[Starstruck 01.0] Starstruck

by Brenda Hiatt

  "Hello?"

  "Hey," Rigel said. His voice didn't have quite as profound an effect over the phone as it did in person, but it was close. "Can you talk?"

  "Some." The silence in the kitchen made me fully aware that my aunt and uncle were listening. "Can I have a hint now?"

  It took him a moment to answer. "Um, I don't think a hint is a good idea, actually. How about we bring our lunches tomorrow and eat in the courtyard? We should be able to talk there."

  "Okay, sure. But can't you at least tell me—"

  "I'd better go. See you tomorrow, M."

  The line went dead and I was left with the impression that he didn't want to be overheard any more than I did. Interesting.

  "That was quick," Uncle Louie said when I hung up the phone. "I used to talk to girls for a lot longer than that when I was your age."

  "Louie!" Aunt Theresa snapped. Then, to me, "You'd better finish the dishes, Marsha, then get to your homework, if you don't want to be up half the night."

  Of course, I was awake half the night anyway, even though my homework was finished by nine o'clock. I couldn't stop speculating over what Rigel might be going to tell me tomorrow.

  Was he the result of some secret government experiment? Or maybe since he was so smart, he'd done some kind of experiment himself that had made him extra strong and given him super hearing. And a static charge like mine, only stronger. No, that sounded lame.

  I'd read a few vampire romances, but since he didn't have any trouble being out in the sun, I didn't think that was it. Besides, I was pretty sure I didn't believe in vampires. But maybe he was some other supernatural something?

  I fell asleep long after midnight, still puzzling over it, then woke well ahead of my alarm. I rushed through my shower and made myself a sandwich, mumbling an answer when Aunt Theresa asked why I was taking my lunch. I was in such a hurry to get to school that I reached the bus stop ten minutes early and had to wait, shifting restlessly from one foot to the other.

  When I got to Geometry, I caught Rigel's eye and held up my lunch bag for him to see. He gave me a wry kind of smile and nodded, but didn't come over to talk to me.

  "What was that about?" Deb asked me. "You were so mysterious on the bus. What happened at football practice yesterday, anyway?"

  I shrugged. "Like I said, nothing much. But we agreed to have lunch in the courtyard today."

  "Ooh, that's so romantic! Why didn't you tell us?"

  I just shrugged again.

  The next three and a half hours seemed to last for weeks, but finally the bell rang for lunch. I grabbed my paper sack and turned to face Rigel, trying not to look too eager.

  "So. Lunch?" he said with that devastating grin that always made my knees go weak.

  Trina glanced from him to me, then made a disgusted noise and hurried out of the Science classroom. I barely noticed.

  "Let's go," I said.

  We walked in silence to the courtyard. It was nearly ninety today, so nobody was out there. It could have been a hundred and ten and I wouldn't have cared, so long as I got to be with Rigel—and got to hear whatever his big secret was.

  I'd been trying to prepare myself to be disappointed, telling myself it would probably turn out to be some perfectly normal something, after all my wild speculation. But I couldn't help being excited as we sat on the one stone bench in the shade and pulled out our lunches.

  "So?" I finally prompted when he didn't say anything right away. "You had something you were going to tell me?"

  He took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, swallowed, and took a big swig from his water bottle. Then, finally, he turned to face me.

  "Yes. But I don't think you're going to believe me."

  I set down my own water bottle. "Try me. I've known something was different about you since the first day of school. So . . . what is it?"

  Rigel drew a deep breath, took both of my hands in his and looked me directly in the eye.

  "I'm a Martian."

  8

  Resolving patterns

  I STARED AT him for a long time, probably a whole minute, while his words ricocheted around in my brain. Finally, positive I'd misunderstood, I simply said, "Wait. What?"

  "I'm a Martian," he repeated.

  My brain finally came unstuck and his words penetrated. In spite of the sweltering heat, a cold wash of horror drenched me from head to toe. I pulled my hands out of his and jumped to my feet.

  "Oh, my God. Oh, my God," I breathed. "Trina put you up to this!"

