Starfall: A Starstruck Novel (17 page)

“Not a lot. The doctors—Healers—think it could somehow mess me up to be told too much too fast, though I don’t get why. Seems stupid to me. But my mom and dad are buying into it—my mom’s a Healer, too—so it’s been hard to get much out of them. You ready for a turn?” I ask in a normal voice.

We switch off, sneaking another ten pounds onto the bar in the process. “Actually,” I continue quietly, “I’m hoping you can fill me in on some stuff most of the others here wouldn’t know about. Like, why was I in Ireland in the first place? I’m guessing it wasn’t really some scholarship thing?”

Sean grimaces like he’s struggling with the weights, which I can tell he’s totally not, any more than I was. “Nobody mentioned going to…um, anyplace other than Ireland?”

“Should they have? I mean, I know…M? Is it okay to call her that?”

“Yeah, everyone does here at school.”

“Anyway, I heard she went, uh, off-planet. And just got back. Like, yesterday?” I remember what she told Deb in Pre-Cal.

Sean gives an exaggerated grunt. “Back in Jewel, yeah, but we all got back from… y’know…a while ago. She had all kinds of stuff to take care of—speeches and meetings and such—before she could finally come here. Otherwise I
know—”

“Hey, you guys gonna use this other thirty-five?” Pete Villiers asks from behind me, pointing at one of the weights on the rack next to us.

“Nah, go ahead.” I wait till he moves off, then, “When you say ‘we all,’ who do you mean?”

Sean puts the bar back on the rest. “Here, your turn again. Gotta make it look good. M, Molly, me and our dad. And a bunch of other people you wouldn’t know—or remember, anyway, sorry.”

I’m more disappointed than relieved. “Okay, so not me.”

“No, you’d been back a couple months by then.”

I nearly let go of the heavy barbell—which would have hurt a lot. “What?” Out of the corner of my eye I see somebody’s head turn toward us, so I work to keep my voice super low. “You mean I
did
go? To…to Mars??”

Sean gives a tiny nod. “Just for a few weeks, but…yeah. Figured they’d at least told you that much.”

“So I finally… and I can’t even remember it!” It’s the most grossly unfair thing yet about my stupid accident. “Wait. Is that where I really got hurt? Not Ireland? Is that why I came back early?”

Now Sean looks uncomfortable. “Look, if the Healers— I’m not sure how much I ought to be telling you. If they’re right, and it could somehow screw up your recovery—”

“C’mon, I
need
to know this stuff!” But I can tell from Sean’s expression he’s worried he’s already said too much.

I do a few more reps before he finally says, “Maybe if I knew exactly what they did tell you? Then I could, I dunno, fill in a
few
blanks?”

“Okay, yeah.” Anything to get more details like that last bombshell. “Let’s see. Last thing I remember, we were getting ready to move to Jewel, hoping to find the Princess. Mom and Dad told me we did, and that we all helped keep Faxon’s people from killing her. But hardly anything about the school year except that I had a great football season and got that scholarship to study in Ireland. Nothing about M going to Ireland, or about you or your sister. Not that I’d have known to ask. Okay, I’m done.”
 

I mean both my turn on the bench and the lame amount of info I was given. Sean and I swap again for his last set with the weights.
 

“Wow, all that time in the, uh, hospital, and you never found out more than that?” The way he says it makes me feel lame for not demanding more answers.

“Yeah, well, every time I asked questions, I got told it would probably come back to me eventually, that just
telling
me could keep my real memories from returning. Which I’m starting to think might have been a pile of crap to shut me up—or to keep my folks from saying too much?” Now I wonder how much
they
really know. I’ll try to find out tonight. “Trust me, I did ask. A lot. Though the first month or so I was pretty out of it.”

Sean’s frowning again. Maybe from the weights, but I doubt it. “Let me, um, check with some people. If they say it’s all right, I’ll fill you in some more, okay?”

I wonder what people he means, but figure if he was willing to tell me he’d have said. “Okay. What about stuff, er, closer to home, then? School stuff? Molly said you and I and the—M, I mean, all hung out after your family got here last year?”

