Starcrossed (20 page)

“You were defending me,” I reminded him. “It was actually kind of sweet. Though, yeah, it probably would have been better if you hadn’t.”

Rigel gave a half smile, but then shook his head fiercely. “No. I should never have suggested that meeting in the first place. We could have held out till today, and then we wouldn’t—”

“If you hadn’t suggested it, I would have. This is
not
your fault, Rigel! You didn’t make up all those stupid Martian rules, or move the O’Garas to Jewel, or . . . or even intend to get yourself bonded to me.” I stopped at the look on his face.

“You think I regret that part?” He sounded almost angry. “No matter what happens, I’ll
never
regret that. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, M, don’t you know that by now? But I’m worried I’ve totally screwed things up for you. Screwed up your future.”

I shook my head as fiercely as he had. “I don’t
want
any future that doesn’t include you, Rigel. Period. We’ll run away first. Screw whatever political—”
 

I was cut off by the warning bell. Maybe just as well, since we were getting so intense people were shooting curious looks our way, even though (or maybe because) our whole conversation had been in inaudible—to them—whispers.
 

“We’ll figure something out. Somehow,” Rigel promised.
 

He hadn’t responded about running away, but I couldn’t help thinking about it during Geometry. And the more I thought about that particular solution, the less scary and the more obvious it seemed.

We had three classes together before lunch, but no more opportunity to talk even semi-privately. We swung past the courtyard on the way to the cafeteria, but an icy drizzle had started falling. So after we got our lunches, I made a quick excuse to Bri, Deb and Molly about needing some alone time and we grabbed a table in the corner.

“Finally!” Rigel said as we sat side by side, facing the lunchroom so we could see any potential interruptions coming. “Okay. First off, I want to know what the O’Garas said Saturday night, after you left my house. What are they going to make you do?”

I frowned at him in confusion. “Make me do? They can’t
make
me do anything. And they didn’t say much, except to apologize for Allister. I still pretty much lambasted Sean—well, all of them—for knowing about this stupid Consort thing all along and not telling me.”

“Yeah, I came down pretty hard on my parents, too,” Rigel said. “They swear they had no idea about Sean, but they did know about the whole Consort thing. I can’t believe they never said a word to either of us, just let us go on thinking we could . . . that it was . . .”

“You said we’d figure something out and we will,” I reminded him, taking his hand. “It
will
be okay, Rigel. You’ll see.”

The pain was back in his eyes when he looked at me. “Will it, M? I just can’t see how. We can’t
really
run away—though I won’t say I haven’t thought about it.”

“So have I—a lot. And why can’t we?” I demanded. “Seriously, if running away is the only way we can be together, I’m totally in.”

He grabbed both of my hands. “Really, M? You’d do that?”

“Absolutely.”
 

He smiled a little—the first real smile I’d seen from him today—as he realized I meant it, but then he turned serious again. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me, but . . . we need to find another way. Think of the uproar it would cause—not only the O’Garas and the Council and all, but your folks and the town and the school and everything. It might even break everything—everything!—out into the open.”

Even if he was right, at the moment I hardly cared. “Being together matters more to me, Rigel. More than absolutely
anything
else.”

He stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. “Same here.” But the sadness was back.

Something niggled at me, and after a moment I realized it was the familiarity of the expression in his eyes. It was the same sadness I’d noticed last week, only more pronounced now. “You suspected, didn’t you?” It came out almost as an accusation. “After the O’Garas got here, I mean. You knew all along something was up with Sean.”

He shrugged, still sad. “I didn’t know about
this
—this Royal Consort business. But them coming here, the way Sean was acting toward me, it forced me to really think about who you are. Your position, I mean. And to wonder just where I could fit in, longterm.”

I tightened my grip on his hands. “With me! That’s where you fit in. Always with me. How can you doubt that? You think, what, all this Sovereign stuff will go to my head and I’ll think I’m too good for you or something?” I let out something between a laugh and a sob at the absurdity of the idea. “Every girl in this lunchroom wishes she was sitting here with you, Rigel. I am totally aware, every minute of every day, just how lucky I am!”

