by Brenda Hiatt
Part way into the second half, Mr. O pulled out his cell phone and made a call, but I couldn’t hear any of it over the yells of the crowd. Probably tattling to Allister, I thought sourly. Glancing back, I also noticed Rigel was no longer sitting with his dad—or anywhere else I could see. I kept checking, but he didn’t come back for the rest of the game.
At the final buzzer, the gym practically exploded with cheers and everyone rushed the floor. Or, rather, rushed Sean, to congratulate him on his spectacular performance. Bri chattered nonstop as she dragged Deb and me in his direction.
“That’s the biggest basketball win Jewel has ever had! Sean was incredible! He’s even better at basketball than Rigel is at football. I mean, we didn’t win Rigel’s first game, right? But wow, we could win State if Sean keeps playing like tonight! How awesome would that be?”
She kept talking, but I stopped listening as soon as she dissed Rigel. Yeah, Sean had practically been a one-man team out there, but he only had four teammates to hold him back. Rigel had ten, plus he couldn’t do anything at all when the offense wasn’t playing.
Bri had me by the hand, but I was frantically scanning the mob around the court for a glimpse of Rigel, hoping he was still here. Even if I couldn’t talk to him again, with the O’Garas right behind me, I wanted to see him.
I didn’t, though, and then we reached Sean, who was smiling and nodding and answering questions, clearly enjoying his new celebrity enormously. Way more than Rigel had enjoyed his, I was sure. Just as I thought that, Sean spotted me.
“M!” he exclaimed, heading toward me with a huge grin, his arms coming up. “I was so juiced when I saw you in the bleachers! I didn’t think you could come.”
For a panicked second I thought he was going to hug me, but when I took a step back he immediately dropped his arms.
“Your Mom, uh, talked my aunt into letting me,” I explained, edging nonchalantly behind Bri and Mrs. O’Gara. “It was really nice of her.”
Bri wasn’t the least bit reluctant to step into that aborted hug. “Sean, you were amazing!” she cried, throwing her arms around him. “You looked like an NBA player out there tonight.”
He returned her hug but quickly released her, his ears reddening. “Not quite that, but thanks,” he laughed, then turned to his parents who had to practically shoulder Bri aside to reach him.
“We’re really proud of you, son,” his dad said as his mother and Molly hugged him—hugs he returned more enthusiastically than he had Bri’s. I was glad. For Bri’s sake. “You played a great game.”
Other people pressed in on him, slapping him on the back and congratulating him, but after a few minutes he turned back to his parents—and me. “Coach wants to see us in the locker room for some post-game stuff, but I should be ready to go in a few minutes. Meet you in the parking lot?”
“We’ll wait just inside the East entrance,” Mrs. O’Gara said, “in case you take longer than you expect. It’s cold outside.”
I didn’t think it was all that cold, nearly fifty degrees. But then, I’d grown up in Indiana, not a climate-controlled underground habitat.
“Guess we’ll see you at school,” Bri said, reluctantly, I thought. I wondered if she’d been hoping for an invitation to something after the game, then immediately felt guilty for thinking that.
To make up for it, I gave her, then Deb, a quick hug. “Yeah, see you guys tomorrow. Maybe by next weekend I’ll be ungrounded and we can go shopping or something.”
“Absolutely!” Deb said, returning my hug. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help, okay?”
“Promise,” I said, touched.
We left the gym and Mrs. O put a hand on my shoulder, startling me, since the O’Garas were all about not touching me. Then I saw Rigel and his dad, about twenty yards away, and realized she must have seen them first. That’s what I got for being distracted. I sent him all the love and longing I could and was almost sure I felt the same coming back from him.
“We should probably start making our way to the exit, don’t you think?” Mr. O said with an almost imperceptible glance Rigel’s way. “We don’t want to get M home any later than necessary.”