He looks relieved I’ve changed the subject. “Yeah, we did. All four of us, especially after…um, after the holidays.”

“So I wasn’t pissed about you and M being together, like some of the guys thought?”

He looks less relieved now. “Well, it was kind of— Sorry, I’m not sure if—”

I think I know what he’s worried about. “No, it’s cool. I know about the whole political thing with you two. They did bring me up to speed on the big news items, like Faxon being out and all. Anyway, I’m sure when it was all explained to me at the time I was totally fine with it, even if she and I hung out some before you got here.”
 

His expression clears. “Yeah, okay. Glad I don’t have to go into all that. Anyway, she and I…we’re not exactly dating anymore, so it’s all kind of moot now.” He clunks the bar back on the rest. “Enough of this, don’t you think?”

I’m not sure if he means bench pressing or this conversation. I want to ask what the deal is that he and the Sovereign aren’t dating when they both know they have to end up together, but it seems like kind of a personal question. Maybe later, once I get to know Sean a little better.

Not till I’m changing for my last class of the day do I wonder why I even care.

*
   
*
   
*

My last class is Student Publications, which means being on staff for the school yearbook and website. Apparently I applied last semester…not that I remember, or have any clue why. Before I even get there, I sense the Sovereign’s
brath
from halfway down the hallway. Which shouldn’t even be possible.

I’m last to arrive, between changing after Weight Training and finding the room, tucked away in a corner of the school. Of the seven other students, the Sovereign is the only one I’ve already met. As far as I know.

Once I’m in the room, Ms. Raymond, who’s also our English Lit teacher, shuts the door and turns to us with a big smile. “Welcome! We have an exciting year ahead of us, learning how to create and publish a quality website and online newspaper, and put together a first-class yearbook. Last year the Jaguar Journal was named third best in Indiana for high school blogs and this year we’re aiming for number one!”

Two girls and the only other boy give little cheers. The rest of us just smile back.

“We’ll spend today introducing ourselves and filling all the staff positions. Abigail, why don’t you go first?”
 

Abigail, a tall, skinny black girl, starts listing all the stuff she did last year and finishes by volunteering to be editor-in-chief for the online newspaper. She’s followed by the other girl that cheered, Becky, then the boy, Jeremy—a short, nerdy-looking kid in glasses. They were all on the staff last year, and the only ones excited to be here. The rest of us just say our names. The words “I’m Marsha Truitt” make all the hairs on my arms prickle.

Ms. Raymond asks for volunteers for a bunch of different jobs, from scheduling to layout to graphics. The three journalism geeks keep putting up their hands, willing to do several jobs apiece. The teacher tells the rest of us we can do proofreading and stuff until we learn the ropes, unless any of us have special skills we’d like to contribute.
 

“Rigel’s really good with computers,” the Sovereign suddenly says. “And I’m pretty decent at online research and stuff.”

I stare at her, wondering where the heck
that
came from. How does she know I’m good with computers? If I even still am. It’s not like I’ve had a chance to play with this year’s models—though the two I see in the room look pretty old.

“Thank you, Marsha. In that case, why don’t the two of you handle fact-checking?” She makes a note in her notebook.

The Sovereign shoots me a glance, then quickly looks away, like she’s embarrassed or nervous. Neither of which make sense if we really were friends last year. If I supposedly went to
Mars
with her. Which I’m still not sure I believe, no matter what Sean said.

I spend the rest of the period sneaking peeks at her while Ms. Raymond drones on, explaining everything about the yearbook and advertising and journalism ethics and stuff. But I don’t catch her looking back again.

At football practice, I do way better than last week. Not only do I remember all the plays—not from last year, just from last week—but my arm feels stronger, too. Guess I’m finally getting some muscle tone back after lying around in the hospital all summer. I can tell from Coach’s enthusiastic recap he’s nearly as relieved as I am. My performance last week must have worried him, though he didn’t say so.
 

My dad picks me up after, but I wait till we’re home to start asking questions because sometimes the way he and Mom look at each other tells me more than what they actually say. I know now there’s a whole lot they haven’t told me. What I don’t know is why.

