt’s rules, I think Mum’ll be okay with it. And we really will do our best to cover if we can.”
I was unexpectedly touched by his equally unexpected earnestness. “Thanks, Sean.” This time I kept the sarcasm out of my voice.
“No problem.” His smile seemed both sincere and relieved. “So. Lunch?”
CHAPTER 22
Rigel (RY-jel): a variable star with pulsations powered by nuclear reactions
I’m already heading for the only corner of the media center where people are allowed to eat when I realize I should have grabbed something from a vending machine, since I didn’t bring anything from home. So much for my noble gesture. Guess it’s true, no good deed goes unpunished.
Trying to ignore my stomach grumbling—it was fine until I thought about food—I sit down, thump open my history book and try to concentrate on the reading I’m supposed to do for next period. Instead, I keep thinking about M in the cafeteria without me. Probably sitting with Sean O’Gara, since no way he’ll pass up this chance to get on her good side.
Was she maybe right yesterday, and we should just run away? I know all the reasons we shouldn’t, but the longer I have to stay away from her, the less important those reasons seem. Maybe if we plan it really, really well?
The Korean War can’t compete. Especially since it’s all boring dates and names and politics, instead of actual battle stuff. I finally give up and pull out a sheet of paper so I can at least write a note to M and slip it in her locker. That shouldn’t break any of her aunt’s stupid rules. Or my parents.’
Their betrayal still infuriates me. First keeping secrets from M and me, then going along with her aunt and all the O’Garas to keep M and me apart. Clenching my teeth, I pick up my pen.
My special M, is all I’ve written when a wrapped tuna sandwich lands on my open history book. I look up and Molly O’Gara is standing there, holding out a carton of chocolate milk. Confused, I take it without thinking.
“I figured you were probably hungry, since you didn’t stop by the cafeteria for anything before coming here,” she explains.
Though she looks all friendly and sincere, I don’t smile. “M told me you and your brother are reporting back to her aunt about us,” I say, so she’ll stop trying to make nice and go away.
Instead, she sits down across from me. “I figured she had, but that’s not quite true. Our mum just made us promise to keep an eye on you guys. Please don’t think we like the idea. Either of us. Or that we’ll tell her any more than she forces out of us.”
“Forces?” I don’t even try to hide my skepticism. Like little Mrs. O could “force” seven-foot Sean to do anything?
Molly kind of shrugs, making her hair bounce. “Mum always knows if we’re telling the truth or not. But if she doesn’t ask direct, specific questions, we can probably get away with general stuff that won’t be incriminating.”
I think how my grandfather sometimes seems to almost read my mind. If Mrs. O can do that, I can see how it would be hard to get around. Not that it makes spying on us okay. At all.
“So why are you here?” I ask. No point beating around the bush.
She turns a little pink and looks away. “I think you’re getting a really bum deal out of this whole situation, Rigel, and it’s not fair. You had no way to know about . . . well, the politics involved, or . . . or anything.”
“No, I definitely didn’t know your family came here to ruin my life. And M’s.”
I think for sure that will tick her off enough that she’ll leave me alone. But no. She does look upset, but also more determined. I try not to sigh out loud.
“Nobody wants to ruin your life, Rigel, you have to believe that.” She’s so earnest it’s almost funny. But not quite. “I know Sean has been . . . kind of a jerk to you, but he really does want what’s best for—” She breaks off and glances around, then lowers her voice to the kind of whisper M and I use when we need to talk privately. “For our people,” she finishes.
“Screw our people,” I say just as quietly, though it feels weird to use that special whisper with anyone but M. “They can take care of themselves. M can’t. She needs me.”
Molly twists her mouth for a second, then says, “I keep forgetting you grew up here.” She obviously means Earth, not Jewel. “So I guess it makes sense you wouldn’t care as much about our people back home as we do. They probably don’t even seem real to you. But they’re very real to us, and we do care. All of us.”
“Yeah, okay, fine. I get that. My dad’s way invested in all that stuff, too, so I hear about it a lot. But M’s happiness matters more to me than some nebulous ‘future.’ And none of this is making her happy.”
“Is it really her happiness you care about, Rigel? Or yours?”
I start to say they’re the same thing, but she’s watching me intently and I realize they’re not—at least, not necessarily and maybe not always. But if I have to choose, it’s no contest.
“Hers. If I really thought she’d be happier with me out of the picture, I’d leave her alone no matter what it did to me. But that’s not the way it is. Nobody who’s never felt the graell can really get it, so there’s no point trying to explain. But M and I just aren’t . . . complete without each other. Which means we can’t be happy apart. Neither of us.”
Now Molly gets that syrupy romantic look girls sometimes get. “That’s so incredibly sweet, Rigel. M is a lucky girl.” She sighs dreamily, then says, “And I really am sorry about . . . about everything. I just wanted you to know that.”
Right. Like I believe Sean’s sister is feeling sorry for me. But before I can throw her stupid apology in her face, she suddenly stands up. “I’d better let you study—and eat. See you in class.”
She walks off and I stare after her, wondering what the hell that was really all about. Then I realize I only have ten minutes to eat the sandwich Molly brought and finish my note to M. I start writing between bites.
CHAPTER 23
giola uresal (gee-OH-la OO-ree-sal): a menial servant
“So, are you ready for the big season opener on Thursda
y?” Bri leaned in close to Sean, blatantly flirting even though she was supposedly going out with Matt Mullins. I made a point of noticing, to distract myself from worrying about Rigel.
“I guess so,” Sean replied after he swallowed a last bite of pizza—his third enormous slice. “Coach seems happy with my shooting, anyway. You all coming to the game?” His glance encompassed all of us.
“Grounded,” I reminded him sourly, but Bri nodded vigorously.
“Are you kidding? We wouldn’t miss it for anything! You’re going to be amazing.”
“Paul Jackson says you’re practically a one-man team.” Deb agreed, referring to a guy on the basketball team she’d hung out with a few times. “He says sometimes you’re so quick it seems like you’re in two places at once.”
Sean looked a little uncomfortable, probably because that meant he’d been using abilities no “normal” athlete would have. “Hey, I hope nobody thinks I’m, like, a glory hound or anything. No matter what Paul says, we need the whole team out there to make things happen. They’re good guys.”
“Oh, he didn’t mean that,” Deb immediately assured him. “They all like you a lot, I can tell.”
Before Sean could respond, Molly slid into the seat next to me, on the side away from the others. “I talked to Rigel a little when I gave him that sandwich you got for him,” she murmured, then took a quick bite out of her pizza.
“How’s he doing?” I whispered, my attention immediately snapping back to more important matters than basketball. I was glad the others kept discussing the upcoming scrimmage, so we could talk semi-privately.
Molly swallowed and took a big sip of skim milk before answering. “Fine, I think. Studying, making good use of the extra time.”
“‘Fine?’” I echoed. What a useless word. “What did he say?”
