Starbound: A Starstruck Novel (7 page)

When I stepped inside the Stuarts’ house a few minutes later, I was hit by a wave of nostalgia. For several glorious weeks, when Rigel and I had been openly dating and the O’Garas hadn’t yet shown up to complicate things, I had spent some of my happiest hours here. This was my first visit since their New Year’s Eve party, shortly after that awful compromise went into effect.

Dr. Stuart led the way to the kitchen—the place I’d learned that I was a Martian—and motioned me to a chair at the table. She poured us each a glass of milk and set a plate of oatmeal cookies on the table between us.

“Now, what did you want to talk about?”

I swallowed, my prepared speech evaporating in the face of her concerned, motherly expression. “I, er, well…you know how, um, you and Mr. Stuart can sometimes, uh, talk without talking?”

Her eyebrows rose, but she nodded. “I assume Rigel told you about that? Or did you deduce it on your own?”
 

“I, uh, both, I guess. The thing is,” I said in a sudden rush, “Rigel and I can do it, too. Talk telepathically, I mean.” I braced myself for her reaction, but all she did was smile.
 

“I’ve rather suspected that for a while.” Her hazel eyes, so like Rigel’s, didn’t betray shock or even surprise. “In fact, I considered cautioning you both to be more discreet if you don’t want others to guess, but I didn’t want to force your confidence before you were ready.”
 

I closed my mouth, which had dropped open. “You knew? Are we…that obvious?”

“Only to those who know the, ah, symptoms.”
 

Relieved, I made a mental note to be a
lot
more careful. I definitely didn’t want the Council, or even Sean, to find out what we could do.
 

“Is that what you wanted advice about?” she prompted, when I didn’t immediately say anything.

“Um, yes. I mean, most of the time it’s great, being able to talk whenever we want, without anyone else listening in. Not that we’re always ‘talking’ in class and stuff! But since we’re not allowed to act like we’re together, it…helps a lot.”

Her smile was understanding. “Yes, I can imagine it does. You’ve been put into a very difficult situation, one that’s not easy for either of you.”

I stared down at the table, willing myself not to cry at the sympathy in her voice. It felt so
good
to know someone else understood. That alone made me glad I’d come here. But I still needed a solution to my problem. Taking a deep breath, I looked up.

“The thing is, even though I love being able to think back and forth with Rigel, there are times when it’s, well, awkward. I thought if anyone might have tips on how to keep
some
thoughts to myself it would be you.”

She chuckled. “Yes, there certainly are some thoughts a girl needs to keep to herself. Van and I developed our telepathic link gradually, over a period of many years, which no doubt made it easier to learn control as our ability matured. I take it your link with Rigel developed rather abruptly, when your
graell
bond formed?”

“Not
instantly
. It was just feelings at first, and only if we were touching. It wasn’t until the battle with Faxon’s people in the cornfield that we exchanged actual words. Then later, after Thanksgiving, when we were apart for ten days and got so sick and all? Well, when we got back together it was like our bond…doubled or something. After that, the mind-reading got way easier until, well—
Do
you have tips on how I can sometimes…shield what I’m thinking?”

Her cheeks inexplicably pinkened as she hesitated. “The best way I’ve found to block the mental give and take is to focus on the, ah, physical.”

“You mean like being hungry or hurt or something?” That made sense, since it
was
hard to carry on a mental conversation with distractions like that. It wasn’t something I could easily control, though.

“That too. But what I… That is…” Her color deepened further. “I assume you and Rigel have never, ah, escalated your relationship to a…physical level?”
 

Now it was my turn to blush. “Oh, um, no! I mean…we kiss and hold hands and stuff. Not that we get much chance these days. But we’ve never—”

She bit her lip and nodded. “No, I thought not. But that makes this a bit more awkward.”
 

I nearly fell off my chair. “What? Do you mean we
should—
”

“No! No, no, no, that’s not what I meant at all! In fact, that would be a
very
bad idea given current circumstances. When I said ‘focus,’ I only meant your thoughts. Especially Rigel’s thoughts.”

