by Brenda Hiatt
Taking deep, slow breaths, I fought the prickling behind my eyelids by counting to one thousand by tens. I'd reached 130 when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
I knew before I turned that it was Rigel. The same incredible zing went through me as when he'd touched me after school on Wednesday. I felt his hand tense but he didn't snatch it away this time.
After one more deep breath, I turned. He was frowning, but not like he was mad. More like he was trying to figure something out. Finally, he let his arm drop to his side. It took some self-control, but I managed not to reach up and touch the still-tingling spot where his hand had been.
"Hey," he said with a crooked smile that went straight to my heart.
I wanted to give him the brush off, the way he'd done to me all day, but I couldn't do it. Not when he was looking at me like an apologetic puppy. A totally gorgeous apologetic puppy.
"Hey," I replied.
"Walk you to class?" he offered.
I nodded, not quite willing to trust my voice. I glanced toward my friends but they were gone. In fact, Rigel and I were the only ones left from our class, though some kids were already trickling in for sixth period.
Together, we headed for my French class and a moment later he murmured, "I'm sorry I've been such a jerk today."
Hurriedly gathering the tattered shreds of my courage, I blurted out, "So what was going on, exactly? Why the deep freeze?"
He hesitated for a long moment. "It was, well, kind of a mistake."
"A mistake? What, like you just forgot that you said you wanted to be my friend?" It was as close as I dared come to mentioning what had happened when he'd touched me Wednesday.
"No! I, uh . . . thought people would gossip less if I backed off." He didn't look at me, and spoke carefully, almost like he'd rehearsed, so of course I didn't believe him. Strangely, that gave me more courage.
"I don't think that was it at all. I think you were freaked by that . . . jolt, or whatever it was, Wednesday afternoon." When he still didn't meet my eye, I asked, point-blank, "Were you really sick yesterday?"
Now he did look at me. Only for a moment, but long enough for me to tell I'd startled him. After a second, he said, "No. And you're right. I was . . . kinda freaked. I'm over it now, though." He finally looked at me for real, his eyes pleading with me to believe him.
I gave a little shrug. "I was a little freaked, too, but, well . . . I've always had this weird static thing. It's just not usually that strong." I still didn't believe that was all it had been, but it made more sense than anything else.
He stared at me for a long moment, then smiled. "Yeah? You mean you short out computers and stuff? Raise sparks when other people don't?"
Startled myself now, I nodded. "Did Bri tell you that?"
"No, nobody told me. I have the same problem myself. So maybe, with both of us staticky—"
"It had twice the effect?" That actually did make sense, much to my relief. "No wonder it freaked us both."
We grinned at each other and I had the impression he was almost as pleased as I was to discover someone like me. In that one respect, anyway. Unfortunately, I couldn't claim Rigel was much like me in any other way, as gorgeous, athletic and popular as he was.
Still, I couldn't help feeling like this might be the start of a beautiful friendship. A really, really beautiful friendship.
The bell rang and we both jumped a little.
Quickly, he asked, "Are you coming to the game tonight?"
"Um, yeah." No way Bri would let me miss it. And now that Rigel was speaking to me again, no way I wanted to miss it.
"Great! I'll see you there."
He sprinted off just as fast as he had after school Wednesday, but this time I didn't feel abandoned. In fact, I suddenly felt great!
And for the first time ever, I was actually looking forward to a football game.
5
Heavenly bodies
"MEET ME BACK here fifteen minutes after the game ends," Uncle Louie said as we walked through the stadium gate a few hours later.
"I will," I promised, trying not to grin at the sight of my pudgy, balding uncle in his tight, faded, black-and-yellow Jaguars jersey.
He disappeared almost before I got the words out, in a hurry to join his buddies. When I thought about it—which wasn't often—it struck me as kind of weird that a bunch of men in their fifties still liked to hang out at high school football games. Maybe they were reliving their youth or something. Shaking my head at the incomprehensibility of old people, I went to find Bri and Deb.
"We thought you were never going to get here!" Deb greeted me from the second row of the metal bleachers, close to the fifty yard line.
"Yeah, we've had to fight people off to keep a seat for you," Bri said. "We got here way early—figured you'd want a good view of Rigel."
"And where he'd be able to see you," Deb added. They both grinned at me.
I grinned back. My earlier excitement, dampened for a while by all of Aunt Theresa's grumbling about Uncle Louie and me going to the game, bubbled back up. "Thanks, guys! I really appreciate it. My aunt made me do the dishes and stuff before she'd let me leave."
Aunt Theresa didn't exactly treat me like a slave, but I definitely had more chores to do than my friends did. Of course, they both had siblings to help out and I didn't.
"So, Rigel actually asked you to come to the game?" Bri apparently needed to verify what I'd told her on the bus that afternoon. Not that I blamed her. I could still hardly believe it myself.
"Pretty much. He asked if I was going and said he'd see me there."
"Oh, man, I can't wait to see the look on Trina's face!" Deb gave an evil grin of anticipation. "She doesn't know yet, does she?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so. She was still looking smug in Health class."
