Starstruck (39 page)

“I never said that, Trina,” he said carefully, distinctly. “You did.”

She sniffed, reminding me of my Aunt Theresa. “Well, it’s not like you denied it.”

“You’re right,” he admitted. “I should have, even though I knew—everyone knew—it was just your wishful thinking. M is no aberration, and I’m definitely not over her.” He glanced at me, the warmth back in his eyes. “I don’t think I ever could be.”

Trina took a step backward, her big blue eyes snapping back and forth between us. “But you . . . she . . .”

I actually found myself feeling just the tiniest bit sorry for her, which was amazing considering how many times she’d made my life miserable. But this time, at least, it hadn’t been completely her fault she’d assumed Rigel was her property. He’d done all he could to give that impression to everyone. Especially Mr. Smith.

“We had a misunderstanding,” I told her, proud that I kept all but the tiniest bit of gloating out of my voice. “But we’ve cleared it up now.”

She glared at me, clearly struggling to come up with the put-down to end all put-downs. Finally, her voice nearly an octave higher than usual, she said, “Well, Rigel, if you’d actually choose her over me, all I can say is that you deserve each other.”

“Thank you,” he replied smoothly. “That’s a very nice compliment—to me, anyway.”

With another vicious glare at both of us, she made a strangled noise and turned on her heel to stomp off to a desk as far away from us as possible.

Rigel and I looked at each other and I could tell he was struggling as hard as I was not to laugh—not that Trina really deserved such consideration.

“C’mon,” he said, his voice quivering slightly, and motioned to two empty desks.

I slipped into the seat next to him, aware of half the class—including Deb—was staring, but not caring about anything at the moment except that Rigel and I were back together. For real. Such a wonderful feeling
had
to be worth any risk we were taking.

“So when were you going to tell me?” Bri demanded when she spotted me in the hall right before English class. “Deb says you and Rigel are back together?”

I had a whole lot on my mind right then what with being moments away from facing Mr. Smith for the first time since changing tactics and Rigel coming down the hall right behind Bri, so I kept my response brief.

“Yeah, we talked things out over the weekend. I’ll tell you more later, okay?”

“But—”

Rigel reached us then so she broke off, but with a look that said I’d better dish soon or else.

“Ready?” Rigel muttered as soon as Bri went into the classroom, his expression as serious as I’d seen it.

I swallowed. “I think so. Let’s do this.”

Mr. Smith was writing on the board when we entered, his back to the room, and he didn’t turn around until we were already in our seats. As soon as the bell rang, he launched right into a lecture about the themes Shakespeare had explored in “Julius Caesar” and hardly paused the whole class, except to write some examples on the board. I’d steeled myself to finally answer a question out loud, alerting him to my existence, but I never got the chance.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” I muttered to Rigel as we shuffled out of the room to head to Science.

He shrugged. “I guess he’s not paying much attention, now he’s decided you’re not in Jewel. But let’s not get careless, okay?”

Bri was walking just in front of us. I saw her head twitch at his last words—which he’d spoken a little loudly—and groaned to myself, realizing how she might have interpreted them if that’s all she heard. I suspected I was going to have to do even more explaining than I wanted to.

I could almost feel the chill between Rigel and Trina as they sat behind me in Science. It was a shame we weren’t allowed to switch partners this late in the semester, though that would have been mean to poor Will. Nobody deserved to be stuck with Trina, especially in her present mood.

I started getting nervous again when we reached the cafeteria a short time later. This was likely to be when Mr. Smith would finally figure things out, since Rigel and I would be more overtly “together” here than we could be in class. As I followed Rigel through the lunch line, filling my tray almost randomly, I discreetly scanned the lunchroom. Smith didn’t seem to be here yet.

We both went to sit at my usual table, joining Bri and Deb and several others from their—our—new crowd. Everyone there seemed delighted that Rigel and I were back together, making me wonder whether Trina’s popularity had more to do with fear of her influence than with people really liking her.

“Hey, Rigel! Good to see you here again,” Bri greeted him.

“Yeah, looks like you finally came back to your senses,” said Dawna Higgs with a big grin. Next to her, Becca Chambers, another JV cheerleader who wasn’t quite so sweet, sent a sly glance Trina’s way.

I resisted the urge to follow her gaze. Instead, I did my best to be perky and chatty while waiting for Mr. Smith to show.

He never did.

Maybe he’d decided to eat in the faculty room now that he’d given up trying to find me. How long would I have to wait for the other shoe to drop?

The only other off note during lunch was Jimmy Franklin, who was clearly
not
happy that Rigel and I were back together. He sat at the far end of our table, shooting sullen glances my way. I felt sorry for him, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it even if I’d wanted to. Which I didn’t. Still, I couldn’t deny it gave my ego a little boost, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I might need all the boosting I could get, from any source, when Smith finally identified me.

Bri didn’t get a chance to grill me until she called me at home that evening, but by then I’d come up with a plausible story about running into Rigel in town on Saturday and us both admitting how much we’d missed each other. Since Aunt Theresa had left the kitchen after verifying I was talking to Bri and not Rigel, I was free to embellish at will.

“One thing led to another, and—”

Bri gasped. “You mean you two actually—?”

Even though I’d known it was coming, it hurt that she would believe
that
of me. I thought she knew me better than that. “Of course not! It’s not like that, Bri.”

“Then what was that I heard him say today, about being careful?” Her voice held a “gotcha” quality that was really irritating. But I was ready for her.

“Careful? Oh! You must mean what he said after English. He was talking about Trina—what she might do out of spite because of us getting back together. She’s pretty pissed, you know.”

