Aries Rising

by Bonnie Hearn Hill

  “She is?” Geneva turned wide eyes on me. “You are?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Yes,” Chili shouted. “She’s brilliant with this stuff, Geneva. If anyone can find out who the Gears are, Logan can.”

  Geneva stepped back. Articulate Geneva. Perfect Geneva. Never-without-a-quick-comeback Geneva. Her gaze darted from Chili to Paige and finally rested on me. Slowly her lips curved into that infamous grin.

  “No shit?” she said.

  NOTES TO SELF

  So now I have to find out who the Gears are through their birth signs. As luck would have it, I’ll be trying to do it while Mercury is in retrograde. More on that problematic little phenomenon in a minute. I’m starting to understand the fearless in Fearless Astrology. Still, I remember what my life was like before I found the book—how I stumbled over my tongue when I tried to talk to Frankenstein, how miserable I felt when I saw Nathan and Geneva together in the parking lot. No way would I go back. Plus, I got the column. And that puts me closer to Frankenstein, and closer to the fellowship.

  It just flashed into my head that running into Geneva today was no accident. There’s only one reason she’d lower herself to stalk me. She thinks I know my astro stuff. Let’s hope she’s right.

  12

  MANY FEAR MERCURY IN RETROGRADE, AND MUCH CAN GO WRONG, BUT IN TRUTH, IT SIMPLY SLOWS ONE DOWN, AND SOMETIMES IT’S GOOD TO SLOW DOWN. MERCURY, WHICH IS ONLY VISIBLE BEFORE SUNRISE OR JUST AFTER SUNSET, TRAVELS IN A FORWARD DIRECTION MOST OF THE TIME. THREE, MAYBE FOUR TIMES A YEAR, IT APPEARS TO TRAVEL BACKWARD FOR APPROXIMATELY THREE WEEKS. AN OPTICAL ILLUSION, OF COURSE, IT DOES CAUSE MINOR HAVOC, ESPECIALLY IN COMMUNICATIONS. IT CAN BE A TIME OF LOST CAR KEYS AND BROKEN ELECTRICAL EQUIPMENT, AND IS CONSIDERED AN INOPPORTUNE TIME TO SIGN CONTRACTS OR BEGIN NEW PROJECTS. INSTEAD OF FIGHTING THE NATURAL FLOW, USE THIS QUIET TIME TO RECHECK, RECHARGE, REFLECT.

  —Fearless Astrology

  Oh, yes, Mercury was in retrograde, all right. Chili was dealing with more than lost keys. The stylist who’d highlighted her hair must have left some of the bleach on. After we left the shop, Paige noticed that the streaks were turning orange. Then they began to look like the Yield signs along the sides of the freeway ramps. Not exactly a complement to her cute sapphire blue tee and gray jumper.

  We marched right back to the salon. The stylist’s Botoxed forehead practically exploded with worried frown lines when she saw Chili.

  “There’s got to be something wrong with this batch of color,” she told her. “Come back in two hours, and I’ll redo it, no charge, and please tell your mom I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s going on.”

  I knew what was going on, of course, and so did Chili and Paige.

  “Freakin’ retrograde,” Chili said once we were outside the shop again.

  I couldn’t help smiling. Chili—such a Gemini—was already tossing around terminology that none of us would have known a week ago.

  “Hits you harder because of your sign, and because Mercury’s your ruling house,” I said. “You’ll be all right, though.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Chili clicked open the door locks on the Spyder.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “I’m stressing too, now that Geneva knows I’m trying to figure out who the Gears are.”

  “We’re just trying to help.” Paige put a hand on my shoulder. Her butter-yellow skirt matched her hair. She looked the way she did when we were in junior high, and she was the self-appointed peacemaker.

  “I know.”

  “You wanted the column, didn’t you?” Chili said. “That alone could get you the fellowship.”

  “But to say I could identify the Gears? What am I going to do?”

  Chili flashed me a grin. “Logan, you can. And she did come right out and say you could write the column. Maybe she won’t even tell anyone you’re going after the Gears.”

  “Right,” Paige said, and got in back. “But we are going to need those gemstones more than ever.”

