by Brenda Hiatt
“Has he seen her again since Thursday night?” Nara’s voice, sounding worried but hopeful. “Does she continue to improve?”
I sneak down another two stairs, anxious to hear the answer.
“No,” Teague says. I wince. “He said his sister called to ask about her this morning and was told she was feeling worse again, and sleeping. I suggested Lili visit her tonight or tomorrow, if possible, to give a firsthand account of her condition.”
“Not Allister himself?” A male voice I don’t recognize.
“Ah, it seems Allister hasn’t exactly endeared himself to our Princess.” Teague sounds almost amused, which pisses me off since they’re talking about M being so sick. “Those of you who know him can probably imagine why.”
“No need for imagination,” my mom snaps. That almost gets a smile out of me. “Allister has behaved abominably to Emileia as well as to Rigel. He seems to think he has authority over her, rather than the other way around.”
There’s some indistinct murmuring in response, then I hear footsteps approaching from below. Crap.
I pull myself back up the stairs as quietly as I can, then tiptoe into my little room and ease the door shut. Back in bed, I stare at the ceiling and ponder what I just heard.
So Allister thinks Sean can make M feel better when I’m not around? I snort. He wishes! Both of them wish! They’ll see what better is when I get back—they all will. That thought calms me down enough that I start to drift off again . . . until another thought snaps my eyes back open.
M said in her e-mail that something weird happened at Thanksgiving dinner. Could that be it, that Sean made her feel better? Because she sure as hell wouldn’t tell me that in an e-mail, knowing how crappy I already feel.
I feel another bout of dry heaves coming on.
When we finally head home Sunday, I’m so weak my dad won’t even let me carry my own backpack through the airport. I sleep the whole way on the plane, waking up just enough to stumble to the car when we get to Indianapolis, then fall asleep again as soon as my dad starts driving.
Next thing I know, my parents are carrying the suitcases into our house. Dad makes two trips rather than ask me to help and I don’t even argue. All I want is my bed. My mom seems sad, but I figure it’s because I’m so sick. And then I’m asleep again.
Either I automatically set my alarm or one of my parents did, because it goes off at the regular time for school the next morning. I groan, but then I remember it’s finally Monday, the day I’ll see M again, and I leap out of bed.
And collapse in a heap on the floor.
Okay, maybe leaping was a bad idea, but I’m still super excited at the prospect of seeing M. Touching M. Talking to M. I drag myself upright and stagger into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
“Rigel! What are you doing up so early?” My mom sounds shocked when I appear in the kitchen ten minutes later.
“School,” I say. Isn’t that perfectly obvious?
“But . . . you’re sick! I’ve already called the two most experienced Healers in the Midwest, and they’ll be here this afternoon to see what they can do for you. Why don’t you go back to bed until then?”
I stare at her. “Seriously? No way. Don’t you get it, Mom? What I need is M. She’s the only one who can make me better. I thought you and Dad got that.”
She calls my dad into the kitchen and I have to say it again, which sucks since I’m still feeling like crap and don’t really have the energy for this right now. Then the two of them do that telepathy thing for a long time—two or three minutes—and finally nod at each other.
“I’ll take you to school,” my dad says, “but if you’re not feeling better by lunchtime, I want you to go to the nurse’s office and I’ll come back and get you. Your mother has patients this morning, but she’ll be home this afternoon, before Fiona and Brody get here.”
The Healers, I assume. “I’ll feel a lot better by lunch,” I promise. “Unless M’s aunt doesn’t let her come to school. Because she’s been sick, too. Probably,” I add, realizing too late that they don’t know we’ve been emailing each other and I wasn’t supposed to have heard those conversations between the bigwigs. Stupid fuzzy brain.
But it will all be better as soon as I see M.
“I’m ready,” I tell my dad. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 34
Miochan (mee-OH-kan): healing; curing; a major Martian fine
Even though I hadn’t been able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time all weekend, when my alarm went off Monday morning I had no desire to go back to sleep. Finally, finally, I was going to see Rigel again! School couldn’t happen soon enough.
