Starstruck (33 page)

I hugged the note to my chest, comforted beyond all reason by those last few words. It really
was
all an act to keep me safe! I knew I should flush the note, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I folded it up really small and tucked it into my bra, grateful that I no longer had to deal with gym class.

Rigel’s hidden note helped me cope with what was otherwise a really yucky day. For one thing, the nausea and aches had been getting worse and worse as the week went on. The only relief had been in English, where I sat right behind Rigel, and Science, where I sat right in front of him.

But today Rigel was taking avoiding me to new lengths. He seemed to be actively encouraging not only Trina, but the other cheerleaders, as well. It was bad enough in first period—Deb hissed her indignation to me—but even worse in English.

Right
directly
in front of me, he laughed at Trina’s lame jokes and murmured stuff back to her in what I considered an unnecessarily sexy voice. When she put her hand over his, on
his
desk, he didn’t pull away. Even after class started, she kept sending flirty glances over her shoulder at him and I could tell from her reactions that he was totally going along with it.

I was struggling so hard to keep from crying that if I was getting any benefit from having Rigel so close, I couldn’t feel it. I just wanted to die, and honestly couldn’t tell if I was in more emotional or physical pain. I kept repeating to myself that he was only doing this because Mr. Smith was watching. I had his note to prove it. But did he have to be so convincing?

Science was a little better, if only because I couldn’t actually see what was going on behind me. I did my best not to listen, but I thought, just maybe, Rigel wasn’t being quite as encouraging now. It comforted me a little. But only a little.

“Marsha, what’s wrong?” Will whispered partway through class. We were supposed to be taking turns sorting rocks into piles depending on their type—igneous, sedimentary, etc.—and I kept missing my turn. “You look a little sick.”

I felt a little sick. More than a little, actually, but I managed a smile. “Sorry. I didn’t sleep very well last night.” That was true enough, even if it was only a tiny part of the whole truth.

“Well, here, let me do those. We’re way behind everyone else,” he said, sliding half of my pile into his.

“Thanks.” I didn’t even try to argue, which showed just how awful I was feeling.

At lunch, Rigel was surrounded by cheerleaders again. I sat with my back to them all and played with my food.

“C’mon, M,” Bri said, kicking me under the table. “You can’t let him get to you like this. Eat.” She glared over my shoulder and I knew all too well what she was looking at.

“I’m not hungry.” Massive understatement since I thought I might throw up. “Maybe I have a stomach bug or something.”

“Y’know, I think Rigel misses you more than he’s letting on,” Bri commented after a moment. “He’s smiling and all, but it doesn’t look like his heart is in it. His color looks off—kind of like yours.”

That reminded me of what Trina had said in Health class on Monday—and that I still really, really needed to talk to Rigel to find out exactly what his folks had said last night about Mr. Smith. He might even have talked to them on his cell since this morning.

After lunch, I checked my locker for another note, but I didn’t find one—not even when I dug through the old papers on the bottom. Disgusted, I threw them all out, leaving the bottom bare so I couldn’t possibly miss any future notes. I wrote another quick note of my own that just said,
Any news?
and dropped it onto Rigel’s desk in History as I walked past it to my own.

It was risky, but I didn’t care much at this point. And not really so risky, since it disappeared into Rigel’s pocket before anyone else could see it. Still, he half-turned to give me a quick glare. I just smiled blandly back.

I didn’t get an answer until the end of the day when, after detouring to check my locker between every single class, I finally found another note. There was nothing warm and tingly about this one, though.

Shim says it’s not him. All I know. Do NOT pass notes in class again.

Not even an initial at the end. Hmph. And even if Smith wasn’t Morven, he was somebody bad. I just
had
to figure out some way to actually talk to Rigel and find out what was going on.

By the time I got on the bus, I was feeling so lousy I told Bri and Deb I wasn’t sure I’d be able to come to tonight’s game, even though it was at home.

“What?” Bri was aghast. “No! You have to come. If you don’t, it’s like forfeiting to Trina! Everybody will think you stayed away because of Rigel.”

Deb nodded. “She’s right, M. Unless you’re really sick?” She looked at me in concern.

“Yeah, actually, I—”

But Bri cut me off. “We’ll pick you up for the game. If you start feeling worse—and I mean only if you’re throwing up or something—call me.”

“And my mom can drive you home if you start feeling really bad,” Deb offered. “She’s just coming to sell t-shirts before the game and doesn’t have to stay.”

“Okay, okay,” I caved, against my better judgment.

But by the time Bri’s mom came by to pick me up, I decided it was just as well I was going. There would be tons of people swarming around Rigel before the game to wish him luck, and there was no reason I couldn’t do the same. I’d written another long note asking a bunch of questions, and that would be a perfect chance to slip it to him unnoticed. I could totally ignore Trina.

We got to the stadium well before kickoff, while the players were doing drills out on the field. Bri and Deb and I staked out our now usual spot near the fifty yard line, three rows up, but I didn’t even sit before I headed down to the sidelines. The players had just taken a break, and all the early birds were converging on them.

I made a beeline toward Rigel—along with at least half of the fans and pretty much all of the cheerleaders—with my note clutched in my hand. He didn’t see me until I was just a few yards away, but I saw his eyes widen with alarm when he spotted me. I knew he was going to try to motion me away, but I didn’t care. I was determined to at least give him the note.

I shouldered my way through the crowd, occasionally losing sight of him, since most of the people in front of me were taller than I was. Finally I broke through, just an arm’s length away from him—only to see Trina right next to him, flanked by two of her fellow cheerleaders.

She saw me at the same time I saw her, and gave me an evil smile before flinging herself into Rigel’s arms.

“Good luck, Rigel,” she cooed. “I just know you’re going to have a
fabulous
game, with me cheering for you!”

