Starcrossed (19 page)

Rigel stared at her and I could feel the panic and fury rolling off him even though he was several feet away. “What? No!”

“This instant, young man! If you don’t have a cell phone with you, we will return to our house and you can call from there. I intend to nip this . . . this immoral behavior in the bud!” Even though she was much shorter than Rigel and not a fraction as strong, her anger made her intimidating.

Slowly, reluctantly, with a long, apologetic glance my way, Rigel pulled out his phone and called. I could hear it ringing several times on the other end before a sleepy voice answered.

“Hey, Dad, it’s me. Yeah. I’m, uh—”

Aunt Theresa reached out and took the phone away from him. “Mr. Stuart? This is Theresa Truitt, Marsha’s aunt. I have just caught my niece and your son meeting secretly at the arboretum in town—yes, at midnight. We need to discuss what should be done about it.”

I could hear Mr. Stuart’s voice, no longer sleepy, saying something that sounded decisive.

“Very well,” Aunt Theresa responded. “I’ll take them both back to our house and you can join us there.” She handed the phone back to Rigel and turned to me. “Marsha, front seat. Young man, back seat. Now.”

Rigel hesitated. “Um, my bike . . .” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Your parents can retrieve it later. In the car. Both of you.”

Until that moment, “quivering with rage” was something I thought only happened in books. I’d never seen my aunt so angry—and I’d seen her angry a lot. Her lips were a thin slash across her face and her small, gray eyes sparkled with something that almost looked like unshed tears, but was probably fury. I got into the front seat without a word and Rigel got in back.

I desperately groped for
any
explanation for why I needed to meet Rigel in the middle of the night, but even with the boost in clarity his nearness gave me, I was too panicked to think straight. We were so totally, monumentally screwed.

I’d expected a lecture, but Aunt Theresa didn’t say anything at all during the brief drive. She braked in the driveway with a spray of gravel and turned off the ignition. “We’ll wait inside until the Stuarts get here.”
 

She made a point of walking between us so we couldn’t so much as brush fingers as we went up the front walk. I was dying for even the slightest contact with Rigel and knew he was feeling the same. But what could we do?
 

The next ten minutes were the most awkward I’d ever spent in my life. Aunt Theresa directed us to chairs on opposite sides of the living room, then sat between us on the couch. Once or twice she made little hmphing noises and I thought she would finally start lecturing, but then she didn’t.

“Mrs. Truitt,” Rigel said at one point, “please let me explain—”

But she cut him off with a glare and a sharp, “When your parents get here.”
 

Neither of us tried to say anything else after that, just sat and fidgeted. I wondered at one point whether Uncle Louie was still asleep or if he was just hiding upstairs to avoid the conflict. Either would be totally in character.

Finally, after what felt like years, we heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive. With one quelling look at both of us, Aunt Theresa went to open the front door.
 

“Please come in,” she said in a voice that could have frozen hot coffee.
 

Both of Rigel’s parents had come. As they followed her in, I realized it was the first time they’d ever been inside our house. Our living room seemed even smaller and shabbier than usual as I mentally compared it to theirs.
 

“I’m sure you’ll agree that these children need to understand just how deplorably they have behaved tonight,” my aunt continued icily before they even sat down.
 

“We certainly do,” Mr. Stuart said, frowning thunderously at Rigel.
 

Even Dr. Stuart, who was usually so nice, looked seriously angry. “I must apologize for our son’s part in this,” she said. “You can be sure such a thing will never happen again.”

“It most certainly will not!” Aunt Theresa exclaimed. “For my part, I intend to keep an extremely close eye on Marsha for the foreseeable future, in addition to the restrictions I’ll be putting on her activities. I’d like your assurance that you’ll do the same with your son.”

Dr. Stuart turned pink but I couldn’t tell whether she was ticked that Aunt Theresa was telling her what to do, or just mad at Rigel. And me.
 

“I’d like to add my apology to my wife’s,” Mr. Stuart said before she could reply. “In the past, we’ve found Rigel to be very trustworthy, but I assure you he will now have to re-earn our trust.” He pinned Rigel with his eyes, then glanced at me, still frowning. “Both of you showed incredibly poor judgment tonight. I hope you realize that. I can’t imagine what you were thinking.”

