Aries Rising

by Bonnie Hearn Hill

  “You’ve convinced me,” I told her as we turned onto my street. “There’s got to be a way to identify the Gears by their signs, and I’m going to try to do it.”

  “I know you can,” she said. “Here we are. Let’s go get that book.”

  My dad wasn’t home yet. The lonely feel of our house hit me in the chest.

  Chili tapped my arm. “You all right?”

  “Just have to find my backpack.” Why was I whispering? No one was home. No one was ever home.

  I headed down the tiled hall to my bedroom. No backpack.

  “I thought I left it on the bed,” I said. Then I spotted it on my dresser. “There it is.”

  “At last.” Chili grabbed it and rummaged through my lip gloss and breath mints. She looked from it to me and said, “There’s no astrology book in here.”

  “That’s crazy. Of course there is.” It was always in my backpack.

  I grabbed it and started digging. Nothing. No book. I began to panic.

  “It’s all right.” Chili squeezed my shoulder. “You probably just forgot where you put it.”

  “I know exactly where I put it. Someone took it.” A little shiver ran through me. I tried to ignore it.

  “Well, even if you lost it, there are lots of other ones out there, right?”

  “No, they won’t be this one. It won’t be the same.”

  “All right,” she said. “Let’s backtrack. Where was the book the last time you saw it?”

  “In my backpack.”

  “And where was the backpack?”

  I realized how dependent I’d become on the book. “On my bed.”

  “Who has access to your bedroom?”

  “No one. My dad never touches my stuff.”

  “Maybe he borrowed it.”

  “For what?”

  We went into his room anyway. Beside his desk, shoved in a steel-mesh wastebasket, I saw it, not even hidden, sitting right on top.

  All I could say was “Why?”

  “At least we found it,” Chili said.

  “Yes.” I hugged it to me. But I kept asking myself that same question. Why?

  NOTES TO SELF

  I totally panicked when we thought the book was gone. I can’t explain how relieved I am to have it back. I’ve got to find out why my dad took it without even asking. And I will just as soon as he gets home tonight. I realize now that he and I have been living on a teeter-totter. We’re polite and kind to each other, and we say only good things about Mom. It’s as if we know that if one of us moves too fast or gets angry and jumps off, the teeter-totter will come crashing down, and someone will get hurt. Tonight, though, we are going to have to talk. Really talk.

  8

  VIRGO IS THE NITPICKY PARENT OF THE UNIVERSE. RUN THE OTHER WAY IF YOU CAN. IF YOU CAN’T RUN, IF YOU LOVE A VIRGO AND ARE WORRIED BY THE COMPULSIVE DEMANDS THIS PERSON INFLICTS ON YOUR LIFE, DON’T GIVE UP. WANT SOMETHING FROM A VIRGO? PRETEND TO CONSIDER ALL THE VERBOSE LOGIC. THEN, VERY QUIETLY, NEGOTIATE.

  —Fearless Astrology

  Virgo. Sign of Blake Lively, Beyoncé, and my dad. I sent Chili back home.

  “But you told me you’d help with Trevor,” she said.

  “I promise I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m sorry, but I just can’t right now.”

  She nodded, and I knew she understood that I was serious about needing to be alone.

  In a kitchen cabinet, I found a box of chai tea my mom had bought the last time she was home. In less than an hour, I heard the garage door open. By then, I was on my third cup. There are some things in the world that taste better as you consume more of them. Let me say that chai tea isn’t one.

  Because the kitchen table was too big for us now, my dad and I usually ate at the white-tiled counter in front of the stove. That’s where I was when he walked in.

  His face usually lit up when he saw me. Tonight, his expression was guarded.

  “Hey, I thought you were staying at Chili’s.”

  Raindrops beaded on his tan jacket. His red-brown hair was damp and slightly curly, starting to frizz.

  “I was.” I lifted the book from the counter. “But I decided to come back for this.”

  He didn’t even bother pretending.

  “I don’t want you reading that stuff, Logan. It will bring you nothing but trouble.”