Molly caught up with us then, smiling hugely. “Wasn’t that a great game? Didn’t Sean look wonderful? Mom, Dad, the cheerleaders are having a celebration party with some of the players and Amber offered me a ride. Can I go?”
Her mother immediately shook her head. “I’ve heard about those parties, Molly. I don’t think it’s a good idea. Speaking of which, were any parents at home for last night’s gathering?”
“What? Of course!” Molly said so quickly even I didn’t believe her. Mrs. O just looked at her for a second or two and Molly blushed. “Okay, sorry. No. But I didn’t do anything I shouldn’t have, I promise!”
After concentrating another moment—using her “lie detector”—Mrs. O relaxed and smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. But no, I don’t want you going to another party tonight, Molly. I’m sorry. Besides, we have M with us.”
Molly glanced guiltily at me and I quickly said, “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for wanting to go.”
To her credit, Molly shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Some of those girls are kind of, I don’t know, fake. Not like you.”
“Or like you,” I assured her. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t have fun parties.”
Her smile was more grateful and relieved than necessary, but I barely noticed because I was watching Rigel out of sight as they headed to the other exit.
It was nearly ten minutes before Sean joined us, his hair damp and wearing a fresh t-shirt under his open jacket. I steadfastly ignored the clean-boy smell he gave off.
“Hey, everyone! Ready to go?” His question was to all of us, but his smile seemed mostly for me. I didn’t meet his eye.
As we headed outside, I wasn’t really surprised that Sean walked next to me, though I was glad he didn’t try to touch me. When we were halfway to the car, though, he leaned close and whispered, “If you’re cold, I have my omni in my coat pocket.”
He had it here? At school? Really? “I’m fine. I grew up here, remember? It gets a lot colder than this, trust me.” I said it loud enough that the rest of the family heard.
“That will be a new sort of challenge for us all, won’t it?” Mrs. O’Gara said cheerily. “I must say, I prefer that to the sort that put our lives at risk.”
Mr. O’Gara chuckled. “Those days should be behind us, Lili. Though different challenges await.”
In the car, I somehow ended up sandwiched between Sean and Molly, Sean’s thigh touching mine—through his jeans and mine, which should have made it okay. But then he threw an arm oh-so-casually across the seat behind me. “So, did my folks tell you about what’s going on back on Mars?”
“Sean!” his mother exclaimed before I could respond. “Under the circumstances it seemed . . . premature.”
“What?” I immediately asked. “What do you not want to tell me?”
Nobody said anything as I glanced back and forth between Sean and Molly. Like always when she got stressed, Molly wouldn’t meet my eye, so I focused on Sean. “What?” I repeated.
Though he looked a little embarrassed, at least he didn’t refuse to meet my gaze. “They say Faxon’s grip is slipping and the resistance is growing faster than ever. And that once he’s out, you—um, we—will have, er, more responsibilities.”
“Responsibilities? What responsibilities?” I stared at him, then at the O’Garas in the front seat.
His father finally answered. “He means, Excellency, that the moment there is a power vacuum, it will be absolutely essential for our people to know their Sovereign is prepared to assume her proper role. To prevent chaos, you will need to declare for Acclamation immediately. In company with your destined Consort. On Mars.”
CHAPTER 28
Rigel (RY-jel): a bright star, most visible in winter evenings in the northern hemisphere
Even though I didn’t get near
enough time with M, it was enough that I’m feeling physically better than I have since my party. Only physically, though. Between Allister’s hints to M, the bits I overheard last night at home, and my dad spending most of the second half on his cell phone, I’m seriously worried our time together is running out way sooner than either of us expected.
Waiting for Dad after the game, I decide I was a coward to duck out of the last ten minutes. A real man should be able to sit there and watch the girl that means more than life to him watch another guy do the super-jock thing. But I kept seeing Sean O’Gara through M’s eyes—because of our link or my own paranoia?—and it just got to be too much.
