by Brenda Hiatt
CHAPTER 3: Or not
As soon as the bell rang, Trina tried to drag Rigel out of the room. For a moment he almost looked like he was going to resist, glancing my way, and I held my breath. But then Bri grabbed me by the arm and started whispering excitedly.
"Tell me everything that happened before I got to class," she breathed, glancing over her shoulder at Rigel and then giggling. "Absolutely everything!"
Rigel's mouth turned up at one corner, like he was amused, then he turned and left with Trina. I restrained a sudden impulse to shake Bri. Instead, I took a deep breath and filled her in.
"And he actually came to sit by you and started a conversation, just like that?"
"I'm not sure it quite rose to the level of conversation, but he came over and said hi, yeah. So, did you find out anything from your dad? I forgot to ask before school, what with the five-minute makeover and all." And because I didn't want to sound too obviously obsessed. Forgetting had nothing to do with it.
She shrugged. "Hardly anything. He was second string quarterback at Center North last year—which is pretty impressive for a freshman, you know."
I nodded. Everything about Rigel was impressive.
"And then, late in the season, he took over as starting quarterback after having one amazing half when the regular quarterback was messing up. It was their game against us, believe it or not! That's one reason Dad was so excited when he moved here—because of that game. We saw him too, though I didn't remember until Dad mentioned it."
All I remembered about last year's season was that the Jewel Jaguars lost every single game. "Was it here, or there? I only went to the home games."
"Here. But maybe you were helping with concessions or something."
"Probably." I'd only gone to the games at all because Bri insisted, so I'd usually worked the concession stand to have something more interesting to do than watch football. Now I regretted that.
"Center North," I muttered. Was that the game where I'd felt almost supercharged, filling orders at record speed, then making that miraculous save when Mrs. Farris dropped the vat of nacho cheese? Maybe.
"So, about lunch," Bri started, then looked up at the clock. "Oh, crap! See you after class!"
We sprinted off in opposite directions and I reached Science just as the bell rang. Will smiled as I hurried to my seat, but I noticed Trina was doing her best to keep Rigel's attention completely on her. Probably just as well. I sure didn't need Will noticing my obsession. He was one of the biggest gossips in school.
Afraid to assume anything, I went straight to the cafeteria after class rather than hang back and wait for Rigel. I'd rather be sitting down before he even got to the lunchroom, so it would be his choice whether to sit with me or not. I couldn't think of anything more humiliating than me trying to go sit by him, only to have everyone—including Rigel—laugh at me. I told myself he wasn't like that, but I still went through the lunch line at top speed, the third person to get my card scanned.
This time I sat with my back to the windows so I'd have fair warning. If he did come to my table, I was determined not to be a basket case again. I was going to be calm, pleasant, maybe even witty. Okay, maybe not witty—that was asking too much—but at least coherent. Still, knowing how nervous I'd be, I took a few big bites of my turkey sandwich, since I probably wouldn't eat anything else once he sat here. If he sat here. I alternated furious chewing with trying to look cool, collected and normal.
That lasted until Rigel entered the lunchroom, about thirty seconds later, with Bri and Deb just behind him—whispering and giggling. Did they have to make it quite so obvious that it was a huge deal a guy like Rigel had gone out of his way to talk to me? To his credit, Rigel pretended not to notice, though he had to hear them.
I was just wondering where Trina was when she came in. She tried to cut in front of Bri and Deb to get next to Rigel in line, but Bri oh-so-casually moved to block her.
Bri's finesse made me grin—she was so much better at that kind of thing than I was—but then she stepped forward to say something to Rigel, and my grin disappeared. I couldn't hear what she said, but both of them glanced over at me and then he replied. My face burned. Was she actually reminding him of his half-promise to sit with us?
Sure enough, a moment later he and my friends headed my way. But now, instead of feeling lucky, I felt more like a charity case. I faked a smile as they reached the table, trying to pretend I didn't know what had just happened. Then I saw Trina hovering indecisively a few yards behind them and my smile became real. What would she do?
