Starstruck

CHAPTER 25: Absolute magnitude

  My heart in my throat, I kept running and didn't stop until I was in front of the house next door to ours. Then, glancing back again to make sure he hadn't followed, I forced myself to a walk, taking deep breaths and doing my best to slow my racing heart. I did not want to have to explain to Aunt Theresa why I was so out of breath.

  I could definitely explain to Rigel, though. Pulling his phone out of my pocket, I went around to the side of our house—the side away from the kitchen—and pushed the button for his dad's number, like he'd told me to do yesterday. To my relief, Rigel answered instead of his dad.

  "M? What's up?" He sounded more curious than worried.

  "Hey. I, um, don't think the bad guys are, ah, quite taken care of after all." I was still panting a little.

  He picked up on that immediately. "What happened?" he demanded. "Are you okay? I'm coming to get you. Let me—"

  "Rigel, wait! Listen first." I quickly told him what had just happened, including the fact that my attacker had something silver—a needle or device?—that he'd tried to hit me with. I finished with the words he'd yelled after me. "So . . . it doesn't sound like we're quite out of the woods yet," I added unnecessarily.

  "No, it doesn't," he agreed grimly. "Are you at home?"

  "Yeah. I ran."

  "Okay, stay put. We'll be there as soon as we can."

  "Um, do I have time to take a shower? I kind of need one." It had been a vigorous class, not to mention the run home.

  I could hear him talking to someone else, presumably his parents or Shim. Then, to me, "If it's a quick one."

  "Thanks. Oh, and hey, can you maybe call on the regular phone before you come, so I can make up something to tell my aunt for why you're picking me up?"

  There was another brief conference I couldn't quite hear. "My mom will call and talk to her. You go ahead and get your shower. See you soon."

  When I went inside a moment later, I was no longer panting. "I'm home—taking a shower," I called out, heading straight for the stairs.

  But my aunt intercepted me, coming out of the kitchen with a vegetable peeler in her hand. "Louise Batten just called. She said you got into some kind of scuffle with a vagrant outside her shop?"

  Louise Batten owned and ran Quilt World. Unfortunately, she was also one of Jewel's premier gossips.

  "Um, not a scuffle, exactly, but he did try to grab me. I kicked at him and ran, though, and he didn't come after me. He was probably drunk or high or something."

  "That's what Louise thought, so she called the police. But by the time they arrived, he'd run off."

  I swallowed, glad that Rigel was coming to get me. "No one saw which way he went?"

  "Louise didn't. I don't know what any other witnesses might have told the police. But if he doesn't cause any more trouble, I doubt they'll pursue it. You weren't hurt?" She actually looked mildly concerned.

  "No, he didn't . . . didn't really touch me, just grabbed at my sleeve. I'm fine."

  Her concern turned to disapproval. "Well, you keep your distance from strangers in the future. A girl can't be too careful."

  I wanted to tell her it wasn't my fault, that I'd done everything right, but instead I just nodded and hurried upstairs to shower.

  "Oh, good, you're decently dressed," Aunt Theresa greeted me ten minutes later when I entered the kitchen, where she was cutting up mounds of peeled apples for applesauce. "Run upstairs and get that dress you're wearing to the dance tonight. The Stuarts will be here soon to take you and Rigel for ice cream, then they'll drop you at Brianna's house to get ready for the dance. You did say you and your friends planned to do your primping there, didn't you?"

  I nodded, slightly surprised at her cordial tone. Maybe she was just looking forward to having me out of the house for the rest of the day.

  "I'll go grab my stuff." I didn't mention that Bri hadn't yet told me what time to come over. I texted her from Rigel's phone the minute I got to my room, saying I might not be able to come over after all, but that I'd call later and let her know for sure. That should keep her from calling the house and messing up my cover story—if it was a cover story.

  While I gathered up my (borrowed) dress, shoes, lip gloss and other paraphernalia, I kept glancing out my window to the street below, watching for the Stuarts' car. On my second or third glance, I saw a silver car with dark-tinted windows slow in front of our house.