He managed a grudging smile. “Thanks, M. Sorry I’m being such a downer. It’s just . . . the thought of losing you makes me a little crazy.”

“Ditto.” I was emphatic. “But that’s
not
going to happen. No matter what. So let’s eat. And strategize how we’re going to get around this grounding thing for the next few days.”

He nodded, but then frowned across the cafeteria. I followed his gaze and saw Sean sitting at our regular table, next to Molly, talking to Bri and Deb. As we watched, the whole group turned and looked at us.
 

Feeling both pissed and amused, I waved cheerily at them, then turned back to Rigel. “Gee, wonder what they’re all talking about?” I couldn’t quite keep the sourness out of my voice.

Oddly, he was suddenly more upbeat than just a moment ago. “Who cares? Because you’re right. We’re together
now
, no matter what happens later. I’ll talk my parents around—half of that grounding thing was a show for your aunt anyway—and you can work on convincing her we can be trusted.”

“Oh, sure! Piece of cake. Running away would be a whole lot easier.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it would be easy. Baby steps. We’re still way ahead of where we were a few weeks ago, when we thought were about to die. Right?”

I couldn’t disagree. “Right.”

“There you go, then. Eat.”

And I did, soaking up all the Rigel-ness I could while I had the chance.

breag fionn
(brag fin):
discover a lie; detect a falsehood

Rigel and I didn’t get another chance for private conversation that day, except for a few seconds just before boarding our separate buses to go home, when we managed a quick goodbye kiss.
 

“Guess I won’t see you till tomorrow,” I said wistfully.

“Guess not. But I’ll be thinking about you constantly till then,” Rigel promised. “Love you, M.”
 

He boarded his bus and I turned reluctantly to mine. It was going to be a long afternoon, evening and night.

Molly came running up as I joined Bri and Deb in the line for our bus. I half hoped she’d seen that kiss, but if so she didn’t mention it.
 

“I have to be at cheerleading in a minute,” she panted, “but you’re coming over tonight, right?”
 

“I can’t.” My regret was only partly feigned. “I’m, like, totally grounded right now.”
 

Her eyes got big. “What? Why? Just because you got home a little late Saturday night? Your aunt seemed mostly okay about it yesterday.”

I just shrugged. I hadn’t told Bri and Deb the truth, and I definitely didn’t want to tell Molly. After all, what was the point? All they needed to know was the result.

“Do you want my mum to talk to your aunt?” Molly persisted, like a dog with a bone.
 

Aunt Theresa would undoubtedly spill the beans if she did, so I shook my head. “I think we’d better let her cool down first.”
 

Not that anything they could say would change her mind—or like any of the O’Garas would even
want
to change Aunt Theresa’s mind if they knew the point of my grounding was to keep me away from Rigel. Still, if they
could
get her to lighten up a little, he and I might manage an occasional clandestine meeting.
 

“Maybe in a day or two?” I suggested.
 

“Absolutely,” Molly agreed. “I’m sure Mum can make her see reason. She thinks your aunt is so strict because she worries about you. Plus she, um, doesn’t seem to relate very well to teenagers.”

Bri and Deb burst out laughing at this massive understatement. “I think M’s Aunt time-traveled here from the 1930’s,” Bri declared between giggles. “They don’t come any more old-fashioned.”
 

“Yeah, she’s pretty old school,” I agreed. “Thinks kids should be seen and not heard, never out past ten until they’re either twenty-one or married, that sort of thing.”
 

“We’ll still try,” Molly promised as she turned to go, then whispered to me, “We’ll use the tutoring excuse if nothing else works.”
 

When I got home to a long list of chores and explicit instructions not to use the phone, the idea of running away appealed more than ever.
 

At bedtime I tried to comfort myself by rereading the endings of a couple of books where the main characters had gone through hell before finally getting their happily-ever-afters. It only helped a little.

By the next morning I was ready to tell Molly I was willing to accept any help she or her parents could give me. Unfortunately, Sean was waiting at the bus stop, too, and they both wore such troubled expressions, I was immediately distracted.