I nodded and Rigel mumbled a “Yes, Sir,” but I knew he was seething inside as much as I was. The Stuarts knew perfectly well why we needed to talk, after that bombshell last night, then everybody keeping us apart at church.

Yeah, maybe it
would
have been smarter for us to wait until school tomorrow, but we needed to talk about stuff we couldn’t risk people hearing. Stuff
they
wouldn’t want anybody at school to overhear. They
had
to understand that. But neither of them looked very understanding at the moment.

Aunt Theresa turned her glare back on me. “Marsha, you are not to spend time in this boy’s company again. I’m telling you in front of his parents so that they will know where I stand on this.”
 

She glanced at the Stuarts and they both nodded. I looked in vain for some trace of sympathy in their expressions but didn’t see any.
 

“Did you hear me, Marsha?” my aunt said. “I want your word on this—no contact.”

I stared at her incredulously. “What? You mean, at
all?
But we—” I stopped myself just in time from blurting out that we’d both get sick. The Stuarts knew, though. Didn’t they? “We have some classes together at school,” I finished, squashing down my panic so I could sound reasonable. “We . . . we can’t stay
completely
apart.”

“Which is why I want your word, Marsha. Other than absolutely necessary communication for strictly academic reasons, you will keep your distance even at school. Am I clear? Or must I contact your teachers about this?”

I felt tears welling up at the injustice, at the thought of how awful this would be. I didn’t try to stop myself from crying, hoping if I was pathetic enough, the Stuarts might relent even if Aunt Theresa never would.

Instead, Mr. Stuart said, “Rigel, I’d like the same promise from you. I agree it will be best if you two avoid each other for a while.”

Now Rigel’s head snapped up. “But—”

“No buts. Not now. Promise me.”

Even from across the room I could see Rigel swallow, feel the anger, fear and desperation flowing from him. But his father held his rebellious gaze until he reluctantly nodded—then immediately sent a glance my way that held both apology and defiance.

“Marsha?” Aunt Theresa demanded.

“Fine,” I muttered. I refused to give her more than that, since this was a promise I had no intention of keeping. I was just glad the Stuarts hadn’t asked for my promise, too, since I’d feel a lot worse breaking my word to them. Not that it would stop me.

For a long moment, all three adults just looked at us. I stared at my lap, so I couldn’t see their expressions—or Rigel’s. I just hoped he was as determined as I was to find a way around this horrible new restriction.
 

With a surge of mingled hope and fear, I suddenly remembered my backpack upstairs. Running away was still an option. Maybe our our only option.

“Very well,” my aunt said at last. “That will do for now. I’ll leave it to you,” she said to the Stuarts, “to determine any further punishment for your son. I appreciate you coming.”

Since that was clearly a dismissal, they rose, still looking relentlessly grim. Rigel and I managed one more long, desperate glance as they moved to the door, but if he was trying to send any thoughts at me, I was too upset to receive them.
 

Then they were gone.

cannarc
(KAN-ark):
rebellion; mutiny; resistance

My eyes were crusty when I woke up the next morning, and it took me a few seconds to remember why.

Oh, that’s right. I’d cried myself to sleep. And now, as the disastrous events of last night came crashing back, it was all I could do not to start crying all over again.
 

Aunt Theresa had lectured herself hoarse about just how thoroughly I’d disappointed her by sneaking out, enumerating all the reasons my friends, and especially my boyfriend, were “bad influences.” I’d tuned her out early on, but there was no tuning out the consequences.

I was grounded. More than grounded. I wasn’t allowed to go
anywhere
but school and church, not even taekwondo, for the rest of the semester. Instead, I’d have a whole bunch of new chores around the house. Worst of all, I was forbidden to see Rigel or even any of my friends outside of school, until further notice.
 

My life was going to suck beyond all reason for the foreseeable future.
 

“Wow, M, you look awful,” Bri greeted me when she and Deb got on the bus. “You’re not sick again, are you?”
 

