Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
What’s your sign? Check out ours.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
WHAT’S YOUR SUN SIGN?
Teaser chapter
Copyright Page
To the Fridays, with much love and gratitude:
Ryan Booth, Hazel Dixon-Cooper,
Dennis C. Lewis, Sheree Petree,
and Christopher Allen Poe.
What’s your sign? Check out ours.
Chili, actually Jessica Chiliderian, one of my two best friends, a talkative, generous Gemini, and the beauty among us. Geminis talk (and talk and talk), but Geminis can also care. I believe she does, and she’ll soon have a chance to prove it.
Paige, my other BFF, the class brain and soon-to-be fashion designer. She’s totally capable of surprising anyone who would dare to write her off as just another daydreaming Pisces. Sure, the Fish can get lost in the sea of dreams, but not this one, especially not now.
Nathan, a hot, show-stopping Leo, the center of everyone’s attention, especially mine. And did I mention hot? That golden Lion will always be on stage, with or without his mane.
Geneva, the way-too-popular editor of our school paper. This senior’s the embodiment of Libra indecision, which she would call balance, not to mention big-time manipulation, which she would call fairness. Now if I can just keep her away from Nathan—and everything else I want.
Frankenstein, Mr. Franklin, if I’m going to be respectful. English teacher, stubborn Taurus with a fondness for food and a nagging reminder about what he calls honest writing. This recently divorced, not-too-happy guy holds the key to whether or not I get the summer fellowship to California State University at Monterey Bay.
Charles, a sweet, shy Cancer who’s terrified of Frankenstein. If true to Moonchild form, he’s ruled by emotion. What is it about him that always makes me feel so sad?
The Gears of War, signs unknown, but I’m betting on fire. A secret group of guys who named themselves after a video game. Their disturbing pranks are striking way too close to home. If I can figure out who they are, I’ll win Frankenstein’s respect and maybe a great deal more.
Trevor, a secretive Scorpio jock, he seems as hot for Chili as she is for him. Except for that nasty little Scorpio habit of clinging to the past. In Trevor’s life, that past is spelled K-A-T.
Kat, cute, outgoing Aries cheerleader and Trevor’s kind-of ex, known for getting what she wants and creating huge, nasty scenes when she doesn’t. Aries is cardinal fire, used to taking charge. And Kat intends to.
Ms. Snider, our cool Capricorn journalism teacher with a secret admirer. Or is it two? Always elegant, this Capricorn may be too busy trying to get ahead to smell the roses. But she hasn’t counted on the evil Gears invading her life.
Mom, the famous Sagittarius, who’s out there achieving her dream. As proud as I am of her, I wish this travel- and change-loving Sadge could have both a career and a hands-on home life.
Dad, Virgo artist, working for an ad agency, detail-oriented (make that obsessive-compulsive) and a bit frugal (make that cheap). Left in charge of me while Mom’s on the road, he’s got to be as lonely as I am.
And me, Logan McRae, Aquarian, trying to save the world, the same as most who share my sign. Too detached, some astrologers (and Frankenstein) would say. But I’m attempting to put more of me into my essay assignments. Once I identify the Gears and write about the experience, even Frankenstein will take notice. The odds were stacked against me until I discovered Fearless Astrology. Now that the book is in my hands, it’s a whole new game.
1
NO ONE NEED FEAR THE STARS. THEY DON’T LIMIT OUR DESTINY, ONLY POINT OUT POSSIBILITIES. INDEED, THE STARS, THE PLANETS, AND THE VERY STUDY OF THE ZODIAC CAN TRANSFORM OUR LIVES.
—Fearless Astrology
It started with a wish. That’s all I was doing that day, wishing my life were different, wishing Geneva Hamilton didn’t have such a cute butt, wishing Nathan would look at me the way he looked at her. And most of all, wishing that Frankenstein thought enough of my writing to recommend me for the California State University at Monterey Bay fellowship.
It was a cool April afternoon in Terra Bella Beach, California, the way it gets in early spring just before the sun breaks through the clouds. Paige and I had begged Chili to put the top down anyway. No other kid at Terra High had a new Mitsubishi Spyder convertible, in liquid silver, no less. But then no other kid had Andy Chiliderian of Andy C’s Motors for a dad.
As we drove home, Chili and Paige tried to talk me out of my foul mood.
“You can make up the grade, Logan.” Chili’s hair, a mass of highlights, whipped around her face, even though she’d clipped it back. “And Nathan’s not worth worrying about.”
“Easy for you to say,” I told her. “He said he was into me. We actually kissed after the dance last week.”
“Which just proves how lucky you are to be rid of the jerk. Am I right, Paige?”
“Right.” Paige leaned forward, and the beaded fringe of her poncho slammed into the back of my neck. “If all he cares about is a great body . . .”
“Then he’s like every other guy, right?”