As Dad and I cross the parking lot, I see M getting into the O’Garas’ car. I try not to grind my teeth as Sean gets in right next to her. It would make more sense for him to get in first and let Molly sit in the middle, since M will have to get out first. Not that he cares. Probably plans to walk her to the door or something.
I know from experience how great a guy feels after winning a game the way Sean did tonight—like you can conquer the world. I also know how attracted some girls are to that kind of confidence. Not that M would ever react that way to anybody but me. No way.
I’m tempted to ask Dad to swing by M’s house on the way home, but I don’t. No matter how much this Sean thing bothers me, I’m not going to go all stalker. I may not trust him, but I trust her. Completely.
“You missed a great finish, by the way,” Dad says once we’re in the car, like we were in the middle of a conversation or something. “It looks like Sean O’Gara really is the wunderkind everyone is saying. I’m glad I decided to come.”
I just grunt.
“I’m sorry, Rigel,” he says, surprising me. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know this is terribly hard for you.”
Duh. I just shrug. Even if it might help to talk this stuff out with my dad, I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Sometimes I forget what it was like to be sixteen,” he continues when I don’t answer. “Of course, I never had the kind of bond you have with M—at least, not until I was much older. I’d like to think your mother and I have something similar now. I’ll try to keep that in mind.”
“Thanks,” I force myself to say. From his tone I figure he’s in the mood to do the father-son talk thing and I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.
He clears his throat, like he does when he’s uncomfortable. “I should tell you that we’ll be going to your grandfather’s for Thanksgiving.”
“What?” I practically shout it, caught totally off guard. “To DC? Why isn’t he coming here? We have more space.” Plus our house isn’t six hundred miles away from M! But I don’t say that.
“In light of, ah, recent events, some feel it would be best if we leave Jewel for a few days.”
“Recent events?” I get a nasty sinking feeling, which he immediately validates.
“Political events. And the fact that you and M don’t seem able to abide by the rules we’ve set out, even for a few days.”
Crap. So it’s my fault. “Who tattled? Mrs. O?”
“Does it matter, Rigel? Given your lack of control, it was agreed a more enforced separation is in order.”
Now I’m suspicious as well as furious—and scared. “Agreed by who? Allister and the O’Garas?”
“Not only them. I talked with Shim during the game as well, and the entire Council agrees that our presence here right now could . . . complicate things.”
“Complicate things?” Suspicion, rage and fear all ramp into overdrive. “You mean between M and Sean O’Gara, don’t you?”
“That’s only a part of it. The situation will be explained more fully once we get to Washington. Until then, please don’t jump to any conclusions, Rigel. Your mother and I are trying very hard not to.”
I stare hard at him, wishing I could sense stuff from my dad the way I can from M. But I can’t. “So they’re not telling you everything, either?”
“No. Just that more Echtrans are moving to Jewel, along with an uptick in, um, tourism. And they’re not just here to gawk at M.”
I suck in my breath. “So why are they here?”
“Various reasons.” Again he hesitates and clears his throat a couple times, which scares me even worse. “It has to do with the unrest in Nuath and the general expectation that Faxon’s days are numbered. People smell a change in the air. Those who can’t be on Mars want to speed it along by doing what they can here on Earth.”
I’m not quite following. “Speed it along how? You mean they’ll want M to do Sovereign stuff right away? She’s not even sixteen yet!”
“She will be soon,” he reminds me. “And there have been Sovereigns in our past who have had to assume at least a measure of power at that age, though not recently. Perhaps a greater concern is that not everyone is in favor of immediately installing a new Sovereign—especially one so young.”
“You mean they’ll want to get M out of the way? Like Faxon tried to do?” I try to fight down a wave of pure panic, but it’s hard. Someone might be going after M right now and I’m not even allowed to protect her! Why did I talk her out of running away? Maybe there’s still time . . .
But Dad shakes his head. “No, no, I don’t think anyone will try to harm her. But many may try to influence her, in one direction or another, while others want to, well, observe her. To get a feel for just who she is and how they feel about her as Sovereign.”