“Oh.” She actually sounded disappointed. Then she rallied. “Yeah, you should have heard her in Spanish class, ripping you to shreds. But Rigel was great—he really let her have it. He’s right, you probably should watch your back with her. If she can find a way to get you in trouble, she will.”

I hadn’t actually given Trina much thought, with everything else on my mind today, but I realized Bri was right. One more thing to worry about.

Tuesday evening Aunt Theresa gave me yet
another
thing to stress over when she came home from grocery shopping.

“Paula Means’ daughter told her that you and that football player are together again,” she said before she’d even set down the first grocery bag. “Really, Marsha, I thought you had more pride than that, after the way he treated you.”

I
so
wanted to say that Paula Means should mind her own business, but I didn’t dare. “We . . . He’s been really sweet lately,” I stammered instead. “And he asked me to the Homecoming dance this Saturday.”

She frowned, but I could practically see the gears turning in her head as she tried to decide whether she was more upset or pleased. The high school Homecoming dance was a pretty big deal in Jewel, and she’d be able to brag to all her friends that her niece was going with the star quarterback—who had become a local celebrity of sorts.

“You just make sure he treats you with respect,” she finally said. “Just because he’s a hotshot quarterback with rich parents doesn’t mean he can take advantage of you.”

“Aunt Theresa!” I intentionally sounded even more shocked than I was, to make her back off. “He wouldn’t. Except for that misunderstanding about flirting with Trina, he’s always treated me with respect. And I would never allow him not to.”

“See you don’t,” she said with one of her sniffs. “Now, go bring in the rest of the groceries while I start dinner.”

By the time I got to English class on Friday, I was seriously on edge. Mr. Smith still hadn’t noticed me—hadn’t even looked at me—droning on and on about Shakespeare and passing out a pop quiz instead of giving me a chance to raise my hand in class. And he’d completely given up coming to the lunchroom, which meant I hadn’t seen him at all outside of English.

If it hadn’t been for that phone conversation I’d overheard, I’d have started to wonder whether Rigel and I had been wrong all along about Mr. Smith. Really, though, there was no other way to interpret what I’d heard. He’d even mentioned Rigel by name.

What might be happening with that invasion plan, since we hadn’t done anything yet to slow them down? I worried about that for most of the period, and Mr. Smith’s lecture about the bloody conclusion of “Julius Caesar” didn’t help a bit. Was I one of the cowardly characters standing by while my people were threatened?

When the bell rang at the end of class, I made an abrupt decision. Before I could chicken out—and ignoring Rigel’s anxious gaze—I walked right up to the teacher, who was shoving some papers into his desk.

“Mr. Smith, when did you say our essays were due?” I asked in a rush, my heart hammering even though I half expected another fizzle.

“Next Wednesday,” he said without looking up, but then he stiffened and slowly raised his head to look at me. I looked back, trying to keep my expression blank as he continued to stare at me, his eyes widening as realization visibly dawned.

“Okay, thanks.” I managed not to stammer, but my voice might have been a tiny bit shaky.

Before he could say or do anything, I turned and headed for the door, where Rigel was waiting. He looked like he was trying as hard as I was not to look nervous. Without a word, he put an arm around my shoulders and practically herded me down the hall toward Science—and away from Smith.

“Why did you do that?” he whispered fiercely as soon as we were well out of earshot, even for someone with enhanced hearing.

“Wasn’t that the point of getting back together?” I whispered back. “I mean, publicly. So he’d figure it out? He was being so dense, I decided he needed a nudge.”

He kept frowning, even though his eyes admitted I was right. “I don’t like it,” he muttered. “We were doing okay. I was starting to think—”

“I know. That we could have it all. I kind of hoped the same thing, but then I kept remembering the invasion plan. We can’t just ignore that—can we?”

There was a long, long pause while he thought about it, but finally he admitted, “No, I guess not. But maybe he still didn’t realize—”

“He realized. You were out the door already, but trust me, he realized.”

Rigel looked even more worried then, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

I wasn’t particularly surprised to see Mr. Smith in the cafeteria again at lunchtime, watching our table. Rigel noticed, too, and clearly didn’t like it. I half expected him to move away from me, but he didn’t. If anything, he sat even closer, as though Smith was going to attack me right here in the lunchroom and Rigel could somehow protect me with his body.

“I said, good luck at Homecoming tonight, Rigel,” Bri said for the third time as the lunch period ended.

I nudged him, since he clearly hadn’t heard her, and he blinked, dragging his glowering gaze away from the corner where Mr. Smith was standing.

“What? Oh, thanks, Bri. I’ll do my best.”

She gave him a slightly sour smile as she left, but he didn’t notice. Instead, he turned to me. “Here, I want you to hang onto this,” he said, pressing his cell phone into my hand. “If anything, uh, happens between now and the end of school, call my dad—he’s at the top of my contacts. I’ll meet you at your locker right after seventh period.”

“So I can give your phone back?” I asked, confused. I couldn’t imagine anything bad enough happening right here at school to make me call his
dad
.

“No, so I can ride home with you on your bus. Don’t argue,” he nearly snapped, when I opened my mouth to protest. “I’m your bodyguard, remember? And now that Smith knows, I plan to do my job.”

Though I still thought he was overreacting, I nodded. “Fine. But if my aunt gets pissed and won’t let me go to the dance tomorrow—or the game tonight—it’s on you.”

“Agreed.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Those were still worried.

His edginess infected me more than I wanted to admit. When he reluctantly left me at the door to French class, I couldn’t quite quell a growing suspicion that I might have bitten off more than I could chew.

I hoped I wouldn’t choke on it.

CHAPTER 23

Astral burst