Starstruck (4 page)

“I will,” I promised, though I knew Uncle Louie wouldn’t notice, or care if he did. He might even tell me I looked nice, which I couldn’t imagine Aunt Theresa
ever
doing. Uncle Louie was as soft, round and easygoing as Aunt Theresa was rigid, angular and uptight. He might not be the sharpest tack in the box, but he was a sweetie most of the time and a pushover compared to my aunt. It was too bad he was hardly ever home.

We hurried to my room before Aunt Theresa could ask any more questions.

“Are you going to tell your aunt and uncle about Rigel?” Bri asked as she rummaged through my closet.

I almost dropped the shoes I’d picked up for her approval. “What? Of course not! It’s not like he asked me out or anything. Or like he will.”

“Hm. I dunno. I keep thinking about the way he was looking at you. He just might. Ah, here it is!” Bri emerged with a sleeveless paisley dress in different shades of purple that she herself had given me on my last birthday, and that I’d worn exactly once.

“Are you sure?” I eyed it skeptically. “It’s awfully, um, noticeable.”

“Well, duh. Noticeable is exactly what you want. Trust me, it’s perfect. And it’ll go with that eye shadow I’m lending you.”

“You may as well keep it. You heard what Aunt Theresa said. She won’t let me out of the house wearing it.”

Not that she’d noticed my blouse buttoned wrong this morning. She really didn’t look at me all that much, come to think of it.

Bri shrugged, unconcerned. “You can put it on in the bathroom before school. I better head, before my dad honks and pisses off your aunt. See you tomorrow. I can’t
wait
till lunch!”

“Me either.” It was only half a lie. I definitely couldn’t wait to see Rigel again, but I wouldn’t be astonished if he completely ignored me. Today had to be either a fluke or a prank. Shoot, Trina might even have put him up to it, to embarrass me. It was exactly her style.

After Bri left I went into the tiny bathroom I shared with my aunt and uncle to wash my face, pausing to examine myself in the watery mirror. The eye pencil did emphasize my eyes, which wasn’t a bad thing. They were probably my best feature, an unusually deep green (greener than Rigel’s), with reasonably thick lashes.

But the powder Bri had applied only made the pimples on my forehead look worse—and probably
would
make them worse, if I left it on my skin. I took off my glasses, turned on the water and picked up the soap.

The next morning I dithered before finally putting on the purple dress at the last minute. Most girls wouldn’t have thought twice about wearing this to school, but it was so . . . Not Me.

Okay, then, I decided, I would be Not Me for one day, just to see what happened. What did I have to lose?

I half expected smart-ass comments from the other kids on the bus, but no one noticed me at all until Bri and Deb got on.

“I brought the makeup,” Bri informed me as she sat down.

“And I’ve got the straightener in my backpack,” Deb added.

“Seriously?” Were there even outlets in the bathroom? “We’ll only have, like, five minutes.”

Deb waved a hand in the air. “Plenty of time. Don’t worry.”

When we got to school, Bri and Deb hustled me into the girls’ bathroom before I could even look around to see if Rigel was within sight. Deb plugged in the straightening iron (there were outlets after all) while Bri dug makeup out of her pack.

They both worked at super speed and pronounced me good enough with a whole minute to spare. Deb fanned the straightener to cool it, Bri stuffed all the makeup back in her backpack and I took a critical look in the mirror. My friends had achieved a muted version of what they’d done yesterday afternoon and I liked it better—though the eye shadow was still a bit much.

“Thanks, guys. Whether it works or not, I appreciate it.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” Bri grinned and peeled off for Bio II, while Deb and I headed to Geometry. My first class with Rigel.

My stomach clenched as we neared the classroom and I found myself hoping his weird effect on me had just been a one-day thing. He—and Trina—were already there when we entered the room just as the bell rang. He looked up and my breath caught as our eyes met. If anything, that zing from yesterday was even stronger today. My feet pulled me irresistibly in his direction before I noticed that there wasn’t an empty seat anywhere near him.

