by Brenda Hiatt
I touched another spot on the control panel. The screen expanded to about twice the size of our TV and began playing a slideshow I’d downloaded before leaving Nuath.
“That’s Thiaraway,” I told them as the pictures flashed across the big screen. “It’s the capital city of Nuath and where I was Acclaimed Sovereign. There, see that?” I paused at the image of a beautiful pink crystalline structure. “That’s the Royal Palace. I lived there most of the summer before coming back home.”
I let it show a few more pictures of various places around Nuath, then I shut the omni off. “It can also keep me warm if it’s cold outside, act as a rain shield, translate any language into any other, all kinds of cool stuff.”
Aunt Theresa and Uncle Louie both stared at me, even though Aunt Theresa had known the truth for a few days now. “Is it…dangerous?” She pointed at the omni.
“Of course not. It’s not a weapon or anything, just really useful. I can even communicate with Rigel’s grandfather on Mars with it, though there’s nearly a half-hour lag now, since the planets are moving farther apart from each other.”
Uncle Louie sucked in a breath. “It really is true? All of it?”
I nodded—cautiously, because he still looked stunned. Then, before I could even get a read on his emotions, a big smile suddenly broke across his face.
“Cool! And you’re, like, their queen? Wow, no wonder the Stuarts and the O’Garas have always been so nice to you—and us. Oh, hey, and you dating Jewel High’s star quarterback makes a lot more sense now. See, Theresa? There was a good reason all along, while you thought—”
She cleared her throat and he broke off, looking suddenly embarrassed. “Well, anyway,” he continued after an awkward pause, “I think it’s great. And the President was really here, at our house?”
“He really was. He, um, gave me a medal. Do you want to see that, too?” I was hugely relieved Uncle Louie was taking the news so much better than Aunt Theresa had.
Until his next words.
“Sure! Say, can I maybe borrow it, show it to my buddies at work? Greg will crow when he finds out he was right all along, but Tom will—”
“No!” Aunt Theresa and I both exclaimed at the same time.
“Uncle Louie, this has to be kept really, really secret,” I insisted, using all the Royal “push” I could summon. “You can’t tell anybody. Seriously. Promise you won’t?”
His face fell slightly. “Aw, not even Tom? He thinks he’s such a big shot, just because his cousin is a councilman up in Chicago. This is so much—”
“Not anybody,” I repeated, holding his pleading gaze with my own stern one, not giving an inch. “If people in Jewel knew about this, they’d flip out! They’d treat me…all of us…like freaks. And if they got scared, they might even do something bad to me and the others. We have to keep this super, super secret. Please, Uncle Louie, you have to promise!”
Now his eyes slid away from mine. “Okay, okay, fine,” he mumbled.
I kept watching him for a long moment, thoroughly probing his emotions to tell if he meant it. He seemed to, though grudgingly. Still, I was fairly confident that once he really thought things through he’d keep that promise, no matter how much he was dying to impress his friends.
“Our spaghetti is stone cold,” my aunt suddenly said. “I’ll have to reheat everything in the microwave. Louie, any other questions you have for Marsha can wait until after she’s eaten.”
Of course, he still asked a few during dinner, despite Aunt Theresa’s frowns. Between answers—and bites of spaghetti—I reminded him several more times how important it was to keep this information to himself. Though he nodded each time, I worried he still didn’t completely get it.
“Hey, how about some of that fudge for dessert?” he suggested as Aunt Theresa stacked our empty plates.
I shook my head. “Cormac, my Bodyguard, would go ballistic if I ate something a Martian stranger gave you without letting him taste it first.”
“Huh? You mean all these new NuAgra people already know I’m your uncle? Is that why they’re buying cars from me and inviting us all to dinner and stuff?”
“Well…yeah. That’s the reason I had to tell you all this—so you’d know not to accept any more gifts or invitations from them.”
He looked disappointed. “But…how come? Where’s the harm?”
“It’s just… I don’t want them using you—or Aunt Theresa—to get to me. To try to influence me or anything.”