"Besides, you don't think Rigel would just come out and tell her, do you?" Bri laughed. "No guy is that brave! By the way, M, you're welcome." She winked at me.
Now I laughed, though I still squirmed a little inside at the memory of what she was referring to. "Yeah, I definitely owe you—both of you. Though I pretty much wanted to kill you when you first jumped down his throat."
"He just needed a reality check," Deb said with a shrug. "Most guys do every now and then, according to Maggie."
"Look, the team is coming out to warm up," Bri squealed, pointing. "There he is!"
Of course I looked, and of course I zeroed in on Rigel immediately, even though his uniform and black helmet made him look like everyone else. Only not.
I watched him jog across the field in form-fitting gold pants and a black jersey with a gold 7 on the back (I hadn't known his number until this moment). What made him stand out from the others, I wondered? He wasn't the tallest player, or the biggest. How had I instantly known which one was him?
Maybe it was the way he moved—just a little more smoothly, more confidently, than anyone else. Or maybe it was just that I was so obsessed that I'd have been able to locate him with my eyes closed, in a crowd of hundreds—or thousands. Or millions.
"Not bad," Deb murmured beside me.
I sure couldn't disagree. He was plenty hot in regular clothes—jeans and t-shirts. But in spandex pants, I felt like he ought to be a controlled substance. I actually felt my skin flushing as I watched him moving fluidly across the field. He might as well have been the only player out there—or the only other person in the whole stadium—as far as I was concerned.
Just then, I saw him glance up into the stands as though he was looking for someone. Me? I lifted my chin and smiled and was almost positive he smiled back, though it was hard to tell with his helmet on. Still, it was enough to send a delicious shiver through me.
"—Marsha?" Bri's voice brought me back to myself.
"What?"
"So you are in there after all! Geez! I've been trying to get your attention for like five minutes! Not that I really blame you." She glanced toward the field, then back at me. "I was asking if you want me t
o get you a Coke or something before the game starts."
"Huh? Oh, um, yeah, sure." I dug a couple of dollars out of my shorts pocket. "And a bag of M&Ms. I'll share."
I barely noticed her leaving. Or returning, several minutes later, though I absently took my drink and candy from her. But then the players were called off the field for a last minute pep talk or something. As soon as Rigel was out of my sight, I was suddenly able to focus on my friends again.
"Geez, guys, I'm sorry!" I felt like I was waking up or something. "I don't know what's wrong with me tonight."
Deb snickered. "You don't? I think it's pretty obvious!"
I felt myself reddening. "Well, yeah, but still. I didn't mean to ignore you like that."
Bri just shook her head. "Man, have you ever got it bad, M! I thought the thing you had for Jimmy was . . . well, okay, probably no worse than my thing for Gary. But this! This must be True Love." She said it with capital T, capital L.
I forced a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. Yeah, I seem to have some kind of weird attraction for the guy—okay, not weird exactly, since he's hotness personified—but love? I don't even know him yet!"
"Love at first sight," Deb sighed, fluttering her lashes. I managed to refrain from smacking her. "How romantic is that?"
Though I wanted to say I didn't believe in love at first sight, the words wouldn't quite come. If what I was going through didn't fit that description, what did? "Maybe it's just lust at first sight," I finally said.
To my relief, my friends laughed instead of arguing with me. I'm not sure I'd have won.
A whistle brought our attention back to the field for the kickoff. Elm Grove had the ball first, which meant Rigel wasn't on the field. Which meant I mostly watched him warming up on the sidelines instead of the game. Unfortunately (for our school, anyway), it didn't take long for Elm Grove to score, putting Rigel in the game for the first time. Suddenly, football had my attention in a way it never had before.
Rigel was amazing. Well, that goes without saying, but I mean in the football sense. I didn't know much about the game, but from Bri's comments, he was playing on the level of a college quarterback—a good college quarterback.
"Did you see that?" she squealed for like the tenth time, just before halftime.
I had, of course. I'd barely taken my eyes off Rigel since he came out of the locker room before the game. But I couldn't blame her for squealing. He'd totally faked out the Elm Grove defenders and run the ball in for a touchdown. Again.
Since the rest of our team played like the pack of losers they were, Rigel was running the ball a lot. He'd also made some amazing throws, really zipping the ball down the field, but even the most catchable ones had been dropped more than half the time. With a decent team to back him up, he'd be almost unstoppable.
It made me wonder why on earth he was here instead of at some 5A school, where he obviously belonged. All I could figure was that one or both of his parents had landed a really great job in Jewel. Better than they could find in Indianapolis? It seemed unlikely, but I guessed it was possible.
I was hoping I might get a chance to talk to Rigel at halftime and had been racking my brain for something to say to him besides "great game." But as soon as the whistle blew, the team headed off for the locker room at a run. If I'd ever paid attention to a football game before, I probably would have known that would happen and could have saved myself all that mental preparation.
"Look! Just look at that!" Bri exclaimed.
I dragged my eyes away from Rigel's retreating back to see her pointing at the scoreboard, which showed us tied with Elm Grove, 21-21.
"Last year, we were behind by four touchdowns at the half. Man, what I wouldn't give for a defense that could match Rigel's offense."