  Assuming it must be the car Shim had rented, I shoved my dressy underthings into the bottom of the bag with my shoes and stuff, ready to hurry downstairs—but then the car sped up again and went on. Frowning, I tossed my glittery barrette, the last thing I needed, into the bag and went back to the window.

  A moment later, the same car came back from the opposite direction and again cruised very slowly past before speeding up and moving on. And then, maybe half a minute after that, a metallic green compact did the exact same thing. This car's windows didn't appear to be tinted, but from my angle above the street I couldn't see inside. What was going on?

  Before I'd decided whether to be scared or not, the Stuarts' dark blue SUV pulled into the driveway. Exhaling with relief, I grabbed up my bag and my dress and ran down to the front door.

  "Bye, Aunt Theresa!" I called toward the kitchen. "I'll see you after the dance tonight." I sure hoped that would be true.

  "Be good—and don't be too late," she called back.

  "Okay," I called over my shoulder, already heading out the door. I wanted to get safely into the Stuarts' car before either of those other cars came back.

  Rigel was already out of the SUV and halfway up the walk when I came outside. "Hey, I didn't expect you to be ready yet," he said, taking my bag with one hand and my now-free hand with the other. "I figured I'd have to come in and wait."

  That reminded me that he'd never actually been inside my house. But now was definitely not the time, with those mysterious cars cruising by and Aunt Theresa up to her elbows in applesauce.

  "My hair's still damp, but, well, let's get in the car and then talk," I said, stumbling over my words the way I had when we'd first met—only this time I was nervous for a totally different reason.

  Rigel opened the car door for me and I clambered in, dragging my dress on its hanger behind me, then saw that both of Rigel's parents, as well as Shim, were in the car.

  "Uh, thanks for this," I said to all of them. "I . . . I guess Rigel told you what happened?"

  Dr. Stuart, who was sitting in one of the middle seats, took the seafoam-green dress from me and hung it on a hook over the window. "Why don't you and Rigel sit in the back? Yes, he told us. I'm sorry—that must have been very frightening for you."

  "Can you describe the man?" Shim asked, twisting around from the front passenger seat. Mr. Stuart was driving.

  "Sure. He was sloppily dressed, almost in rags, like he was homeless or something, but I think that was just a disguise. He had . . . let's see, he had light brown hair and kind of bluish eyes, I think—I didn't really look at his eyes. He was taller than me, but not real tall. His hair was stringy and about shoulder-length, but I guess it could have been a wig or something."

  Shim nodded as I spoke, as though ticking things off a mental list. "And he tried to touch you or stick you with something metallic?"

  "That's what it seemed like to me. It was little, and I think it broke when I knocked it out of his hand, but I didn't get a good look at it."

  "You knocked it out of his hand?" Dr. Stuart said in obvious surprise. "That was very— Well, what's important is that you're safe now."

  "For the moment." Mr. Stuart, Rigel and I all said it together.

  There was a startled silence, then I gave a weak little laugh. "Sorry. It's not funny. It's just . . . Well, just before you got here, two different cars drove real slowly past my house, like they were checking it out. One of them came by twice. I can't help thinking it might be related."

  Mr. Stuart had already backed out of the driveway and started down the street, but no
w he stopped the SUV. "What did they look like?" he practically barked over his shoulder.

  "One was silver with dark windows—that's the one that went past twice—and the other was green," I answered quickly, a little startled by his tone. "Why? Do you think—?"

  "Was it that green car, the one coming toward us?" he asked, nodding ahead.

  I looked through the windshield at the approaching compact. "Yes. I'm sure that's it."

  "Get down!" Mr. Stuart snapped, even more urgent than before. "You can't be seen. With luck, they'll assume you're still in the house and we can get you safely away from here."

  "What? No!" I protested. "My aunt is at home. Rigel told me Smith was going to burn down our house last night! What if they—"

  "Marsha!" Mr. Stuart said warningly as the green car drew level with us.

  But instead of hunkering down to hide, I sat up straighter and leaned toward my window, then waved as the car passed us. The driver looked right at me and his eyes widened. I'm sure mine did, too, as I recognized him.