My aunt turned from the sink in obvious alarm, soapsuds dripping from her hands. “Didn’t you say they weren’t dangerous?”
“They’re not.” At least I had no reason—yet—to think any of them were. “But that’s not the point. You guys don’t really want to get sucked into Echtran politics, do you?”
Aunt Theresa shook her head, looking alarmed, but Uncle Louie shrugged. “Sounds pretty interesting to me,” he said. “Seems like there should be some perks for the people who took care of their leader all these years.”
“Louie!” Aunt Theresa snapped. “Think what you’re saying. You’re already selling more cars than you ever have, because of…all this. Isn’t that enough?”
He sighed. “I guess. I just thought maybe—”
“I’m sorry, but both of those gifts will have to be returned, Uncle Louie. And if you’re offered any other presents or invitations, please don’t accept. Okay?” Not that there should be any more after tomorrow night’s meeting. I planned to make sure of that.
Though obviously disappointed, he reluctantly agreed—then continued to bombard me with questions.
7
Fractures
RIGEL greeted me with a quick kiss when I got off the bus the next morning—an excellent start to a day that promised to be both interesting and challenging.
“Have you met any of them yet?” I asked as we headed into the school, hand in hand. “None were on my bus this morning.”
“Two on mine, the same ones we’re supposed to interview. There they are, just ahead of us—Liam and Lucas. Twins, I think.” He nodded toward two dark-haired boys, both maybe a hair taller than Rigel though nowhere near as tall as Sean.
“Do they seem nice?”
Rigel shrugged. “We didn’t say much more than hi and exchange names, since everyone else on the bus wanted to meet them, too. None of us could exactly let on we had any special reason to talk, you know?”
“Right, of course. I wonder—?”
I broke off, sensing someone else’s brath behind us. Turning discreetly, I saw two girls heading toward us—one around our age, with dark auburn hair, the other one blonde and noticeably younger. Both definitely Martian.
As they drew level with us, I took a half-step forward and smiled. “Hey, welcome to Jewel. I’m Marsha Truitt, but most people call me M. And this is Rigel Stuart.”
The younger girl’s eyes went wide and she started to stammer something, but the older one—her big sister?—nudged her sharply with an elbow.
“Nice to meet you.” She spoke without stammering at all. “And thanks. I’m Kira Morain and this is my sister, Adina.”
Unlike her little sister, Kira displayed no nervousness whatsoever, nor did I sense much from her. I was glad. I’d been worried the new kids might act all intimidated and weird around me. This one definitely didn’t. In fact, I had the distinct impression she didn’t like Rigel or me very much. I could make a pretty good guess why.
“I hope you’ll both like it here,” he said. “Let us know if we can help with anything while you’re still, y’know, getting used to the place.”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Kira replied with only a hint of an answering smile. “But thanks anyway.”
They continued on down the hallway while Rigel and I both stared after them.
“Not very friendly, are they?” Rigel said. Then, silently, What did you sense off them? Did you remember to try?
I nodded. “Nothing I’d quite call hostile. Adina was mostly just
nervous, but Kira… I’m guessing she bought into the gossip in that stupid article. Definitely no warm fuzzies there.”
“You’ll win her over. All she has to do is get to know you.”
His confidence was heartening, but I was more concerned about slurs—or worse—aimed Rigel’s way.
“Guess we’ll find out, huh? Oops, here comes another one,” I added, detecting another distinctly Martian vibe nearby.
This one was a boy, an inch or two shorter than Rigel, with brownish-blond hair. We again made a point of introducing ourselves—casually, for the benefit of any Duchas students within earshot.
The boy stopped in his tracks, exuding nearly as much nervousness as little Adina had. “Oh, um, hi. G-Grady. Quinlan. They told me about— But I wasn’t—”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Rigel cut him off before he could blurt out anything he shouldn’t. “I know exactly what it’s like to be the new kid, trust me. At least you’re not the only one this week. That’ll help. What year are you in?”
