by Brenda Hiatt
“Calm down, M.” Sean put his hand over mine, which was anything but calming.
I wrenched it away, glaring at him. “You’re kidding, right? In what universe would I be calm about this?”
He didn’t try to touch me again, but his expression was so intense it was almost as bad. “Nobody’s going to bundle you into a ship in the middle of the night against your will or anything. It’s not even a launch window right now. We just . . . need you to start thinking about the future, and your part in it.”
“You mean Mars’s future. Not mine.”
“You are Mars’s future,” Mr. O’Gara said firmly—so firmly I half believed him. Okay, maybe quarter believed him. “You are the hope we’ve all needed. The one thing that can unite our people at this critical time.”
“Gee, no pressure.” I accidentally said it out loud.
To my surprise, Molly laughed. “She’s right, you know,” she said, surprising me even more. “This is an awful lot to put on a high school sophomore who just found out who she is a couple of months ago. I don’t think you’re being fair, expecting her to automatically be okay with all of this.”
“Thanks,” I murmured. She reached over and gave my hand a quick squeeze of reassurance. I didn’t jerk away.
Nobody said another word until we pulled into my driveway. Then, her voice gentle and motherly, Mrs. O’Gara said, “I hope we haven’t upset you too badly, M, as that’s the very last thing we want to do. We’re very excited to see our work of the last fifteen years finally coming to fruition, of course. At the same time, we mustn’t lose sight of your feelings. They do matter to us.”
What could I say? “I understand.” Even though I didn’t think I’d ever understand. Not really.
Sean got out of the car and I followed. He turned toward my house, like he was planning to walk to the door with me, but I shook my head.
“I’d rather you didn’t.” I said it quietly, but he could tell I meant it and didn’t argue. As he got back into the van I said, to the whole family, “Thanks for getting me out of the house tonight. I really do appreciate that.”
But that was the only thing I appreciated, and only because it had given me those wonderful few moments with Rigel.
I rushed to Geometry for the third morning in a row, this time to tell Rigel about this latest development, which would surely make him agree we should run away. Like always, the first thing we did was clasp hands, soaking up each other’s essence. But I’d barely felt that first wonderful rush of relief when I sensed such a strong negative emotion that I leaned away to get a better look at his face.
“What?” Though I suspected I knew. “Did they tell you about—?”
“I have to go to Washington for Thanksgiving, to my grandfather’s place. Today. At lunch. They weren’t even going to let me come to school, but I swore I wouldn’t go at all unless they let me at least say goodbye to you first.”
My heart practically stopped, this was so much worse than I expected. “But . . . Thanksgiving’s not till next week! You can’t be gone that whole time?”
He looked as miserable, as devastated, as I felt. “Ten days. Ten whole days. Assuming—”
“What?” My alarm spiked even higher. “You think they won’t let you come back? Is this because of last night? Mrs. O told her husband and then he called somebody . . . This is my fault, isn’t it?” It was all I could do to keep my voice at the necessary sub-whisper.
“No! Not your fault, M, not at all! It’s just stupid politics.”
My hands tightened convulsively on his. “That’s it, then. We have to run. Now. Before they can—”
The bell cut me off. We reluctantly separated and took our seats. Deb, I noticed gratefully, hadn’t tried to talk to me during my few precious minutes with Rigel. She didn’t even act upset that we’d ignored her, like Bri would have. Instead, she was staring at the teacher so intently I turned to look, too.
My gut clenched. Standing next to Mr. Benning was a woman I didn’t recognize—but who was unmistakably Martian. I knew the only reason I hadn’t felt her brath when she’d come into the room was that I’d been too busy absorbing Rigel’s.
“Class, please welcome Ms. Harrigan. She’s a student teacher and will be observing this and a few other classes until the holidays. She’ll also be able to offer help to anyone who needs it when I’m otherwise occupied.”