  "Too late," I said defiantly. "He saw me. It . . . it was the same guy who attacked me a little while ago."

  "That was very brave, Marsha." Dr. Stuart looked startled again. "But—"

  "But extremely dangerous," Shim finished for her. "Still, it makes our path clearer now."

  I glanced at Rigel to find him staring at me with an expression that seemed both admiring and horrified. He hadn't let go of my hand since we'd gotten in the car, and now he tightened his grip.

  "So what do we do now?" he asked.

  Shim glanced back at us—and past us, out the rear window. "He's turning around now. And that must be the silver car you mentioned, Princess, coming up behind him. Possibly Morven himself. Apparently our capture of his agent hasn't discouraged him as I'd hoped, and he has at least one more. We'll need to do something more decisive. We should still have the advantage of numbers. The question is, where?"

  "What do you mean?" I asked, completely confused. I hadn't thought any further ahead than getting the bad guys away from Aunt Theresa. "Decisive how?"

  "I'm hoping we can draw Morven and his cohorts to a single place and neutralize all of them at once," Shim explained. "But it must be somewhere remote enough that the locals won't be endangered or alarmed—or spread the word. Nothing good would come of springing the truth of our existence on the general public without preparation. In fact, things could get very ugly."

  I totally believed that, remembering how Jewel's residents had practically ostracized our first Iranian family a couple of years ago. I didn't want to think how they'd react to aliens from Mars.

  "The cornfield," Rigel said.

  They all looked at him—well, except for his dad, who was watching the road, but his head twitched, too. "Which—" his mother began.

  "The one by the school," I said. "Right, Rigel?"

  He nodded. "It's a big one, and far enough from town that we probably won't be seen. There's a clearing less than half a mile in."

  His dad turned left toward the state road that would take us there. "I won't ask how you know about this—either of you—right now."

  "It sounds like what we need, however," Shim said. "I'll alert the others." He pulled out his phone and made what sounded like a conference call, explaining the situation, giving directions to the school and saying to meet us there as soon as possible.

  Rigel, meanwhile, was watching out the back window. "I think we've picked up another one," he said. "That white van peeled out of a side street a second ago."

  "Let's test it," his father said. He turned right into a residential area near where Bri and Deb lived, then right again, and then another right to bring us back to the state road. All three vehicles followed. "Yep, it's definitely one of them. So is that black pickup, apparently."

  Shim was looking grave. "I had no idea Morven could call in so much support so quickly. It appears our surveillance hasn't been nearly as thorough as we thought."

  "And you never did take their fanaticism seriously enough," Mr. Stuart said. It was obvious this was a long-running argument. "I hope we have the numbers—and dedication—to win this."

  "Win?" Dr. Stuart echoed her husband fearfully. "Surely you don't think it will come to an actual fight?"

  Shim shook his head. "At this point, I'm not sure what to expect, Ariel. For all of our sakes, and especially for the children's—" He glanced back at Rigel and me— "I certainly hope not. Morven's loyalties may be misplaced, but I've known him to be a reasonable man, or at least a prudent one. I can't imagine he would want to draw premature attention any more than we do."

  We reached the school a few minutes later, those four cars still following at a distance. I only saw a handful of cars in the parking lot—probably people there to decorate the gym for tonight's dance.

  "The field I was talking about is on the other side," Rigel said.

  His dad pulled around. Shim was on the phone again.

  "Four of my people are already in the field. They've found your clearing," he said as he hung up. "Two more are waiting to escort us there."

  "I hope it'll be enough," said Mr. Stuart, glancing into the rearview mirror. He pulled up right next to the cornfield and we all jumped out.

  We were met by a man and a woman I'd never seen before, though when I focused I got the now-familiar brath from them. Both held what looked like little cell phones, but from the way they held them, I suspected they were actually weapons of some sort.

  "This way," the woman said. "They're right behind you."