"Hi, guys," I said to all three of them, which was easier than speaking to just Rigel.
"Hey," he responded with an easy smile and sat down—right next to me. I was glad I'd scarfed down those few bites of lunch since my stomach was now doing backflips at his nearness. My entire body felt electrified.
As Bri and Deb sat down across from us, Trina apparently made her decision. Stepping close—but not too close—to the table, she said, "Hey, Rigel, I'll have to catch you later. I just remembered I promised to work out the cheerleading practice schedule with Amber and Nicole over lunch." With a smile for Rigel and a glare for the rest of us, she walked off in a poorly-disguised huff.
Amazingly, Rigel didn't even glance after her. Was it possible he hadn't been guilted into sitting here after all?
"So," he said, opening a carton of chocolate milk, "I know your names, but nothing else. Where are you from? What are you into?"
His words included all of us, but he was looking at me. Maybe it was the new eye makeup. For a moment I got lost in his gaze, then remembered that he'd asked a question. Looking down, I fumbled with my napkin for a second or two, hoping Bri or Deb might step into the breach. They didn't. So after an almost-awkward pause, I answered.
"Well, um, I've lived in Jewel most of my life, and Brianna was born here. Debbi moved here about five years ago, right, Deb?"
I sent a pleading glance at my friends, having used up my supply of words for the moment.
"Right." Deb rescued me. "I moved here from Fort Wayne just before fifth grade. I live next door to Bri."
Rigel must have noticed I'd gone nonverbal again. He turned to Bri. "And your dad is Coach Morrison, right?"
She nodded. "He says you transferred here from Center North? Must be pretty different, huh? I mean, that's like a huge school, isn't it?"
I was grateful she'd thrown the ball back in his court, since I was dying to learn a little bit about him.
"Yeah, my freshman class there was twice the size of this whole school. But I think I'm going to like it here. Lots easier to get to know a hundred people than a thousand." His gaze swung back to me.
Deb spoke before I could think of anything to say. "Hey, Bri, remember we were going to go over that, um, thing for chorus during lunch, so it would be ready this afternoon?"
Bri looked confused. "What? What thing?" Then she apparently caught something significant in Deb's expression because she seemed instantly enlightened. "Oh! Oh, yeah, that thing! You're right. Let's go do that. We can sit over there in the corner."
They stood up and grabbed their trays. "Sorry, M," Deb said, though her blue eyes were dancing, not at all apologetic. "We'll talk to you later."
Then they were gone and I was alone. With Rigel.
I thought I just might die from embarrassment. I mean, could they have been any more obvious?
"Look, I'm sorry my friends are so—"
"Perceptive?"
"Huh?" Smooth. So smooth.
Rigel smiled, which incapacitated me further. "I really do want to talk to you. Thank them for me."
For him? "So, um, what did you want to talk about?" I fervently wished I weren't so completely devoid of flirting skills.
"About you, among other things. You said you've lived in Jewel most of your life. Where did you live before?"
That was so not what I was expecting. Why in the world would Rigel Stuart be interested in the details of my life? The worst part was, I could
n't even supply all of them.
"I . . . don't know, actually. My aunt said that my parents moved around a lot."
"You live with your aunt?"
I nodded. "And my uncle. They were both born here in Jewel, just like their parents. I . . . I guess my dad was, too."
Frowning a little, he took a bite of his pizza. "So . . . what happened to your parents?"
"It's kind of complicated, actually," I hedged.
His amazing hazel eyes locked on mine like I was the only other person in the whole cafeteria. I tried to remember to breathe. "I don't mind hearing if you don't mind telling."
