Starcrossed

by Brenda Hiatt

  “Hey, Marsha, you and your guy Rigel didn’t have a fight, did you?” Uncle Louie asked in a perfectly audible tone. “How come they’re sitting over there?”

  He would pick this one time to be observant.

  “No! I, um, told him Aunt Theresa would be mad about me coming home late last night, so he’s probably just trying to keep me from getting into more trouble.”

  He just nodded and grunted. “Think she overreacted, myself,” he confided, “but I can’t claim to know much about raising kids.” Clearly uncomfortable, he let the subject drop with a shrug.

  A small sigh escaped me. My life would have been a lot easier over the years if Uncle Louie had ever been willing to take my side against Aunt Theresa instead of just muttering behind her back. Not that she was easy to stand up to. In fact, very few people in town had the nerve to oppose her, since she was well known for her quick-temper and sharp-tongue.

  Except with the O’Garas. For some unfathomable reason, she’d taken to them immediately.

  The sermon seemed extra long today, impatient as I was to snatch a private second or two with Rigel, or at least get close enough for a bigger dose of the strength he always gave me. The moment everyone stood after the benediction and dismissal, I started moving in his direction. Or tried to.

  “What’s your hurry?” Sean asked as I attempted to nudge my way past him into the aisle.

  I gave him an impatient glance. “I just need to—”

  “M, dear, do you think you could introduce Sean and Molly around to some of the younger people?” Mrs. O’Gara asked before I could make something up. Not that I should have to explain myself to Sean anyway.

  “What? Oh, um, sure. C’mon.”

  Determined to use this to my advantage, I led them in Rigel’s direction, even though the only other teenagers were at the back of the sanctuary, near the exit. He saw me coming and smiled, then frowned—probably because Sean was right behind me. Still, he moved toward me, edging past his parents. We were just a few yards apart when Mr. Stuart put a hand on Rigel’s shoulder, stopping him.

  At the same time Sean said, “Uh, M? Probably not the best place for another showdown.”

  I rounded on him. “Showdown? I just want to say hi. Or isn’t that allowed anymore?”

  Unfortunately, I hadn’t noticed that Aunt Theresa was right behind Sean and Molly.

  “Perhaps it shouldn’t be, Marsha, after last night,” she snapped.

  I stared at her. “What, I can’t even be polite to him? In church?”

  She primmed up her lips. “We’ll discuss this at home, Marsha. Now, weren’t you going to introduce Molly and Sean to your youth group friends?”

  With tears pricking behind my eyes, I swung back around to look at Rigel, who was still facing my way, looking as frustrated as I felt. Apparently his parents didn’t want to risk a scene in church either. Forcing down my anger and humiliation, I focused on him as hard as I could.

  Arboretum? I caught the word clearly in my mind.

  I nodded quickly and thought back, Midnight.

  He gave me a quick nod back to show he understood, then turned away just as his mother started to frown at him.

  “If that’s how it’s going to be, let’s go.” I could tell he was pretending to be more upset than he really was, so they’d be less suspicious. I hoped it worked.

  Following his cue, I tried to hide my relief that we had a plan. With one longing look over my shoulder, I mumbled, “Yeah, okay, there are a few kids near the door. Come on.”

  Most of the teens had already seen Sean and Molly at school, but I introduced them around for the benefit of the watchful adults. Two guys started flirting with Molly, while nearly all the girls glommed onto Sean. I tried to ease away, still hoping to snag a quick word with Rigel, but Aunt Theresa intervened before I’d taken two steps.

  “Lili suggested it might be nice to go out for lunch.” She wore a delighted-looking smile, which looked weird on her face. “We should hurry if we want to get a table at the Lighthouse Cafe.”

  I blinked at her in surprise—and irritation. Two different Sundays the Stuarts had suggested going out after church, and both times my aunt had made up some excuse. I’d figured it was because of the money, but apparently not.