  I glanced back and saw our four pursuers rounding the side of the school, the silver car in the lead. That lit a fire under my feet and a moment later we were all hurtling through the ten-foot-high stalks of corn, getting slapped and stung by leaves and covered with yellow corn litter—not that anybody cared about that right now.

  Rigel still had a firm grip on my hand, and after a minute or so, he dragged me a row to the side so we could go faster, passing the "escorts" who had led us in. We raced between the towering stalks, smacking through the leaves. I hoped Rigel knew where he was going, since I'd lost all sense of direction and we were well ahead of the others.

  When we burst into the clearing a couple minutes later I was out of breath and itchy. Four people were waiting there, three men and one woman. When they saw us, all four bowed deeply. "Sovereign," they said in unison.

  I screeched to a halt, embarrassed. I didn't feel much like a Sovereign at the moment. In fact, I suspected I looked more like a scarecrow than a princess, covered in corn debris. I was definitely going to need another shower before I'd be fit for the dance tonight.

  Then Rigel's parents, Shim and their escorts emerged from the wall of corn and mundane thoughts about my appearance fled at their tense expressions.

  "Have your weapons ready," Shim said, with the clipped tones of a general. "Remember, the first shot should stun. A second may cause injury and a third will likely kill. Stun only, unless you have no other recourse—these are still our brethren. And let's hope they haven't somehow managed to disable the safeguards in their own weapons. That should be impossible, but we can't know for certain.

  "Now, quickly," he continued, "form a ring around the stone, facing outward, with Princess Emileia in the middle."

  Though I muttered some kind of protest, the others sprang into action, doing exactly what he'd said. Rigel made me sit down on the big rock, presumably so I would be screened by my ring of protectors, but it also meant I couldn't see very well.

  He started to join the circle, but his father waved him back to the center with me. I could tell he didn't like being there any more than I did. His compromise was to remain standing, right in front of me, as a second line of defense. Which of course made it even harder for me to see what was going on.

  For several agonizing moments we waited in silence, then my sharpened hearing picked up the sound of rustling in the corn, coming closer and closer. It seemed to be coming from more than one direction. Sud
denly, someone spoke.

  "Ah, Shim." The voice was unfamiliar and somehow unpleasant. It was male, but such a strident, high-pitched tenor it was almost whiny. "I thought it must be you orchestrating this retreat. You've always been so circumspect. So very cautious."

  "Boyne." Shim's voice, lower and much more authoritative, was terse. "I trust you have an explanation for your presence here? This seemed a . . . prudent . . . place to hear it."

  "Oh, I think you know quite well why I'm here, judging by everyone's demeanor," Boyne Morven replied. "But while this show of solidarity is touching, it will not help the traitor you seek to protect."

  Rigel stiffened, which allowed me to glimpse the newcomer by peering past him to look between Shim and Mr. Stuart. Morven was slightly built and very fair, his blond hair cut short. He looked fortyish, which of course meant nothing. I could also see two other people, one flanking him on either side, though I was sure there were more.

  "The princess is no traitor, Boyne, and you know it," Shim replied, his voice calm but firm. "In fact, by threatening the Sovereign, you open yourself to a charge of treason according to our statutes."

  Morven chuckled unpleasantly. "I suppose it depends on one's perspective, does it not? Her very existence is a threat to our current, lawfully elected leader, which makes that existence treasonous by definition."

  "Lawfully!" Mr. Stuart's voice was scornful. "A despot who forced his way into power by means of lies and murder."

  "Careful, Stuart, or you may find your family charged with treason as well," Morven said. "Not that it's likely to matter, as I doubt any of you will leave this, ah, charming spot alive."

  I heard a collective gasp from my ring of protectors and Rigel took a step back, closer to me. Irritated by my inability to see, I shifted my position for a better view—just in time to see more, many more, people emerging from the cornfield from all directions. There were at least two dozen of them, many holding the same cell-phone looking weapons our side had.

  Morven waited until they'd completely encircled my tiny army of ten before saying, "Have you studied your American history, Shim? This little scenario quite puts me in mind of Custer's Last Stand. And, I assure you, the outcome will be precisely the same."