  I’d read that each sign has its own stone, so we were headed for a store that sold a variety of them. The black leather book had taken up permanent residency in my backpack. Once I consulted it again, I figured out that Paige, the Pisces, was the one who needed the purple stone. It was also supposed to help overcome escapism, and I had to admit, Paige spent considerable time in her private dreamworld.

  Chili went for the brown tourmaline. It was supposed to help her filter all of the information she loved to collect.

  “And besides,” she said, and clasped the chain around her neck, “it looks hot on me.”

  I selected an aquamarine, which was supposed to help my squirrelly Aquarius self feel comfortable in social situations without having to compromise my own behavior.

  Chili insisted on paying with Stella’s credit card. Only one little problem. The card was rejected for being expired.

  “How can that be?” Chili demanded, and waved it in the face of the clerk, a wimpy guy whose pale skin and soft voice reminded me of Charles Bellamy. “The expiration date is two years from now.”

  “We’ve been having some computer problems today,” the clerk replied.

  “Mercury.” I reached into my bag, grateful I hadn’t spent all the cash my dad had given me. “For once, let me pay.”

  “So what do we do while we wait for my hair appointment?” Chili asked once we were outside, our new pendants in place.

  “Recheck, recharge, reflect,” I said.

  “Meaning ?”

  “That’s what you do when Mercury is in retrograde. You check everything in your life twice, especially the mechanical stuff. It’s a good time to shop, though.”

  “All right,” Chili said.

  “And to do research. Maybe we could get a cup of coffee and see what the stars have to say about our good friend Kat.”

  “Mercury can’t be doing her any favors either,” Chili said. “So where for coffee?”

  “Let’s go to Java & Jazz.” Paige pointed at the coffee shop to our left. “It’s so much cooler than the chains.”

  We walked in, and I realized she was right. The lights were dim, and tinkly low-pitched music softened the buzz of conversation. Just then I recognized this blue-haired guy named Hunter Allen behind the counter, his tattooed right arm catching the light like a stained-glass window. He looked up and flashed Paige a sexy grin.

  Chili glared at her. “Did you know he’d be here?”

  Paige replied with a helpless “Yes.”

  “So that’s why you’re dressed so hot,” I said. “Don’t tell me you’re crushing on Hunter Allen.”

  “I’m afraid so. Pretty hopeless, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Chili said, “but he’s in college.”

  “Junior college, and he’s only a freshman.”

  “Well, he’s still too old for you. Besides, you’d have to quit school and get a job just to keep him in tattoos.”

  “Don’t tease.” She reached for her coffee and gave Chili that Pisces had-enough look.

  “If I can figure out Trevor for you,” I said, “I can figure out tattoo man for Paige.”

  “All right.” Chili grinned and started toward the back of the shop. Over her shoulder, she said, “But be careful what you wish for, Paige. Who knows what his hidden tats look like?”

  The two of them settled on a sofa, and I pulled a chair close to the other side of the table.

  “Well?” Paige asked me.

  “The coffee is great,” I told her.

  Chili held her cup in both hands. “The book, Logan,” she said. “Give it up.”

  I read and highlighted. Paige took notes, and Chili crossed and uncrossed her arms against her chest as if trying to contain her energy.

  “Well,” I finally said, “Kat’s an Aries.”

  “Meaning?” Chili demanded.

  “She’s not going to give up without a fight. Baby of the zodiac. I, I, I. Me, me, me. High drama, and what the book calls highly, uh, sexed.”
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  Her eyes widened. “Do you think they slept together?”

  “Wait, Chili,” I said. “That describes only pure Aries. She could have a very cool and mellow Moon.”

  “All right, so find it already.”

  I flipped to the chart in the back of the book. Ran my finger down the column. Oh, no. Aries Moon too.

  No wonder that hot-tempered little cheerleader had thrown such a public fit that night after open house.

  My finger pressed against the revealing truth. “She’s a double Aries, Chili,” I said.

  She looked stunned. “So all of that I, I, I, me, me, me and highly sexed stuff is twice as bad?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Figure out a way for you to appeal to the Scorpio in Trevor, maybe.”

