Starcrossed (24 page)

I whipped my head around and sure enough, the very last person I wanted to see was standing there: Allister Adair, looking as pompous and sure of himself as ever.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted out before remembering Allister was Mrs. O’Gara’s brother. Then I did remember, and gave her a quick, apologetic glance before turning back to Allister. “I mean, um, how long have you been listening?”

To my surprise (and secret satisfaction), he looked a little chagrined. “My apologies, Excellency. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I should have revealed my presence at once. But I was so pleased to hear that you are eager to learn more about your people and duties that my feelings got the better of me.”

I refrained—barely—from making a snarky comment about him
having
feelings. “What did you mean, time is getting short? Short for what?”

“Nothing alarming, I assure you,” he said, trying for that fatherly smile he sucked at. “Simply that a regular, even accelerated, schedule of study is long overdue, as you have missed so many years of education already. Thrice-weekly visits, perhaps?” He looked questioningly at Mrs. O’Gara.

She gave him a quick frown but nodded, then turned to me with a smile. “If you’re willing, M? You did say you wanted to hear more, and it would get you away from your aunt more frequently.”

“I guess so, if you really think you can convince Aunt Theresa to let me come that often. But . . . will
he
be teaching me?” I shot a suspicious glance at Allister.

“Only occasionally,” he assured me. “I’m a busy man, after all, with duties in both Washington and Montana. When I am in Jewel, however, I would be pleased to teach you about certain topics for which I am particularly well-suited. If that meets with your approval, of course.”

It was the most deferential he’d ever been toward me, but I still didn’t trust him. “That depends. What topics are you talking about?”

His jaw twitched, but he kept his tone surprisingly polite. “Primarily Nuathan governmental structure, traditions and procedures. Things vitally important for you to learn about, especially given—”
 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mrs. O give a quick shake of her head and he broke off.

“Given what?” I prodded, sure now that there was something he wasn’t telling me. “What’s changed? Why the sudden urgency?”

“Allister means that we have no way of knowing how soon you may need this knowledge, given the, ah, increasingly uncertain state of things in Nuath,” Mrs. O’Gara replied, with another frown for her brother.
 

“Yes, better safe than sorry.” Allister’s suddenly jovial tone only made me more suspicious. “Are you willing, Princess?”

My first instinct was to refuse, but the more I knew about all their convoluted rules, the better chance I’d have of finding ways around them—legitimately or not. Maybe I’d even discover a loophole that would allow Rigel and me to stay together.

“I suppose,” I said. “Though I’d probably learn more from someone else. Anyone else.”

After just the slightest pause, during which he again seemed to be biting back an instinctive rebuke, he nodded. “I understand. It is unfortunate that you and I began on such poor terms, Excellency. I intend to do my best to remedy that.”

I wanted to tell him that the
only
remedy would be for him to stop being such a jerk about Rigel, but that would just lead to another big argument, and it was getting late.

“Right,” I said. “But I’d better head home, if I want my aunt to let me come here again.”
 

“Yes, of course.” Mrs. O’Gara looked relieved. “We mustn’t antagonize her unnecessarily at this stage.”

I felt like a wimp, not challenging Allister the way I wanted to, but maybe I’d have better luck changing his mind about Rigel by degrees, if I could manage to keep my temper around him. I owed it to Rigel—and to myself—to try.
 

I was so distracted, I forgot to protest when Sean put on his coat to walk me home. In fact, I was barely aware of him walking next to me, I was so busy mulling over the evening’s revelations and wondering what Mrs. O had kept Allister from saying.

“Hey, you want to see a new omni trick?” Sean asked abruptly when we were halfway to my house, snapping me back to the present.

“What? Oh, um, sure.”
 

He pulled it out and I was surprised all over again at how small it was, not even as big as his thumb. He brought up the first screen, hit a button to bring up another screen, hit two buttons there, then stuck it back in his pocket.

“So . . . what did you do?”

He grinned down at me, his hand hovering above my shoulder. “May I?”
 

Though my first instinct was to refuse, I knew by now that some of the omni’s functions required contact. I nodded, steeling myself against the tingle I always felt. Then, suddenly, I heard music. But not through my ears, exactly. More like it was playing in my
brain
.
 

