Starstruck

CHAPTER 24: Apparent magnitude

  We won, of course. 33 to 10. It was the first Homecoming game Jewel had won in six years and everyone went crazy. With a quick goodbye to Bri and Deb, I hurried down to the field to congratulate Rigel—something I'd missed badly the past few games.

  He was waiting, and swung me around in his arms, just like he had that first game we were "official." It was wonderful. But then he glanced over my shoulder and I suddenly remembered.

  "Oh, your parents had to leave early to follow . . . um, follow up on a problem," I told him, mindful of the crowd pressing in on us. "I promised your mom we'd give you a ride home."

  Rigel frowned, and I could tell he really, really wanted to ask what was going on, but he just nodded and said, "Okay, I'll hurry and change, then, so I don't keep your aunt and uncle waiting."

  Practically ignoring all the people—students, teachers, parents and alumni—trying to congratulate him on his victory, he sprinted for the locker room with only an occasional nod or smile. Though it warmed me to know he didn't want to leave me unprotected any longer than necessary, I hoped he'd manage at least a quickie shower, since I didn't want Aunt Theresa complaining to me later.

  I slowly made my way through the crowd toward the parking lot, keeping a sharp lookout for anything suspicious and keeping my "feelers" out for anyone that "felt" Martian. There was nothing.

  Before I reached the gate, I saw my aunt and uncle chatting with a small group of people around their own age. As I got close enough to hear—which wasn't all that close, these days—I felt a spurt of amusement.

  "Yes, he certainly seems a promising young man," Aunt Theresa was saying. "Sure to be offered college scholarships if he continues as well as he's begun. Did I mention he's taking my niece to the Homecoming dance tomorrow night?"

  Her friends made various exclamations of surprise and congratulations. Judging by her expression, she was positively basking in it. It seemed like the perfect time to let her know we'd be giving him a ride, so I quickened my pace.

  "Hi, Aunt Theresa, hi, Uncle Louie," I greeted them.

  They turned, both smiling, which was almost creepy in my aunt's case, and introduced me to a few old classmates who'd moved away from Jewel years ago.

  "Norma and I co-chaired the Future Teachers of America our senior year," Aunt Theresa informed me, "though Norma ended up selling real estate instead of teaching."

  "Only because Tom and I started a family right out of college," Norma—I'd missed her last name—said. Rather smugly, I thought.

  I smiled as brightly as I could. "It's nice to meet you. Aunt Theresa, Uncle Louie, would it be all right if we gave Rigel a ride home? His parents had an emergency and had to leave the game early, so I kind of offered."

  Though her eyes narrowed at me for just a second, Aunt Theresa quickly recovered to shoot a triumphant glance at Norma Whatshername and the other woman—Mary Something-starting-with-J.

  "Of course, dear. His parents have been kind enough to have you to dinner once or twice, so that's the least we can do."

  Mary J smiled. "How nice. Theresa, dear, did I mention that my son Michael started medical school last month?"

  Rigel hurried up just then, and I was more than happy to turn toward him, and away from the off-field competition between the adults.

  "Hey, that was quick," I said, also pleased to note his clean, damp hair—not that Aunt Theresa would have said anything in front of her so-called friends.

  Uncle Louie must have been tired of the cattiness, too, since he immediately came over to clap Rigel on the shoulder. "Great game, son! Really great. Well, Theresa, we should probably get these kids home, huh?"

  She didn't seem too reluctant to leave. After all, it's not like a niece dating the star quarterback of a 2A team could compete with an actual son in med school. She made a few insincere-sounding promises to "get together soon," then herded us toward the car.

  "I really appreciate you giving me a ride," Rigel said as we crossed the parking lot. "I hope it's not too much trouble."

  My aunt and uncle both insisted it was no trouble at all. Uncle Louie, at least, sounded perfectly sincere and proceeded to pepper Rigel with comments and questions about the game. As we walked, Rigel's hand brushed mine and for a second our fingers started to intertwine before we caught ourselves and pulled away a little bit.

  A few minutes later, we pulled out of the parking lot, Rigel and me in the back but keeping the discreet distance enforced by our seatbelts. Uncle Louie kept chattering about the game as he drove, with Rigel occasionally answering a question or agreeing with some point he made.

