by Brenda Hiatt
Molly gasped. “What a—”
“Exactly. And I’m going to tell her so to her face. Can you find the guys and explain to them what’s really going on? And if you want to tell them they’re both jerks for believing that about me, I’m okay with that, too.”
She hurried off and I headed toward Trina, determined that this would be the last time she ever messed with me.
CHAPTER 8
camastall (KAM-uh-stahl): deception; deceit; falsification
Sean
Instead of trying to eat lunch, which is impossible now anyway, I head to the nearly-deserted gym to shoot some baskets and blow off steam. Of course, I’d rather do it by pummeling Rigel into jelly. I came close just now. I was still reeling from that disgusting picture of M and Rigel on Trina’s phone when I looked up to see M hanging onto his arm, right in front of me…
It’s been bad enough, the way M’s been acting this past week, all sexy with her tight sweaters and extra wiggle in her walk. Guess now I know why.
With a groan, I shoot another three-pointer, trying to shove that awful image out of my head, afraid the rage will take over again. Afraid I really will kill Rigel, which would probably put a crimp in our plans to leave tomorrow. I only have till the fifth period bell rings to—
“There you are!”
I miss my next shot as I whip my head around to see Molly coming toward me. “Go away.”
“Not a chance. You know you’re an idiot, right? And a jerk?” She walks right up to me, where we’ll be out of earshot of the guys horsing around at the other end of the court. She looks pissed but also a little smug.
“I mean it, Molly. Leave me alone.”
“I already told you, no way. I know why you’re upset, Sean, and it means you’re an idiot. I saw the picture, too—and I’ll admit I believed it for a few seconds. It looked pretty real. But come on, Sean! It’s Trina!”
Hope and relief I’m afraid to feel start to bloom in my chest. “Looked real? What do you mean?” But even as I ask, it’s obvious. Even a stupid Duchas like Trina probably knows how to doctor a photo.
Molly confirms my belated revelation. “She faked it, of course. All she needed was a good picture of M and Photoshop.”
“And a picture of Stuart. Naked. Don’t forget that.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. Wasn’t Rigel. Wasn’t you. She just wanted both of you to think that. Probably some random guy off the internet—though she probably had to hunt to find one that anonymous. Just a naked back, no head. C’mon, connect the dots! Aren’t you supposed to be smarter than the average Duchas?”
She’s right, of course, and I feel like a moron—and like the scum of the Earth for believing, even for a few minutes, that M would do something like that. Because when I let myself remember that picture, I realize Molly’s right. The guy’s head wasn’t in it. No wonder Rigel was pissed, too. Trina played us all. Just like M’s been warning us she would.
“Obviously not even as smart as Trina.” I feel dumber than ever. “How pathetic is that? Do you think M will ever forgive me?”
“That’s between the two of you, but I’d say some groveling is in order.” She shakes her head at me in exasperation—or maybe pity—then heads out of the gym, leaving me alone.
Leaving me to writhe in mortification. And guilt.
Now that Molly’s pointed out the obvious, I can’t figure how I ever believed that stupid picture in the first place. Why was I so ready to jump to such a terrible conclusion about the girl I love, who I’ve loved all my life, since way before I even met her? Is it because I’m still so jealous of Rigel Stuart that I saw exactly what I expected to see in that picture?
The bell rings. I toss the basketball into the bin and head to History class, eager now to throw myself at M’s feet and beg her forgiveness. Maybe, with luck, M will be even more pissed at Rigel than she is at me. It’s about all I can hope to salvage out of this.
CHAPTER 9
hiarmarti (hee-ehr-MAHR-tee): consequences; results; price to be paid
Trina saw me coming from across the cafeteria. She whispered something to her friends, then just stood there, smirking, as I closed the distance between us. My right fist positively itched to punch that smug face but I told myself—firmly—that I could not get expelled for fighting the day before leaving on our trip. Something in my expression must have scared her, though. Her smile slipped for a second and she glanced at her friends again, like she was making sure they were still there.