Everyone murmured a greeting, the boys more enthusiastically than the girls. Because Ms. Harrigan (or whatever her real name was) was gorgeous, with shoulder-length blond hair and wide, gray-green eyes with impossible lashes. Even without her vibe, I’d have guessed she was Martian.
I felt Rigel’s worry and knew he was remembering “Mr. Smith” just like I was. Even if Ms. Harrigan wasn’t here to try to kill me, her presence couldn’t possibly bode well for either of us.
Halfway through class, she confirmed that assumption when she stopped by my desk as she wandered around the room. Leaning over, pretending to help me with my assignment, she spoke in a voice only I could hear.
“I can see you’re nervous about my presence, Excellency. Please don’t be. I’m only here to observe, and to advise you if necessary. Your actions and alliances matter to a great many people.”
With an effort, I kept my eyes focused on my paper. “So you’re here to spy on me? And to report back?” I murmured just as quietly.
“Spy is an ugly word, Excellency. But someone in your position can’t expect to be a private person. Surely you know that.”
Before I could respond she moved on, pausing briefly by Rigel’s desk, too. I couldn’t hear anything but could tell from his expression—and the wave of uneasiness I felt from him—that she’d said something.
I was dying to find out what, but as soon as the bell rang, Ms. Harrigan oh-so-casually moved between the two of us and managed to stay there as we made our way to the door. And Molly was waiting in the hallway.
Of course, she immediately recognized Ms. Harrigan as another Echtran, though she couldn’t say anything—not out loud. But she smiled and nodded, and the “student teacher” smiled back before we started walking.
“So, you know her?” I demanded. Rigel had started to turn away, but paused to hear the answer.
Molly shrugged. “Not really. I saw her in Ireland. I heard she was nearly killed in an early uprising against Faxon, back, um, home. Her face was all over the news—the underground news—a couple of years ago. She left for Earth a month before we did.”
So they’d brought in another gung-ho revolutionary to pressure me to step up and act like a leader—and to keep me away from Rigel.
“What are you guys whispering about?” Deb asked from behind us, and Molly and I both started.
“Just that new student teacher,” Molly said truthfully and completely naturally.
Rigel and I locked glances for a moment, silently vowing that we’d talk as soon as humanly possible and that we weren’t giving up no matter what. Then, after sending me a burst of love and longing so powerful it left my whole body humming, he headed off down the hall.
“Did you see how all the boys were practically drooling over her?” Molly continued.
Deb snorted, successfully distracted. “Boys are so shallow. All it takes is pouty lips and a hot body and they turn into idiots.”
We all took turns boy-bashing until we parted ways for second period.
I spent Computer class desperately working up a plan for Rigel and me to escape before he left in two hours. Though I hadn’t worked out the details, I hurried to catch Rigel in the hall before English.
“Let’s cut. I’ve been thinking, if we can just—” I broke off my urgent whisper when Ms. Harrigan suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“Let’s not linger in the hallway,” she said sweetly, though there was something distinctly not sweet in her expression. She watched us pointedly until we reluctantly went into the room, then followed us in. Apparently she was “observing” this class, too.
Not only that, she suggested a new project to Ms. Thurston—the latest in a string of subs we’d had since Mr. “Smith” left—which had us all pairing up to do contrasting critiques of The Bell Jar. Needless to say, I was not paired with Rigel. Just like in Geometry, Ms. Harrigan managed to oh-so-casually keep us well away from each other.
Rigel sent me several frustrated glances from across the room, where he was paired with Trina, of all people. Unfortunately, Trina saw me looking back and gave me a nasty, smug smile. Worse, she made a point of walking from English to Science with Rigel, preventing us from managing so much as a word between our last two classes together.
Ms. Harrigan wasn’t in Science, but Mr. Ferguson was all excited to announce that right after Thanksgiving, some big expert on exogeology was coming and would be with us till the end of the semester. Not hard to guess that would be another Martian. Did they plan to monitor every class Rigel and I had together for the rest of the year?