“T-Tenth. Um, sophomore. At least—”
“Do you know what classes you’ll have?” I asked before he could yammer on about the special placement tests he’d taken during his orientation training—not something most transfers would have done.
Gulping visibly, he nodded and fumblingly pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Um, yeah. It’s all right here.” Apparently too nervous to read them off, he just handed it to me.
With an inward sigh, I scanned his class list. “I’ve had most of these teachers. You’ll like them, I think. Hope you have a great first day here, Grady.” I handed back his course list with a big smile.
He blinked three or four times, turning bright red, then nodded convulsively. “Th-Thanks.”
The warning bell rang. He flinched, then hurried off at a near run.
“Definitely nothing hostile there, either,” I told Rigel before he could ask. “Poor guy. Guess we’d better get to class.”
One of the tall, dark-haired twins Rigel had pointed out was already talking with Molly when we reached Pre-Cal. She motioned us over as soon as she spotted us.
“Have you guys met Liam yet?”
“We met on the bus.” Rigel extended his hand. “Guess they didn’t want to put you and your brother in all the same classes?”
Liam shrugged. “Nah, Lucas tested into AP Calc. He’s way more into math and science than I am. So, Rigel, I didn’t get a chance on the bus to ask you all the football stuff I want to know…the, um, season so far, I mean,” he added, apparently realizing how odd it would sound to a Duchas that he didn’t know much about the sport itself, yet.
“Yeah, sure, maybe we can talk at lunch,” Rigel agreed with a grin that acknowledged Liam’s near-slip.
Deb joined us then, also eager to be introduced, so we stuck to strictly non-Martian topics until class started.
* * *
Kira was in my French class next period, but seemed no more eager to chat than before. Finally, as we were leaving class, Molly got her talking a little—enough to find out she was a senior, like Sean, and that her family had moved into the Diamond View Terrace Apartments.
“Then you should be riding our same bus,” Molly said with a quick smile that Kira didn’t echo. “Or do you drive to school?”
Kira shook her head. “We just have the one car. Our dad dropped us off today but next week, well…see ya.” She headed off down the hall without a backward glance.
Molly frowned after her. “Not very friendly, is she?” she said, just like Rigel had. “She’s probably just nervous. I’m sure she’ll warm up to us once she gets used to everything.”
But I knew nervousness had nothing to do with it. Interesting that her parents had apparently been among those sucking up to Uncle Louie while Kira clearly wanted nothing to do with me. I wondered what was really going on there.
The only other new Echtran I met before lunchtime was Liam’s brother Lucas, since they were both in my next two classes. Lucas was quieter than his brother but not noticeably more nervous around me. As they walked with Rigel and me from Chemistry to English Lit, Lucas turned to us both with a tentative smile.
“Do, um, you think we can all get together sometime soon and talk?” He spoke quietly enough that no nearby non-Martians were likely to hear him. “I read all the reports from last week but they were kind of sketchy. There’s a whole lot more I’d really like to know about…what happened.”
“Sure,” I replied. “If not today, maybe tomorrow. You know about the, um, meeting tonight, right? I’ll be answering questions there, too.”
At lunch, I was briefly alarmed to see all the new students sitting together. Then I realized that would be perfectly normal even if they weren’t Echtrans, since they’d supposedly all moved here from “back East.”
Not suprisingly, their table was already mobbed by people eager to meet them. Trina and her “welcoming committee” were doing their best to monopolize their attention but they weren’t the only ones, by a long shot. Discreetly resting my arm against Rigel’s while we ate, I listened in on some of the conversations.
I didn’t like everything I heard.
“So, my dad wanted me to ask you guys if NuAgra is going to start hiring locally anytime soon?” Nate Villiers was saying to the group.
One of the Echtrans I hadn’t met yet, a tall, blond guy, answered. “I don’t think they’ve decided yet, sorry. They probably want to get all their own people situated first.”