“Is there a problem, Marsha?” The smirk was back, her voice full of fake, syrupy sweetness.
“You’re the problem, Trina,” I snapped. “You’ve done a lot of nasty things to me over the years, but this is a new low. You think even your so-called friends will trust you again after seeing what a weasel you are? Go ahead. Tell them exactly what you did. Or I’m going to turn you in for this.”
Her smile turned ugly. “Yeah? You really want the principal and your aunt and everybody to see this picture?” She held up her phone.
Before I could stop myself, I looked—and nearly gagged. It was me, all right, apparently in the naked throes of passion with some faceless guy. Now I knew why she was snapping pictures of me yesterday. This one was actually me laughing, but in its new, nasty context it totally looked like I was doing something else. No wonder Rigel and Sean were so upset! I didn’t even want to think what my aunt or anybody else would think if they saw it.
“Aren’t you the Photoshop wizard?” I snarked, trying to decide what to do.
Her sneer broadened as she sensed my hesitation. “Aren’t I? In fact, I’m so proud of this, I think I’ll post it online so everyone can admire it. All I have to do is push this button—” Her finger hovered over the screen of her phone.
I didn’t dare assume she was bluffing. More quickly than she could react, I snatched the phone out of her hand. I’d shorted out electronics by accident all my life, but this was the first time I’d ever tried to do it on purpose. It was surprisingly easy, since being upset always made my static problem worse. The moment I touched the phone it crackled and the screen went black.
When Trina grabbed the phone back I didn’t try to stop her. “What did you do, you freak?” Vainly, she tried to turn it back on. “This is a brand new phone!”
Now it was my turn to smirk. “Guess you should have been more careful with it. And if you post that picture from your computer, it’ll be super easy to trace it to you.”
“You—!” Her hand flashed out to slap my face, but I was much too quick for her and instinctively whacked her hand aside with a taekwondo block.
“We’re not on the playground now, Trina. Your days of beating me up are over. Or do you plan to have your posse hold me down, like you used to do in elementary school?” But the other girls had backed away, joining the loose circle that had formed around us, watching avidly.
Trina’s eyes narrowed nastily. “I could always take you, Marsha, posse or not, and I still can.” Her pretty face distorting into something almost bestial, she aimed a punch at my nose. Though I dodged, she caught me in the shin with one of her pointy boots, then immediately lunged at me again.
I easily danced aside, her swinging fist missing me by several inches. “Give it up, Trina. You played a really rotten trick and paid for it with your phone. Let’s call it even.”
“Even? Not a chance! I’m sick of you getting everything I want!” She shoved her phone into her pocket and rushed me, both hands ready to claw my face. Fast as she was coming, it still seemed like she was moving in slow motion. I waited until the last possible instant to sidestep her. With no time to stop or change direction, Trina slammed so violently into the table behind me that she doubled over and smacked her face hard onto its top, scattering abandoned lunch trays.
She screamed and whirled around, green Jell-o and blood streaming down her face. “How did you—? Where—? You broke my nose!” She flung out an accusing hand, pointing at me.
“Me? Everybody here saw
what—”
“Girls, is there a problem?” It was vice-principal Pedersen, the “Warden.” Over his shoulder, I saw Ms. Harrigan, an Echtran who’d been posing as a student teacher to keep an eye on me since before Christmas, watching with shocked disapproval. Great.
“Yes!” Trina cried, still pointing. “Marsha attacked me without provocation, Mr. Pedersen, and broke my nose!”
A babble of voices broke out, some supporting Trina’s story and others denying it, but when Mr. Pedersen held up a hand it stopped.
“To the office, girls. Both of you.”
Trina looked like she wanted to argue, but I followed docilely. The sight of Trina’s blood had brought me abruptly—and belatedly—to my senses.