“So they’ll what? Be following M around and sending reports or something? Will they tell M what they’re doing?” I definitely will, as soon as I see her at school tomorrow.
“Possibly. As I said, it’s early days yet, but people want to be sure we have a leader who can take over once Faxon is gone.”
“I thought that tribunal thing back in September, with all those tests, did that?”
Again he shakes his head. “I’m not talking about the legalities here, Rigel. I’m talking about the will of the people. No Sovereign can lead effectively without the support of the majority. After our experience with Faxon, our people are understandably worried by the thought of another incompetent ruler. I imagine most are simply hoping for reassurance. That Princess Emileia will turn out to be exactly what they—what we—need.”
I still don’t like the way this is sounding, since I don’t see how I fit into any of it. “And what if they aren’t reassured? What will they do?”
“It’s really too soon to say. If enough people are convinced M isn’t ready to lead, or that she may never be ready to lead, they may look for alternatives. Someone else of Royal blood—though Faxon’s depredations will make that difficult—or an alternative to the monarchy altogether.”
“Like an elected leader? A president or a prime minister or something?” I can’t keep the hope out of my voice, since that would solve everything, as far as I’m concerned. “Would that necessarily be a bad thing?”
“Perhaps not.” But he looks troubled. “Anyway, I thought you deserved to know what’s going on, given your attachment to M. And hers to you,” he adds when I tense up. “Keeping you in the dark hasn’t had particularly good consequences in the past, so your mother and I—and your grandfather—have agreed to bring you into the loop as much as possible.”
“Thanks.” But what I’m thinking is, About time.
To my surprise, he chuckles. “No promise not to make us regret it, eh? Guess I can’t blame you, when there’s so much we don’t know yet. And Rigel, I do understand. More than you probably realize.”
I just shake my head. Because, how can he?
“Yes, I do,” he repeats. “Things weren’t always smooth for your mom and me, either. In fact, opposition to our match was the reason we left Mars shortly after we married.”
“What?” They never told me that! “Why would there be opposition?”
“You know about fines.”
“Yeah, they’re the reason M is supposed to hook up with Sean O’Gara. They’re both Royals and I’m not.”
“Yes, but even outside of the Royal line, fines are an extremely important part of Nuathan culture. Even more so before Faxon. Your mother and I—“
“Are from different fines?” I think for a second. “Yeah, I think you did tell me that one time, but I didn’t know it was any big deal.”
He gives another chuckle, but this one sounds more sarcastic than amused. “We didn’t understand how big a deal, either—until after we’d fallen in love. She was training as a Healer in the same facility where I was designing a new integrated medical information system. We started talking over lunch one day, and, well, before we knew it, we were pretty far gone on each other. Our parents weren’t exactly pleased, especially at first.”
“Even Grandfather? But he’s so . . . so . . .”
“Progressive? Yes, and he was our strongest advocate, once he got over his instinctive shock. He was already lobbying for more intermixing of fine bloodlines, even back then. But it’s one thing to advocate for a theory and another to have it disrupt your own family.”
Imagining Shim, of all people, on the horns of a moral dilemma like that, I almost laugh. But I don’t. Because my problem can’t be solved that easily.
“Thanks for telling me, Dad. I guess you do kind of get it.” But it doesn’t mean he’ll be able to fix things. That’s up to me . . . and M. “I’m still not cool with this trip to Washington, though. You want to what? Leave after school next Wednesday?” That should give M and me enough time to plan, especially if we pretend to go along with—
“No, I’m sorry, didn’t I say? We leave tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 29
spiare (spee-AH-ray): spy; snoop
“You’re all out of your minds. I’m not going to Mars!” I told the O’Garas as we pulled out of the school parking. “I have a life here.” Which included Rigel. But adding that wouldn’t help my case, except maybe with Molly.