“Rigel’s thoughts?” Now I was confused again.

“Given how you and Rigel feel about each other and the fact that you are both sixteen years old, I’m sure
thoughts
about the, ah, physical pop up quite often?”

Though I felt my face getting hot again, I nodded. “I…I can’t help it. I mean, he’s so—”

She held up a hand, though she was smiling now. “No details, please. He
is
my son.”

I fell silent for a moment, thinking hard. “So…you mean if we’re, uh, thinking about each other
that
way, we can’t read each other’s thoughts?” I suddenly remembered our last makeout session in the arboretum…and how I hadn’t needed to shield.

“I can’t know for certain in your case, but from my experience it’s likely that if Rigel is preoccupied with such thoughts it will tend to block his ability to pick up on anything less…primal. For a while, at least.”

“How long is a while?” To keep him from learning about the Grentl, I’d to need to do a lot of blocking—preferably without making Rigel too suspicious.

Clearly still embarrassed, she didn’t quite meet my eye. “As I said, it may not work exactly the same for you. But I’ve found that the more, ah, intensely my husband thinks about such things, the longer before he can pick up on anything else I’m thinking.”

I was sure my face went redder than hers as her meaning sank in: to block Rigel from picking up my thoughts, I would have to make him to think about sex. A lot.

Monday morning, I did my best to dress “sexy” for school, choosing my tightest jeans and a clingy green sweater Rigel had once said looked hot on me. I also put on extra makeup—eyeshadow, mascara and super-shiny lip gloss—but after I got to school, so Aunt Theresa couldn’t make me wash it off. I didn’t look anywhere near as sexy as Trina did every single day, but it was the best I could do.
 

Leaving the girls’ room for first period, doubts assailed me again. I didn’t have a
clue
how to act sexy and even if I could, it seemed mean to get Rigel all hot and bothered when we couldn’t
do
anything about it. But…what choice did I have?

When I walked into class, my first thought on seeing Rigel wasn’t about distracting him but about how hot
he
looked in a long-sleeved t-shirt that outlined his chest and shoulders. His thick, dark, perfect hair fell across his forehead as he turned his head, then his amazing hazel eyes widened and he smiled his incredible smile.
 

Wow, looking good today, M,
he thought.

Ditto,
I thought back, giving him a half-wink that I hoped looked seductive instead of like I had something in my eye. When Trina glanced my way, I headed to my desk. But slowly, so Rigel could watch me from behind.
 

“Are you okay?” Deb asked as I sat down next to her. “You look flushed.”
 

“What? Oh, I…spent too long in the girls’ room and had to rush, that’s all.”
 

I peeked over my shoulder to see Rigel still looking my way. I was reminded of his very first day at Jewel High and how I’d kept sneaking looks at him—and how intensely he’d affected me before he even noticed I existed. A sudden, overwhelming wave of longing hit me—a longing for those wonderful days when we could spend hours together, holding hands, whispering together, touching…

Rigel echoed my longing with a nonverbal surge of agreement. Quickly steeling my resolve, I tried a little test.
I wonder if there’s going to be a pop quiz today?
I thought, though without specifically directing it to Rigel.
I really should have studied instead of playing with my pet unicorn last night.

No response. Not even a flicker of amusement. Focusing, I still felt that longing from him, though it was starting to fade a bit.
 

Maybe I’ll go for a walk today instead of eating lunch,
I thought then.
 

When he still didn’t respond, I repeated the same thought but “pointed” it more his way.

Huh? You want to do what instead of lunch?
he thought back, clearly startled.
 

Oh, sorry. Nothing. I was thinking some exercise would be better for my figure than eating, that’s all.

Another burst of desire came from Rigel.
There’s not a thing in the world wrong with your figure, M, believe me!

Dr. Stuart had definitely known what she was talking about!
Thanks,
I replied
,
opening my math book with a secret smile.