  She tapped the side of her coffee cup. “And how’s that?”

  “Could she give him something?” Paige suggested with that look she got when trying to figure out a math problem. “You said Geminis are generous, and we know Chili is.”

  “She can’t just bounce up and shove a gift in his face.” I didn’t think this was the proper time to mention that the Gemini-Scorpio attachment seldom lasted longer than a six-pack after a Friday night football game.

  “What if I gave him back something he gave me?”

  “You have something of his?” Paige asked.

  Chili giggled. “Just a stupid hoodie.”

  “Where’d you get it?” I asked.

  “I found it at the swim party last summer. I guess he forgot it, and somehow it ended up in my backseat.”

  “Ew.” Paige made a face. “That sweaty blue thing? I think I sat on it.”

  “I hope you washed it,” I said.

  Chili’s cheeks flushed. “Anyway, do you think it’s a good idea?” she asked. “I could say I just discovered it, and maybe we can meet somewhere so I can give it back to him.”

  “Laundered, of course.” Paige made a face.

  “Of course.”

  “You could also say that you sympathize with him about the situation with Kat,” I said. “Scorpios sometimes don’t want to let go of the past.”

  “Sympathize, my ass.” She slammed a palm on the table.

  “That type of Gemini, er, spontaneity doesn’t much appeal to Scorpios,” I told her. “The Scorpion is big on sympathy and empathy and short on blame and outbursts.”

  “Then they better learn. Trevor better.” She struck the table again, and the coffee cup bounced into her lap.

  “Ouch,” she said, and jumped up.

  Paige leaped to her feet and started dabbing at Chili’s jumper with a napkin, oblivious to the flying drops just missing her own pale yellow skirt.

  “What’s wrong with me today?” Chili wailed.

  “Mercury in retrograde.” I stood up so fast that I almost knocked over my own coffee. “And you know what that means, don’t you, girls?

  “Recheck, recharge, reflect,” we said in unison.

  We were getting ready to leave when I realized I had a text message.

  “Well, at least one mechanical object is working right today,” I said.

  I actually gasped.

  “Nathan?” Chili whispered.

  I nodded. Managed to reply.

  The essay needed to be finished. That’s the one commitment I couldn’t drop.

  I got up and slowly put the cell phone in my backpack. Could this really be happening? Was I the same person who felt so helpless and miserable a couple of weeks ago?

  Chili grabbed my arm. “Whatever you’re doing, I hope you teach me how.”

  “Me too.” Paige took hold of the other arm, and we walked out of the shop, but not before Paige waved good-bye to Hunter.

  “I will,” I said. “You know I will.”

  Then I glanced over my shoulder. Hunter stood watching us, watching Paige, with a look so intense that I knew he had to be a fire sign.

  NOTES TO SELF

  Even while I was dodging flying coffee today, I knew why Paige and Chili were so giggly. They now totally believe in the book’s ability to help them change their lives too. Yes, I might as well admit, I believe it too, in a way I haven’t believed in anything, including myself, for so long.

  13

  DON’T EVER DISCOUNT TAURUS. EVEN THOUGH BULLS TEND TO ACCEPT PEOPLE AND THINGS AT FACE VALUE AND CAN BE FOOLED, THEY ARE FAR FROM STUPID. THEY JUST LIKE TO TAKE THEIR TIME, AND WHEN THEY FINALLY DO MAKE A DECISION, IT CAN BE FOR EVER. YOU CAN’T STAY CLOSE TO A TAURUS BY TRYING TO BE SMARTER. YOU CAN’T STAY CLOSE TO A TAURUS BY TRYING TO FLATTER, DISTRACT, OR CONFUSE. THE ONLY WAY YOU CAN POSSIBLY HOPE TO GET CLOSE TO THIS DOWN-TO-EARTH, PRACTICAL SIGN IS TO MAKE THAT BULL CARE.

  —Fearless Astrology

  The news spread fast. I was going to write an astrology-themed column. And I was going to ID the Gears. Thank you, Geneva! Add gossip hound to Libra’s list of invisible flaws.

