Starstruck (35 page)

Finally, reluctantly, I asked, “So, what do we do now?” Even though what I wanted to do was just sit here together for as long as we possibly could.

Rigel tightened his hold on me for a second, then released me—also reluctantly, I thought. Hoped. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said. “We both need to be alert—and strong—whether Smith is really after you or someone else shows up who is.”

“So we can’t very well stay completely apart,” I said hopefully.

“Right. But we also don’t want to tip Smith off. We’ll have to meet secretly, like tonight. Or even after school, if we’re sneaky—sometimes I can duck out of practice early. Maybe that will be enough.”

It didn’t sound like enough to me. “I guess. So when do we meet again?”

“After school on Friday, maybe? I won’t have practice, since it’s a game day, but I can stay after, if you can come up with a reason to hang around that doesn’t look like it has to do with me.”

“I’ll come up with something.”

He took my face between his hands and kissed me—still too short a kiss, but very satisfying all the same. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmured.

I shook my head, partly because I wasn’t but also because I didn’t mind hearing more flattery.

“You are. You’re the bravest person I think I’ve ever known, to handle everything that’s been thrown at you without freaking out.”

But I knew I wasn’t really brave. I was just selfish, wanting more Rigel time. It was no credit to me that my need for him was stronger than any fear could ever be. “I’ll try to maintain that record,” I said. “But no promises if the bad guys show up with laser guns.”

He laughed and hugged me. “C’mon. Let’s get you home. You go first and I’ll follow about twenty yards behind. That way, if anyone did manage to follow one of us—”

“I’m sure they didn’t, but okay,” I said, half enjoying all of this cloak and dagger stuff.

We left the arboretum separately, him walking his bike a block behind me. But once I turned the corner onto my street, he caught up to give me one last kiss—though I very much hoped it wouldn’t be
the
last.

“Be safe,” he whispered. “I’ll see you soon.”

He rode off and, feeling much, much better than I had in two weeks, I walked—or rather, drifted—the last half block alone.

CHAPTER 21

Stellar discoveries

I was still feeling pretty good when I got to school Monday morning, even though I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect.

Rigel and his folks had come to church yesterday, and even though they didn’t sit with us, they at least nodded a greeting afterward—and Rigel and I managed to exchange a look and a smile when they weren’t watching. I didn’t think my aunt and uncle noticed, either, though I half wished my aunt had, after the stuff she’d said.

They definitely had no clue I’d snuck out Saturday night, and
that
was something I was completely fine with. Especially since I was hoping to do it again—soon and often. I was careful not to act too chipper on Sunday morning, even though I felt like singing. No point inviting questions I couldn’t answer.

I caught myself chewing the inside of my cheek as I got to Geometry class, the way I sometimes did when I was nervous. Rigel had said we should still pretend to ignore each other, but what if I couldn’t pull it off? What if he couldn’t? What if he
could?
Taking a deep breath, like I would before jumping into deep water, I entered the room.

The pull I always felt toward Rigel was stronger than I could ever remember it being before—so strong, it took an actual physical effort to keep my feet from moving his way. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw him sway just a little as I walked past and hoped it meant he was feeling the same unusual pull. I also hoped I’d get a chance to ask him later on.

I was pretty proud of myself that I managed to take my seat without looking at him. Well, not
right
at him, though I was so aware of him it felt like cheating. Still, if no one noticed, it didn’t count, right?

Deb was watching me closely, though. “Bri was right. You look about two hundred percent better today than you did Friday,” she said, referring to our conversation on the bus. “It’s great that you’ve bounced back so well.”

I just smiled. I’d told them I’d gotten a lot of sleep over the weekend, but they both chose to see my improvement as proof that I was finally over Rigel. Which was the safest thing to let them assume, even if the truth was exactly the opposite.

A couple of hours later, in English class, I made a point of trying to pick up that Martian vibe from Mr. Smith, after what Rigel had said Saturday night. Now, though, I wasn’t sure I was feeling it—not that I’d ever felt it
very
strongly from anyone other than Rigel. It was like his vibe was so intense—to me, at least—that it drowned out anyone nearby. With him sitting right in front of me, it was especially hard for me to focus on anything else.

Trina kept swiveling around—pretty much every time Mr. Smith’s back was turned—to flirt with Rigel, but I noticed he wasn’t responding nearly as much as he had last week. I hoped it was because he knew now that he could hurt me emotionally as much as physically and was trying not to do that.

I thought Rigel seemed a little . . . twitchy during English, but it wasn’t until Science that I understood why. Now he was sitting behind me, the way I’d sat behind him last period—and I could
feel
him back there, more strongly than usual. It was really, really hard not to turn around. So hard that about ten minutes into class, Will asked if I was sitting on a tack or something. I tried harder to sit still after that.

But just a few minutes later, a delicious tap on my shoulder sent a wakeup call ricocheting through my body and I did turn.

“Can I borrow a pen?” Rigel whispered. “Mine’s out of ink.” He kept his expression neutral but I could see amusement flickering deep in his eyes and knew it was just a ruse—an excuse to touch me. The thought made me giddy.

“Oh! Um, sure.” I rummaged in my bag and panicked for a second when I couldn’t find a pen right away, but then I did and handed it to him, making sure my fingers touched his. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” This time he allowed himself just the smallest smile—enough to approximately double my heart rate.

As I turned back around, I heard Trina hiss, “Couldn’t you have borrowed one from someone else?
Anyone
else?”

I was willing to bet she’d be carrying several extra pens tomorrow.

At the end of class, Rigel returned my pen, which gave us another excuse to brush fingers. It was nowhere as good as a kiss, or even holding hands, but it was massively better than no touching at all. I headed for lunch with an extra bounce in my step.

