Starstruck

Chapter 14a: Coronal attributes (part 1)

CHAPTER 14

Coronal attributes (part 1)

The rest of the day seemed to pass at super speed, right when I needed more time to prepare myself for whatever lay ahead at Rigel's that night. Bri and Deb continued to give me the cold shoulder--Deb a little apologetically--and Rigel continued to act more formally toward me than he had last week. All of which gave me plenty to worry about, but not enough time to think.

I wasn't staying after for football practice, since I didn't want to give Aunt Theresa any excuse to change her mind about dinner at the Stuarts'. Plus, Rigel mentioned on the way to History that he thought just having me there once or twice a week would be enough to help him compensate for my presence at the games. I tried to tell myself he was being considerate, so I wouldn't get into trouble.

When I reached the bus after school, I was cranky enough to welcome the chance to confront Bri again about what a brat she was being. She and Deb were ahead of me, and of course they sat together, but I surprised myself almost as much as I surprised them by sitting right behind them--next to jerk-face Bobby Jeeter, of all people.

"Okay, Bri, give," I said, before the bus even started moving. "You've been treating me like I have a disease or something ever since Friday night. There's got to be more to this than a party invite."

For several long seconds, she didn't say anything, didn't even act like she'd heard me. But then she whipped around to lean on the back of her seat, facing me. Glaring at me.

"Oh, don't play innocent, Marsha," she said. "I know what you've been saying behind my back. Just because you're dating the quarterback doesn't mean you're better than me, you know."

I blinked, honestly confused. "What? I haven't said anything behind your back. What are you talking about?"

She flicked a quick glance at Deb, then at Bobby next to me, before answering. "About not needing to hang with losers anymore?"

"Bri, I would never say anything like that! Ever. But . . . I'll bet I know who told you I did," I added, remembering something from Friday night.

The fact that she wouldn't look at me, and that her cheeks went suddenly pink, confirmed my guess.

"Seriously, Bri?" I asked, and she reluctantly--guiltily--met my eyes, but only for a second. "You really believed something Trina of all people would say?"

She gave a little shrug, looking down now. "She said she heard you. Then she and Nicole were talking about it, like everybody knew. And you had been--"

"I'd been ignoring you and . . . stuff." I didn't need to give Bobby Jeeter any extra fuel for gossip. "I know. And I am sorry about that. But come on, like I'd talk bad about you to Trina? Or talk to her at all?"

She shrugged again. "She said she overheard you, but . . . yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry. Oh, our stop. I'll, um, call you later, M, okay?" she said, getting to her feet and heading to the front of the bus without another glance my way.

"Okay. Later," I said, still not sure she believed me. "Bye."

"Bye, M," Deb said over her shoulder, looking relieved.

Not until they were off the bus did I remember I wasn't going to be home most of the evening. I hoped Bri would call before I left for Rigel's or after I got back, since I really didn't want to explain it to her.

"So, Marsh," said Bobby Jeeter as the bus lurched forward again. "Lookin' good these days."

"What?" I glanced at him, startled--and distrustful. "Um, thanks?"

His smile looked genuine, but it couldn't undo all the years of him being obnoxious. "Just sayin'. Y'know, if the thing with Stuart doesn't work out . . ." He let that hang there. So did I, glad mine was the next stop.

I didn't say goodbye.

Once home, I dove right into my homework, determined to finish it before five-thirty, when Rigel's mom was supposed to pick me up. When my aunt got home an hour later, I was nearly done.

"I don't suppose you've sorted your laundry?" she asked me, by way of greeting.

"Um, not yet, but I'll do it before I leave," I said, closing my history book and opening my French. "Did you have a nice day today?"

"I suppose." She gave me a long, speculative look, then went upstairs to her room.

I wondered what she suspected me of now. I knew she didn't approve of me going to Rigel's tonight, but she had given her permission, and I didn't think she'd go back on that--unless I gave her an excuse. Which I definitely wouldn't, no matter how nervous I was.

Five-thirty arrived sooner than I expected, somehow. I was still looking for my other seashell earring--I'd decided at the last minute that those were more sophisticated than the daisies I'd been wearing all day--when Aunt Theresa called up the stairs that Dr. Stuart was in the drive.

I hurtled down the stairs to the front door, the just-found earring in my hand. "I'll see you later tonight," I said to my aunt, yanking open the door before Dr. Stuart rang the bell. "Hi!" I greeted her.

"Hello, Marsha," she said, looking only the slightest bit startled at my abrupt appearance. "Are you ready?"

I swallowed and closed the door behind me. "I hope so."

"You're nervous." It wasn't a question. "Please don't be. Tonight is just a formality. Everything will be fine, I promise."

A formality? "Um, just what is happening tonight?" Now I had visions of some kind of tribunal, with me in the spotlight.

She opened the passenger door of the car for me, then went around to the driver's side and got in before answering. "There are a few people, including Rigel's grandfather, who want to meet you. They're understandably . . . interested . . . to hear your story. If you need a break, just give me a nod. I won't let them do anything to make you uncomfortable."

That was obviously impossible, since I was already uncomfortable just thinking about it. But she was trying to be kind and I appreciated that, so I changed the subject.

"Do Rigel and his grandfather, um, get along? He seemed a little, I don't know, preoccupied at school today."

She glanced at me as she pulled away from the curb, but so quickly that I couldn't decipher her expression. "They've been fairly close in the past. At least, I thought so. But as Rigel gets older, I suppose such relationships are bound to change."

It wasn't really an answer, but I couldn't think how to pursue it without sounding nosy. Besides, in a few minutes I'd be able to draw my own conclusions. We made the rest of the drive in near silence.

"Here we are," she said unnecessarily as we pulled to a stop in their long driveway, next to a large gray van. Was it my imagination, or was she a little nervous herself?

I felt my palms sweating as we approached the front door, though I didn't know exactly why. Dr. Stuart opened the door and stood back to let me enter first, calling out, "We're here!" before ushering me through an archway on the left.

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