  The seven of us walked out into the overcast, chilly day, heading for the Lighthouse Cafe, which was opposite the Town Hall on Diamond. Just before we went in, the Stuarts drove past and Rigel and I locked gazes for an instant. Even that tiny contact helped center me so I was able to smile when Molly complimented my new-ish skirt.

  We managed to snag a table by the back wall as another group left and Sean maneuvered to sit by me again, even though I’d completely ignored him during the walk here.

  “I’m kind of looking forward to my first snowfall,” he said as I opened my menu.

  Startled, I glanced at him. “What? You mean it never snows in . . . in Ireland?”

  He shook his head, his expression serious, though his eyes twinkled mischievously. “Not on the coast, where we were. They get a bit inland, especially to the north.”

  Uncle Louie, down the table, let out a guffaw. “By March, you’ll have seen more than you ever wanted, boy, especially if you’re the one who shovels the drive. We get a fair bit of lake-effect snow here.”

  The adults started comparing Ireland’s and Indiana’s weather and while my aunt and uncle were distracted, Sean leaned over and whispered, “Actually, it still gives me the willies a bit, how stuff just falls from the sky here.”

  I was still upset, especially with Sean, but that got me wondering what kind of weather, if any, they did have in Nuath, what with it being underground and all. I hadn’t thought to ask during my visits to their house.

  We ordered lunch, and the conversation changed—Uncle Louie and Mr. O’Gara talking about the local economy and Aunt Theresa and Mrs. O’Gara commiserating about the headaches of raising teenagers.

  “Honestly, you can’t take your eyes off them for a moment,” Mrs. O’Gara said with a laugh. “Would you believe, I once caught Sean climbing out his bedroom window—a second story bedroom, mind you!—after midnight? Wanted to meet up with his friends and a bonny lass he’d just met, he did.”

  I felt my stomach clench as Aunt Theresa replied, “If Marsha ever tried such a thing, she’d be grounded until she leaves for college.”

  Could Mrs. O’Gara have guessed what Rigel and I were planning tonight? That story was as badly timed as if she’d done it on purpose.

  “The lass wasn’t all that bonny,” Sean said in a joking undertone.

  I glanced at him in confusion. “What?”

  He leaned toward me, a coppery wave of hair falling across his forehead. “You looked a bit upset at what my mum just said. Didn’t want you thinking I’d been casting about for girls the whole while I was in Ireland.”

  “The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind,” I assured him with complete honesty.

  He just grinned and shrugged. “If you say so.”

  All I could do was shake my head. “Are you really that delusional?” I whispered.

  “Not delusional. But you’ll find I can be persistent.” He gave me a wink and took a big sip of his soda.

  I looked past him to Molly and it was clear she’d heard the exchange—and equally clear she was uncomfortable. I wondered what her real thoughts were on the matter, but couldn’t very well ask at the moment.

  Like that first night the O’Garas had come to our house, I felt a weird disconnect between what I knew was true and how things appeared on the surface, with conversations on everyday topics like weather and the upcoming basketball season. No one, especially my aunt and uncle, would ever believe most of our group was composed of extraterrestrials.

  Sometimes I wasn’t sure I completely believed it myself.

  Walking home an hour later, I caught Molly’s eye and the two of us dropped a little behind so we could talk. Unfortunately, Sean slowed down, too.

  “Do yo
u mind?” I asked pointedly. “We need a little girl talk.”

  His eyes twinkled down at me as he arched a skeptical eyebrow. “Let me guess. About me?”

  “Sean, not everything is about you,” Molly informed him.

  He just laughed. “Probably about Stuart, then. Either way, I’d as soon hear it. Need to know what I’m up against.”

  My mood was already in the pits and at that, I snapped. “Fine. It’s on you if you hear something you don’t want to. Molly, how long do you think it will take Sean to accept the fact that Rigel and I really are graell bonded?” I intentionally spoke as though Sean wasn’t there, but he replied anyway.

  “I’m guessing a few hundred years. Because it’s not possible.”

  I still refused to look at him. “You know,” I said to Molly, “Shim Stuart is probably the top geneticist on Earth, maybe even Mars, and he seems to think it’s possible. And he doesn’t strike me as the delusional sort.”