I knew she was referring to the few weeks in September when Rigel and I had pretended to break up and had stayed away from each other. Both of us had been a mess then, mentally and physically.

“No.” I would be soon, though, if I adhered to the letter of my restriction. Which was one reason I had no plans to do so. “I’m grounded, though. My aunt got super pissed when I came home late from Rigel’s party.”
 

I saw no point telling them about last night. I’d been careful to sit well away from Molly, and Sean hardly ever took the bus anymore, getting rides from teammates with cars.

“Guess it’s just as well you didn’t come with us to the after-party at Nicole’s, then,” Deb said.
 

Bri nodded. “Yeah, we didn’t leave there till midnight. But what a party! Deb had to do some quick talking to convince her mom we’d been with you, then spent too long at my house picking up my stuff for our sleepover. But how is your aunt grounding you? I mean, it’s not like you’re ever allowed to do much of anything anyway.”
 

Like I needed reminding. “Now I’m
really
not allowed to do anything. She’d even be mad if she knew I was talking to you guys right now. I’m supposed to be in seclusion or something—not talk to
anybody
except when I absolutely have to for school. She practically made me take a vow of silence.”

“And celibacy?” Bri giggled. Then, at my look, she added, “Oh, come on, M, I’m kidding. But you’ve already told us your aunt doesn’t approve of Rigel.”

“Yeah, well, she approves even less now,” I said glumly. “He’s number one on the list of people I’m not allowed to talk to.”

Bri waved a hand. “Pfft! It’s not like she can watch you at school. She already wouldn’t let him come to your house, or you to his unless his parents were home. How is this so different?”

Her breezy attitude was irritating, but it also cheered me up a little. Maybe it
wouldn’t
be all that different? “Unless Rigel takes her rules too seriously.”

“You told him?” Deb asked.

“Aunt Theresa told his
parents.
” I had the dubious satisfaction of seeing them both look shocked. “Yeah. That’s how pissed she was.”
 

Maybe I wasn’t being
totally
fair, since sneaking out at midnight on a school night was arguably worse than coming home late from a chaperoned party. But I wasn’t in a mood to cut my aunt any slack.

“Wow, that’s low.” Bri shook her head in sympathy. “How awkward was
that
?”

“You have no idea.” I cringed again at the memory of last night in our living room.
 

Surely,
surely
, the Stuarts had just been playing along when they’d agreed to Aunt Theresa’s terms?
They
knew she had no clue about the truth—who I really was, or about Rigel and me. They couldn’t
really
intend to enforce Rigel’s promise to stay away from me. Could they?

I shouldered my way through the crowd as soon as I was off the bus, so I could ask Rigel before class started. To my relief, he was waiting on the sidewalk outside, which would give us a few precious extra minutes.

But as I hurried over to him, he suddenly looked wary, making me worry all over again. “Hey,” he said, sounding as cautious as he looked.

“Hey!” I tried to make up for it with my own enthusiasm. “There. Now we’ve already broken the rules, so let’s talk.”

Rigel let out a breath in obvious relief, then took my hand. I could feel the tension leaving him even as I felt my own nerves unknotting at his touch. “I was afraid you’d—I dunno—”

“Feel like I had to follow my aunt’s stupid rule? No way. Just one more thing she doesn’t have to know about. But what about you? Your parents? Do they really expect—?”

He shrugged as we started walking toward the building. “I’m not sure what they expect,” he said in the whisper only I could hear, “but I got a lecture to end all lectures on the way home. About how I’d risked your safety, about betraying their trust, a bunch of crap about Martian politics. I stopped listening about halfway in.”

“You, too?” I was in complete sympathy. “I thought my aunt would never shut up and go to bed. But . . . I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so mad.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, as we reached my locker, he turned to me, pain in his eyes. “M, I am so,
so
sorry. This whole thing is my fault. If I’d stayed hidden, you probably could have talked your way out of the worst of it. At least, your aunt probably wouldn’t have forbidden you to see me. And my parents wouldn’t know about it at all.”