Starcrossed (23 page)

Now I was really curious. “Tell me what? C’mon, Sean. What is it?”

After hesitating again, he finally gave a quick nod and continued, still not quite looking at me. “Okay, then. For most of my life, I sort of, well . . . fantasized about you. Even talked to you. When I was a kid, I mean. Like having an imaginary friend. Later I imagined you as the ideal girl. Er, girlfriend.”
 

Now I felt my own face flushing, which was ridiculous. “But that wasn’t really
me,
” I protested. “Just somebody you made up who happened to have my name.”

Sean shrugged. “Maybe. Technically. But it
was
you, too.”

“Huh?”

“See, I knew—or found out—pretty much everything about you. Pictures of you as a baby, what your parents were like growing up, exactly when and why they left Mars with you, your last known location on Earth. I even, um—” He raked a hand through his copper hair. “I even ran an age-progression program on you.”

“A what?”

He turned even redder. “Using the last picture of you that existed, plus pictures of your parents at different ages. It extrapolated approximately what you would look like, as you grew up. And . . . it wasn’t far off.” His expression was frankly admiring.
 

I dropped my gaze in sudden embarrassment, trying to decide if I was flattered or totally creeped out.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have told you that part. But I couldn’t help pretending . . . hoping . . . you were somehow still alive and I wanted to know what you looked like, so if I . . . I ever found you, I’d know you.”

I swallowed, but didn’t say anything. Had the Stuarts had something like that, when they were searching for me? Of course, before Rigel, I wouldn’t have looked much like they’d expected, what with the glasses and acne and all.

“In fact,” Sean continued, “you were so real to me that when the news broke that you actually
were
alive, I wasn’t even surprised. It was like I’d known it all along. So when Uncle Allister insisted we should come here, I was totally on board with the idea. I couldn’t wait to meet you. For real.” He finally met my eyes.

“I . . . I don’t . . .” I groped for words to express all my feelings, positive and negative, but came up empty.

Sean misinterpreted my hesitation. “No, I get it. I sound completely crazy, don’t I? Making up all that stuff when I was a kid, imaginary conversations and all.”

“No! That’s not it at all,” I was forced to reassure him. “I, um, did a lot of that kind of thing myself when I was younger. So I get that part. It’s just . . . knowing all this only makes it harder, Sean. I’m sorry.”

He lifted a shoulder resignedly and looked away again. “Yeah. It was stupid of me to think you’d have some kind of instant affinity for me, just because I had it for you. It’s not like you’d ever even
heard
of me, while I’d been thinking of you my whole life. Of course, I had no idea about . . . about you and Stuart. Uncle Allister didn’t tell me,” he added, clearly annoyed at that omission. “He just said it was important I get to Jewel as quickly as possible. I only realized later that was why.”

“I’m sorry, Sean,” I repeated, and was surprised to discover I meant it. “Who knows? Maybe if I’d met you before I met Rigel . . . But I didn’t. And I can’t undo my bond with him, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.”

He just nodded, still not looking at me, which somehow made me feel even worse. It seemed cruel now to give him my side, but it was still important. Necessary. “It’s my turn now. I need to convince you that Rigel and I really do have a
graell
bond. Because until you believe that—”

“Look,” he interrupted. “Can we . . . not do that right now? Please? I don’t think I . . . I mean . . .” He closed his eyes for several long seconds, then opened them and said, with a sort of desperate, forced cheerfulness, “Hey, I said I was going to entertain you tonight, remember?”
 

“Right.” I couldn’t bring myself to press the issue when it so clearly pained him. “What did you have in mind?”

With an obvious effort, he summoned a grin. “Come and see. I think you’ll like it.” He stood up and walked over to the desk on the other side of the room.

Curious, I followed him and saw several weird-looking items assembled there.
 

“You were so fascinated by my omni, I thought you might like to see a few other fun gizmos.” He picked up something that looked vaguely like an electric hot plate, but without a cord. “Mum does at least half her cooking with these—she has close to a dozen, all different sizes.” Turning, he held it out to me.
 

