Starcrossed

Chapter 9a: graell (part 1)

Chapter 9 (part 1)

graell (grayl): an emotional and physical bond believed mythical by most Martians

"Didn't your aunt tell you I called when you got home last night?" Rigel asked when he met me at my locker the next morning.

"Good morning to you, too," I said, going up on my tiptoes for a quick kiss—quick enough that no passing teacher would yell at us. "She did tell me, but she also said it was too late to call you back, even though it was barely past nine-thirty. I hung around in the kitchen hoping they'd go upstairs early enough that I could call you anyway, but they didn't. I didn't want to risk calling after ten-thirty."

"You can call my cell anytime, M, you know that. So where were you, anyway? She wouldn't tell me."

I was startled he didn't know. Hadn't I told him I'd agreed to tutor Molly and Sean? Maybe not.

Watching his expression carefully, I said, "I was over at the O'Garas' house. My aunt promised Mrs. O'Gara I'd help Molly and Sean catch up in History, but she didn't tell me that until I got home from Taekwondo."

As expected, he didn't look happy. "You were at their house? All evening? After everything I—"

"Not all evening, just for a couple hours after dinner. And you didn't tell me much of anything, remember?" I noticed people looking at us and dropped my voice to a whisper. "If you really know something, Rigel, some reason I should avoid them, then tell me. Please!"

He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, but only to ask, "So, it wasn't just Molly, but Sean, too? I can't imagine he needs any help with his classes."

Suddenly I saw where this was going and felt stupid I hadn't realized it sooner. Unfortunately, the truth would only make things worse, but I had no intention of lying to him. Ever.

"Both of them, yeah. They had a lot of questions about U.S. History, since neither of them ever studied it before. And they told me some stuff about politics on . . . er, where they come from," I amended, since we were walking down the hall now and might possibly be overheard. "It was interesting."

I paused, bracing myself for his reaction, then confessed in a rush, "And then Sean walked me home because I forgot to bring an umbrella."

"Because you— Gee, wasn't that nice of him?" Rigel's jaw was tight and I could feel waves of anger rolling off of him. Which wasn't fair at all.

"I didn't ask him to. And it was like a three minute walk." I knew I sounded defensive. "Anyway, it was his mom's idea, not his. She's . . . really sweet."

The anger I felt from him ebbed slightly but became tinged with something else—sadness? But why? That's what I seemed to see in his eyes, too, when he looked down at me again.

"Sorry, M. It wasn't your fault, so I shouldn't take it out on you. It's just . . . There's something about Sean that rubs me the wrong way."

I knew better than to suggest jealousy again, even if it sure felt like that to me. "It was pouring, so it would have looked weird for me to refuse. And it was my fault I forgot my umbrella. But, Rigel, he has the coolest device!" I dropped my voice to something lower than a whisper but that Rigel, with his enhanced Martian senses, could easily hear. "This little thing he called an omni. It does all kinds of stuff, including generating a sort of rain shield, like an invisible umbrella. It was amazing."

Now he looked—and felt—alarmed. "An omni? And he actually used it out on the street?"

"So you already knew about them? How come you never told me? It was so cool!"

We reached the classroom but lingered just outside the door, still speaking so low no one else could possibly hear.

"I've never seen one, just heard about them. And yeah, they sound great. I used to beg my folks for one. But they said they're not allowed on Earth—along with a bunch of other stuff that would be too hard to explain if it was found. So if he—" The bell rang, cutting him off. "We'll talk more later," he said.

This was starting to feel like a pattern, but I was determined this time he really would tell me more. A couple of periods later, walking together from English to Science, I maneuvered him toward the edge of the hallway, holding tightly to his arm.

"If you think the O'Garas are some kind of threat you have to tell me," I whispered. "They expect me to come over again soon. If there's some reason I shouldn't, I need to know."

He slanted a glance my way but looked away before I could decipher it. I concentrated on his emotions instead and thought he felt nervous. Nervous?

"Rigel?" I prompted.

"Okay," he finally murmured. "I think Molly's probably fine. Maybe they all are—though they shouldn't go waving technology around like that. But I'm pretty sure Sean is . . . after you."

Flashing back to the scene in the cornfield last month, my heart leaped into my throat. "You mean he might—"

"No." I could tell he was responding to the fear he felt from me more than my words. "Not that way. I mean . . . romantically," he finally finished, with obvious reluctance.

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