  Without warning, Sean reached over and grabbed my hand. I snatched it away, but not before I felt that jolt again.

  “Sean!” Molly gasped, clearly shocked that he’d touched me without permission.

  But Sean didn’t apologize. “Try to deny that. I felt our connection the first time you shook my hand—and I know you felt it, too, even if you were afraid to say anything because of Stuart. Are you going to pretend you feel anything like that when he touches you?”

  I could feel my cheeks burning, but I lifted my chin and looked him right in the eye. “No. What I get from him is at least ten times stronger.” Maybe I was exaggerating a little, but not much.

  Sean clearly didn’t believe me. “How long did it take him to convince you of that?”

  “I didn’t need any convincing. Like I told Molly, we both felt it the very first time we touched and it totally freaked Rigel out. He didn’t tell me what it meant for a couple of weeks—not until after we accidentally shot a lightning bolt at Bryce Farmer.”

  Sean frowned but didn’t argue any more and the three of us walked in silence for a few minutes. Then, as we reached my street, Sean murmured, “Molly did tell us how you get treated at home, M. I hope—we all hope—you can ignore the awkward political stuff enough to still escape to our place sometimes.”

  Molly nodded eagerly. “We can pretend we still need lots of tutoring. Your aunt already seems to like our mum, so—”

  Sean had dodged the graell subject again, but I couldn’t help being a little touched by their concern. “Thanks, Molly. Really. But it may be a while before I’m comfortable coming over after . . . everything. Sorry.”

  Her face fell, making me feel guilty for a second—but only a second. Because she’d been in on the deception, too.

  “I guess I understand,” she admitted. “But I hope you’ll eventually forgive us . . . all of us—” she glanced at Sean— “and we can be friends again. Real friends.”

  Even if I shared that hope, at least as far as Molly was concerned, at the moment I was way more looking forward to meeting with Rigel tonight—alone.

  CHAPTER 19

  udaris thusmithoir (oo-DARE-is thoos-MITH-er): parental authority

  My aunt and uncle went to bed early that night but there was no point leaving for the arboretum before a quarter to twelve. If anything, that might increase my chance of getting caught, and I didn’t even want to think what my aunt would do if that happened.

  Just in case Rigel and I decided our only option was to run away, I stuffed a change of clothes and a few toiletries into my backpack. Then I picked out what I was going to wear to meet him, did my last little bit of homework and glanced at the clock.

  Only ten-thirty? Really? Sighing with impatience, I flopped down on my bed and picked up Jane Eyre, which I was rereading for the umpteenth time.

  And fell asleep.

  I woke with a start and glanced wildly at my clock. Two minutes past midnight! Silently calling myself every kind of idiot, I jammed my legs and arms into my jeans and dark sweater, my feet into my running shoes, and yanked open my bedroom door.

  No sound from my aunt and uncle’s room, so I raced down the stairs as quietly as I could, through the kitchen, out the back door, and started running toward the arboretum, five or six blocks away. I was halfway there before I realized I’d forgotten my backpack, but there was no going back for it now.

  Instead, I ran faster, my shoes slapping the pavement. Now that I was away from the house, I was a lot more worried about getting to the arboretum before Rigel gave up and left than I was about making noise. Which is probably why I didn’t hear a car pulling up behind me just as I reached the arched entrance covered with dormant rose canes.

  “Rigel!” I called out in a loud whisper. “Are you still here?”

  “M!” came his answering whisper, along with the sound of his feet quickly approaching. “I was starting to think you couldn’t—”

  Before he could finish, I heard a car door slam behind me and wheeled around—to see my Aunt Theresa heading toward me. I shrank back, hoping maybe I could hide in the arboretum, but it was already too late.

  “Marsha Truitt! What do you think you’re doing out on the streets in the middle of the night? Jewel may be small, but it’s certainly not safe for you to go running at this hour—and on a school night! Of all the foolish, irresponsible— Why, anything could have happened to you, a young girl out on the streets at midnight! Alone! Completely alone!”

