Starstruck

Chapter 7a: Seismic shift (part 1)

CHAPTER 7

Seismic shift (part 1)

"Rigel?" I said, my embarrassment forgotten in my concern for him. "Are you okay?"

He blinked, shook his head like he was dazed, then stuck the trays in the slot. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. Um--" He glanced over his shoulder at the giggling gaggle of cheerleaders on their way out of the cafeteria. "What . . . did she mean by that?"

It was almost like he was forcing his voice to sound normal, like he wanted to shout or something. I couldn't imagine why, though.

"You mean the 'Marsha the Martian' thing?" I tried for a little self-deprecating laugh, but it came out more like a hysterical titter. "Just something they used to tease me about in elementary school."

The lunchroom was emptying, but he stayed where he was, just out of the way of the last few people dropping off their trays, frowning down at me. "But . . . why? Why would they call you that?" His intensity was unnerving, making me hesitate.

Abruptly, he seemed to realize he was overreacting. He gave a little laugh that sounded as forced as mine had and finally started walking. "I mean, was it just because 'Marsha' sounds kind of like 'Martian'? I know little kids do stuff like that."

Tempting as it was to say that's all it was, I told him the truth. "No, it was mostly my own fault. I had kind of a . . . vivid imagination when I was younger. Back in second grade, I went through a phase where I told everybody I was really a Martian princess in disguise, and that someday my royal parents would come claim me and I'd go back to Mars to marry my prince. Just silly kid stuff, but I got teased a lot for a while."

He was still looking at me kind of strangely. "Wow, that is . . . vivid, as you said. Why do you think you, um, made up something like that?"

I shrugged, trying really hard to make light of it, though I was still unsettled by his reaction. "Why do kids make up anything? I guess I wanted to feel . . . important or something. Special. And since I didn't know who my parents really were, it was fun to imagine they might be special, too." I laughed. "Really, really special."

Now his laugh sounded more natural. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense."

"It's still kind of embarrassing," I said as we reached class, trying not to sound giddy from relief, now that I'd confessed what was probably my darkest secret and Rigel was still speaking to me.

Other than a quick good-bye after History, I didn't see Rigel again that day, and I missed him way more than was reasonable. I'd always sneered (mentally, anyway) at girls who needed a boy to be "complete." But I couldn't deny the empty feeling I had when he wasn't around, almost like there wasn't quite enough air to breathe. I didn't like it.

After school, Bri and Deb came over to my house, supposedly to do homework together, but really so they could extract every single little detail of my lunch with Rigel. They were properly incensed at Nicole's attempt to embarrass me, but had no good theories on why Rigel had wigged out at the mention of my dumb childhood fantasy.

"Maybe he just doesn't have much imagination himself?" Bri suggested. "I've heard that people without imagination have a hard time getting it when other people do."

"Or maybe it reminded him of something he read?" Deb offered. "I didn't know you then, but from what Bri told me, it did sound almost like a story you'd read in a book or something."