Careful not to touch him, I took it. Forcing myself to focus on the item instead of his unsettling revelations, I turned it this way and that. It was flat, maybe half an inch thick and less than a foot square, with a big red circle on one shiny white side and a button on one edge. “How does it work?”

“Sort of like a microwave oven, only better and faster. You put a pot or a serving dish on it, then set it, so.” He pushed the button and a little holographic screen much like the one from his omni popped up. “It instantly heats, cools or cooks whatever is in the pot or on the plate. You can even put different stuff on one plate, like with leftovers, and it’ll make everything the right temp—potatoes hot, applesauce cold, like that.”

“Convenient,” I admitted, trying not to act
too
impressed since I was still uncomfortable around Sean for a whole variety of reasons. “What’s this thing?” I pointed at something that looked like a leather scroll, maybe eight inches long.

Sean picked it up. “This would have been a lot more gee-whiz a few years back, but someone leaked the technology a decade or two ago. Now electronic readers are everywhere here on Earth, but we’ve had them on Mars for over a century. This is what I think of when you say the word ‘book.’”

He touched the end of the “scroll” and it snapped flat and rigid, then touched it again and lettering appeared all over one side. He handed it to me.

“Wow.” It was harder now to hide my awe. “This is Martian, right?” I asked, looking at the same strange characters I’d seen on some of the books on the shelves.
 

“Yeah, but it’ll also display in English. Or any other language. It has a translator.”

I watched as he demonstrated, the text switching to English—it looked like one of Shakespeare’s plays—then to something I guessed was German or Dutch, and then to Chinese or something similar. Okay, I was impressed. Bri’s Kindle sure couldn’t do
this
.

“And it’ll hold more than two million volumes,” he told me, rolling it back up with another touch of a button. “Videos, too, but since the omni came out, nobody really uses books for that anymore.”

This time his finger did brush mine, though I couldn’t tell if it was intentional. I tried not to jerk away from the thoroughly disturbing jolt I felt, since I didn’t want him to make a big deal about it.

“Yeah, the book thingy is pretty cool. But what’s with these?” I asked, picking up what looked like an ordinary pair of eyeglasses with thin metal frames. “I thought all Martians had perfect vision naturally.” I hadn’t, of course, but I did now—now that bonding with Rigel had “fixed” me.

Sean just chuckled. “Try them on.”

I did. Everything looked the same. But then Sean reached over—I managed not to flinch—and touched the frame. Suddenly everything got huge.

“Here, look,” he said, holding his finger about six inches in front of me. I could see every pore in his finger and the ridges of his fingerprint looked like a mountain range.

“So they’re like a microscope?”

“That’s not all. Check this out.” He crossed the room and flipped the light switch, plunging us into darkness.

Which was super creepy, after what he’d told me earlier. “Hey!” I protested.
 

“Touch the upper outside corner of the left lens,” he said.
 

I did, and suddenly I could see everything in the room just as clearly as when the lights were on. “Whoa. How—?”

“Infrared, like night goggles or security cameras. It’ll also see into the ultraviolet spectrum on another setting, and do telescopic vision, though not as well as a real telescope, of course. More like good binoculars.”
 

He flipped the lights back on and I removed the glasses, feeling a little foolish about my moment of panic.
 

“And nobody would ever suspect.” I looked more closely at the glasses. The buttons, or sensors, or whatever changed the settings, weren’t even visible. “But I guess that’s the point? Nobody’s
supposed
to know about this stuff, right? Regular Earthlings, that is.”

“Well, no, but it’s not like I’m showing this stuff to anyone at school, and you’re not going to mention it to Bri or Deb, right?”

An hour ago I’d have wanted to make him sweat, but now I shook my head without hesitation. “Of course not. It’s not like I’ve told them about myself.”

“No, I know. Though it must be tempting at times. Even more tempting to tell your aunt and uncle, considering the way they treat you. Hell, I’ve been tempted myself!”

I shrugged, trying not to feel touched by his concern. “They’d never believe you. And they’d believe it even less if I told them.”

“I guess. So, um, can you also not tell Stuart about this stuff? He might make trouble with some of the higher-ups if he knows we have all this.”

Immediately, my original irritation at Sean surged back. “Higher-ups? Isn’t your precious Uncle Allister one of the highest-up guys on the planet? Anyway, I don’t keep secrets from Rigel.”