Feeling stupid, I managed a half smile—which he actually returned!—before following Deb to the same seats as yesterday. To my surprise, Jimmy Franklin glanced up at me as I passed—the first time I could remember that happening. Gratifying as that should have been, I was definitely more interested in Rigel’s reaction. So much for my two-year crush.

“He’s staring again,” Deb hissed as we sat down.

“Shh!” Not until we were well into the throes of complementary angles did I allow myself a quick peek. Luckily, he wasn’t looking my way right at that moment, but I noticed he was sitting a row closer to me than yesterday. I pretended it was intentional.

I knew no good would come from this sort of fantasizing, that I was only setting myself up for disappointment, but it didn’t stop me. Though I dutifully copied the problems Mr. Benning wrote on the board, at least two-thirds of my brain was occupied with elaborate scenarios where Rigel and I became friends and more—much more. I could pretend until lunch, anyway, since he couldn’t dash my hopes (or
maybe
confirm them?) before then.

I was wrong. When class ended, I was so absorbed in not watching Rigel that I didn’t notice he’d paused by the door until I almost ran into him.

“Hey, Marsha,” he said, startling me into speechlessness. Again.

I stared up at him, trying to force my lips into a smile since words weren’t coming. Again.

“I like that dress,” he continued, shocking me even further. He looked impossibly fine in a gray t-shirt that subtly emphasized his sculpted chest and biceps. I started to hyperventilate.

Finally, assisted by Deb’s deft pinch to the back of my arm, I forced out, “Um, thanks. Rigel.” There was just enough of a pause before his name to make my simple reply awkward.

He pretended not to notice. “Where are you headed now?”

“Oh. Ah . . . Computer Applications,” I remembered before a whole minute passed.

“Cool. I’ve got Spanish. Do you take Spanish?”

“Uh, no. French,” I managed in a slightly more timely manner this time, still flabbergasted that he was actually trying to make conversation.

He nodded as though I’d said something intelligent. “French, huh? I’ve thought about taking French. It seems, I don’t know, more sophisticated than Spanish, don’t you think?”

Rigel Stuart was asking me,
me
, Marsha Truitt, what I thought?

“Well, yeah, I guess so. Not that there’s anything wrong with Spanish,” I added hastily.

“Come on, Rigel, we’re going to be late!” Trina had been standing at his shoulder all this time, I suddenly realized. As her face came belatedly into focus, I could see that she was barely concealing her fury—at me.

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Um, talk to you later, Marsha?” He actually sounded apologetic, though I was sure that was for Trina’s benefit rather than mine.

I nodded helplessly. “Sure. Of course. Later. Um, bye.” Luckily, he walked away before I launched completely into babble mode.

“Holy crap,” Deb breathed at my elbow. “I can’t wait to tell Bri our makeover worked!”

“Er, yeah.” Gradually, the Rigel-fog in my brain dissipated. “I guess maybe it did.”

“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it! And the look on Trina’s face! Man, she was pissed. That was
so
rich!”

But I couldn’t spare a single thought for Trina. My head was too full of Rigel: the way he’d looked at me, talked to me, every nuance of his voice and expression . . .

After Computer Apps, I raced to English and sat near the middle with plenty of empty desks around me, so it would be Rigel’s choice whether to sit near me or not. He arrived just a moment later—and Trina wasn’t with him. Even more amazingly, he walked right over and took the desk next to mine.

“Hi again,” he greeted me with a devastating grin. “Long time, no see.”

Hoping he couldn’t hear the thundering of my heart, I fought desperately to act like a normal person. I never would have believed a guy—any guy—could affect me like this. Sure, I’d always been nervous around boys, especially cute ones. Jimmy Franklin in particular tended to put me deeper into dork mode. But this was different. A whole order of magnitude different.

“Hi,” I forced out, along with an answering grin. (At least, I hoped it looked like a grin.) “How was Spanish?”

“
Así-así
,” he said, rocking a hand back and forth. “So-so. It’s all review so far.”

