Starfall: A Starstruck Novel

by Hiatt, Brenda

  I’ve been the new kid at school more years than not, but this year is different. Because this year I’m not really a new kid, I just feel like one. Most everybody will know me but I won’t know them. So not only weird, but awkward to the max.

  My mom’s Healer friends say some of my memories might come back eventually. Might. But as of this moment I don’t remember a single thing between last summer, when my family was about to move from Indianapolis to Jewel, and this summer, when I woke up in a hospital in Ireland. A whole year of my life, gone. Poof.

  “Hey, Rigel, how are you doing?” A pretty blonde girl puts a hand on my arm and looks me in the face, all concerned. “We heard about your accident and all, and I want you to know I’m here to help you with anything you need—anything at all.”

  “Uh, thanks, er…”

  “Trina. Trina Squires. We were super close friends last year, but I guess you don’t remember, huh?” Her big blue eyes are wide with sympathy. “Come on. I’ll show you where Homeroom is. We’re in the same one.”

  She holds out her hand to me. I frown at it for a second, then take it, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Other than Coach and the guys at football practice this past week, she’s the first person at Jewel High I’ve met. Re-met. Something in the way she smiles and tightens her grip on my fingers makes me wonder if Trina and I were more than friends last year.

  Not too shabby, if so. Judging by most of the other girls I see as we walk through the halls, she’s one of the prettiest in school.

  “Here we are,” she says brightly, leading me into a classroom. “It’s alphabetical, so you’re right behind me.” Her smile is positively dazzling. I smile back.

  “Thanks, Trina. So…does everyone know by now? I mean, about me not, y’know, remembering anything?”

  She shrugs and sort of shimmies into her seat. “Maybe not absolutely everybody, since it’s the very first day of school, but the coaches told the football team and they told the cheerleaders, so word’s been getting around. I’m head cheerleader this year, by the way! Isn’t that awesome?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Awesome. Congratulations.”

  “Hey, Rigel, great to have you back!” A boy my age slides into a desk across the aisle. “Sorry about what happened to you in Ireland, though. Total bummer. Still, Matt Mullins says you were looking pretty good in practice last week.”

  “Thanks.” I wish I knew the guy’s name. Guess I’ll be wishing that a lot today—maybe all year.

  Trina gives the guy a scolding sort of look. “Pete, you need to introduce yourself, remember? About the—” She taps the side of her head.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry! Pete Warner. Must be weird, not remembering stuff, huh?”

  “You got that right.” I smile. It probably does seem funny to people. Just not to me.

  A few other people within earshot start telling me their names and I try to link each name with something about the person to help me remember. So I can start refilling the big empty spot in my brain.

  Donna Smith, in front of Trina, has spiky black hair. Black, blacksmith, Smith. Nate Villiers, in front of Pete Warner, looks a little like a guy I met in Bailerealta before coming back to the States. Bailerealta, villagers, Villiers.

  The homeroom teacher tells us to quiet down and look at our schedules, so we mostly do. I glance over mine. They talked about having me repeat all my classes from last year but decided to let me stick to my original schedule on a trial basis. I hope that wasn’t a bad idea.

  “Remember to get an office slip from me if you need to make changes to your schedule,” the teacher is saying when a girl rushes into the room, late.

  This girl is almost as pretty as Trina, even with her face flushed with embarrassment—which somehow makes her cuter. Wavy, golden-brown hair sweeps across her shoulders as she apologizes to the teacher, then hurries to her seat. The seat right behind mine.

  She’s just passing Donna Smith when I feel it—the brath. This girl is Martian! Why didn’t anybody—?

  I break off my thought when she suddenly locks gazes with me. She has the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. Beautiful eyes. Definitely need to find out her name. But before I can ask, she turns even redder and looks away. Looks upset. Then slips into the desk behind me, where her brath is so strong it makes my whole body tingle.

  Weird. Nobody’s brath in Bailerealta did that to me. Even though it was all Martians—Echtrans—there.

  A minute later the bell rings. Trina jumps up and grabs my hand again.

  “C’mon, Rigel, I’ll show you where your first class is. I’m not in that one, but it looks like we have at least three others together.” She’s talking a little louder than before.