  “Couldn’t you have discussed it with me before you took my property?”

  “It’s not your property.” He stopped himself, then said, “You’re right, though. I should have told you instead of just taking it.”

  “Told me what, Dad?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair and headed for the refrigerator. Then he started laying out his omelet ingredients neatly along the tiles. I waited until he faced me across the counter. Realizing that I wasn’t going away or allowing him to change the subject, he said, “I don’t want you messing around with astrology at your age. It’s not good for you.”

  “Why don’t you let me decide that?”

  “I should have.” He cracked and whisked eggs in a clear glass bowl as if grateful for an excuse to avoid meeting my eyes. “I was running late when I saw that you had the book. And I didn’t—I didn’t think it through, I guess.”

  The beaten eggs hissed into the sizzling butter. Smells of comfort filled the room.

  “Whose book is it?” I asked. “Not Mom’s?”

  “Of course not.” He reached for the spatula and tilted the pan, lifting the corners of the yellow mixture. Then he gave me that clear-eyed, serious expression I’d always trusted. “Tell you what. I’ll apologize for not talking it over with you, if you’ll agree to put the book back where you found it, all right?”

  Which meant that he would win. All he had to do was apologize. But I’d have to give up the book. Just then, I remembered what Chili had said earlier. There are lots of astrology books out there.

  I glanced over at it beside me on the counter. “So you hate every astrology book, or just this one?”

  That seemed to take him by surprise. His expression became even more guarded.

  “We’re talking about this book, Logan.”

  Typical Virgo logic. Avoiding my question with another statement.

  “This book,” I said. “Where did it come from, and why does it matter if I want to keep it?”

  “You have free will, honey.” He tapped his finger on the top of the counter. “Free.” - Tap. “Will.”- Tap. “But I love you, and I don’t want your life limited because of something you read in a book about how you’re supposed to be or not be.”

  “Your astrological chart is a suggestion, not a life sentence,” I quoted from the foreword. “Understanding tendencies only makes us aware. If you had a tendency to drive fast, wouldn’t an awareness of the possible consequences of that benefit you?”

  “Stop,” he said. “You don’t even sound like yourself.”

  “And you don’t sound like yourself either, Dad. Remember what you always told me about censorship? That I should be free to read whatever I choose?”

  This was probably not the time to mention the copy of the Kama Sutra Chili, Paige, and I borrowed from Paige’s folks’ beach cabin last summer.

  “You are free to read whatever.” He bit his lip, as if trying to hold back words he’d regret. “I’m just strongly suggesting that you spend your time on something more productive than astrology. Mr. Franklin’s class, for instance.”

  Ouch. Where had that come from? All he’d said before now was that he knew I had what it took to get the fellowship.

  “Actually, I have been working with Mr. Franklin,” I said. Good thing he didn’t know I’d been doing it with astrology and cream cheese brownies.

  Dad picked up the spatula and cut the omelet in two perfect pieces, not a single morsel out of place. That gave me an idea, one straight from the book: Then, very quietly, negotiate.

  “Pure Virgo,” I said.

  His face flushed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just that
Virgos like order and control. The way you have to run across a room to straighten any picture that isn’t properly aligned.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Everyone does that.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “You’re your own person and can break any stereotype, can’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Especially the thrifty wrap.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Dad, I’m going out tomorrow night, and I really need something cool to wear.”

  The spoonful of salsa he was arranging around our plates splattered on the counter. “Clothes come out of your budget,” he said. “Remember?”

  “Spoken like a true Virgo.” I forced myself to meet his eyes.

  “Logan.” He gave me a sad smile. “I know it’s tough on you this year with Mom gone so much, but don’t go looking for magic solutions, all right?”

  “Astrology isn’t magic,” I said.

  “That’s not my point.” He sighed. “If I advance you some money for clothes, will you put the book away?”

  Now, that was tempting. I glanced down at it, those tarnished little silver stars and the secrets they held.

  “I wouldn’t ask you to give up something that made you happy.”

  “And the book does that?”

  I nodded. “It makes me feel . . . I don’t know.”