I relaxed slightly. It sounded like he’d been well-coached, which probably meant the others had, too.
“Yeah, well, there are a lot of people around here who could use the work, you know? Maybe mention that to somebody there?” Nate persisted. He’d apparently had some coaching, too, making me wonder what his father did—and if he was currently out of work.
Nor was Nate the only one to ask that question. Understandable, given how many automotive-related jobs we’d lost over the past few years, but still awkward. I hoped it wouldn’t lead to widespread resentment against the newcomers.
Don’t borrow trouble, okay? Rigel thought, picking up on my worry. Even if NuAgra can’t hire Duchas, they’ll still prop up the local economy. That’ll help a lot.
Hope so. Uncle Louie’s been saying that, too, even before I told him the truth about them.
I’d given Rigel the rundown on that conversation when I went to bed last night. Even more than the convenience of our new long-distance telepathy, I loved the feeling of falling asleep in each other’s thoughts.
Me, too, Rigel thought to me now, with a grin that made my heart speed up. Probably my favorite thing about our new range.
Toward the end of lunch, when the regular Jewel students had finally dispersed to their own tables to eat, we discovered the locals weren’t the only ones grumbling.
“They seriously want us to act like these Duchas?” the tall blond guy said softly to the others. “That’s going to be harder than I thought.”
“At least you only have to fake it until next May, Alan,” said the young-looking dark-haired girl sitting next to Adina. “I’ve got three more years after this one!” Jana, the other freshman, then.
Liam and Lucas exchanged glances, then Liam shrugged. “At least we’ll have an edge getting onto any sports teams we want. Sounds like Rigel Stuart and Sean O’Gara became stars, like, instantly, and they’re not—”
Abruptly, Rigel moved his arm away from mine so we couldn’t hear any more.
Sorry, he thought to me. That was starting to get weird.
I raised an eyebrow at him. If there’s trouble brewing on the Echtran side, too, we need to know.
He gave a tiny nod. Yeah, you’re right. Can’t afford to be squeamish. He shifted his arm back to graze mine and immediately we could hear them perfectly again.
“—seems like a nice enough guy,” Lucas was saying to the others. “Whatever the real story is between him and the Sovereign, I can’t believe he’s a Faxon sympathizer.”
Rigel flinched but didn’t pull his arm away.
“Maybe not,” Alan said, “but he’s still way crossing the line. Look at him, sitting right next to her over there. You’d think O’Gara would have something to say about it, wouldn’t you? I used to play chas pell, um, basketball with him when we were kids, before his family left Nuath. He didn’t seem like the type who’d just roll over without a fight.”
All three of the younger girls looked over to where Sean was again sitting with some basketball teammates.
“Yeah, poor Sean.” Jana, the freshman who’d been complaining before, sighed. “Maybe one of us should console him, you think?”
The warning bell rang, putting a stop to our eavesdropping—to Rigel’s obvious relief.
“Really not a fan of that,” he murmured to me as we rose to return our trays. “Seems underhanded, you know?”
“More than me using that emotion-sensing thing no one else knows about?” I was careful to use our secret sub-whisper.
“That’s different. More like…being super-good at reading body language. And it’s not like our lives or even our safety’s on the line here.”
“You can’t know that,” I retorted. But if it bothers you that much, we won’t do it again, I finished silently. Unless we have a really good reason.
Deal.
Still, after what we’d overheard Alan saying, I mentally added that topic to my agenda for tonight’s meeting. Rigel might not be in favor of another MARSTAR bulletin but I could at least try to make sure he didn’t have to deal with any more backbiting here at school.
When I got home from school, I set right to work on my opening speech for tonight and had a decent draft written by the time Aunt Theresa got home. She looked worried again.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, just like I had yesterday.
“I’m not sure. I hope not. But your uncle just texted me that he’d be late for dinner because he and some coworkers are stopping by Green’s after work to celebrate their good sales week.”
She always got ticked off when Uncle Louie went out drinking with his friends but what I sensed from her was more than that.