“So, M,” Bri said as she and Deb and I sat down with our trays. “Now that you’re past the meltdown-rebound stage, how about the three of us triple-date to the movies next week? Nate Groundwater told Matt Mullins to tell me to tell you that he’s interested. Or there’s Jimmy Franklin. I mean, I know he’s just on the JV team, but you’ve liked him forever, and he’s been telling everybody you guys are going out sometime soon.”

“What?” My attention had strayed to Rigel—surrounded by cheerleaders as usual—but that snapped me back. “I never told him that.”

“But he asked?” Deb demanded. “Tell me he asked!”

I nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, actually, he asked me to Homecoming but I said no. I guess I might have said something like, ‘maybe some other time.’”

“Well, there you go.” Bri made it sound like everything was settled or something.

“But I—” I stopped. I couldn’t very well say I didn’t want to go out with Jimmy because Rigel and I were back together, since that was a huge secret. “I don’t think I’m really ready for that,” I ended lamely.

Bri and Deb launched into a lengthy tag-team lecture on why I needed to move on, not only for my sake but for the sake of all dumped girls everywhere, but now my attention was diverted by the sight of our new English teacher patrolling the lunchroom. Because he was most definitely patrolling.

As I always did when he was in the room, I tried to make myself more inconspicuous. I knew I gave off enough of a vibe for other Martians to pick up, and I absolutely didn’t want Mr. Smith noticing. He hadn’t seemed to yet, though I’d been careful not to speak up in his class, remembering how Rigel’s voice had affected me the first day of school—and pretty much every day since.

He wandered the cafeteria, seemingly aimlessly, though I could tell it was anything but aimless. His gaze kept coming back to Rigel and whoever was talking to him.

Like I’d done in English class, I tried to focus on Smith, to see if I could get that Martian vibe off of him, but I couldn’t, not really. What I did get from him, though, as strongly as I had his first day here, was a gut feeling that said the guy couldn’t be trusted.

Shim had told me to trust my instincts, and my instincts said that Smith was bad news—though I really, really hoped I was wrong. Because I was pretty sure that if Shim and his high-ranking cronies believed Smith was a real threat, I wouldn’t be able to talk them out of whisking me away to Montana or some other remote place. Without Rigel. Which made it super tempting to just assume the Stuarts were right, and Mr. Smith was no threat at all.

But even if I wanted to gamble my life on that assumption—which I didn’t—not
knowing
meant Rigel would never be willing for us to be a real couple again. And that meant I needed to find out for sure what Smith was up to, whether he was a danger or not. But how?

By the next day I had a plan. A risky plan, probably a stupid plan, but better than nothing. Maybe.

I told my aunt I’d be staying after school that day—partly in case Rigel could get out of football practice early, like he’d hinted he might, but mainly so I could snoop around in Smith’s classroom. I knew the odds were low I’d actually find anything, but it was a place to start.

During English class and at lunch, I watched him every chance I got, which meant whenever I didn’t think he’d notice. I’m not sure what I hoped to see—certainly he didn’t do anything overtly sinister. But he did check his cell phone almost constantly, even during class, though he was very discreet about it. I probably hadn’t noticed before because I’d been trying so hard to be invisible.

At least six times during our fifty minute class, he slipped it out of his desk drawer—I carefully noted which drawer—glanced at it, then quickly put it away again. Interesting. At lunch he checked it even more often, like every five minutes, as he prowled around the cafeteria. Definitely interesting.

Obviously he was expecting an important call or text. It might just be about getting his cable hooked up or his car in the shop. Or it might be about something related to his real business here in Jewel.

If I could somehow get my hands on that cell phone, I could check his call history, his texts, anything he hadn’t erased. And even if I couldn’t, maybe I could get lucky and overhear him or something—if I had the guts to get that close.

Common sense said I should play it safe and stay as invisible—and as far from him—as possible. But more and more, I wanted to know what I was really up against, or if I was up against anything at all. I was sure those important Martian muckety-mucks hadn’t told Rigel and me everything, either because it was too secret or because they only saw us as kids. Sometimes I even wondered if Shim might have exaggerated the possible danger just to keep me quiet and away from Rigel, that maybe there wasn’t really any threat at all. If so, I definitely had a right to know.

As soon as the last bell rang, I headed straight for Mr. Smith’s classroom. But when I reached it, he was still there, talking to a couple of senior girls who were pretty blatantly flirting with him in the guise of asking questions about some assignment. I wished I could tell them he was probably at least fifty years old instead of the twenty-five he looked.

Since I couldn’t do any snooping with him there, I continued past the classroom and on to the media center. I’d do a little homework and try back after a while.

Half an hour later, I wandered oh-so-casually back down the hallway and saw that the room was dark and the door open. After a quick check up and down the hall to make sure no one was watching, I whisked into the classroom and pushed the door partway closed.

I set to work methodically searching his desk. No cell phone (of course) and nothing else that looked even a little bit incriminating or even personal. Just lesson plans and books and stacks of papers written by students, stuff like that. Next I looked through the shelves behind his desk and the table along the side of the room, but I knew it was pointless. Finally I gave it up, wondering why I’d thought there was any chance at all he’d have left anything important in an unlocked classroom anyway. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

Worse, by the time I came to that obvious conclusion, I had to run to catch the late bus, so all I saw of Rigel was his profile through the window of his bus. A wasted afternoon altogether.

I didn’t abandon my plan, though. For the rest of the week, I kept a close eye on Mr. Smith whenever I could, even detouring past his classroom between as many of my classes as possible. He kept checking his phone a lot, but otherwise I didn’t catch him doing anything suspicious. Maybe my instincts
were
wrong—which would be great.