 
When class ended, Jimmy Franklin, my old “crush,” made a point of stopping to talk to me about our assignment. He’d shown some brief interest in me when Rigel and I had our first fake breakup last fall, but mostly ignored me now I was supposedly with Sean. So this was new.
 

I answered his question, which he’d clearly made up just to talk to me.
 

“Thanks, M. I guess I’ll see you around. Have a great day.”

“You, too,” My smile slipped a little at the flare of jealousy I caught from Rigel, leaving the room with Trina.

Really?
When Trina’s on your arm half the time these days?

Even though my thought had been directed right at him, he didn’t seem to have heard me, so I repeated it.
 

What about Trina?
he asked belatedly.

Never mind.
I just shook my head, letting him feel my exasperation, then headed off to second period.

triail
(tree-AYL)
: test or audition; ordeal by trial

Dr. Stuart’s strategy worked so well I kept it up for the rest of the week even though it soon became obvious Rigel and Jimmy Franklin weren’t the only boys who “appreciated” my new, marginally sexier look. Guys I barely knew went out of their way to talk to me, which was funny considering all I was doing differently was wearing clothes I’d started to outgrow, plus a little more makeup. What was less funny was Sean, who kept trying to sit way too close at lunch or any other time we were together.
 

As a result, it didn’t take me long to figure out that jealousy worked nearly as well as desire to distract Rigel, since of course he noticed how Sean and other boys were responding.
 

So, unfortunately, did Trina.

“Wow, Marsha, love the new trailer trash look,” she sniped at me in the lunch line Friday. “Guess you can’t afford clothes that fit anymore?”

I glanced back, then down at her super low-cut, clingy blue top. “What, you don’t like the competition, Trina?”

“Comp—? Don’t make me laugh! As if!”
 

I turned away from her ice-blue glare with a little smile and continued through the line, though I knew she was adding this to the list of things she intended to make me pay for. Like I didn’t have enough to worry about.

All week I’d had to exert both diplomacy and Royal “push” to keep Rigel and Sean from fighting anytime we were all together. Ironic that now I could finally shield my thoughts from Rigel, I never had a chance to think about the Grentl anyway, I was so busy defusing the
other
results of my new strategy.
 

Meanwhile, our training took up nearly every moment we weren’t in school. Rigel was getting most of his instruction at home while I studied at the O’Garas’ every afternoon and most evenings. Sean and Molly at least got to go to basketball and cheerleading practice, since neither of them were the stupid Princess. Besides which, having grown up on Mars, they already knew the language.
 

Saturday I had my last taekwondo class, then went to watch Sean in the State 2-A basketball championship game in Indianapolis. We lost, since Sean was our only really good player while the other team had three or four, but everyone was still super pumped about it, except maybe Rigel. I was careful not to give Sean another opportunity to kiss me.

Sunday, just three days before we were to leave for Ireland, the Council summoned us all to the Stuarts’ house so they could evaluate our progress.
 

“We’ll start with the Bodyguard certification,” Kyna informed us briskly when the O’Garas and I arrived. “We thought you should observe that, Excellency, so that you will know what our decision is based upon.”

“Decision?” I exchanged a worried glance with Rigel. “I thought the Council agreed—”

“We agreed that
if
he could be trained in time, he could accompany you as Bodyguard, yes. This test will determine whether he was able to acquire the necessary knowledge and skills over the past two weeks. If you’ll follow me to the back yard?”

You have, right?
I thought to Rigel, trying to hide my sudden panic.

Hope so
. The main emotion I caught from him was grim determination, costing me another pang for what I’d put him through this week.
 

Not caring whether anyone noticed or not, I moved to his side as we walked and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Good luck.”
 

He shot me a smile, the first genuine one I’d seen on him in days, and squeezed back.
With you here I’ll do fine.

And he did.
More
than fine.
 

First, he scored perfectly on the target practice with both Martian energy weapons and Earth firearms. It was obvious now why the testing had to be here instead of at the O’Garas’—the Stuarts’ restored farmhouse was out of sight and sound of any neighbors.