  "You'll want to take this left," Rigel told him when we reached the farm road that led toward his house.

  Uncle Louie made the turn and immediately launched back into his analysis of the game until Aunt Theresa interrupted him.

  "Louie, you're going nearly sixty. Slow down."

  He nodded, but the car didn't slow.

  "Louie!" she snapped.

  "I . . . I'm trying." He sounded a little panicky. "Look—I don't even have my foot on the accelerator! And the brake isn't working!"

  The car was definitely going faster now, corn and soybean fields whipping past, a blur in the dark. Rigel and I grabbed hands and looked at each other in alarm.

  "Turn off the car!" Aunt Theresa screamed, on the verge of hysteria. "Louie, do something!"

  "It won't turn off while it's in gear!" he yelled back, struggling with the gearshift.

  We barreled up behind a slower moving pickup truck and my uncle swung us into the opposite lane in the nick of time to pass it. The headlights raked a stone wall ahead, where the road bent sharply to the left. I couldn't imagine any way he could possibly negotiate the curve at this speed— which was still increasing.

  "Hang on!" Rigel said, unbuckling his seat belt.

  Before I could react, he lunged over the back of the front seat, still gripping my hand tightly, and reached for the ignition with his other hand. There was a brilliant spark, then the car shuddered and slowed abruptly, coasting to a stop maybe a foot from the wall. We all sat there for a few long moments, recovering. Uncle Louie was the first to speak.

  "What . . . what did you do?" he asked Rigel, who by now was sitting quietly beside me again—though he hadn't released my hand.

  "Turned off the ignition. You must have gotten it out of gear just in time." His voice sounded tight to me—even angry—though I doubt my aunt and uncle noticed.

  "But the—" Uncle Louie began, then stopped. "Well, whatever you did, son, thanks. You probably saved all our lives, there."

  Rigel shrugged, though I could tell the tension hadn't left him. "You probably would have—"

  "Hey, you folks okay?" came a voice from outside the car, interrupting him. It was the driver of the pickup we'd passed. His headlights, right behind us, lit up the whole area around us, casting weird shadows from the corn stalks.

  Shakily, Uncle Louie got out of the car. "I think so. Had some trouble there—couldn't stop for some reason. Not sure I should try driving it again until we know why."

  "Want me to call for a tow?" the man asked.

  "I work at All-American Autos," Uncle Louie said, his voice slightly stronger now. "I'll call one of my mechanic buddies. But thanks."

  "No problem."

  I heard the man get back in his truck and a minute later the headlights backed away, then disappeared. Uncle Louie was already on his cell.

  "Okay, Greg will be here in about fifteen minutes with the truck," he told us, getting back into the car a minute later. "You want to call your parents so they won't worry, Rigel?"

  "Sure. I should probably do that." He hopped out of the car and walked a little way off to make his call. I was sure he wanted to ask them about Smith as well as tell them about our near accident.

  "Your guy is a quick thinker," Uncle Louie said to me. "I wonder what that spark thing was, though?"

  I shrugged. "I didn't see anything," I lied. "Maybe the car had
some kind of electrical problem?"

  Aunt Theresa had been uncharacteristically quiet since the car had stopped, but she suddenly burst out, "There's no knowing what all is wrong with this rattletrap. I've been telling you forever we need a newer car, Louie. Now maybe you'll listen."

  That discussion went on until Greg got there with the tow truck, by which time Rigel was back. I was dying to ask him what his parents had said, but knew my aunt would have a fit if the two of us wandered out of earshot.

  I didn't get my chance until the tow truck dropped Rigel off at his house. I got out with him, even knowing I'd hear about it later, to have a quick word.

  "So? What did they say?" I whispered. "Did they think Smith did something to the car?"

  "They were busy, so we didn't talk long. But he must have. Couldn't have been coincidence. Here." He slipped me his phone again. "It's on vibrate. Keep it close and I'll try to call you later."

  I nodded, then glanced toward his house. It looked like there was at least one extra car in the driveway, maybe two. "Talk to you later, then. And see you tomorrow."

  "Can't wait," he said. He leaned toward me, but then changed his mind, probably because my aunt and uncle and Greg were right there watching, and just touched my cheek instead before heading up the front walk.

  "Aw, you should've let him kiss you good night, Marsha," Uncle Louie teased as I got back in the truck.