  “Just a sec.” Even though Trina’s tugging me in the opposite direction, I turn to the Martian girl behind me. “Hi. We, um, probably met last year, but… Maybe you heard about—?”

  “Yeah. I…I heard.” Her voice is soft, but it goes through me like a lightning bolt, or a shot of adrenaline. Bizarre. “I’m M. Er, Marsha Truitt. It’s…good to see you again, Rigel.” She seems to be holding some strong emotion barely under control. I wonder what that’s about.

  Then her name suddenly registers.

  “Marsha Truitt? Wait. That means you’re—” Her green eyes go way wide and I immediately shut up, remembering almost too late I can’t blurt out who she really is in front of everybody.

  “Rigel, you’re going to make me late to my class,” Trina says, again too loudly, pulling harder on my hand. “Come on.”

  Embarrassed, realizing I’m still staring, I mumble, “Um, sorry,” and let Trina lead me away.

  Trina obviously thinks I was apologizing to her, but I wasn’t. I was apologizing for nearly blowing the cover of Sovereign Emileia, supreme ruler of our people, both on Earth and on Mars. Glancing back over my shoulder I see her watching me with that same suppressed emotion in her green eyes.

  And wonder why the hell my parents didn’t tell me the freaking Sovereign was going to be attending Jewel High this year.

  * * *

  “Here you go,” Trina says at the door to my first class, Pre-Calculus. “Let me know if you need help, since you probably don’t remember any of last year’s Geometry or Algebra stuff. We were in the same class, so I can give you my notes and everything.” Her smile implies we might do more than study if I take her up on her offer.

  I smile back and nearly ask outright if we were dating last year. But don’t. “Thanks. I really appreciate that. You’d better hurry now, or you’ll be late.”

  “It would be for a worthy cause.” She tosses her reddish blonde curls and winks at me, then walks off, giving me a good view of her swaying hips from behind.

  I watch for a second, then go into the classroom, bracing myself for another round of introductions from people I should already know.

  Apparently word has spread way beyond the football team and cheerleaders by now, because a bunch of kids come up to say hi and tell me their names, most adding what I knew them from last year. Wish Trina’d given me these kinds of details about us. Her. Us?

  Two guys are running over the highlights of last year’s football season for me when I again sense Martian brath nearby. I look around, expecting to see the Sovereign again, but it’s a different girl. Also pretty, but with darker brown hair and gray eyes. How many Echtrans are there at this school? And why didn’t Mom and Dad mention any of them?

  “Rigel?” this new Martian girl says tentatively. “You…don’t remember me, I guess?”

  I shake my head. “Sorry. It’s nothing personal. I don’t remember anybody.”

  “No, no, I know.” There’s a tiny bit of relief in her voice, like she was hoping I’d say no. I wonder why. “I’m Molly. Molly O’Gara. We were friends last year. We, um, hung out a lot with M and Sean. My brother.”

  So Sean O’Gara’s in Jewel too? Since the Sovereign’s here, I guess that makes sense. I heard in Ireland he’s her Consort. Or future Consort. I’m not exactly clear on all the
political stuff, but I guess they’re like engaged or something. “Nice to meet you again, Molly.”

  “Yeah. I…we…were worried. It’s great that you’re here and that you’re okay. I mean, except for the memory thing.”

  I have to grin at her embarrassment. “Thanks. Maybe we can talk later?” She might be a good person to fill in some of the blanks Trina can’t.

  Even as I ask, I feel it again—that super-strong brath that can only be the Sovereign’s. Even though I don’t turn my head, I’m completely focused on where she is, coming up from behind my left shoulder. Passing me without a glance.

  “Definitely! Later.” Molly nods vigorously and goes to sit near the Sovereign, two rows away. M? Is that what people call her at school? I still feel her brath, way stronger than Molly’s, even from ten feet away. Must be a Royal thing.

  I’m still watching her when a cute, short blonde girl runs across the classroom and practically launches herself at the Sovereign, hugging her and squealing. “M! You are here! When you weren’t on the bus this morning, Bri and I worried those rumors about you not coming back this year were true. I’m so glad they’re not!”