Bri continued analyzing the game but I stopped listening to everything except the frequent mention of Rigel's name. I didn't understand any of the complexities of football—though I was starting to think it might be worth my while to learn them.
"So, has he seen you yet?" Deb asked when Bri paused for breath. She wasn't much more into football than I was, except for the opportunity it gave her to watch cute boys in tight pants.
"I think so?" In fact I tingled, remembering the brief moment when our eyes had met, but I still felt a defensive need to play down any interest he might show after the way he'd acted this morning. I didn't want to be humiliated again.
"Anyway," Bri continued, almost like we hadn't spoken, "if Jaworski or Mullins can fix their slippery hands and not drop everything, we could—"
"Come on," Deb interrupted her. "Let's go get something from the snack bar before the game starts again."
Indignant, Bri started to protest, but then laughed. "Okay, guys, I'll stop. It's not my fault. I get this stuff every night at the dinner table from my dad."
We got more Cokes and some popcorn to share during the second half. On the way back from the concession stand, I couldn't help noticing that Rigel was the main topic of almost every conversation. It made me feel proud of him, but it also underscored just how far out of my league he was.
By the time we made it back to our seats, the team was already warming up on the field. I'd missed a whole two minutes of Rigel-watching! After another couple of minutes, the teams headed back to their respective benches for last-second instructions before kickoff.
Trina, down on the track with the other cheerleaders, made a point of running over to say something to Rigel. I saw him smile and nod. Then, as he headed onto the field for the start of the half, Trina turned to give me a syrupy-sweet smile. No question she knew where I was sitting.
The second half of the game seemed to go faster than the first, though it didn't go quite as well for our team.
"Looks like the Eagles' coach worked out a strategy over halftime," Bri commented after our first couple of possessions—with no score. "They're triple-teaming Rigel, which I've never even seen before, since it leaves so many other players open. Unfortunately, it seems to be working."
It did. With Rigel at least partly neutralized, more of the burden fell on our pathetic defense to keep the game even, and they weren't up to the task. When the game finally ended, the score was Elm Grove 38, Jewel 28.
"Still, 28 points against Elm Grove is great," Bri insisted as the stands started to empty around us. "Last year, we only managed a field goal against them the whole game."
I barely heard her, because Rigel had taken off his helmet and was now looking right at me. I smiled, but didn't quite have the nerve to wave. Instead, I held my breath. Would he really follow up on his half-promise and talk to me?
Almost before I finished the thought, he put up a hand and actually beckoned me down to the field. I glanced behind me to make sure he didn't mean somebody else, but when I looked back at Rigel, he motioned again—to me.
Bri was still talking about the game, but Deb noticed.
"We'll talk to you later, M," she said, with a significant look that told me she expected a full report. "Come on, Bri, we'd better go find my mom."
Immediately catching on, Bri agreed and they hurried off as I made my dazed way down to the track.
A bunch of cheerleaders—including Trina, of course—were gathered around the players, along with a whole lot of other people, both students and parents. Nobody paid any attention as I wormed my way through the crowd toward Rigel. Though I lost sight of him in the press of people, I could tell exactly which direction to go and then, suddenly, he was right in front of me.
He grinned down at me, his hair all tousled, his uniform dirty and sweaty . . . in other words, totally gorgeous.
"Hey, M!" he said, causing several heads to turn my way, their owners wearing various expressions of surprise. Trina was the only one who actually looked outraged, but I only got a fleeting glimpse of her face before I was completely caught in Rigel's gaze—again.
"Hey," I echoed. "Great game!" It was trite, but true.
His grin widened. "Thanks. Too bad we still lost."
"Mom, Dad," he said, "this is M. Um, Marsha Truitt."
I gulped—not visibly, I hoped. I definitely hadn't expected this.
Nor did I expect what I saw when I looked past Rigel to his parents, a polite smile on my lips. They were both nearly as gorgeous as Rigel. His mom looked more like a movie star than an obstetrician, with auburn hair and perfect skin. His dad was as tall and dark as Rigel, and way, way too handsome for a computer tech.
Though I desperately wanted to make a good impression, all I managed was a weak, "Hi."
They made up for my lack, coming forward to greet me with delighted smiles that warmed me even before they spoke.
"Marsha!" his mother exclaimed. "I'm so honored . . . I mean, I'm very pleased to meet you."
Honored? I blinked. Why would anyone, especially this beautiful, brilliant woman, be honored to meet me?
She looked a little embarrassed, which surprised me further, then she glanced at her husband, who quickly spoke up.
"We're both pleased to meet you," he said. His voice was deep and pleasant, though it didn't affect me the way Rigel's did. "It's nice to see Rigel making friends here already."
At that, Trina stepped up, practically shouldering me out of the way as she extended her hand. "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Stuart, I'm Trina Squires. I was actually Rigel's very first friend here at Jewel High, wasn't I, Rigel?"
He hesitated for an instant but then nodded. "Yes, Trina was very helpful my first day here."
"Nice to meet you, Trina," Rigel's mother said with a cool, polite smile. Then she immediately turned back to me. "Marsha, can we offer you a ride home?"