“Hey, guys, what’s wrong?” I greeted them.

“Why didn’t you tell me the real reason you were grounded?” Molly asked, hurt evident in her gray eyes. “It wasn’t about the party at all.”

I had a serious
oh, crap
moment but tried to hide it. “What do you . . . I mean, who . . . what did you hear? And from who?” Okay, so I didn’t hide it all that well.

“Your aunt told our mum about you and Stuart sneaking out at midnight Sunday night.” Sean looked totally judgmental. “What were you thinking? What was
he
thinking?”

Irritation wiped out embarrassed confusion. “We needed to talk—privately.”

“Like you can’t do that at school? Like, say, during lunch yesterday? Without taking any stupid risks with your safety?”
 

Even though he was right, even though Rigel had pretty much said the same thing, I flared at him. “Why is it any business of yours? Or your mother’s?”

Sean glanced down the street. The two other kids—both freshmen—who boarded at our stop were heading our way, so he lowered his voice. “You know exactly why it’s our business,
Emileia
. Anything that puts you at risk is the business of every
Echtran
who cares about our people’s future. But maybe you don’t count as one of those?”

“Sean!” Molly hissed at him, clearly aghast. “Of course she cares!”

I just glared at both of them, since the two freshmen were close enough to hear us now. Plus I wasn’t sure what to say in my defense, since I
didn’t
care as much about the future of the Martian people as they clearly did. Not as much as I ought to, if I was ever going to be their Sovereign.
 

But hey, it wasn’t like I’d grown up steeped in all this stuff, or like I even
wanted
to be their stupid leader. And if they expected me to do it without Rigel, I never would be. They could find themselves another Sovereign and let unprepared, disloyal me go my own merry way. The O’Garas would probably consider my thoughts blasphemous, but I didn’t care.

I boarded the bus with a combination of rebellion, fear and guilt churning in my stomach.

Sean sat in the back with a couple of other jocks but Molly, to my surprise, sat next to me. The guilt got worse, since none of this was her fault. I
had
lied about the reason I was grounded, and then I’d snapped at her along with Sean when he went all protective and patriotic on me. I was groping for a not-too-embarrassing way to apologize when she beat me to it.

“M, I’m sorry if I sounded judgmental, and I’m sorry Sean got so sarcastic and all. He really does mean well, I swear! But I should warn you our mum made us both promise we’d, ah, keep an eye on you at school. She said your aunt asked if we could, and she gave her word. Only it would’ve been nice if she’d asked us first!”

Outrage immediately swamped all traces of guilt. “Wait. So you and Sean will blab to your mother if I talk to Rigel at school? And then she’ll tell Aunt Theresa, so she can make my grounding even
worse
?”

Molly nodded, looking completely miserable. “We told Mum it wasn’t our place to spy on you. But she kept after us till we both promised.”

“That’s just great,” I said, facing forward again to avoid looking at her, my insides burning and churning again. “Did I tell you how sick Rigel and I get when we can’t be together?”

Her gasp made me glance at her. She looked horrified. “Sick? No! I though the
tinneas
part of the
graell
stories was totally made up.”
 

“Shh!” I cautioned. She looked even more upset at her slip, which made me feel mean, though I hadn’t meant to be.

“Sorry, sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not used to this, having so many people around who aren’t . . . who shouldn’t . . . who, um, don’t know.”

I faked a smile, to reassure her. “I know. Just . . . try to be careful, okay?”

She nodded vigorously but didn’t have the nerve to say anything else before Bri and Deb got on the bus and joined us. While the three of them chatted about school stuff, I wondered what it would be like to live around people who all
knew
, like Molly and Sean had all their lives. A lot like being at the Stuarts’ house, I decided. In other words, wonderful. But would I ever be
allowed
to go to the Stuarts’ house again?
 

I tried to remind myself that I wouldn’t be fifteen forever. In March I’d turn sixteen. (Interestingly, my adoption papers had listed my birthdate as a week earlier than it really was, probably to throw off anyone trying to track me down.) And in two more years I’d be eighteen and out from under Aunt Theresa’s thumb. But two years was an awfully long time.