  Now he was standing too, trying to grab my hands again. I backed away. The depth of his betrayal left me reeling. "Have you two been plotting this all along?" I demanded.

  "No! Trina has nothing to do with this, I swear."

  I didn't believe him. "I don't know anyone else mean enough to do this to me. Are you trying to tell me this was your plan? Why? Because I told you about that stupid fantasy back in second grade? Why should that even matter to you?"

  "M!"

  He took a step toward me but I turned away quickly. I could feel my eyes prickling, and there was no way on earth I was going to let him see me cry. Imagining Rigel and Trina laughing together about me, I ran from the courtyard I'd entered two minutes ago with such high hopes.

  As I hurried blindly down the hall, I heard him call my name again. Afraid he'd catch me, make me face him, I ducked into the nearest girls' room and locked myself into a stall. Then, finally, I let the tears come—first in great, racking sobs, then gradually slowing to a hopeless flow down my cheeks. A couple of people came into the bathroom, but they didn't ask who was crying and I wasn't about to let them know.

  After ten minutes or so, I'd pretty much cried myself out. My lips had that icky numb-tingly feeling and my nose was all stuffed up, but I was finally calm enough to think.

  I still couldn't believe Rigel would do such an awful thing, making fun of the most embarrassing thing from my past that I'd shared with him. And I absolutely didn't want to face him—or anyone—right now. But the bell was going to ring soon and I couldn't spend the rest of the day in here. Eventually Bri or Deb or even a teacher would come looking for me.

  So, after a few deep breaths, I waited till I was sure the bathroom was empty and emerged from the stall to splash cold water on my face from the sink. My eyes were puffy and red, but the cold water helped a little, and some extra eye pencil helped a little more. I could do this. I just wouldn't look at anybody.

  The warning bell rang but I waited a minute, so I wouldn't get to class too soon. Then, with another fortifying breath, I left the bathroom and walked fast, with my head down.

  When I reached the classroom, I didn't even glance toward Rigel, but made a beeline for my own desk. I didn't look at Bri or Deb either, but of course they both immediately started asking what was wrong.

  "Rigel looked upset when he came in, too," Bri said. "Did you guys fight?"

  "Sort of," I mumbled. "I'm fine."

  "But M, what—"

  I cut Deb off. "Just leave me alone, okay? For now, I mean. Please?"

  Class started and they backed off.

  Though I couldn't concentrate on anything but my own misery, pretending to pay attention gave me a good excuse to avoid pitying glances from my friends—and everyone else.

  Not until class was ending did it occur to me to wonder why Rigel would have looked upset, like Bri told me. If his plan was to embarrass me, it had certainly worked. So shouldn't he be happy? I felt a thread of doubt, of hope, that maybe that hadn't been his intent after all. Though what else it could have been, I had no clue.

  When the bell rang, I gave Rigel a big head start before leaving the room myself. But he was lurking just outside the door, and I didn't see him in time to avoid him. I tried to duck around him, but he was faster than me—a lot faster. He moved to block me and then, too quickly for me to prevent him, he snagged one of my hands. His touch jolted me with that same sense of rightness it always did, calming me against my will.

  "M! Please l
isten to me, okay?" He spoke softly but urgently. "None of this was a plot, and I wasn't making fun of you. I promise. I was telling you the truth."

  A reluctant sense of relief started to creep through me, but it might have just been the result of his hand on mine. That, plus wanting so very desperately to believe he wouldn't intentionally hurt me like that. But that very desperation made me mistrust my instincts.

  "The truth." I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. "That you're a Martian? Come on, Rigel. What does that even mean?"

  "If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. I did say you wouldn't believe me."

  He gave me a sad sort of smile and now I looked, really looked, into his eyes and saw an echo of the pain I'd been feeling since I left him in the courtyard. Like I'd actually hurt him with my accusations. Could he really be that good an actor? Could anyone?

  Much as I longed to believe him, I was afraid to lower my guard completely, the image of Trina laughing at me lingering in the back of my mind. "I . . . I have to get to class. Maybe we can talk later."

  I tried to pull my hand away, but he tightened his grip. "You did say you wanted an explanation," he reminded me.