"Um, okay. I was adopted when I was a baby—not quite two, anyway—someplace other than Jewel. Out west, I think. But then my adoptive parents died when I was four and I came here to Jewel to live with my aunt and uncle after that. My dad—my adoptive dad—was my Uncle Louie's younger brother. My Aunt Theresa never exactly approved of them—I guess because of all their moving around and stuff—so they hardly ever talked about them." I said it all in a rush.
He looked a little confused. I couldn't blame him. "So . . . wait. You mean your aunt didn't approve of your adoptive parents? What about your real parents?"
I shrugged. "I don't know the first thing about them and neither do my aunt and uncle. I used to pester them about it when I was younger, but they claimed even my adoptive parents never knew who they were."
"So you're, like, a double orphan?" Now his eyes held sympathy, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
"I guess so, yeah. But it all happened so long ago. I don't remember very much about my adoptive parents and nothing at all about my birth parents. It's not like I . . . I miss them or anything." I knew I sounded defensive, but I didn't want his pity. Exactly what I did want, I didn't know—or didn't want to admit to myself.
"No wonder you remembered so many details from Jane Eyre. I guess it hit a little too close to home, huh?"
I stared at him, amazed that he'd picked up on that from my two or three answers in class. "Yeah, that's probably why I like it so much."
"Really? I'd have thought it would be hard for you to read."
"Oh, no, not at all! Because Jane wins in the end. She's the best in her school, she turns out better than any of her mean cousins and she—" I broke off before I could say, marries the love of her life. I could feel my face getting hot.
"Besides," I hurried on, "my life isn't anything like Jane's, not really. My aunt and uncle have always taken good care of me and all. It's not like they're mean to me or anything."
To my relief, he smiled. "So no lunatic in the attic or anything like that?"
I grinned and shook my head. "You've read it, then? I figured you wouldn't have had the reading list, since you just transferred here."
"I got it yester— I mean, when I registered last week. I'm a fast reader. I thought Mr. Rochester was kind of a jerk, but at least there was lots of action."
I wondered if he really had just read it last night, but it seemed rude to ask since he'd changed what he almost said. Instead, remembering that Seventeen article Bri had read to us about boys liking girls who encourage them to talk about themselves, I asked, "So how about you? Did you grow up in Indiana?"
Rigel shook his head. "Nah, I've lived all over. We've only been in Indiana a couple of years."
"Really? What do your parents do?" I hoped I didn't sound too nosy.
He didn't seem to mind. "My dad is a sort of computer consultant, works for a bunch of different companies. And my mom is a doctor—an OB/Gyn."
"Oh." I was impressed but tried not to be obvious about it. "So it's your dad's work that makes you have to move a lot?"
"Um . . . yeah." I got the feeling there was more he wasn't saying.
"It must be hard, always being the new kid at school, huh?"
He shrugged again. "I guess, but I'm used to it. Moving every year, I mean. I don't usually get picked on or anything."
No, I couldn't imagine that he ever would, being so tall and athletic, not to mention good looking.
"But still, it has to be hard to make friends all over again every year."
"Yeah, I guess it is," he admitted. "It helps that I've always played sports, but it's not like I've ever had a best friend or anything."
Now it was my turn to feel sympathy. At least I'd always had Bri and, more recently, Deb. It sounded like for all his popularity, Rigel had led a pretty lonely life.
"So where—?" I began, when the warning bell for fifth period cut me off. "Oops, I didn't realize it was so late!"
"Me either." His smile warmed me, though I worried there might still be a trace of pity in it. "Talk to you later. And, um, is it okay if I call you M, like your friends do?"
I nodded, probably too enthusiastically. "Oh! Uh, yeah, sure! Absolutely."
"Cool. I'd better go find Trina before class. Don't want her plotting any nastiness."
He was gone before it sank in that any nastiness Trina might plot would surely be against me, not Rigel. I had no doubt he was well aware of that, too.
I made my way to History in a daze, still half convinced I must be imagining all of this. It just seemed so . . . bizarre.