We all knew that my curly auburn hair and stick-straight build was no match for Geneva Hamilton’s amazing blond self. And we had all seen that amazing blond self leaning against Nathan Sullivan’s Honda hybrid after school. He hadn’t even looked up when we drove past. Whatever fleeting something I had imagined happening between Nathan and me was over.
“Why don’t you have dinner at my house?” The look of pity that flashed across Chili’s face actually made me feel worse. “Mom made extra shish kebab for you and your dad. You might as well eat it with us. He’ll probably be working late again.”
Everyone knew my dad worked late at the ad agency. Everyone knew my mom was on tour. Not even my two best friends had any idea how lonely I was with this arrangement.
“I should just go home,” I said.
“Come on, Logan. You know Mom would love to have you.”
“Tell Stella I said thanks, but I can’t.”
“Why not?” Chili asked.
“I have to finish the next English essay by Wednesday. A moment that changed my life. How impossible is that? I have no idea what to write.”
“Can you believe how much work Frankenstein is piling on us this year?” Chili made a face. “I bet you already finished yours, didn’t you, Paige?”
“Last weekend,” Paige said. “Do you want me to help you guys? I have lots of leftover quotations from my research.”
“Why not?” Chili glanced over at me. “You’re not going to pass up an offer like that, are you? Put the English grade and the broken heart on hold tonight.”
“Would you feel the same way if it was Trevor looking at Ge
neva like that?” I asked.
“Trevor would never.” She hit the brake as we approached a red light. “Of course, he’s never looked at me like that either.”
“But you know he will. He and Kat only just broke up.”
“He won’t. Kat’s a cheerleader, and I’m only—”
“Only perfect,” I finished for her.
She was the star of our small circle, the one with the rich dad and the full-time mother. The beautiful one.
Although Chili constantly complained that she looked “too Armenian,” Stella always said there would be no nose jobs under her roof. Not that Chili needed any cosmetic enhancement. The nose balanced her perfect, zit-free face and huge, expressive eyes.
Paige and I were the nerds, although Paige’s nerd-dom resulted from shyness, a need to please, and a reputation as the class brain. Her pale lashes were almost invisible. Blue eyes blurred behind her glasses.
Her true personality, the real Paige, was reflected only in the bizarre fashions she designed. The multicolored beaded poncho that had smacked my head not long before was what my gram would call “far-out.”
I’d admired Paige’s wild creations since first grade and even let her talk me into wearing some of them now and then. I’d never let her talk me into glasses, though. From an early age, I memorized eye charts. O-T-F-U-Y. C-Z-L-D-T. I’m hoping someday soon there will be a laser surgery that fixes complex astigmatisms like mine. In the meantime, it’s amazing how well you can get by if you squint and tilt your head.
That intense gaze of mine might be the reason people said my hazel eyes were my best feature. Or it might be that it’s the only compliment they could think of. If not for conditioner, my long hair would resemble straw the color of autumn leaves. And I could work my glutes for the rest of my life and never have a butt like Geneva’s.
Paige had done our homework in grade school and later coached us to do it ourselves. As much as I wanted to go home alone and stuff myself with Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, I needed all the help she could give.
Chili insisted that we stop at her house to pick up the food Stella had prepared for my dad and me, and then she drove me home. We all headed inside to get a start on the English assignment.
Being with them made the house feel less lonely. We ended up in the computer room my dad and I shared—my nursery in its past life.
“How can you work in here?” Chili asked. “It’s so cluttered.”
That was what I liked about the room. I could imagine how it must look to her, though, with my dad’s art table wedged in a corner and the stack of plastic storage boxes spilling out of the closet beside it.
“Want to go back to my bedroom instead?” I asked. “The laptop’s in there.”
“This is fine. Actually, I kind of like its weirdness.” Her gaze shifted to the closet. “What’s in those boxes?”
“Just a bunch of old stuff.”
She went over and peered at a label. “This one says Tuscany.”
“My folks did a lot of traveling before I was born. They went everywhere, all six continents.”
“Seven,” Paige corrected.
“Antarctica,” I said. “I always forget.”
Both of them were studying the assortment of boxes in the closet.
“Hey, what’s this?” Chili tapped her nails against the top of my mom’s ebony chest.
I walked over to it, knelt down on the floor, and lifted the lid.
“Cool,” Chili said, and moved closer. “Look, Paige. There’s all kinds of yearbooks and pictures in here.”
“Is that a golf trophy?” Paige asked.
I reached for the glint of gold and pulled it out.
“Only from college. It’s all pretty boring,” I mumbled, then replaced the trophy and started to close the box. This was my mother’s past. It didn’t have much to do with me and had nothing to do with my friends.
That was when I saw it. An old black, leather-bound book with a sprinkling of silver stars, tarnished now, on its cover.
I yanked it out. Fearless Astrology by J. Blair.
“Come on,” Chili said. “We should get started.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the book, could only stare at the words on the cover. Transform Your Life with Astrology. My hands trembled. If anyone needed transforming, I did.
“What’s that?” Chili demanded. “What’s that book?”