  "Well, yeah, but—"

  "Okay, how do you explain what happened yesterday with Farmer? And there's other stuff you've wondered about, too, isn't there?"

  He was right, of course. There definitely was something different about him. Something . . . better. How had he zapped Bryce Farmer like that? And I knew those jolts when we touched weren't just static electricity. Then there was the stuff he knew that he shouldn't . . .

  "Okay," I finally said, "I'll listen. I'm not promising to believe anything, though."

  "Great. That's all I'm asking—that you listen." He smiled his relief and I couldn't help smiling back. "So, can you come to practice again today?"

  Reluctantly, I shook my head. "My aunt was kind of upset about it yesterday. Plus, I have taekwondo class this afternoon. I missed last Wednesday, so I really should go."

  "You know taekwondo? Cool!" He looked impressed, which was flattering.

  "Yeah—though I'm not very good yet."

  That reminded me of my dramatic improvement at Saturday's class, then the other improvements I'd noticed—my skin, my eyes. Could it possibly all be linked to Rigel somehow?

  Before I could think of a way to ask, he looked at the clock in the hallway. "The bell is going to ring in a minute. You'd better eat something." He held up my lunch, which I'd left behind in the courtyard when I'd stormed out.

  "I'm not hungry," I said automatically. "So, why did you want me to come to football practice?" I figured I didn't have anything to lose by asking that now.

  He handed me the paper sack. "Eat. I'll answer all of your questions, I promise, but I can't do it in the next minute—or where people can hear us."

  I really wasn't hungry but because he was waiting, I opened my sack and pulled out the peanut butter sandwich I'd slapped together this morning and took a bite. Then another. "Okay?" I asked around my mouthful.

  Rigel laughed. "Come on. You can finish it on the way to class."

  Luckily, the stuff we were doing in French was really easy—subjunctives—since I spent the whole period mulling over Rigel's every word, every look. I decided there were only three options: he was lying, which meant he probably was in cahoots with Trina, or he was telling the truth, or he was crazy.

  As much as I wanted to believe option number two, I'd read enough about Mars to know it wasn't possible. The gravity was too low, the atmosphere was too thin, the temperatures were too extreme. There was no way that humans could survive there without pressure suits, or that any real "Martian" would be able to function on Earth.

  Which left option three—which I still preferred over the first one.

  When I got to Health, I scrutinized Trina, trying to figure out whether she had anything to do with all of this. She didn't look particularly smug or secretive. In fact, she didn't look at me at all, until one of her friends whispered something to her.

  "What?" she demanded as I took my seat in front of her. "Were you staring at me?"

  "Me?" I asked innocently. "Why would I stare at you?"

  She looked at me suspiciously for a moment, then shrugged and went back to talking to her friends. I listened, but they were just discussing clothes and their next shopping trip.

  Even if Rigel was an amazing actor, I knew Trina wasn't, so I was finally convinced that whatever was going on, she wasn't involved. That made me feel better, even if it meant Rigel was crazy. There were degrees of crazy, after all, and crazy was better than mean. Crazy I could work with. Maybe.

  Besides, he couldn't just be crazy. He—we?—had zapped Bryce Farmer somehow. Plus the other stuff. Maybe . . . maybe "Martian" was a code word for something else? That must be it! A wave of relief swept through me at such a viable alternative to Rigel being insane.

  On the way to the bus, I stopped at my locker to swap out some books and when I closed it, Rigel was standing there.

  "Hey," he said, his eyes searching my face, like he was gauging my mood.

  "Hey," I replied. "Don't you have practice?"

  He nodded. "I just wanted to see you for a sec. And ask if we can try lunch in the courtyard again tomorrow?"

  "Um, sure. I, uh, promise not to run away this time." I could kick myself now for freaking out. If I hadn't done that, I'd already know whatever he was planning to tell me.

  "And I'll try not to upset you."

  I frowned at his phrasing. "So . . . you think I'm likely to get upset—again?"

  For just a second he hesitated. "I hope not. Oh, and one more thing. Can you, um, not tell anybody what I've told you so far?"

