Starstruck (41 page)

I nodded vigorously. “And if Smith comes anywhere near me, I’ll scream. How’s that?”

He didn’t smile, but some of the tension left his mouth and eyes. “Promise?”

“Promise. I’ll be fine. And you’ll be fantastic. On the field, I mean,” I clarified, not wanting his parents to get the wrong idea.

I thought I heard a muffled chuckle from his dad, but then his mom said, “All right, that’s settled. How about some of these sandwiches, kids? And M, why don’t you call your aunt and uncle and let them know you’ll be going to the game with us.”

Though Aunt Theresa wasn’t happy—when was she ever?—she didn’t insist I come home first, which I’d half expected she might. But she did say that she and Uncle Louie would drive me back from the game.

“Both of you are coming to the game?” I asked in surprise. I couldn’t remember Aunt Theresa attending a football game before.

“It’s Homecoming,” she said without any other explanation. “We’ll meet you at the car as soon as the game is over.”

We got to the game early, of course, since Rigel had to warm up. After a few last, totally unnecessary, words of caution from both Rigel and his parents, he went to join the team and they went to sit at the top of the stands, so they could keep an eye on things (meaning me). I went to sit with Bri and Deb, near the fifty yard line, as usual.

“So, you’re back in with Rigel’s folks, too?” Bri asked, glancing up the stands to where they were sitting, a dozen rows behind us. “Guess you weren’t going back to his place for smoochies after all, huh?”

“Bri!” I punched her in the arm, but I also laughed. It was nice to pretend gossip was the worst I had to worry about for a little while. “Thanks again for the dress, by the way. It saved me having to ask my aunt to take me shopping—and actually going with her, if she’d said yes.”

“It fits you better than me anyway,” she said.

“And that sea green is a great color on you, M,” Deb chimed in. “I can’t wait till tomorrow night!”

“Me, either,” I said, trying not to think about what might happen before then. I’d be
really
pissed if the bad guys kept me from going to the Homecoming dance!

I did my best to focus on the game, but other than appreciating the hotness that was Rigel on the field, I can’t claim I was really following it. I was aware of my aunt and uncle at the left-hand end of the bleachers and even more aware of Mr. Smith at the right-hand end. Though I never caught him watching me, I was sure he was. Even the Homecoming parade at halftime, with its absurd tissue-paper floats, barely registered. Except for the Homecoming Court.

I watched Rigel and Trina ride past, representing the sophomore class, both of them looking acutely uncomfortable. The voting had happened last week, when they were still “together.” Trina waved to the stands with jerky little motions, but Rigel didn’t even do that. He just stared in my direction the whole time they circled the field.

Shortly after the game resumed, maybe ten minutes into the third quarter, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Looking up, I saw Dr. Stuart, her beautiful mouth tight with strain. Leaning down, she spoke softly and quickly into my ear, not that anyone would have heard her anyway, with all the yelling. We’d just scored, putting us ahead 22–7.

“We need to go,” she said. “Mr. Smith just left and Van thinks we should follow him. If we’re not back by the time the game ends, do you think your aunt and uncle would give Rigel a ride home?”

“Of course,” I said. Aunt Theresa was all about hospitality, so I couldn’t imagine her refusing.

I wanted to ask what they thought Smith might be planning, but with a last squeeze of my shoulder, she hurried to join Mr. Stuart, who was already heading for the gate.

CHAPTER 24

Apparent magnitude

We won, of course. 33 to 10. It was the first Homecoming game Jewel had won in six years and everyone went crazy. With a quick goodbye to Bri and Deb, I hurried down to the field to congratulate Rigel—something I’d missed badly the past few games.

He was waiting, and swung me around in his arms, just like he had that first game we were “official.” It was wonderful. But then he glanced over my shoulder and I suddenly remembered.

“Oh, your parents had to leave early to follow . . . um, follow up on a problem,” I told him, mindful of the crowd pressing in on us. “I promised your mom we’d give you a ride home.”