  The Sovereign answers more quietly, but with my extra-acute Martian hearing I have no trouble eavesdropping from halfway across the room. “Thanks, Deb. Yeah, it was touch and go for a while there. I didn’t get home till last night, so Aunt Theresa drove me here early this morning so she could get me registered and everything.”

  “So—” Deb looks her over. “No cast or bandages or anything? You’re all healed up from that accident? You can’t imagine how I felt when I heard that rumor you were killed! It was awful! I cried and cried. But then, just a couple days later, we all found out it wasn’t true. Bri and I—”

  Class starts then, so the little blonde, Deb, shuts up. I’m still processing everything I just overheard. The Sovereign was in an accident, too? The same one I was in? If nobody knew for sure she’d be back, that at least explains why my folks didn’t mention her.

  I spend most of the period distracted by my thoughts and by the Sovereign’s super-strong vibes. Even so, by the end of class I’m pretty sure I won’t need Trina’s help with math. Any healthy guy ought to feel disappointed by that. So why aren’t I? Just because Trina’s a Duchas? Am I prejudiced?

  For the first time, I wonder if I’ll learn things about this past year—about myself—that I won’t like.

  In Spanish class, Trina motions me to the desk next to hers. “So, how was Pre-Cal? I can help you with Spanish, too. We had almost all our classes together last year. Maybe we should plan some evening tutoring dates this week?” She leans toward me and flutters impossibly long eyelashes.

  “Yeah, maybe. So, um, what else can you tell me about last year? Not just schoolwork. Who I was friends with, what I did besides football, that kind of thing. It’s weird not to know.” I’ll also ask the guys on the team some of this stuff after practice today. Last week we were all so focused on catching me up on the plays and all that I never even thought about it.

  Shooting a quick glance at the teacher, Trina puts a hand on my arm and leans in closer. “I can only imagine what you’re going through, Rigel, and I’ll help any way I can! You and I were friends. Obviously.” She slants a flirty look up at me. “And you hung out with most of the guys from the team, of course.”

  “Do you mean… Were we…” Jeez this is awkward! “Were you and I a…a couple last year?” There. I asked.

  “A couple?” She trills a little laugh. “Duh! We were on Homecoming Court together!”

  The way she says it makes me wonder, though. “So…did we date the whole year? Or did I, um, go out with anybody else?” She frowns and I quickly say, “It’s just I wouldn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, y’know?”

  She gives a little huff and I realize, too late, what a stupid question that was to ask Trina, no matter how much I need to know.

  Before I can apologize, a girl with long, dark, curly hair on Trina’s other side leans forward to look past her at me. “Hey, Rigel, I’m Bri Morrison. I heard what happened, so I know you don’t remember me, but we used to hang in the same crowd last year. Right, Trina?”

  Trina doesn’t answer, just ignores her, and then the teacher starts class.

  When the bell rings at the end of the period, Trina waits until Bri moves away, then finally says, “Okay, fine. You might have gone out with other girls, but nothing serious. You definitely weren’t dating anyone else when you left for Ireland.”

  I’m not dumb enough to ask which other girls. Way safer to ask my teammates later. We’re heading down the hall to our next class when a guy with bright, copper-colored hair makes a point of stopping to introduce himself. This guy is seriously tall, at least six and a half feet. He’s also Martian.

  “Hey, Rigel. You won’t remember, but I’m Sean, Sean O’Gara. Just wanted to say how sorry I am this happened to you and that if there’s any way I can help, I absolutely will.”

  “Thanks.” I shake his extended hand. “I met your sister first period. She says we all hung out some last year?”

  “Kind of a lot, yeah. We even went to, um, Ireland together. Seriously, anything I can do, just let me know.” He smiles, claps me on the shoulder and continues on down the hall.

  Trina glances over her shoulder at him. “Sean’s our basketball phenom, kind of like you were—are—with football. And Molly, his sister, is on the cheer squad with me. She’s really good.”

  Huh. So Trina is capable of saying something nice about another girl. Must mean Molly and I never dated.