But first I’d have to convince Aunt Theresa I was well enough to go.
The “cure” from Sean’s touch at Thanksgiving was only temporary, wearing off before the O’Garas left that evening. Maybe I could have gotten another boost if I’d touched him again, but I didn’t. It felt too much like betraying Rigel . . . and using Sean.
Even when the O’Garas came by after church yesterday (I stayed home, with Aunt Theresa’s reluctant blessing), I was careful not to let Sean touch me. They acted so worried, though, I said I was sure I’d feel better within twenty-four hours. I could tell they didn’t believe me.
I painfully peeled myself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom to brush my teeth and put on way more makeup than usual, hoping it would make me look healthier than I felt. Squinting critically into the mirror, I added more blush, then went back to my room to put on a bright pink sweater on the theory it would impart some perkiness.
“Good morning,” I greeted my aunt with all the cheerfulness I could muster when I reached the kitchen.
She frowned at me for a long moment, then smiled slightly. “You must be feeling better.”
“I am!” I assured her, and proceeded to pour myself a big glass of orange juice and a bowl of cereal. I sat at the table and pretended to eat while she puttered around, finishing her coffee. When she left the kitchen a moment later to get her tote bag for school, I quickly dumped the cereal in the trash and half the orange juice down the sink and sat back down before she came back.
“I’m glad to see you have your appetite back,” she said, glancing approvingly at my empty cereal bowl. “Are you up to taking the bus, or would you like me to drive you this morning?”
Trying not to let my relief show—or my surprise, since the elementary school was in the opposite direction from the high school—I smiled. “I’ll be fine on the bus, but thanks, Aunt Theresa.” I wasn’t sure I could keep up the healthy act all the way to school, and did not want her changing her mind about letting me go.
Luckily, she left ten minutes before I did, so she didn’t see me shuffle and wobble my way to the bus stop. Both of the O’Garas did, though.
“You’re not seriously going to school today, M!” Molly exclaimed before I even reached them. “You’re so sick!”
Sean was also frowning in obvious concern. “Yesterday you were practically at death’s door and you still look awful—though I see you tried to hide it with makeup.”
I was surprised he noticed. Exhausted from the effort of walking half a block, I just said, “I won’t get better until I see Rigel again, so I have to go to school.”
Molly gave a sigh that sounded sympathetically romantic (though it might have just been exasperated) but Sean glowered even more fiercely.
“That’s ridiculous. Mum said Dr. Stuart is bringing in some top-notch Healer friends of hers today, and they’ll take care of you while they’re here. They’ll probably want to see you first, in fact, so you should go back home.”
“Healers?”
“Yeah. Stuart’s acting sick, too, I guess.”
“It’s not an act,” I ground out, sudden panic making me feel even sicker. What if this meant Rigel wouldn’t be at school today after all? I knew he’d come if he possibly could, though, and no way was I giving up my only chance to see him if he did. “If I’m not . . . n
ot better by the end of the day”—I paused for breath—“your precious Healers can see me then.”
Which was exactly what Rigel would have told his mother. I hoped.
“You’re kidding, right?” Sean argued. “You look like you’re about to fall down.” He reached for me, maybe just to steady me, but I stepped away. Especially now, I didn’t want Sean’s touch doing anything to detract from my reunion with Rigel. Immediately, he dropped his hand. “Sorry. It’s just . . . we’re all worried about you, M.”
An odd, unfocused sense of guilt made me snappish. “About me? Or about losing . . . your precious Sovereign?”
“Both,” he snapped back.
Before I could pull a good retort from my sluggish brain, the bus came around the corner, along with the other two kids from our stop, at a jog. Climbing onto the bus was harder than I expected but after the way I’d just acted, I didn’t dare ask for help.
I did, however, take the very first empty seat instead of heading toward the back of the bus, like I usually did. The freshman girl I sat next to gave me a curious look but didn’t say anything. Neither did I.
