Starstruck (29 page)

All because of Rigel.

Even though he was only a sophomore, there were already rumors of college scouts coming to our games to watch him play. If any were here tonight, they wouldn’t be disappointed—he was having one heck of a game so far. Again.

“You sure you can’t come to the party tonight, M?” Alicia Jordan was probably the sixth person to ask, none of whom would have been caught dead speaking to me last year. Almost everyone was calling me M now, since Rigel did.

“Sorry, I really can’t,” I said again. “I don’t want to be grounded for the rest of the year.”

Aunt Theresa had to know by now that Rigel and I were a couple, but as long as she didn’t directly ask, I wasn’t going to volunteer to listen to more of her lectures. She’d started watching me like a hawk, though, and I knew if she got even a whiff that I’d been to one of those wild football parties, I’d be forbidden to see Rigel again. I definitely wasn’t willing to risk that.

When the game ended with a satisfying 38–17 win for Jewel, I hurried down to the field like I always did now, for the bear hug from Rigel I knew would be waiting for me.

“You were wonderful!” I told him, as though he didn’t know that. “You just keep getting better.”

“I think we both know why,” he murmured in my ear, then released me abruptly as his parents approached. He obviously hadn’t told them yet.

“Great game, son,” his dad said, then turned to me. “M, good to see you again. Thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I said truthfully, giving Rigel a significant look that he did his best to ignore.

His mother gave me a little one-armed hug, then said to Rigel, “We’ll be waiting by the car. Unless you want to celebrate with your teammates tonight?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I’m not into the parties. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

I waited until they were gone to ask, “Do you really not want to go to the party, or is it just because I can’t?”

“Well, if you were going I’d probably go, but without you there? I just don’t see the point.” He held my gaze as he said it, making me believe him. Making my insides melt—again.

He was just leaning in to kiss me when I was bumped—hard—from behind and nearly fell before Rigel caught me. I looked around to see Trina walking away without a backward glance. She hadn’t spoken to me since word had gotten around about Rigel and me in the cornfield. Which was just fine with me. We both just shook our heads at her.

“I’d better go,” Rigel said. “But tell you what. If you can come over tomorrow afternoon, we’ll tell my folks about us. Okay?”

Delight flooded through me. “Really?” Then I felt a rush of embarrassment. I hadn’t really figured on being present when he told them! What if—

“It’ll be fine,” he promised, just like he knew what I was thinking. “Can you come?”

“I’ll be there.” I made it a vow. “What time?”

At three-thirty the next afternoon, I told Aunt Theresa I was going for a bike ride. Rigel and I had agreed to meet in front of the Green Market, which was about halfway between my house and his, then ride together to his house. I was so nervous, I thought I might forget how to pedal.

Rigel was waiting for me when I reached the parking lot of Jewel’s one “hippie” grocery store, standing next to a slick black racing bike that had probably cost five times what my cheapie one-speed from WalMart had.

“Ready?” he asked, and I could see the nervousness behind his grin. It made me feel better, somehow.

“Ready,” I said.

He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss before mounting his bike. “For luck,” he said.

I hoped we wouldn’t need it.

Fifteen minutes later I followed him up his long driveway, thinking the yellow farmhouse somehow looked more imposing than before.
It’s just nerves
, I told myself, but it didn’t help much. Remembering everything Rigel had told me about the Martian dignitaries, I was starting to get cold feet about the whole thing. What if they forbade us to spend time together? Maybe I’d been stupid to insist on this.

Rigel must have sensed my worry. As soon as we were off our bikes, he took my hand to walk with me to the front door, and of course his touch helped, as it always did.

At least for a few seconds.

Just as we reached the door, before Rigel could even touch the handle, it was yanked open from inside and his grandfather, Shim, was standing right in front of us, tension pinching his aristocratic features.

“Get inside, both of you!” He grabbed Rigel’s arm and pulled him into the foyer and since I was still holding Rigel’s hand, I was pulled in, too. The moment we were in, he shut the door—and locked it.

“Did anyone see you coming here together?” He sounded angry, but when I looked closer at him, I sensed more fear than anger. Shim, afraid?

Rigel, clearly not as intimidated as I was, shook off his grandfather’s hand and stepped back. “Probably. Why does it matter? What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, Shim called out, “Van! Ariel! They’re here, both of them.” Then, to us, “Come into the kitchen. It’s less visible from the front.”

Rigel and I exchanged baffled glances as we followed him to the back of the house and into the kitchen, where the Stuarts were already waiting.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Dr. Stuart exclaimed when we entered, hurrying forward to hug Rigel, then me. “Are you both all right?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Rigel asked. “Will someone please tell us what’s going on? When did Grandfather get here?”

Mr. Stuart came forward and I thought he also looked a little shaken. “About twenty minutes ago. Let’s all sit down,” he suggested then, putting a hand on Rigel’s shoulder and squeezing, in what I figured was a man-version of a hug. “Your grandfather has just brought us some disturbing news.”

Rigel and I sat down, side by side, at the kitchen table and looked expectantly at Shim. He pressed his lips together for a moment, as though overcoming some strong emotion, then nodded and began.

“Em . . . Marsha. When I spoke to you before, I mentioned the necessity of keeping the truth of your origin a secret.”

I nodded, trying to remember exactly what he’d said. “You said it might not be, um, safe for other people to know.”

“Exactly. Perhaps I did not sufficiently impress upon you the risks?” Again, his expression was a mixture of concern and anger.

“I, uh, I don’t think you said
exactly
what the risks were, except that it could mess with Martian politics somehow.” I really should have paid more attention during that dinner! “But I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, and I haven’t.”