Trina didn’t leave Rigel alone for a moment as we worked on our final geology projects. My own partner, Will, who I usually liked pretty well, seemed unusually irritating today. He kept insisting that because our project was a simulation of terrestrial impact craters, my astronomy hobby made me more of an expert—meaning he wanted me to do most of the work.
When the bell rang, I distinctly heard the word wait in my mind. I glanced at Rigel and he gave me a little nod, so I hung back while the room emptied. Trina lingered for a few seconds, but when Rigel took both of my hands in his, she gave a disgusted snort and left.
“I’m supposed to go to the office now, so my folks can sign me out.” The mix of desperate emotions flowing from his touch was so intense it made me gasp.
“No! I thought you’d have lunch, at least.”
He shook his head sadly.
“Then we have to run away. Now!”
“On foot? How far would we get? My parents are probably already here. If we try and get caught, they might not bring me back at all.”
I knew he was right, but the idea of ten days apart was terrifying. All I could do was stare at him, tears prickling my eyes.
A spasm of pain twisted his face, then he manufactured a smile clearly intended to reassure me. “We’ll get through this, M. I’ll see you a week from Monday. Stay . . . stay safe, okay?”
“Safe?” I stared at him incredulously. “We’ll be lucky if this doesn’t kill us both! Don’t they understand that? I thought your folks believed!”
His jaw clenched. “I don’t know if they believe that part. I tried to hide it last month and only told them about it last night, so now they think it’s just an excuse. Anyway, I don’t think they have much choice. This whole plan came from higher up.”
“Allister?” I hissed. “That bastard! He’s—”
“Not just him, Dad says. Look, if there’s any way I can convince them to come back sooner, I will.” He didn’t sound very hopeful, though.
“Maybe if you get sick enough . . . But I hope you don’t!” I was sure, though, that we both would. I wished I was as sure that it would make a difference to the people messing with our futures. Our lives. “Stay as healthy as you can. And safe! Okay?”
I was terrified now that some Martian radical might do something awful to Rigel if they thought he was screwing up their plans. What if this whole trip was a trap? What if—?
Rigel leaned forward and kissed me, halting my spiraling panic. “I’ll be safe, and I’ll be back. I promise. If you can survive this, I can.”
Not wanting terror to be the last emotion he sensed from me, I forced it down, trying to project confidence instead. And love. “You’re right. We . . . we can do this. But oh, Rigel, I’ll miss you so much!”
I could see Sean hovering in the hallway, but I threw my arms around Rigel anyway. The O’Garas, or at least his Uncle Allister, were to blame for this separation. Besides, what difference would it make if word got back to my aunt? I wouldn’t see Rigel for more than a week, no matter what she did.
“Ditto,” Rigel murmured, hugging me back. “I love you, M. Never forget that.”
“I won’t. Never. Don’t ever forget that I love you, too.” Sean could probably hear us, but I didn’t care.
There was nothing else to say, so after embracing for a dozen more heartbeats, we separated. I felt a physical wrench, and knew Rigel felt it, too. Then, with a neutral glance at Sean and a quick, brave smile at me, Rigel headed for the front office.
“So, you two have decided to ignore the rules completely now?” Sean asked when I joined him in the hall.
I glared at him. “Why does it matter? Playing by the rules didn’t keep you guys from sending him away.”
To my surprise, he looked genuinely startled. “Sending him away? Away where?”
“He has to go to Washington, DC, for Thanksgiving—almost a whole week early. Are you going to pretend your uncle didn’t have anything to do with that?”
Sean didn’t answer right away, walking beside me in silence until we had nearly reached the cafeteria. “I guess I can’t promise he wasn’t involved, but I can absolutely promise I didn’t know anything about it,” he said at last. “Sorry, M. But . . . it’s probably for the best, you know? With all these the new folks coming to town and all.”