Rigel entered just as the bell stopped ringing. He glanced my way, but we were on a seating chart now, so he had to take the same seat as yesterday, near the door. Trina wasn't in this class, and I wondered if he'd found her, to explain sitting with me at lunch—and what he'd said.
As soon as class was over my friends started bombarding me with questions, but I just told them Rigel had asked about my past and I'd asked about his, but we hadn't had time for much detail. And that he'd definitely said he would talk to me again.
"So he's going to sit with us again tomorrow?" Bri asked excitedly.
I shrugged. "He didn't say that. Maybe?" I refused to obsess about it. For now. I wouldn't see him again until tomorrow anyway. Probably just as well. I needed a chance to catch my breath, emotionally.
At the start of Health, Trina came over to me with a nasty gleam in her big blue eyes. "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, pestering Rigel Stuart, but you'd better stop it," she hissed.
Though I was startled, I managed an innocent stare. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Trina." I spoke in a normal voice, not whispering as she had. "Are you actually worried Rigel might like me? How interesting."
She glared at me for a moment, then turned away with a toss of her perfect hair. "I was just trying to spare you embarrassment, Marsha," she said, no longer whispering. Then, even more loudly, "It's so pathetic when a girl gets all starry-eyed about a guy when it's perfectly obvious to everyone else that he just feels sorry for her."
Even though she didn't get as big a laugh as yesterday, I felt my face turning red as I took my seat. Though I knew Trina was just being spiteful—and jealous—I couldn't help worrying she was right.
Maybe Rigel was just being nice to me because he felt sorry for me. But he hadn't even known about my parents before he came to talk to me. Had he? I realized I had no way of knowing what Trina might have told him about me.
I felt more and more depressed as class dragged on. It just made so much more sense that Rigel felt sorry for me than that he was attracted to me.
After the final bell I trudged toward the buses, not nearly as excited now at the prospect of talking to Rigel again tomorrow. I'd half convinced myself that I was some kind of charity project to him—like some stray at the pound. And no matter how much I liked him, I definitely didn't want—
"M! Hey, Marsha!"
It sounded like Rigel's voice. Was I hallucinating? Shouldn't he be at football practice?
I turned and sure enough, there he was, sprinting toward me.
"Hey, I'm glad I caught you," he said, joining me as I reached the bus line. "I only have a sec—have to be at practice—but I wanted to make sure Trina didn't pull anything."
Even though his words supported my theory, I couldn't help feeling a rush of warmth at
his concern. Still, I refused to be an object of pity, so I suppressed the smile that tried to break free and shrugged.
"She wasn't much worse than usual."
He looked relieved. "Good. I sure don't want to make things worse for you, especially—"
"I can take care of myself, Rigel." I spoke more sharply than I'd intended, but I didn't want him to feel like he had to protect me—from Trina, of all things. "I'm not some puppy that needs rescuing." Oops, definitely more than I'd meant to say, but now it was out there.
When he didn't immediately refute my words, I turned away before he could see my disappointment. "Have a good practice," I called over my shoulder.
"M, wait! I was going to say, especially when I'm hoping we can be . . . friends."
On that last word, he put a hand on my arm to stop me—and it definitely worked. When his fingers touched my bare skin, a jolt went through me like nothing I'd ever experienced before. I spun around to face him, startled.
I was used to static shocks since I got them all the time, but this was different. It was more like the surge of adrenaline you get when you almost fall but catch yourself. Only stronger. And not unpleasant. More like every cell in my body suddenly sizzled to life.
From the stunned look on Rigel's face, he must have felt something too. He snatched his hand away like I'd burned him and stared at me wordlessly for what seemed like minutes. It was almost like he was seeing me for the first time . . . or like I'd suddenly turned into some kind of freak.
He backed away, slowly shaking his head, then abruptly turned and ran off without saying another word.
I didn't have a clue what had happened or what I'd done, but I was pretty sure I'd somehow spoiled everything before it even got started.