Rigel frowned, and I could tell he really, really wanted to ask what was going on, but he just nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll hurry and change, then, so I don’t keep your aunt and uncle waiting.”

Practically ignoring all the people—students, teachers, parents and alumni—trying to congratulate him on his victory, he sprinted for the locker room with only an occasional nod or smile. Though it warmed me to know he didn’t want to leave me unprotected any longer than necessary, I hoped he’d manage at least a quickie shower, since I didn’t want Aunt Theresa complaining to me later.

I slowly made my way through the crowd toward the parking lot, keeping a sharp lookout for anything suspicious and keeping my “feelers” out for anyone that “felt” Martian. There was nothing.

Before I reached the gate, I saw my aunt and uncle chatting with a small group of people around their own age. As I got close enough to hear—which wasn’t all that close, these days—I felt a spurt of amusement.

“Yes, he certainly seems a promising young man,” Aunt Theresa was saying. “Sure to be offered college scholarships if he continues as well as he’s begun. Did I mention he’s taking my niece to the Homecoming dance tomorrow night?”

Her friends made various exclamations of surprise and congratulations. Judging by her expression, she was positively basking in it. It seemed like the perfect time to let her know we’d be giving him a ride, so I quickened my pace.

“Hi, Aunt Theresa, hi, Uncle Louie,” I greeted them.

They turned, both smiling, which was almost creepy in my aunt’s case, and introduced me to a few old classmates who’d moved away from Jewel years ago.

“Norma and I co-chaired the Future Teachers of America our senior year,” Aunt Theresa informed me, “though Norma ended up selling real estate instead of teaching.”

“Only because Tom and I started a family right out of college,” Norma—I’d missed her last name—said. Rather smugly, I thought.

I smiled as brightly as I could. “It’s nice to meet you. Aunt Theresa, Uncle Louie, would it be all right if we gave Rigel a ride home? His parents had an emergency and had to leave the game early, so I kind of offered.”

Though her eyes narrowed at me for just a second, Aunt Theresa quickly recovered to shoot a triumphant glance at Norma Whatshername and the other woman—Mary Something-starting-with-J.

“Of course, dear. His parents have been kind enough to have you to dinner once or twice, so that’s the least we can do.”

Mary J smiled. “How nice. Theresa, dear, did I mention that my son Michael started medical school last month?”

Rigel hurried up just then, and I was more than happy to turn toward him, and away from the off-field competition between the adults.

“Hey, that was quick,” I said, also pleased to note his clean, damp hair—not that Aunt Theresa would have said anything in front of her so-called friends.

Uncle Louie must have been tired of the cattiness, too, since he immediately came over to clap Rigel on the shoulder. “Great game, son! Really great. Well, Theresa, we should probably get these kids home, huh?”

She didn’t seem too reluctant to leave. After all, it’s not like a niece dating the star quarterback of a 2A team could compete with an actual son in med school. She made a few insincere-sounding promises to “get together soon,” then herded us toward the car.

“I really appreciate you giving me a ride,” Rigel said as we crossed the parking lot. “I hope it’s not too much trouble.”

My aunt and uncle both insisted it was no trouble at all. Uncle Louie, at least, sounded perfectly sincere and proceeded to pepper Rigel with comments and questions about the game. As we walked, Rigel’s hand brushed mine and for a second our fingers started to intertwine before we caught ourselves and pulled away a little bit.

A few minutes later, we pulled out of the parking lot, Rigel and me in the back but keeping the discreet distance enforced by our seatbelts. Uncle Louie kept chattering about the game as he drove, with Rigel occasionally answering a question or agreeing with some point he made.

“You’ll want to take this left,” Rigel told him when we reached the farm road that led toward his house.

Uncle Louie made the turn and immediately launched back into his analysis of the game until Aunt Theresa interrupted him.

“Louie, you’re going nearly sixty. Slow down.”