  That Monday, Frankenstein and I sat across from each other at his desk after class. Behind his smudged glasses, his pale blue eyes were clear and something close to friendly. He might almost be enjoying the attention, which wasn’t at all Taurus. A Leo Moon, perhaps?

  “Let’s make it fast,” he said. “Astrology isn’t my thing and isn’t what I’d like to see you writing. I told Ms. Snider so.”

  “It’s just for fun,” I said. “Lots of papers do it.”

  “And you really think you are going to be able to identify those troublemakers?”

  So he’d heard it too. “I’m going to do my best,” I said. He leaned forward, interested. “You do that, McRae, and you’ll have something fresh to write about.”

  Of course. Identify the Gears, write about the experience, and blow away the other kids and their lame essay topics.

  “You’d let me write about it?” I asked.

  “I absolutely think you ought to. Whether or not you can find out who they are, it’s a unique topic, and one I can see you care about.”

  Care was an understatement. And I would find out who they were, especially now that I knew he was intrigued by what I was doing.

  “First, I need to finish this interview,” I said. “I’m just going to read from my list of Taurus traits, and you can tell me which ones are the most like you. The first one is a love for possessions.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking if I’m a pack rat?”

  I forced myself to stay calm and quiet. Pack rat was the actual term the book used.

  “A lot of people like to hang on to keepsakes,” I said. Make that Taurus people, but I didn’t dare. “What’s one of your favorites?”

  “I don’t know. I have so many.” He looked down at his short-clipped fingernails. “Maybe a drawing of our family my son made when he was in kindergarten last year.”

  Even though Paige had, by way of her aunt, already clued us in about the divorce, I figured I should fake ignorance.

  “I didn’t know you had a son.”

  “His picture’s right here.”

  He turned the framed photograph around. A cute little boy grinned back. The photo appeared to have been cut in half.

  “He’s adorable.”

  “Lives in Washington now. Next question?”

  I felt as if I’d stepped into a mud puddle and tried to yank my foot out.

  “Most of the people born under your sign are extremely successful,” I said. “So, what do you feel is your greatest accomplishment?”

  “Probably my athletic career. And being a dad, of course.” His face flushed, and he toyed with the frame on the desk.

  I could see that he was disturbed and reminded myself what the book said about Taurus and love. It was simple enough. Once in a relationship, even a bad one, a Taurus doesn’t like to call it quits.

  “All right, then.” I tried to think of a less emotional subject. “Since you were an athlete, why are you teaching English and drama?”

  “English minor,” he said. “After my knee in
jury in college, I figured I didn’t want to be just one more coach living through his students.” I felt the tension leave the room. “You know what ‘off the record’ means, McRae?”

  “Of course.” Did he think I was a complete idiot just because I had problems getting personal in my essays?

  “Every failed college athlete will tell you about the injury that ruined his career. The truth is that most of us just weren’t that good.”

  “So you don’t think the injury ruined yours?” I asked.

  “At the time, I did, but look how many athletes get hurt and keep on going.” He leaned forward and looked into my eyes. “What I just told you, McRae. That’s what you have to do when you write your essays. You have to look at both sides of a situation. Don’t just opt for the easy answer or emotion.”

  “How can I do that when I’m supposed to write about subjects that don’t interest me? A fictional character I’d want to have lunch with, for instance.” It was the topic of our next essay assignment, and I hadn’t even been able to start it. “Why would I want to have lunch with someone who isn’t real?”

  “To find out how you feel and what you value. On some level, all writing is an act of discovery, you know.”

  That didn’t sound so scary. For a moment, I thought about saying I’d pick Frankenstein or his monster, but I was pretty sure he knew about his nickname. Maybe I could pick Zeus and explain how the Greeks thought he was Taurus the Bull.

  “Thanks for the help,” I said. “I think I can do it. Part of my problem is that you’re the first English teacher I’ve had who’s been so, well, creative in your assignments.”

  “The next one’s going to be author’s choice, and you really should consider writing about your quest to identify the Gears.” He glanced up at the clock. “Now, is my interview over?”

  I panicked. I’d barely started. “Not quite.” I handed him the list of traits. “Just pick a couple that sound like you, and we can wrap it up.”