Bri and Deb glanced questioningly at me when they got on at their stop, too, but since there weren’t any empty seats near me, all we exchanged was a quick “Hi.” I had to fight to stay awake for the rest of the bus ride, but I managed it.
We finally pulled up in front of the school and there, waiting for me on one of the benches in front of the school, was Rigel! He was shockingly thin and pale, and he swayed when he stood up, but he was still the most glorious sight in the world. I couldn’t get off the bus fast enough. (Literally, since even though I was hurrying, I was moving like I was about ninety years old.)
By the time I reached him, everyone else on the bus had passed me and gone into the building, Bri and Deb with a backward glance or two. Just as well, since non-Martian witnesses to this reunion might be a bad idea. Not surprisingly, Sean and Molly didn’t go in, but lingered, off to one side. I followed Rigel’s glance and saw Sean looking skeptical, Molly eager, both of them curious.
But then, I only had eyes for Rigel.
“You’re here,” I said as I tottered forward, which was so not what I’d planned as my first words to him.
“You, too,” he said, taking a few steps toward me with obvious effort. “I was afraid you’d—”
But then I propelled myself the last few feet and no more words were necessary. We clasped hands and gasped in unison. My headache was gone, poof, as if it had never been. Then Rigel kissed me and it was like all the power of the sun was pouring into me. It was the most wonderful, healing feeling I’d ever experienced: fireworks to someone who’d been blind and a hot bath to someone who’d been freezing, all at the same time. I could feel myself getting stronger, healthier, with every fraction of a second that passed.
It was Sean’s voice that finally penetrated. “C’mon, you two, or we’ll have to tell our mum about this.”
I turned to face him, grinning, as Rigel threw an arm around my shoulders. “Go ahead,” I said. “I want you to tell her—tell them all! Tell them how I looked on the bus. And tell them how I look now.” Because I was sure I must be glowing, I felt so full of happiness and health.
Sean’s jaw was clenched, angry, but he also looked stunned—and a little sad. Molly, on the other hand, was smiling, romantic stars in her eyes.
“That was beautiful,” she whispered now. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you sooner, M.”
“Oh, give over,” Sean snapped at her.
Rigel looked out at the parking lot and gave a thumbs up and I turned to see his father’s car pull away. He must have been watching our reunion, too. Good.
Sean frowned. “This doesn’t change anything, you know. M is still grounded and you’re still supposed to stay away from each other. Her aunt—”
“Sean!” Molly exclaimed. “How can you say that, after—” The warning bell rang, interrupting her.
Sean just glowered at her, then at Rigel and me. “I didn’t make the rules,” he muttered. “C’mon, we’d all better get to class.”
Rigel and I grinned at each other—then shrugged. School just seemed so . . . mundane after the miracle that had just occurred. Really, what was the point?
Rigel, clearly picking up my thoughts, gave a little nod. “Wanna ditch?” he murmured too softly for Sean to hear.
“Absolutely. We can—”
“What are all of you students still doing out here?” It was Mr. Pedersen, the vice principal, or, as half the school called him behind his back, The Warden. “Didn’t you hear the warning bell? Oh, it’s you, Rigel, Sean.” He softened—star athletes got extra slack—but he didn’t leave. “I’m sure none of you want to be late to class. You have—” He glanced at his watch. “—three minutes to get to first period. I suggest you hurry.”
Since there was no ditching under The Warden’s watchful eye, we followed Sean and Molly into the school—at four times the speed I’d managed when I got off the bus. I was tempted to see if I could fly, I felt that good.
“So do I,” Rigel whispered, giving my hand a squeeze as we hurried to Geometry together. “I love you so much, M,” he whispered then, and I could feel the truth of the emotion right through his fingers, still entwined with mine.
“Oh, Rigel, me, too. I’ve missed you more than I ever thought I could miss anything. Let’s please not ever be apart again, okay?”
“Fine by me.” He was grinning ear to ear, but then glanced at Sean, up ahead, and his grin faded slightly. “Though our folks—and certain other people—might have something to say about that.”