Mom’s already home from the hospital where she works as an OB/Gyn. She greets me with a smile and a couple sandwiches to tide me over till dinner.

“How was your first day? As uncomfortable as you were afraid it might be?” Her hazel eyes, the exact same color as mine, are sympathetic—and a little worried.

“It was…enlightening,” I answer, watching both her and Dad closely. Sure enough, they exchange one of their looks.

“What do you mean, Son?” Dad asks, taking half a sandwich himself and sitting down at the kitchen table. Mom sits beside him, definitely worried now.

I take a big bite of my sandwich—I’m starving—and swallow before answering, planning out my words. “I mean I learned more about my missing year in one day than you guys told me all summer. Seems like you left out a few important details. Like how I used to hang out with the
Sovereign
—who’s back in school, by the way—
and
with her Consort and his sister, who’re also back. Oh, and that I went to freaking
Mars
before my accident. You know, little stuff like that.”

Now they exchange a much longer look, the kind that means they’re using that special telepathy they have. Which I really, really hate.
 

“Hey, how about you talk to
me,
huh? I specifically asked about my friends at school and all you mentioned were the guys on the football team.” I know my tone’s accusing, even rude, but I don’t care.

Dad frowns. “Rigel, I know it must seem like we deliberately kept things from you but please trust us, we had good reasons.”

“Reasons like making me look like a complete idiot on my first day of school? I practically lost it when the Sovereign suddenly walked into my Homeroom. Not to mention two other
Echtran
kids and at least one
Echtran
teacher. You didn’t tell me there’d be
any
others here.”
 

Mom reaches across to put her hand on mine with that Healer calming thing she does but I pull away. “We didn’t know, Rigel. Honestly. No one told us for certain that the Sovereign and the O’Garas were coming back to Jewel. The last we heard, it sounded unlikely. So there seemed little point in mentioning them when you had so many other things to adjust to and re-learn.”

“And Mars? Are you going to claim you didn’t know about that, either?” I put down my half-eaten second sandwich, my appetite gone.

“Yes, we knew,” Dad says. “But the Healers felt it was best—”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that line all summer. And I believe it less every time I hear it. Why am I
really
being kept in the dark about so much stuff? How is telling me about things I did and the people I did them with going to screw up getting my memory back? Seems to me it would do the exact opposite.
Help
me remember.”

Now Mom looks stern, which she doesn’t very often. “Rigel, you simply have to trust that we have your best interests at heart. We’ve consulted with the most skilled Mind Healers available on both Earth and Mars and are following their recommended course.”
 

But something in her expression tells me she’s still holding back.

“Fine. I guess I’ll just have to find out what I need to know from other people. Like Sean O’Gara. Or maybe from the Sovereign herself.”

I slam out of the kitchen and head upstairs to my room, afraid if I say any more I’ll regret it later.

I hurl myself onto my bed and stare at the ceiling, trying harder than ever to
remember.
Sure, when my brain fog cleared around the end of June the Healers told me not to, that I should just let things come back on their own. But I tried anyway—and after today, it feels way more important. Because there’s definitely stuff my folks, and maybe other people, are trying to keep from me. Stuff I’d
know
, if only I could remember.

Stuff about Mars?
 

I look up at all the model space ships hanging from my bedroom ceiling, models I built myself back in sixth and seventh grade. It wasn’t till I was ten that my parents finally told me about
Echtrans
and the colony on Mars where they were born and everything. After I got over being totally freaked, I became obsessed with science fiction—movies, books, comics, games…and especially space ships.

There, by the window, are my three different versions of the Starship Enterprise facing off against a Klingon Bird of Prey. The Millennium Falcon is over the door, positioned like it’s escaping from the Imperial Cruiser behind it. Above the dresser hangs the Battlestar Galactica. And right over my bed is…a flat, oval crystal, etched with the constellation Orion.

I sit up and frown at the unfamiliar crystal. It’s suspended on a nylon filament, the same as my models. Looking closer, I notice Orion’s left foot, the star Rigel, is blue. Where did
this
come from? It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing I’d buy for myself. Maybe Mom gave it to me? For some reason, I don’t think so.