What was wrong with me? I was a blue belt in Taekwondo and a Martian with extra-human reflexes and strength. I could have kept Trina from hitting me without making her hurt herself, or using abilities in public that would prove to everyone I really was a freak. When word got back to the Council—and I was sure Ms. Harrigan would see to that—I’d be in way bigger trouble than anything the school might do to me.
When we reached the front office, Mr. Pederson made us sit down and called the school nurse over to deal with Trina’s nose.
“Is it going to heal crooked?” she whined as the nurse mopped her up and tried to stanch the bleeding. “Will I need plastic surgery? Omigod, the cheerleading banquet is Friday night! I can’t accept my award with my nose all bandaged up!”
Principal Johannsen came out then to see what was going on, so Mr. Pedersen left our questioning to her and headed back to the cafeteria to talk to the students who’d witnessed the “fight.” Trina tried hard to convince the principal I’d attacked her for no reason but by now I’d recovered enough composure to give my side of the story.
“That’s enough.” Principal Johannsen’s voice cut through our escalating accusations about who’d started it (Trina’s totally false). “You know the policy about fighting in school. Until Mr. Pedersen sorts things out, you’re both suspended from classes. Marsha, it will be up to your aunt and uncle to decide whether you may still go to Ireland. Now, go sit on opposite sides of the office until I can contact your parents or guardians to pick you up.”
Trina actually opened her mouth to argue—probably about some stupid cheerleading thing she’d miss—but shut it quickly at the look the principal gave her. Instead, she moved sulkily to the chair indicated. (I was already sitting in mine.)
It was only a couple of minutes later that I heard Rigel’s voice in my head.
I’m so, so incredibly sorry, M! So totally stupid… Don’t know what I was thinking.
So Molly made you finally see sense, huh? I assumed he must be on the other side of the wall, in the hallway.
No, I figured it out on my own, as soon as I cooled down a little. Of course it was fake. I can’t believe I was that stupid, even for an hour or two.
Yeah, well, you are a guy. Guess you heard what happened?
Word is you broke Trina’s nose. She definitely deserved it!
She actually broke it herself. All I did was dodge. But we both might get expelled anyway.
Even through the wall I could feel his guilt. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, M! If I’d blown her off from the first, maybe you wouldn’t have… Will you ever forgive me?
It was a little harder to communicate through walls, and I used that as my excuse to not respond right away—because I felt like he deserved to grovel a little, after jumping to such an awful conclusion.
Finally, after he’d been sending increasingly frantic pleas for forgiveness for at least two minutes, I relented—a little. I won’t pretend it didn’t hurt—a lot—that you could believe that about me, Rigel. But Trina showed me that nasty picture and… it did look awfully real. So I get why you were upset. But if you ever assume anything bad about me again without at least asking me first—
I won’t! Never, never, I promise! So you forgive me?
Yeah. It’s not like I can live without you, you know.
I could feel his relief through a foot of cinderblock. Thank you! I don’t deserve it, but I’ll try to make it up to you. I love you, M!
The bell rang for fifth period then and he had to leave. A few minutes later, Trina’s mom came to take her home. As she was leaving, she turned to me with as much of a smirk as she could manage with a bandage on her nose.
“Told you I’d keep you from going to Ireland, you freak,” she hissed as she passed me. “Even a broken nose is worth that.”
When my aunt took me home at the end of the day—more than an hour after school ended—I thought Trina would get her wish. Aunt Theresa ranted and raved about the calls she’d received, from the principal and then from Trina’s parents threatening lawsuits and I don’t know what all else. Of course I told her Trina started it, but that didn’t make a dent in her anger.
“The Squires are one of the most prominent families in Jewel, you know that, Marsha. No matter what that girl did, you had no business fighting with her. If her parents decide to sue, it could ruin us. You can kiss that trip to Ireland goodbye—and after I paid all that money to get you a passport, too.”
Luckily the principal called before dinner to say I wasn’t suspended after all since witnesses, and even a cell phone video, verified that Trina had attacked me and I’d only defended myself. But even then, Aunt Theresa wouldn’t say if I could still go to Ireland tomorrow. She only let me go to the O’Garas’ after dinner when Mrs. O came over to invite me personally.