Sean’s mouth twisted, but whether with anger or chagrin, I couldn’t tell. “But you want me to keep secrets from my mum, right?” Before I could retort, he backed off. “No, sorry, that was out of line. I’m really not trying to put you on the spot or anything. Come on into the kitchen—I’ve got a couple other things to show you.”

teachneoc
(TEEK-nee-ok):
technology; gadgetry

Sean’s sudden shift from accusatory back to friendly and apologetic defused my flare of anger, almost against my will. And I
did
want to see more, so I followed him. Mrs. O’Gara was in the kitchen, frosting a yummy-looking chocolate cake.

“Ah, you’re a wee bit early, Sean. I was going to bring this out as soon as the tea was ready. But now you’re here, will you get out the cups?”

“I’ll do it, if you tell me where they are,” I offered, but Mrs. O’Gara looked horrified.

“You’ll do no such thing, Excellency! It won’t hurt this overgrown son of mine a bit to help out in the kitchen for a change.”

Sean just grinned. “It’s okay, M. Besides, it gives me a chance to show you something else.” He opened a cabinet and took out a teacup, but instead of setting it on a saucer, he dipped a finger into the frosting bowl, laughing when his mother swatted him away. Then he daubed chocolate on the cup and put it back in the cupboard.

“Watch this,” he said. He closed the cabinet and pushed an unobtrusive button underneath, waited a second, then opened the cabinet again. As I expected, the cup was now clean.

“Cool dishwasher, huh?”

I nodded, trying not to feel smug. “Yeah, Rigel . . . um, told me about these. Very cool.”
 

Maybe Sean would worry less if I told him the Stuarts had Martian gadgets of their own, but it didn’t feel right to share something that wasn’t my secret to tell.

“I’ll just have to find something else to show you, then,” Sean said, making me realize I should have acted more impressed.
 

Mrs. O’Gara pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “Have a seat, M, do. As you’re in the kitchen already, you may as well have your tea here.”

Sean set out teacups for all three of us while his mother cut thick slices of chocolate cake. It all smelled heavenly, though I hadn’t been hungry until now.

“There, now. Do let me know if you need more sugar, or anything at all,” she said comfortably, sitting down at the table with us and pouring the tea.
 

I smiled at her, though being fussed over still felt weird. Nice, but weird. “Thanks, Mrs. O’Gara. And, um, thanks for getting me out of the house tonight.”

“T’was the least I could do, dear, after our family disrupted your life so. I hope things weren’t awkward with Molly away, and that you and Sean have had a nice chat?”
 

I wondered if she’d been able to hear everything we said, but it seemed rude to ask. “Um, yeah, I guess so,” I replied, though “nice” wasn’t the word I’d have used to describe it.

“Well, that’s just grand.” She seemed more pleased than my lukewarm response called for. “By the bye, I believe I’ve convinced your aunt to let you come here as often as you like, provided you finish whatever tasks she sets you first.”
 

“Really? Thanks! That’s great.” The evening
had
started out awkwardly, but now I was genuinely grateful I could have this regular escape.
 

I heard the front door open and close, then footsteps, but they sounded more like Mr. O’Gara’s than Molly’s.
 

Mrs. O glanced that way, then turned back to me with a concerned smile. “I’d prefer Theresa stop giving you menial jobs altogether, as it’s simply not fitting, but with her not knowing who you are, I can scarcely explain why.”

“That’s super nice of you, Mrs. O’Gara, but it’s okay, really. I’m, uh, pretty much used to it. And it won’t last forever. I hope.”

The look she gave me seemed both fond and a little sad. “The way you’ve held up all these years is a marvel, Princess. A credit to your breeding, it is, fitting or not. And now you do know who you are, I hope you won’t take it amiss if we try to help you understand some of what you’ve missed out on, being raised the way you have.”

“No, of course I don’t mind! I love learning more about Mars. It’s all fascinating to me.”

A voice behind me—a voice that made my stomach instinctively clench—said, “I’m glad to hear that, Excellency, because your instruction definitely needs to proceed more quickly. Time may be getting short.”