  I almost laughed, but not quite. "No worries there. But why—?"

  "Just . . .trust me, M. Please."

  Without warning, he leaned in and kissed me—kissed me!—right on the lips. It was super quick, but his lips gave me almost double the jolt his touch normally did, leaving me breathless and reeling. I stared up at him, too stunned to form a thought, much less any words.

  For a second he stared back, looking nearly as startled as he'd been by that first touch a week ago—but not upset. In fact, he actually smiled.

  "Gotta run," he said, and I thought he sounded a little bit breathless, too. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have fun at taekwondo!" With a wink, he turned and sprinted off down the hallway.

  Still dazed, I watched him go, then suddenly realized I'd better hurry or I'd miss the bus. The hall was empty by now, but from the few curious looks I noticed on my way outside, I knew my face must be giving away how overwhelmed I felt. No, more than overwhelmed—euphoric. Like I could walk on clouds or fly to the moon.

  My first kiss!

  I worked hard to control my expression before Bri and Deb saw me. I wasn't ready to tell anybody, not just yet. I wanted to keep it my own precious secret, to savor and relive and dream about all night.

  Unfortunately, the "secret" part of my precious secret lasted about two minutes.

  "Omigod, M, look at you!" Deb exclaimed when I plunked down into the seat she and Bri had saved for me, the last person onto the bus. "You're, like, practically glowing!"

  "She's right," Bri agreed. "And you were such a mess in History. What happened?"

  "Rigel Stuart kissed her," Heather James answered from two rows up before I could even try to think up a story. "Mallory Adams saw it and told Jennifer, who told Allison and me. So Marsh, is he as good as he looks?" Heather waggled her eyebrows at me.

  Before I could do more than gasp and stare at her, Deb and Bri squealed in unison.

  "And you didn't tell us?" Brianna was clearly offended. "I thought we were your best friends!"

  "You are! And I would have. It . . . it only happened a couple minutes ago. I swear!"

  They both leaned in toward me so we could talk without the whole bus hearing. "Okay, tell us everything," Deb said in an excited whisper. "What did he say? What did you do?" />
  I was still in a daze, both from the kiss and from finding out the whole school already knew about it. "I . . . there's not much to tell, except it was amazing. But quick—just a peck, really." I started to relive it, but Bri yanked me right back to the present.

  "On the lips?" she demanded. I nodded and they both squealed again, making heads turn all over the bus. "I guess you guys made up then?"

  "Um, yeah, I guess we did. We're going to talk more tomorrow at lunch." Everybody near us was obviously listening, so with a significant look around, I changed the subject. "Can one of you tell me what we went over in History today? I wasn't paying much attention."

  They got what I was doing and played along, though I knew they'd go back to demanding details the first chance they got.

  If I hadn't been so distracted, this taekwondo class would have been even better than Saturday's. The few times I managed to focus on what I was doing, I was awesome—at least by my admittedly low standards. I was able to back kick the bag right into the wall, something most of the guys could do, but which I never had. And in sparring practice, I landed more kicks than I received, for a change. But all I could think about most of the time was that kiss . . . and what it meant.

  Or if it meant anything at all.

  That was the question that plagued me all through dinner, then the whole time I was trying to do my homework—which definitely suffered from my distraction.

  Rigel had seemed to be nearly as affected as I was by that surprise kiss. At least, it was a huge surprise to me, and I'd almost swear he hadn't planned it. But with boys, who could tell? If my aunt was to be believed, they were all after just one thing, so that kiss could have been part of a plan to get into my pants. But I didn't think so.

  Needless to say, I didn't breathe a word about it to my aunt and uncle. Especially since I wasn't sure I objected even if that was Rigel's motive. I felt guilty even thinking that, but by now I was crushing so hard on him that nearly all rational thought had deserted me.

  As I got ready for bed, I tried to resurrect my earlier doubts about Rigel—how impossible the literal truth was about Mars and that he might be crazy or something. But by the time I lay down I realized it hardly mattered anymore. Unless he turned out to be a serial killer . . . and maybe even then . . . I was totally willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.