  He put the plate in front of me. “Just don’t take what you read there as pure fact, will you?” Then he reached in his pocket for his wallet. “Now, eat your eggs.”

  NOTES TO SELF

  Dad comes through for me even when he tries not to. I’m keeping the book and getting a clothes contribution. I’m so lucky to have him, especially when Mom’s on tour. Can’t wait for tomorrow to go shopping with Paige and Chili. But am I maybe too into this book?

  9

  RULED BY VENUS, LIBRA CAN BE ONE OF THE BEAUTIES OF THE ZODIAC. SO WHY IS THIS SIGN SO CLINGY? FOR THOSE WHO DON’T MIND A CONSTANT HAND ON A SHOULDER, AN ARM, OR WHEREVER, A LIBRA CAN OFFER A SENSE OF SECURITY. UNTIL THE CRITICISM KICKS IN—AND IT ALWAYS DOES. THE WAY TO UNDERSTAND A LIBRA IS TO REMIND YOURSELF THAT THIS PERSON MOVES THROUGH LIFE LOOKING IN THE MIRROR. THE FOCUS WILL NEVER BE ON YOU. IF YOU CAN LIVE WITH THAT, YOU’LL BE JUST FINE.

  —Fearless Astrology

  I closed the book and pressed the cover against me. Then, I put it back in my backpack. Paige and Chili had been shocked and happy that my dad had financed my little shopping spree. With their help, after school, I bought a sweater and some new straight-leg jeans that, once Paige made some alterations, wouldn’t be too clunky when I tried to walk or climb into a certain Honda. Which I’d be climbing into very soon, thank you very much. They’d even talked me into a beret the color of charcoal. Loving my clothes but hating my frizzy hair, I’d pulled out a chunk and given myself instant bangs with a pair of scissors Paige had used when she hemmed my jeans. They both shrieked but admitted I looked better.

  All I could think about was what I’d be doing tonight, and who I’d be doing it with. I put everything but the Frankenstein essay on hold and read all I could about Nathan. According to the chart in the back, his Moon was in Libra.

  The Moon stuff was starting to make sense to me now. With only the date and year of birth, I could find anyone’s Moon on the chart at the back of Fearless Astrology. Once I had that, I could figure out the influences on the Sun sign. A strong moon such as Aries would create a fiery influence on a Sun sign. That could be good for a dreamy Pisces like Paige and not so good for someone like Nathan, who already had plenty of fire in his Sun sign.

  Instead of fire, his Moon was air, and pretty cold indeed. Nathan wasn’t, though. He was always going out of his way to help people in need, like shaving off his hair for the Kids and Cancer benefit, although he looked even hotter with his head shaved. Could he know that? Didn’t matter. Tonight was the night and, yes, I was so nervous that I could barely keep my teeth from chattering.

  “Nervous?” Chili asked as we drove to school that morning.

  “Gee, how can you tell?”

  Paige giggled from the backseat. “Well, don’t be,” she said. “The bangs are perfect. No more mad-scientist hair.”

  I turned around to face her. “What you did with those jeans—I can’t believe it.”

  “I used one pin on each leg,” she said. “That’s all you need for a simple job like that.”

  “You’re going to be a fabulous designer,” I told her, and started to get nervous again. “I hope Nathan likes them as much as I do.”

  “Nathan likes you.” Chili grinned as we drove into the school parking lot. “Whatever you did with that book worked and will keep working. Now, let’s figure out how to get Trevor for me.”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “I can tell by the way he looks at you that that is going to be way easier than trying to figure out the Gears.”

  Frankenstein was relatively nice to me in class that day, meaning that he didn’t demand that I participate or ask any questions about my mom. I pulled my sweater tight against the freezing wind and hurried toward auto shop to meet Chili. All of a sudden, there I was, face-to-face with Geneva. Well, more like face-to-chest, as if I needed a reminder.

  “Hey, Logan,” Geneva said in that slow-paced way of hers. “Like your bangs.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Um, got a minute?”