I couldn’t believe how incredibly, magically better I felt than I had just ten minutes earlier—like night had turned to day, rain to sunshine. My mind was also clearer than it had been in over a week, forcing me to realize he was right. Not that I cared at this exact moment.
“Well, we’re together now. And it’s awesome. You’re awesome,” I told him.
He laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. “You’re pretty amazingly awesome yourself. In fact, I think you just saved my life.”
“Ditto.” That’s sure what it felt like—like I’d been at death’s door and now was bursting with health. I couldn’t stop grinning, either.
I’d forgotten about Ms. Harrigan until we entered the classroom and the “student teacher” frowned at our still-clasped hands. We reluctantly released each other, but exchanged a last, secret smile as we headed to our seats. Even a Martian spy who wanted to keep us apart wasn’t enough to spoil my fabulous mood.
Class started immediately, but all I could think about was Rigel and how wonderful it was just having him in the room. His vibe felt stronger to me than I could ever remember. Still, I was startled to suddenly hear his voice in my head.
I’m picking up your thoughts so well today! Can you hear mine if you try?
Involuntarily, I glanced at him to see him watching me with a questioning look. I gave him a tiny nod, then thought back, I can! This is awesome! If we can do this, it won’t matter if they don’t let us talk in school. Then, mainly to test this new, wonderfully enhanced ability, I asked, Did your folks try to keep you home today, like my aunt did? Did you hear about these Healers that are coming to town?
Yeah, my mom was all about that this morning. Guess we don’t need them now, huh? His triumph and amusement came through with the words and I had to suppress a grin that the teacher—and especially Ms. Harrigan—might notice.
I sure don’t. I feel fantastic! I love you, Rigel.
We continued “talking” like that through the whole period—off and on, since occasionally we did have to pay a little bit of attention to the teacher. It was wonderful. It also seemed to get easier and easier, the more we communicated this way. By the time the bell rang, we’d nearly caught each other up on our ten day separation, though we’d done some of that in emails already.
The one thing I didn’t tell him about was the weird eff
ect Sean’s touch had on me at Thanksgiving dinner. I would eventually, of course, but for now I didn’t want to do anything to spoil Rigel’s—or my—euphoria.
When Molly met us in the hall on the way to second period, I gave Rigel’s hand a quick squeeze and thought, Now it won’t be so hard to play by the stupid rules. See you in English.
Can’t wait. Love you, M! With a half-wink, Rigel headed off to his Spanish class and I walked with Molly most of the way to Computer Apps.
“I still can’t believe how much better you look,” she said wonderingly.
I gave her a huge smile that made her blink. “So much better. Didn’t I tell you I would? Do you really, truly believe me now?”
“I do. I have to. I just didn’t expect . . . But it’s great. I think.”
I could understand why she’d feel conflicted, between her loyalty to Sean and all the political stuff her parents kept pushing, but I wasn’t conflicted at all. “It is great. See you at lunch!”
Once or twice during second period, I could have sworn I heard a faint echo of Rigel’s thoughts and wondered if he was trying to think at me from a distance. I thought back, I hear you, I think, the second time, but didn’t get anything after that. I’d ask him next period if I’d imagined it.
I hadn’t.
Yeah, I wanted to test the limits, he admitted once English class started—with us again paired with different partners on opposite sides of the room. Wonder if we can increase our range with practice?
Worth a try, I thought back. How awesome would it be if we got to a point where we could communicate from different rooms . . . or from across town, even?
Let’s test it at lunch, he suggested. Since you’re probably still grounded?
I think so. Aunt Theresa hadn’t actually mentioned it since I got sick, but with Rigel back in town, she probably would. Now that I was better, though, I was definitely going to try that “persuasion” thing on her if she tried to lay down more rules.
We “chatted” in Science, too, which was easy, since Rigel sat right behind me. The challenge there was trying to avoid the eye of our new exogeology expert, who was totally another Martian.