  "Louie," my aunt said warningly. "That's enough."

  It made me wonder what the two of them said about me when I wasn't around. But not much. I was already looking forward to Rigel's call.

  When we got home, I rushed through my going-to-bed routine, afraid Rigel might call before I was safely in my room, where I could talk. Which meant I had an extra long wait once I was in bed. Even though he'd said the phone was on vibrate and I had it in my hand so I couldn't possibly miss his call, I kept checking the screen just in case.

  Finally, nearly two hours after we got home, with my nerves stretched almost to the screaming point, the phone vibrated. I nearly dropped it in my eagerness to answer.

  "Hello?" I whispered. "Rigel?"

  "Hey, I hope I didn't wake you up," he said. "I wanted to wait long enough for your aunt and uncle to go to bed so you could talk privately."

  "They've been asleep almost an hour. What's going on?"

  "A lot, actually. It's mostly good news, though, I think."

  That surprised me. "You mean what happened with the car really was an accident?" I was skeptical.

  "Nope, definitely not an accident. Grandfather just got a call from his guy who went to the garage to check on it. It had been tampered with by Smith, just like we thought."

  "How is that good news?" I asked. "Other than it not actually killing us, I mean."

  "Because they caught Smith—at your house. That's where he went when he left the game."

  A chill ran through me. "My house? What was he doing?"

  "He hadn't done anything yet, but from what they found in his car, they think he was planning to burn the place—maybe if the car thing didn't work. A backup plan."

  "I'm still not getting good news out of this," I said, the chill turning colder. It proved that not only did these people really want me dead, but they also didn't care who else they hurt in the process.

  "The good news is that Smith is in custody. He can't do anything else to threaten you. And Grandfather thinks they'll be able to get the whole plan out of him eventually."

  "Wait. You said he got a call from . . . Is Shim here in Jewel?"

  "Yeah, he flew to Indy and rented a car. Got here about the time the game ended, along with a couple other people. M . . . I really think you're safe now." The warmth, the relief in his voice was contagious and melted my chills away.

  "That's . . . that's great." Then I remembered something else. "What about Morven? He was on his way here, wasn't he?"

  "Yeah, but they don't think he'll dare try anything now we've got Smith. He won't know what Smith has told us, for one thing. Plus there are enough of us now to protect you, even if he did come after you. Which he won't."

  "I hope you're right." I was still trying to wrap my head around Shim hopping a last minute flight from DC to Indy—because of me. "But how will Morven know you have Smith? Won't he just assume his plans are going the way he expected?"

  "Nope." Now Rigel sounded positively smug. "He called when he landed in Indy and my grandfather answered Smith's phone. I don't know exactly what he said, but his guess is that Morven is trying to get back to LA—or even out of the country—as fast as he can."

  Suddenly, I felt sleepy—maybe a reaction to how keyed up I'd been for the past few hours. "Rigel, I can't tell you how much I appreciate you telling me this. And for what you did tonight—I just realized I never thanked you for saving my life."

  "My life, too," he reminded me. "Get some sleep, M. You've earned it. I'm gonna hit the sack, too." He'd earned it far more than I had, between the football game and saving all of us from what could have been a horrible death. He had to be exhausted, though he didn't sound it.

  "I'll call you tomorrow," he said then. "I've talked my folks into letting me take you someplace special before the dance. Sweet dreams."

  "Good night, Rigel." I wanted to say more. I wanted to tell him I loved him. I was still trying to gather up the nerve to do it when I realized he'd hung up already.

  Just as well. It's not like he'd ever said it to me. Maybe he wasn't ready to hear it. And even if he was, on the phone didn't seem like the right way to say it for the first time.

  Realizing I was mentally babbling, I rolled over and fell asleep, more relaxed than I'd been in weeks.

  When I came down to breakfast the next morning, Uncle Louie was on the phone. He hung up as I was pouring my cereal.

  "Gary says the car's fine. His best theory is that the fuel injector was jammed but he doesn't think it'll happen again. He's going to pick me up for work and I'll drive it home."

  Aunt Theresa turned from the sink with a frown. "Well I won't be riding in that car again until you take it to a proper mechanic. Or, better yet, trade it for a newer car."

  "What's wrong with Gary?" Uncle Louie asked, but I tuned them out.