  “Sure. I have to meet Chili, but no problem.”

  What else was I going to say? That it was cold out here, and I didn’t want to stand there freezing my butt off when I could be in a warm building?

  She didn’t seem to notice the weather. Her puffy lavender jacket wasn’t even zipped.

  Shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, she said, “I understand you want to start an astrology column that focuses on teachers.”

  “I mentioned it to Ms. Snider, yeah. Lots of school newspapers have them.”

  “Um.” Her amused smile was accompanied by raised brows over those almond-shaped blue-gray eyes. “And you’re going to start out by trashing Frankenstein, right?”

  “Not at all.” How had she gotten that idea? “I just wanted to write the first one about him because—” I tried to think of a way to explain why I’d been studying his sign.

  Geneva didn’t seem to notice that I was scrambling for words. “That’s a little disappointing. Other papers trash teachers, you know.”

  Not teachers who hold kids’ futures in their hands. And certainly not teachers who have given one certain kid a second chance at a personal essay.

  “Writing about astrology is better than slamming him or anyone else.”

  “Astrology, huh?”

  She might as well have said cafeteria spinach.

  “Yeah. The teacher profile would be the minor part of the column. The rest would be about each teacher’s sign, which would be the same sign as any number of kids. Who wouldn’t want to learn what their strengths and weaknesses are? Not to mention . . .” I paused for emphasis, “ . . . their romantic compatibilities.”

  “Boy/girl stuff? I take it that means you believe some signs are more compatible than others.”

  “They are.” I dug for the most bizarre famous couples fact in the book and couldn’t remember a single one.

  “Well?” She shoved her hands deeper into her lavender pockets.

  “It’s true,” I said. “Take Mr. Franklin, a fixed earth sign. He’s not going to get along with a fast-talking, frequently superficial air sign like Gemini. He might be better suited for another earth sign.” Like Capricorn. Like Snider.

  “How do you know Frankenstein is earth?” That look of superiority seemed as natural to her as her rich voice.

  “I believe that’s the case.”

  Believe, right. As if I hadn’t run a whole yellow highlighter out of ink on the Taurus section of the book.

  “So?” Geneva crossed her arms and peered down at me.

  “So I’m excited about the possibility of a column that combines teacher interviews
with astrology.”

  “Interesting.” Geneva rubbed her hands over the sleeves of her jacket. “Now tell me why we’re freezing our butts off out here when we could be talking inside a warm building.”

  Why did it sound so much better when she said what I’d been thinking all along?

  “I was wondering the same thing,” I replied, and headed toward auto shop.

  Geneva stepped inside the shop lab and wrinkled her nose as if offended by the motor oil or whatever it was in the air.

  “Chili must hate this place,” she said. “Whatever it takes, though, if she expects to take over Daddy’s car dealership someday, right?”

  “Chili loves auto shop, actually.” I stopped short of reminding her that Chili and Charles Bellamy were the top two students in shop. Instead, I said, “Geminis are attracted to gathering information. That’s part of her sign too.”

  “So what do you think my sign is?” Geneva stopped in the hall and posed before me, hand on her hip.

  No denying she was gorgeous. And a limelight hog. Could be Libra. Maybe Leo. As snarky as she’d been about Chili’s interest in auto shop, she could even be a gossipy Aries.

  “I’d need your birth date, time, and place,” I said.

  “No problem. In fact, I think it’s an excellent idea. A columnist for any newspaper should have to try out, don’t you think?”

  “I’ve been writing for The Growl since last year when I was a freshman.” I hated the way my voice trembled.

  “But only, um, well, just features, right?”

  “An astrology column is a feature, Geneva.”

  Where was Chili? I needed to get away from this girl before I told her what I really thought.

  “And you realize that before I can just hand you a column, you need to prove yourself in some way, don’t you?”

  “So what do you want from me?”

  “An audition.” She took a piece of notepaper out of her jacket pocket. “Here are two birth dates. Let me know what you figure out about them, especially compatibility.”

  She’d written them down before she’d even spoken to me today. How conniving was that?