“You’re sure of that?” Mr. Stuart asked, glancing at his father, then his wife, then back at me. “Not even in an online chat room or someplace seemingly anonymous like that?”

I stared at him. “What? No! I don’t go to online chat rooms. I don’t even have my own computer. I only get to use Uncle Louie’s for homework, and sometimes to check my e-mail.”

“Why do you think she’s told someone?” Rigel asked, covering my hand protectively with his.

I appreciated the gesture—a lot, actually—but I also noticed Shim staring at our hands before he looked back up at me.

“This morning, I discovered that an individual we’ve been monitoring, someone we know to be one of Faxon’s sympathizers, has been remotely searching computers in this town, trying to track down a specific IP address. Something must have triggered his interest. Are you sure you’ve done nothing online that might have aroused the suspicions of anyone trying to find you?”

“No! I—” But then I broke off, suddenly remembering. “Um, I guess I did do a lot of Googling a couple of weeks ago, when my aunt and uncle weren’t home. Some of it . . . er, most of it . . . might have been about Mars. But that was before I even met you,” I added hastily. “And I . . . I emptied the cache when I was done, so my uncle wouldn’t see anything. I even deleted all the cookies, just to be safe.”

“That must have been it.” Mr. Stuart said. “He must have had a hit tracker set up to detect specific searches, maybe even a dummy website or two. Enough hits from the same IP probably triggered an alert. You say that was two weeks ago?”

I nodded. “Two weeks ago today, actually. Is that important?”

Shim answered me. “Perhaps. It’s possible the searches alone weren’t enough to convince him. But by now, he will also have discovered the visit my colleagues and I made to this area—the day after those searches were performed. Taken together—”

“It could be enough to put M in some kind of danger?” Rigel guessed, tightening his grip on my hand. “Is that what you’re saying?”

Now Shim shifted his focus from me to his grandson. “Yes. And, unfortunately, you may be increasing that danger.”

Rigel swallowed visibly and I thought he turned a shade paler. I know I must have. “What . . . what do you mean?” he asked, his voice not nearly as strong as usual.

“I mean that you are the obvious link to Princess Emileia. It is known that you and your family live here, as we’ve never taken pains to hide that—not that we easily could have. Also that you are approximately the same age as the ‘lost’ princess. It stands to reason that were you and she in the same town, you would find each other, as
Echtrans
tend to gravitate to other
Echtrans
. Which means you will almost certainly be watched, if you are not being watched already.”

I felt a cold dread that I didn’t completely understand creeping down my spine, curdling my stomach. “Watched?” I whispered. “But why?”

“Because I would lead them to you.” Rigel’s voice was a whisper as well. Then, to his grandfather, “What will they do if they find her?”

Shim’s face sagged, making him suddenly look much older. “We don’t really know. Princess Emileia could be seen as a serious threat to Faxon’s hold on power. Just as we are hoping that eventually she will become a rallying point for the resistance, Faxon’s adherents will fear exactly that. They could seek to eliminate that threat before her existence can be generally known.”

“Eliminate?” I squeaked.

“Yes, my dear, I’m afraid so.” Shim’s fatherly tone was in direct contrast to his frightening words. “Your very life may be in grave danger.”

CHAPTER 18

Orbital degradation

The silence following Shim’s statement seemed to last forever. Rigel and even his parents looked as stunned as I felt. To my surprise, I was the first to find my voice.

“But I thought . . . you said Martians had this ingrained instinct against killing?” I glanced at Mr. Stuart.

“Yes,” he said heavily. “I did say that. But I also said that Faxon has somehow managed to overcome it, for himself and his followers.”

“Still, it’s possible I overstated the danger somewhat in order to be certain you take this seriously,” Shim told me. “While we can’t rule out Faxon’s adherents attempting to harm you physically, I believe it far more likely they would try to kidnap you, to persuade you to their cause. In any event, they are unlikely to do anything that would draw attention to themselves.”

His voice was soothing now, and I relaxed a tiny bit.

But then Mr. Stuart said, “We can’t know what they’d risk. Some of his followers on Mars were fanatical. If—”

“Yes, yes, Van, I know.” Shim waved him to silence with a look that made me think he didn’t want more said in front of me—probably so I wouldn’t get even more scared. “But we have little reason to believe he has more than a handful of followers on Earth. Still, we can’t afford to be careless. Rigel, Marsha,” he continued, “have either of you noticed anyone following you? Anyone watching you?”

I shook my head at the same time Rigel said, “No.”

“No suspicious strangers hanging around the school or trying to talk to either of you?”

Again, we both shook our heads.

“Then it’s likely I got here first. I’d have called, but I couldn’t be sure the line here was secure. At the close of our last visit, we discovered a security breach within our own circle.”

“Flynn?” The guess was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Shim’s bushy white brows shot upward. “We clearly underestimated you, my dear. May I ask what Flynn did during your brief encounter to make you mistrust him?”

I felt myself flushing with embarrassment, even though it sounded like I was right. “It was . . . well, I’m not sure. He just creeped me out.”

“Then I suggest you trust your instincts in the future,” Shim said. “Fortunately, we learned of his divided loyalties before he betrayed your whereabouts. But now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a call on a line that
is
secure.”

He pulled what looked like a tiny, futuristic cell phone from his pocket and left the room. Rigel immediately turned to his parents.

“How long have you known about this?” he demanded.

“About ten minutes longer than you have,” his father said. “Of course, we’ve always known there could be some risk if Faxon’s people discovered M’s whereabouts—or existence. But we had no idea they were close to doing so.”

Rigel stared at me for several long seconds, a frown furrowing his brow. “We can’t let them find her. What do you think we should do?”