“Waltz of the Flowers,” I murmured. One of my favorite classical pieces. Did Sean somehow know that? Probably. “How does it do that? Can anyone else hear it?”

“Nope.” He took his hand off of my shoulder and the music disappeared. Then he touched me again and it came back. “Way better than earbuds, huh?”

“Way,” I had to agree.
 

We reached my house before the Tchaikovsky piece ended, making me wish the walk were longer. Only not really, because the
last
thing I wanted was to spend more time with Sean. Between his disturbing confession and all that Martian technology, the jerk had somehow managed make me forget I was mad at him. Was I really that easy to manipulate?

“Thanks,” I said, stepping away from him and cutting off the music. “Tell Molly I said hi, okay?”
 

I headed up the front steps without a backward glance, half expecting him to stop me. He didn’t, though, and when I finally peeked as I closed the front door, he was already halfway down the street. Telling myself firmly that I was relieved rather than disappointed, I went upstairs to get ready for bed.

ateamh rioga
(ah-TEV ree-OH-gah):
persuasive ability possessed by some of Royal blood

I tried to ditch Sean and Molly as soon as we got off the bus the next morning. I wanted to tell Rigel about my visit to the O’Garas’ before Sean could, plus all this staying apart was starting to give me a headache and the first hints of queasiness. But the two of them tagged along, talking to me, until I had to hurry to get to class before the bell. I was sure it was on purpose.

Rigel was already in the classroom, looking as impatient as I felt. Before either of us said a word, we clasped hands like we were rescuing each other from drowning—which was almost what it felt like. Being apart from Rigel was a lot like not having enough air, and we’d been apart way too much lately.

After a few seconds of that wonderful relief, he gave me a crooked grin. “I hear you went to the O’Garas’ house again last night.”

“What?” I glanced wildly around but of course didn’t see Sean or Molly. “How did—? I was just about to tell you!”

“Quinn O’Gara came by our house last night. I figured you knew.”

I shook my head. “Mrs. O told my aunt Molly needed more homework help.” I was debating whether to volunteer the information that Molly hadn’t been home when the bell rang.

After class, Deb immediately started asking me questions about the assignment, then Molly met us in the hall before I had a chance to say anything else to Rigel. Then Bri got to English before Rigel did and was all about tonight’s basketball scrimmage, so I still couldn’t ask him what Mr. O had been doing at his house.

 
I hoped I’d have a chance in Science, since Rigel sat right behind me, but Trina had an ironclad excuse to monopolize him, since she and Rigel were lab partners and we had to turn in topics for our final geology projects next week. I tried to ignore the smug smirk she gave me every time I glanced back.
 

I’d given up and started talking with my own partner, Will, about our project, when Trina’s words stopped me cold.

“You seem to be holding up really well, Rigel, considering how fickle a certain someone seems to be. I guess some girls are all about novelty.”

I swiveled around to glare at her. “Sounds like you’re describing yourself, Trina,” I snapped. Because it really did.

She gave me one of her nasty, syrupy smiles. “I don’t know what you mean, Marsha.
I’m
not the one who ran after the new boy, then dropped him like a rock when someone even newer came along. Everybody knows you’re with Sean O’Gara these days. It’s all over the school. But it won’t be long before he sees through you, just like Rigel did.” She turned her smile to him, losing the nasty tinge.

“I am not—!” I started to retort, but Trina cut me off.

“Oh, come on. Walking you to class, sitting all cozy together at lunch? You’ve practically got him on a leash. He told Nate Best you’ve even been spending most evenings at his house lately.”

She hadn’t said anything Rigel didn’t already know—except that untrue “cozy” crack—but I could feel anger, jealousy and frustration start to build in him. I focused, thinking as hard as I could,
Not true! I love you!
He gave a terse little nod, but didn’t send anything back, maybe because he was too upset at the moment to communicate that way. I
needed
to talk, really talk, to him alone. Soon!

I followed him from the room after class, hoping to get my chance the moment Trina was out of earshot, but there was Sean, waiting to walk me to lunch again. Any sympathy I’d begun to feel for him last night was swallowed up by annoyance, especially when he shot a smug look Rigel’s way.