“Nothing.” I held it close, the stars pressing against my chest, so that she and Paige couldn’t see the title. Then, carefully, I placed it back in the box. “Now, if it’s okay with you, Paige, I need all the help I can get on this essay for Frankenstein.”
NOTES TO SELF
The book says—all right, make that advises—that I keep a record of my Fearless Astrology experience. Since I don’t have any experience yet, there’s not much I can write here in my journal. There’s a lot I can hope for, though. If Fearless Astrology really can change my life, what would I want? The Monterey Fellowship for Outstanding High School Student Writers. That’s a no-brainer. And if I get another wish, well, of course, there’s always Nathan. Okay, Fearless Astrology. I’m going to give you a try.
2
YOUR FIRST STEP TOWARD FEARLESS ASTROLOGY IS IDENTIFYING YOUR SUN SIGN. IT IS THE ESSENCE OF YOUR CHARACTER.
—Fearless Astrology
I could hardly wait for Paige and Chili to leave so that I could start reading the astrology book. By the time my dad got home, he was tired from working late and distracted by the covered plate of pilaf and shish kebab that Stella had made. Even with the dark circles beneath his hazel eyes, he was still one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen. Part of it was his thick reddish-brown hair that had never known a blow-dryer and fell across his brow as if the wind had plastered it there, which tonight it probably had. The rest was the quiet, thoughtful way he spoke, as if the person he was addressing—in this case me—was the most important human in the world.
“Join me?” he asked, and lifted the foil from the plate.
“I already had some.”
“Then just keep me company while I eat. Unless you’re busy with homework.”
“Actually, I was working on something for Mr. Franklin’s class.”
Not a lie. If the book helped me figure out Frankenstein, it would be more valuable than any homework assignment I could be doing.
“Good for you.” He set himself a place at the counter.
I eased my way out of the kitchen, then headed down the hall to my room.
The book was almost four hundred pages long and loaded with advice. I didn’t know where to start. With Sun signs, I decided. Moon signs looked more complicated, and rising signs, Mars, Venus, and the rest of them were over my head. So, okay, Sun signs.
According to what I read, your Sun sign is your basic character, your Moon is your emotional structure, and your Rising sign is they way you’re perceived. I looked up Nathan’s Sun sign first. He was a Leo.
I already knew I was an Aquarius, a sign I shared with Oprah Winfrey, Abraham Lincoln, and Lauren Conrad. A sign that wanted to save the world. Well, maybe someday. First I had to save myself, not to mention get to the summer class in Monterey and forget that Nathan had ever mattered to me.
We’d never been out together, and that delicious, lingering kiss in the school parking lot after the dance had seemed to surprise him as much as it did me. That wasn’t exactly a commitment, and according to Fearless Astrology, commitment wouldn’t be Nathan’s most pressing need anyway.
No. That most pressing need would be being on stage 24/7.
“The Leo male shines in the spotlight,” the book said. “He’s easily won over by attention and flattery.”
Attention and flattery. Could something that simple really make Nathan interested in me again? I wasn’t even sure how to flatter a guy who obviously already had a high opinion of himself. But lacking Geneva’s arsenal of natural gifts, I was willing to try. Now if only I knew Frankenstein’s sign, I might figure out a w
ay to get the fellowship.
I barely slept at all that night, and when my alarm went off, I realized that I was still propped up in bed, and the book was in my lap. It was all I could do to get to English class on time.
When I walked in, Frankenstein was bragging to the class about how many bicep curls he’d done that morning. What teacher talks to his students about his biceps? He wore a pale blue polo shirt the same color as his eyes. Even though he was in his early thirties, his dark hair was longer than any of the other male teachers’. His addiction to weight training and attachment to his restored Corvette were legendary. So was his abrasive personality. He’d already chastised two other students before he focused his attention on me.
“Hey, McRae,” he said. “Saw your mom on television this weekend.”
Every head in the classroom turned to look at me.
“I hear she won,” I replied.
“You hear?” He gave me a look that made me cringe. “You didn’t talk to your own mom?”
“I was asleep when she spoke with my dad.”
Before class was over, he’d insulted most of us and terrified the others.
“Bellamy, you contribute nothing to this class,” he roared at poor Charles, the last kid who needed to be harassed.
“What do you want?” Charles’s reedy voice sounded as timid as he looked.
“I want you to take part, that’s all.” He looked past Charles’s shoulder and shifted his watery blue eyes to me. “You too, McRae. Part of your grade in here is based on class participation, you know.”
I wanted to say that I did speak up in class. I just didn’t like the personal questions that Frankenstein was so good at asking.
I said nothing, just stared across the desks at Charles. He met my eyes for the first time since I’d known him and gave me a weak smile. The only other times I’d seen him do that was when Ms. Snider talked to him in journalism class.
Just then, the bell rang. With a final look at me, Charles bolted out of the room. I forced myself to stay seated.
Aries Rising Page 1