He nodded, but the car didn’t slow.

“Louie!” she snapped.

“I . . . I’m trying.” He sounded a little panicky. “Look—I don’t even have my foot on the accelerator! And the brake isn’t working!”

The car was definitely going faster now, corn and soybean fields whipping past, a blur in the dark. Rigel and I grabbed hands and looked at each other in alarm.

“Turn off the car!” Aunt Theresa screamed, on the verge of hysteria. “Louie, do something!”

“It won’t turn off while it’s in gear!” he yelled back, struggling with the gearshift.

We barreled up behind a slower moving pickup truck and my uncle swung us into the opposite lane in the nick of time to pass it. The headlights raked a stone wall ahead, where the road bent sharply to the left. I couldn’t imagine any way he could possibly negotiate the curve at this speed—which was
still
increasing.

“Hang on!” Rigel said, unbuckling his seat belt.

Before I could react, he lunged over the back of the front seat, still gripping my hand tightly, and reached for the ignition with his other hand. There was a brilliant spark, then the car shuddered and slowed abruptly, coasting to a stop maybe a foot from the wall. We all sat there for a few long moments, recovering. Uncle Louie was the first to speak.

“What . . . what did you do?” he asked Rigel, who by now was sitting quietly beside me again—though he hadn’t released my hand.

“Turned off the ignition. You must have gotten it out of gear just in time.” His voice sounded tight to me—even angry—though I doubt my aunt and uncle noticed.

“But the—” Uncle Louie began, then stopped. “Well, whatever you did, son, thanks. You probably saved all our lives, there.”

Rigel shrugged, though I could tell the tension hadn’t left him. “You probably would have—”

“Hey, you folks okay?” came a voice from outside the car, interrupting him. It was the driver of the pickup we’d passed. His headlights, right behind us, lit up the whole area around us, casting weird shadows from the corn stalks.

Shakily, Uncle Louie got out of the car. “I think so. Had some trouble there—couldn’t stop for some reason. Not sure I should try driving it again until we know why.”

“Want me to call for a tow?” the man asked.

“I work at All-American Autos,” Uncle Louie said, his voice slightly stronger now. “I’ll call one of my mechanic buddies. But thanks.”

“No problem.”

I heard the man get back in his truck and a minute later the headlights backed away, then disappeared. Uncle Louie was already on his cell.

“Okay, Greg will be here in about fifteen minutes with the truck,” he told us, getting back into the car a minute later. “You want to call your parents so they won’t worry, Rigel?”

“Sure. I should probably do that.” He hopped out of the car and walked a little way off to make his call. I was sure he wanted to ask them about Smith as well as tell them about our near accident.

“Your guy is a quick thinker,” Uncle Louie said to me. “I wonder what that spark thing was, though?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t see anything,” I lied. “Maybe the car had some kind of electrical problem?”

Aunt Theresa had been uncharacteristically quiet since the car had stopped, but she suddenly burst out, “There’s no knowing what all is wrong with this rattletrap. I’ve been telling you forever we need a newer car, Louie. Now maybe you’ll listen.”

That discussion went on until Greg got there with the tow truck, by which time Rigel was back. I was dying to ask him what his parents had said, but knew my aunt would have a fit if the two of us wandered out of earshot.

I didn’t get my chance until the tow truck dropped Rigel off at his house. I got out with him, even knowing I’d hear about it later, to have a quick word.

“So? What did they say?” I whispered. “Did they think Smith did something to the car?”

“They were busy, so we didn’t talk long. But he must have. Couldn’t have been coincidence. Here.” He slipped me his phone again. “It’s on vibrate. Keep it close and I’ll try to call you later.”

I nodded, then glanced toward his house. It looked like there was at least one extra car in the driveway, maybe two. “Talk to you later, then. And see you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” he said. He leaned toward me, but then changed his mind, probably because my aunt and uncle and Greg were right there watching, and just touched my cheek instead before heading up the front walk.