  Heart pounding in my throat, I clung to a shred of hope that I could at least minimize the damage. “I’m sorry, Aunt Theresa, I know it was stupid, but I was so keyed up I just needed to run and I . . . I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “You could have been mugged!” she continued to rant. “Or raped, or even murdered!”

  “It’s okay, Mrs. Truitt.” Rigel emerged from the arboretum, dashing my fragile hope. “She wasn’t alone. I would never let anything happen to her.”

  I closed my eyes. Rigel was trying to help, but he’d just made things ten thousand times worse. Sure enough, my aunt went totally ballistic.

  “You!” she practically screeched. “Marsha, you know full well I don’t approve of this boy, yet you deliberately sneaked out of the house—at midnight!—to meet him? I’ve raised you better than to act like a . . . a common little tramp! I can’t even begin to tell you how disappointed I am—in both of you. Young man, you will call your parents at once, and I will speak to them.”

  Rigel stared at her and I could feel the panic and fury rolling off him even though he was several feet away. “What? No!”

  “This instant, young man! If you don’t have a cell phone with you, we will return to our house and you can call from there. I intend to nip this . . . this immoral behavior in the bud!” Even though she was much shorter than Rigel and not a fraction as strong, her anger made her intimidating.

  Slowly, reluctantly, with a long, apologetic glance my way, Rigel pulled out his phone and called. I could hear it ringing several times on the other end before a sleepy voice answered.

  “Hey, Dad, it’s me. Yeah. I’m, uh—”

  Aunt Theresa reached out and took the phone away from him. “Mr. Stuart? This is Theresa Truitt, Marsha’s aunt. I have just caught my niece and your son meeting secretly at the arboretum in town—yes, at midnight. We need to discuss what should be done about it.”

  I could hear Mr. Stuart’s voice, no longer sleepy, saying something that sounded decisive.

  “Very well,” Aunt Theresa responded. “I’ll take them both back to our house and you can join us there.” She handed the phone back to Rigel and turned to me. “Marsha, front seat. Young man, back seat. Now.”

  Rigel hesitated. “Um, my bike . . .” He glanced over his shoulder.

  “Your parents can retrieve it later. In the car. Both of you.”

  Until that moment, “quivering with rage” was something I thought only happened in books. I’d never seen my aunt so angry—and I’d seen her angry a lot. Her lips were a thin slash across her face
and her small, gray eyes sparkled with something that almost looked like unshed tears, but was probably fury. I got into the front seat without a word and Rigel got in back.

  I desperately groped for any explanation for why I needed to meet Rigel in the middle of the night, but even with the boost in clarity his nearness gave me, I was too panicked to think straight. We were so totally, monumentally screwed.

  I’d expected a lecture, but Aunt Theresa didn’t say anything at all during the brief drive. She braked in the driveway with a spray of gravel and turned off the ignition. “We’ll wait inside until the Stuarts get here.”

  She made a point of walking between us so we couldn’t so much as brush fingers as we went up the front walk. I was dying for even the slightest contact with Rigel and knew he was feeling the same. But what could we do?

  The next ten minutes were the most awkward I’d ever spent in my life. Aunt Theresa directed us to chairs on opposite sides of the living room, then sat between us on the couch. Once or twice she made little hmphing noises and I thought she would finally start lecturing, but then she didn’t.

  “Mrs. Truitt,” Rigel said at one point, “please let me explain—”

  But she cut him off with a glare and a sharp, “When your parents get here.”

  Neither of us tried to say anything else after that, just sat and fidgeted. I wondered at one point whether Uncle Louie was still asleep or if he was just hiding upstairs to avoid the conflict. Either would be totally in character.

  Finally, after what felt like years, we heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive. With one quelling look at both of us, Aunt Theresa went to open the front door.

  “Please come in,” she said in a voice that could have frozen hot coffee.

  Both of Rigel’s parents had come. As they followed her in, I realized it was the first time they’d ever been inside our house. Our living room seemed even smaller and shabbier than usual as I mentally compared it to theirs.