Before I could say anything, Rigel brushed past Sean, bumping him—hard—with his shoulder.

“Hey!” Sean said, shoving him back. “What’s the idea?”

“Like you don’t know.” Rigel squared his shoulders and Sean did the same, reminding me vividly of their almost-fight in the courtyard last week. Already a small, interested crowd was starting to form.

I jumped between them before things could escalate. “Rigel. Sean. Stop it. Now.” I didn’t shout, but I spoke
really
firmly.

They continued to glare at each other for a long moment, but then Sean relaxed and shrugged. “He started it.”

“That’s debatable. Rigel?”

He shrugged, too, though he didn’t really relax. “Whatever. See you later, M.”
 

Before I could say another word, he strode off down the hall. I started to go after him, but Sean cleared his throat.

“Better let him cool down. Besides—“
 

“I know. My aunt’s stupid rules—and your spying duties.”

Sean looked unhappy, which was fine with me. “I told you it wasn’t my idea. Anyway, Stuart needs to control that temper or he could risk . . . well, everything.”

I glared at him. “Maybe it would be worth it. Get me off the hook.”

“What do you—?”

“Never mind,” I snapped, walking quickly toward the lunchroom.
 

He didn’t get a chance to ask me again what I meant, what with everyone at lunch talking about tonight’s scrimmage, which was fine with me. Less fine was the way he and Molly hovered all the way to History, then watched Rigel and me like a pair of hawks, so we couldn’t even get two seconds alone.

My only consolation was another note in my locker at the end of the day, but all it said was:
This is driving me nuts! Gotta figure a way to talk SOON. Miss you. –R

I agreed completely, but didn’t have a solution—except to think longingly about the backpack under my bed.

On the bus home, Molly, Bri and Deb were all determined to get me to that night’s scrimmage somehow, though if I couldn’t be with Rigel, I didn’t much care. Already my Rigel-deprivation headache was creeping back.

Because I’d promised, as soon as Aunt Theresa got home, I asked if I could go. And of course she said no.

“Have you forgotten you’re grounded, Marsha?” she asked, pointing me toward the laundry room. “Helping Molly O’Gara with homework is one thing, but going out with your friends to a sporting event is completely different. You’ll stay in and iron those curtains you washed yesterday.”

I didn’t bother to argue.
 

I was just finishing the first curtain when the doorbell rang, and a moment later I heard Mrs. O’Gara’s voice. As always, aunt Theresa sounded delighted to see her. They went into the living room and I couldn’t hear them anymore. I kept ironing. Twenty minutes later, when I was nearly done, I heard the front door close and then Aunt Theresa’s footsteps.

“Because it means so much to Sean and Molly O’Gara, I’ve decided you can go to the game tonight, on the condition you sit with the O’Garas,” she announced.

“Really?” I stared. This was twice in two days Mrs. O’Gara had convinced her to lighten up! I stopped myself in time from commenting on her complete one-eighty. “Um, thanks, Aunt Theresa.”

She sniffed. “Just see you keep your distance from that Stuart boy. The O’Garas will pick you up in an hour. Finish what you’re doing and make yourself a sandwich for dinner.”

She walked away and I ironed faster, thinking hard. Aunt Theresa had only known Mrs. O’Gara for three weeks, but in that time she’d started acting completely out of character—always right after talking to Mrs. O. This could
not
be coincidence.
 

When Molly had talked about the Royal
fine
having powers of persuasion I’d discounted, since she’d been talking about me, but the O’Garas were Royals, too. If that’s what Mrs. O was doing, I definitely needed to figure out how to use it myself!

Of course, Molly seemed to think I
had
used it, when I’d stopped Rigel and Sean from fighting last week. And again today? I certainly hadn’t
tried
to channel any special “power,” but both times they’d backed off more readily than I’d expected. Hm.
 

Whatever Mrs. O had done, it was getting me to the game—which I suddenly realized might give me a chance to see Rigel after all, if his parents let him go, too. On that thought, I turned off the iron and rushed upstairs to change—and to figure out a strategy to talk to Rigel alone, if he was there.