  I file that tidbit away as we enter the Chemistry classroom to find Molly and the Sovereign already there, sharing a lab table. Again, the Sovereign’s special vibe is oddly compelling. Almost magnetic. Remembering how it distracted me in Pre-Cal, I don’t argue when Trina drags me to a lab table on the exact opposite side of the room.

  Even so, I find myself trying to listen in on whatever Molly and the Sovereign are saying.

  “I’m sorry, M. This has to be really hard for you.”

  “Even more than I thought it would be.” Like before, the Sovereign’s voice sort of thrums through me. I swallow, hard. “But I’m still planning to do everything I can to—”

  “Everyone, please pick up the syllabus sheets on your tables and look through them,” the teacher says, so the Sovereign breaks off. For a second I’m ticked at the teacher for making her stop, she has such an amazing voice.

  “This will be a fairly hands-on class, with one or two labs a week,” the teacher continues, and it’s not till then I realize he’s a Martian, too.

  Sheesh. This school is positively infested with us! Because Jewel is where the Sovereign grew up and all? I could swear they said in Ireland she’d gone off to Mars to be Sovereign there, but apparently not. I’ll have to get Sean and Molly O’Gara to fill me in. They’ll not only know what the other kids remember from last year, but the Martian side of things, too.

  On the way to our next class, Trina and I end up walking right behind Molly and the Sovereign but Trina’s chattering so much I don’t get a chance to eavesdrop. I want to tell her to shut up but don’t feel like I can afford to piss her off.

  “Anyway, maybe some afternoons after football and cheerleading practice, you can come over to my house. It’ll be fun, plus I can tell you more about all the stuff you don’t remember, maybe jog your memory?”

  In front of me, I see the Sovereign’s head twitch like she’s about to turn around. She doesn’t, but she can obviously hear Trina’s flirty prattle, what with Martian senses and all. From what Molly said, the Sovereign and I were actually friends last year, though my parents never mentioned it. I wonder if we were close friends or—

  “Rigel, are you listening to me?” The edge in Trina’s voice snaps me back to the present. Which is all I have now anyway.

  “Sorry. I keep, um, spacing out.”

  Immediately Trina’s all apologetic. “Poor baby. I keep forgetting how over
whelming this must be for you.”

  She keeps talking until we reach the classroom—which the Sovereign turns into right ahead of us, though Molly keeps walking. Man, I am never going to catch up in my classes if she’s in practically every one! I know it’s a tiny school and all, less than a quarter the size of Center North, where I was a freshman, but still.

  This time I end up sitting the next row over from her, which means her brath affects me more than ever. Like my skin is too tight or something. Maybe I’ll try to talk to her again after. If we really were friends, that shouldn’t be too out of line.

  I hope.

  13

  Reaction moderator

  At lunch, when Trina finally goes to talk to some of the other cheerleaders, I use the opportunity to get a few questions answered without pissing her off.

  “Hey, Matt, can you tell me what the deal was with Trina and me last year? Or me and anybody else, for that matter?”

  Matt, one of our receivers, glances after her and frowns. “You and Trina went out for a couple weeks last fall, got voted onto Homecoming Court together, but other than that you didn’t really hang much with her last year. Not for lack of her trying, though. If you’re still not interested, feel free to pitch her my way. Bitchy or not, she’s pretty hot.”

  I force a laugh. “I may do that. So…did I go out with anybody else? Have any special friends or enemies? I can’t tell you how weird it is not to remember anything—or anybody. I’m always worried I’ll say the wrong thing.”

  “Yeah, that’s gotta be tough. Let’s see. There was the thing you and M—Marsha Truitt, I mean—had going at the start of the year, then you two were kind of off and on for a while after that. Until Sean O’Gara got here, anyway. Sorry, man, but she…kinda dumped you for him.” He grimaces again, but in sympathy this time.

  “Huh. Ouch. Maybe just as well I don’t remember.” I barely know what I’m saying, I’m so boggled to hear I once had a thing with the Sovereign.

  Michael Best, on my other side, chimes in. “You were still mostly friends after, so it couldn’t have been too bad a breakup. You even stayed friends with Sean, mostly, though sometimes you and he sorta went at it.”