Now that I had an actual topic to seize on, a little of my panic subsided. “Same with French yesterday. How many years of Spanish have you taken?”

“Just one. But I’m . . . I seem to be pretty good with languages.”

“Really? Me too. It’s funny how some people can—”

“Gee, thanks for waiting, Rigel!” Trina’s sarcastic voice cut me off. She sailed across the room with Nicole in her wake and stopped next to Rigel, radiating annoyance. “I told you it would only take us a minute to tell Alice she didn’t make the cheerleading squad.”

Rigel turned to her with a smile that smoothed away the worst of her frown. “Sorry, Trina. I figured Alice wouldn’t want any spectators, since she was bound to be disappointed.”

Trina shrugged. “She had to know she didn’t have a chance after the way she screwed up at tryouts. And let’s face it, she’s really not pretty enough to be a cheerleader.”

She let her gaze slide past Rigel to include me in that assessment. Like
I’d
ever try out for cheerleading? I had enough humiliation in my life without actively seeking it out.

Rigel followed her gaze and frowned—but not at me, exactly. “So, Marsha, what were you saying about languages?” he asked.

I’m not sure whether Trina or I was more surprised, but she found her voice first.

“Wow, you really must have been bored, Rigel, but I’m here now, so you don’t have to torture yourself anymore.”

Brianna came up behind Trina as she was speaking and I saw her open her mouth to defend me. Rigel beat her to it.

“There was no torture involved, Trina. I find Marsha very interesting.”

Bri’s mouth fell open and mine would have too, if Rigel hadn’t been looking right at me. Instead, I managed a smile of gratitude. He was lying, of course, since I hadn’t said anything remotely interesting, but it was still really nice of him.

Trina stared for a moment, then put on a superior, patronizing expression. “Of course you do. Everyone knows Marsha is the most scintillating conversationalist in the whole school. So tell us, Marsha, what fascinating thing
were
you about to tell Rigel?”

Of course my mind went completely blank, as Trina knew it would. It was beyond irritating that she knew my weaknesses so well. To my intense relief, Ms. Garner chose that moment to call the class to order.

“You all should have read
Jane Eyre
over the summer,” she said. “Let’s see how many of you actually did.” She started going down the rows, asking random questions.

As it happened, I knew that particular book almost by heart—I guess the whole orphan-raised-by-an-aunt-who-didn’t-want-her thing resonated with me. Which was lucky, since most of my mind was occupied with the miracle that had just taken place.

Rigel, the hottest guy in the whole school, who I was more attracted to than any boy I’d ever met or even imagined, had said I was interesting. And whether he meant it or not, he had defended me against Trina, which made him as heroic as he was gorgeous.

So much for keeping my fantasies under control.

CHAPTER 3

Or not

As soon as the bell rang, Trina tried to drag Rigel out of the room. For a moment he almost looked like he was going to resist, glancing my way, and I held my breath. But then Bri grabbed me by the arm and started whispering excitedly.

“Tell me everything that happened before I got to class,” she breathed, glancing over her shoulder at Rigel and then giggling. “Absolutely everything!”

Rigel’s mouth turned up at one corner, like he was amused, then he turned and left with Trina. I restrained a sudden impulse to shake Bri. Instead, I took a deep breath and filled her in.

“And he actually came to sit by you and started a conversation, just like that?”

“I’m not sure it quite rose to the level of conversation, but he came over and said hi, yeah. So, did you find out anything from your dad? I forgot to ask before school, what with the five-minute makeover and all.” And because I didn’t want to sound too obviously obsessed. Forgetting had nothing to do with it.

She shrugged. “Hardly anything. He was second string quarterback at Center North last year—which is pretty impressive for a freshman, you know.”

I nodded. Everything about Rigel was impressive.

“And then, late in the season, he took over as starting quarterback after having one amazing half when the regular quarterback was messing up. It was their game against
us
, believe it or not! That’s one reason Dad was so excited when he moved here—because of that game. We saw him too, though I didn’t remember until Dad mentioned it.”