  I was in a great mood and I wasn't going to let one of their arguments ruin it. The Homecoming dance was tonight, and Bri had suggested Deb and I come to her place ahead of time so we could all do our hair and makeup together. And Rigel wanted to take me someplace special!

  It turned out I didn't even need to mow the lawn—I checked it after breakfast and it had barely grown at all since last weekend. Not surprising since it was October now, but it still felt like a gift. Just like the Martian bad guys being history.

  I briefly debated the wisdom of walking to taekwondo class like usual, but no one had suggested I shouldn't. Besides, if I asked for a ride or skipped it, Aunt Theresa would want to know why and I couldn't very well plead sickness if I wanted to go to the dance tonight.

  So I headed out like always, reminding myself that the danger was over. Still, I couldn't help being just the tiniest bit nervous during the stretch along Opal, between Garnet and Diamond, when nobody was around.

  I got to class without incident, though, and it turned out to be a really good session. Master Parker taught me the rest of my green belt form, Taeguk Sam Jang, and explained that the knife-hand strikes in it would be good for self defense, like most of the stuff in our forms. Then we spent some time sparring and doing back kicks on the bags, and I got complimented on my performance in both.

  Walking home an hour later, I was really glad I'd gone. On top of the little high I always got from vigorous exercise, I was sure I'd burned enough calories to make up for whatever I might eat at the fancy dinner Rigel had hinted about. I didn't want to be one of those girls who turns up her nose at the dessert cart—was there any place in Jewel with a dessert cart?—because she's worried about her weight.

  I neared the corner where I'd turn off Diamond onto Opal,
just past Quilt World and Belinda's Books. Visions of slow dancing with Rigel filled my mind until I noticed a weird, homeless-looking guy heading my way. We didn't really have a homeless problem in Jewel, not like in Indy, but every now and then vagrants came through town looking for handouts.

  I averted my gaze the way Aunt Theresa had always told me to, not wanting to draw the man's attention, but he came right toward me anyway, muttering something I couldn't understand. I slowed down, then moved off to the side, glancing around at the thin crowd of Saturday shoppers who all appeared far more affluent than I did.

  Though the guy wasn't looking right at me, he kept stumbling in my direction, even when my direction changed. This was starting to feel not-random. I started walking faster, edging as far from him as I could, even stepping off the curb into the street, since no cars were coming at the moment, hoping to pass him quickly. As soon as I turned the corner, I was going to run, I decided.

  But at the last second, he moved into the street too, blocking my path. I tried to dodge around him, but he reached for my arm, brushing my sleeve as I jerked away. I got a definite Martian vibe from him.

  "Hey!" I exclaimed, fairly loudly. I didn't care now if I drew attention, and a few people stopped to see what was going on. "Leave me alone." Surely, if he was one of the bad Martians, he wouldn't want a crowd watching.

  He didn't seem to care, though. He swung his hand up again—the same hand—and this time I noticed a silver glint in his palm. What the hell? This time, I managed to block him with my gym bag just before he contacted me, but he followed up quickly, not nearly as clumsy now. Clearly, that had been an act.

  The man sidestepped my gym bag and came at me again, much more aggressively this time, that same arm outstretched. I felt a sudden certainty that if I let him touch me with whatever he had in his hand, it would be very bad. Remembering the defense move from my new form, I countered with a strong knife-hand block to his wrist, and saw the silver thing go flying from his hand to land with a tinkle in the gutter.

  "No!" he shouted, glancing wildly into the gutter. Then, without warning, he lunged toward me, both hands aiming for my throat, his face distorted with insane fury.

  If I hadn't just spent the last fifteen minutes of taekwondo practicing my back kick against the bags, I might never have thought to do what I did next. Taking a quick fix on my target, I turned away like I was going to run, then delivered a solid back kick right to the middle of his stomach. As I'd hoped, it caught him completely off guard and he went sprawling with a satisfying "oof."

  Then I really did run, for all I was worth, completely ignoring the shouts and offers of help from the people who'd gathered to watch the bizarre spectacle. My only thought was to get well away and then call Rigel. As I sped around the corner, I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw the man just starting to struggle to his feet, a weird smile spreading across his scruffy face.

  "Won't do you any good to run, Princess!" he shouted after me. "We're just going to keep coming!"