I whirled on him. “Best? Don’t tell me what’s best for me! Because you have no idea. I guarantee you, being separated from Rigel will never be best in any way, shape or form.” I turned away and stalked to the lunch line, so angry I was on the verge of tears—and I was not going to give Sean the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
A tiny voice whispered that he wouldn’t really be satisfied to see me cry, that he liked me too much for that, but I resolutely ignored it. The only voice I wanted to hear in my head was Rigel’s, not my stupid, disloyal conscience.
CHAPTER 30
dhualgis cumann (doo-AHL-gus koo-MAHN): benevolent duty; royal obligation
I spent the rest of the school day careening between misery and panic and trying not to let any of it show—not until I could figure out what to do. Because there had to be something! I’d never survive ten whole days completely apart from Rigel, and neither would he, no matter how much we’d tried to convince each other we’d be okay.
By the time I got home, I was mentally and emotionally wrung out. My head was starting to pound and my heart felt bruised and battered. I went straight to my room to curl up in a ball and be miserable, now that no one was watching me for signs of weakness. When Aunt Theresa got home I dragged myself downstairs, only to be told I was going to the O’Garas’ again tonight.
“Do I have to?” I didn’t have to fake my reluctance this time. That was the last place I wanted to go, especially if Allister was going to be there.
“I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want to, after they did you such a favor last night by taking you to that basketball game,” my aunt replied. “Refusing to help Molly with her schoolwork would be the height of ingratitude after that.”
I’d temporarily forgotten that I was supposedly doing a good deed by going over there. I considered telling her I wasn’t feeling well, which was true, though I suspected it was because I’d been crying for an hour. And because I was already imagining how awful I would feel after a few days without Rigel. No, better save that excuse for later. I’d need it.
“Sorry. You’re right. Sure, I’ll go,” I said dully.
As usual, I headed over as soon as I finished the dinner dishes. My feet were dragging despite the cold, I was so not looking forward to their reactions to Rigel’s leaving. Would they be smug? Condescendingly sympathetic? I just hoped I could keep from either crying or losing my temper if they brought it up.
Sean answered the door, but the whole family was waiting in the living room. And sure enough, they all seemed oppressively cheerful when they greeted me. At least Allister wasn’t there—yet. I sat next to Molly on the couch and was relieved when Sean sat in a nearby chair instead of beside me.
“We still have some pi
e left from dessert, M, if you’d like a piece,” Mrs. O said with a wide smile. “And I’ve just brewed a fresh pot of chamomile tea.”
“Um, just tea, thanks.” I hadn’t been able to swallow much dinner but didn’t feel the least bit hungry, even though Mrs. O was an even better baker than my Aunt Theresa.
As she poured, her husband said, “I’m sorry if we seem a bit overly excited tonight, Excellency. It’s just . . . we’ve received some rather good news today.”
Molly turned to me in surprise. “Oh! I totally forgot that you wouldn’t know, M. And, um, I guess you’re probably not in the best mood right now, huh? What with Rigel leaving and all.”
“You mean that’s not your good news?” I didn’t even try to keep the bitterness out of my voice. All this grinning was pissing me off.
Molly’s surprise turned to shock. “Of course not! That would be so mean. Can I tell her?” she asked her parents.
Mrs. O’Gara nodded, still smiling.
Practically bouncing in her excitement, Molly said, “There’s been a real uprising against Faxon back on Mars. Some of his guards have even deserted him and joined the resistance. Mum and Dad told us as soon as we got home from school today. They’re pretty pumped about it—we all are.”
“We are, indeed,” her father agreed. Sean and Mrs. O also nodded enthusiastically. “We didn’t want to say anything until the preliminary reports were verified and it’s still too soon to know all of the ramifications,” he continued, “but Faxon is quickly losing support. When he finally falls, it will change everything. It’s what we’ve hoped for, been working for, for years. Almost since the usurper seized power.”
That explained why they were so secretive last night—that meeting at the Stuarts’ must have been because of those “preliminary reports.” My panic started creeping back, but not because of Rigel this time. Or not only because of Rigel.
“So . . . what does this mean, exactly?”