Then, right in front of my face, she planted a big kiss directly on Rigel’s mouth.

I froze, disbelieving, waiting for him to push her away. But he didn’t. His eyes locked with mine for a split second, and then he turned half away from me and kissed her back. Actually kissed her back!

I heard a weird, strangled sound then realized it was coming from my own throat. Blinded by sudden tears, I whipped around and forced my way back through the crowd, back to the stands, my undelivered note a crushed wad in my fist. I could tell as soon as I reached them that Bri and Deb had seen exactly what I had, but I absolutely did not want to hear whatever they had to say about it.

“Deb, can your mom take me home?” I asked in a tight little voice. “I . . . I’m feeling really sick.”

All the pity I didn’t want was evident in her eyes, but she only said, “Sure. Let’s go find her.”

It seemed forever before Mrs. Andrews could hand off the t-shirt sales to someone else, but finally, just a couple minutes after kickoff, we were headed to the parking lot.

“I really appreciate this,” I said as we reached the car. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Marsha.” Her voice was kind. “You really shouldn’t have come at all if you weren’t feeling well.”

“No,” I agreed. “I really shouldn’t have.”

I was glad she didn’t insist on coming to the door with me. I waited until she drove away, then sat on the front porch and stared into the dark for the next two hours, trying unsuccessfully to keep my mind blank. Finally, when I saw other people driving up the street on their way home from the game, I went inside.

“You didn’t mention that Jewel lost last night,” Uncle Louie greeted me when I dragged myself down to breakfast the next morning, pointing at the sports section open in front of him. “Your guy Rigel have an off game?”

I shrugged, trying to hide my surprise. “I guess. We’ve still had an amazing season so far, though.”

He agreed with that, then went on to speculate about the sectionals coming up.

I didn’t really listen. I was thinking about last night—again. As if obsessing and crying half the night hadn’t been enough. I knew I shouldn’t be glad the team lost, but I couldn’t help hoping, in the most petty part of my mind, that Rigel felt every bit as lousy as I did. It seemed only fair.

“You’d better eat and get started on your chores,” Aunt Theresa said. Her interruption was actually welcome until she added, “You have your belt test today, remember.”

Crap. I never would have forgotten about that BR—Before Rigel. Nor was I at all confident I could pass, given how I was feeling. But first I had to get through the bathroom cleaning and lawn mowing without letting on how sick and weak I felt. The last thing I needed was Aunt Theresa deciding I had to see a doctor.

Mowing took a lot more out of me than usual, even though it was overcast and cooler today. It also took longer, which meant I had less time to rest before leaving for taekwondo.

The belt test was a disaster. I couldn’t seem to remember my form, and even though two weeks ago I’d been doing great with my roundhouse kick against the targets, I just could
not
get the board to break. Finally, Master Parker took me aside.

“Marsha, I think you’d better retest in a couple of weeks, when you’re feeling better. I’m surprised your aunt even let you come, as sick as you seem to be.”

Was it really
that
obvious? “I, um, I didn’t feel bad when I got up, sir,” I lied, since it really wasn’t Aunt Theresa’s fault. “I guess it’s just something that came on quickly.”

“Let’s hope it will pass as quickly,” he said. “I’d hate to see you lose all the progress you’ve made over the past month or two.”

“Me too, sir,” I said meekly, not feeling up to any explanations even if I’d had one I could share.

It was starting to mist as I walked home, but I didn’t hurry. With every step, I went deeper into wallow-mode, telling myself I was the lamest person who ever lived. First I lose my soul-mate to Trina, of all people, and now I can’t even pass a belt test that several little bitty kids passed without difficulty.

No matter how slowly I went, though, I had to reach home eventually. I tried to pull myself together before going inside.

Bri had called while I was at class, so I called her back as soon as Aunt Theresa gave me the message, ready for any distraction from my most recent screwup. But her first words brought me right back to the
other
topic I wanted to avoid.

“Wow, you really know which games to miss, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I heard we lost. That’s too bad.”

She sighed heavily, but then said, “Well, maybe you won’t feel as bad when you hear why. Rigel was even worse than last week. He could barely complete a pass at all! In fact, he was so bad, the coach
benched
him halfway through the third quarter, if you can believe it.”

“Benched him? No way!” Again, I felt guilty for wishing this on him—until the persistent vision of him kissing Trina smacked me again in my mind’s eye.

“Way. Not that it helped. Bryce came in, but he wasn’t much better, plus by then we were too far behind to catch up anyway.”

I almost asked how Trina had acted, but thought better of it. “So, no after party?” I asked instead, hoping that was oblique enough.

“If there was, I didn’t hear about it. And I don’t think there was. Everybody was pretty dejected. Not that I felt sorry for Rigel, after what he did,” she added loyally.

“So, what are you up to today?” I asked, to change the subject.

“Oh, that’s why I called! Deb’s sister Maggie is in town for the weekend, and she offered to take us all shopping in Kokomo this afternoon. Won’t that be fun?” I thought her enthusiasm sounded a little forced.

I was grateful for her effort, but said, “I really can’t. I’ve got a lot of homework, and I’m . . . still not feeling great.”

“But that’s exactly why you should come! You need to get your mind off of . . . things. How about if we promise not to mention Rigel—or any boys—the whole time?”

She was right, of course, but I was feeling seriously queasy again and my headache was taking on migraine proportions. “No, I mean I think I might really be coming down with something,” I told her. “And before you say it, it’s
not
just in my head.”

Though it
was
because of Rigel. Our connection had always been physical as well as emotional, even before we knew each other.

“Oh. Well, okay.” I wasn’t sure if she sounded disappointed or relieved, and couldn’t bring myself to care. “Feel better. Take a nap or something.”