Starstruck

Chapter 20a: Black hole (part 1)

CHAPTER 20

Black hole (part 1)

"Everyone, quiet, please," the teacher called out as the bell rang. Something about his voice grated on me--the same way Flynn's had. "As I call your name, please take your seat, starting with the near corner and filling the rows front to back. Nicole Adams."

As I waited for my name, I examined the man. He looked young, maybe late twenties, but of course that didn't mean much. He could be a hundred, for all I knew. Light brown hair and lightish eyes--I couldn't really tell the color, especially since Rigel seemed to be trying to block me from his view. Handsome, but in a smarmy kind of way, like a politician or TV pitch man. I wondered if he was the actual guy Shim had talked about. What had the name been? Mor-something.

"Trina Squires."

As she moved to the second seat in the last row, Rigel muttered, "Come on."

He shuffled toward the next desk and I did the same, a couple of paces back. Remembering how Rigel had been confused on the first day of school, I figured he was trying to make it harder for the Martian guy to pinpoint my vibe now.

When he called Rigel's name, the teacher watched intently as he took his seat behind Trina. Then he called mine and I sat behind Rigel, and was relieved to see that he wasn't watching me nearly as intently.

After Pete Warner sat down, the teacher surveyed the whole class for a moment, then said, "Good morning. I'm Mr. Smith and I'll be your teacher for the rest of the semester. Ms. Garner left her lesson plan, and I plan to stick to it with a few minor modifications."

He droned on and I had to resist the urge to whisper to Rigel, Smith? Really? How obvious is that? But I didn't dare do anything that might draw the man's attention.

Just before class ended, I noticed a scrap of folded paper on my desk. I didn't know how Rigel had managed it without me seeing him, but it read: Don't talk to me. Don't let on you know me. Leave quickly. Destroy this.

I wadded the paper into a tiny pill and shoved it into my jeans pocket. That seemed safer than leaving any piece of it in the classroom. The brief surge of optimism I'd felt earlier had evaporated, leaving despair in its wake. Even if Rigel had been on the verge of reconsidering, now that "Mr. Smith" was here, there was no chance he'd get back together with me now.

Even I couldn't argue with that.

For the rest of the day I was scared enough to keep my distance from Rigel. Mr. Smith--or whatever his name really was--roamed the cafeteria during lunch, keeping a close eye on Rigel, I noticed. Rigel was sitting with Trina again, but the other cheerleaders were flirting with him almost as much as she was. I did my best to be inconspicuous, eating my lunch in near silence while Bri and Deb chattered with the football players at our table.

I spent most of History class composing a note to Rigel, asking if he had a plan and if he was going to tell his parents about the new teacher. But when the bell rang, he left ahead of me, before I could get it to him. Since I doubted I'd see him again before the end of the day, I swung by his locker after French and slipped it through the vent, hoping his locker wasn't as messy as mine, so he'd actually see it.

When I opened my own locker the next morning, I saw a little triangle of blue paper on top of the jumbled pile of crap at the bottom. I dropped a book so I'd have an excuse to bend down to retrieve it--and the note. Then I hurried to the girls' room and locked myself in a stall before unfolding it.