When I got there, there was no sign of Molly or Sean, but Mr. O and half of the Council were assembled in the living room—the ones who lived in Jewel, plus Shim. I knew at once from their grim expressions that I was in big trouble.
Sure enough, the moment I sat down, Shim said, “It goes without saying that we’re very disappointed, Excellency. We’d thought by now you had a better grasp of how important it is not to jeopardize the impression we’ve all been working to create as to your suitability to lead.”
“I do,” I earnestly assured him—assured all of them. “Honestly, I do. But Trina totally started it. And she hurt herself. I didn’t hit her or anything, no matter how much she deserved it.”
Breann cut off my babble stream. “That’s not the point. Using abilities beyond those of most humans, especially in front of so many witnesses, showed very poor judgment. I’m afraid if word gets around it will prove a serious setback to our campaign to present you as your grandfather Leontine’s logical successor.”
I swallowed. Much as I didn’t want to be Sovereign, I hated that I might have screwed it up for all of these people who had worked so hard on my behalf. And the deal I’d made before Christmas had included a promise to do my best to assume that role.
Shim almost seemed to read my mind. “I would hate to think that you would do anything to deliberately sabotage our efforts on that front, Emileia.”
Somehow, his use of my real first name made me feel even worse. Way worse than all my aunt’s shouting had.
“No, it wasn’t deliberate, I swear! I…I didn’t think at all. Though I guess that isn’t much better. When Trina kicked me, then tried to punch me again, I—” I broke off at Breann’s, Malcolm’s and both O’Garas’ concerted gasps.
“Molly told me that Trina used to bully you, Excellency.” Mrs. O’Gara looked shocked. “But I thought she meant teasing, not physical abuse!”
I shrugged. “It was mostly teasing. And playing mean tricks on me. But she sometimes beat me up, or talked somebody else into doing it. Trina herself usually just shoved me or pulled my hair—stuff that never got her in trouble. Especially since nobody would ever take my side when teachers asked what happened.”
She nodded. “Molly also told me what Trina did that compelled you to confront her, and I admit I can’t blame you for that. It’s the failure to control your, ah, reflexes that has us concerned.” Then to the others, almost pleadingly, “This Trina really is a nasty-tempered girl. M
y Molly has said so more than once in the past. And we mustn’t forget that our Princess only just turned sixteen. Surely some leeway—”
“Yes, yes, but that’s not the point, is it?” Malcolm broke in. “And where was young Stuart, when this girl tried to strike the Princess? No matter how well trained he may be as a Bodyguard, this confirms my belief that he is far too young for such an important role.”
“I’ve already spoken to him,” Shim said. “He was apparently unaware of the two girls’ confrontation until afterward, but I have now impressed upon him that it is his duty to be aware of any potential threat to the Princess.”
Malcolm didn’t seem reassured at all. “I still feel this demonstrates that he does not possess the maturity or experience for such a vital position. I can’t help remembering Allister’s concerns about the boy. I suggest we take another vote—”
My heart jumped into my throat. “It wasn’t his fault at all!” Okay, maybe it was, a tiny bit, but they didn’t need to know that. “There’s no possible way he could have known. Besides, it’s not like he can stay glued to my side at school without us violating my agreement with you. Much as we both might like that.”
Malcolm frowned at me for a long moment, then shrugged. “Very well. Though his actions will be watched even more closely after this, as will yours, Excellency.” He looked pointedly at Mr. O, who nodded, though his expression was slightly more sympathetic.
“Indeed,” Breann agreed. “Right now, however, our task is to undo the damage by countering this negative impression and, most importantly, to make certain you are on that ship next week.”
“I’m on excellent terms with her aunt,” Mrs. O’Gara told the others. “I’m certain I can convince her the Princess should still go, given the extenuating circumstances.”