Starstruck

Chapter 7a: Seismic shift (part 1)

Though I wanted to ask him why he'd invited me to practice, I didn't. I knew sometimes girlfriends of the players went to watch, but I didn't think I quite qualified for that status. Yet? And I didn't want to give him any reason to reconsider and maybe decide he didn't want me there after all. That it might be too much of a declaration to the rest of the school that we were . . . friends.

Instead, I asked something I'd been wondering about. "Rigel is kind of an unusual name, at least here in Indiana. Did your parents name you after the star, or is it a family name or something?"

"You know, you're the first person I've met at this school who even knows it is a star."

I felt my face heat and looked away from him, remembering that first day in Science class. "Um, astronomy is kind of a, uh, hobby of mine. So you were named after the star?"

"I guess so, but I think it was mostly that my mom just liked the name."

"That's a good reason." I almost said I liked it too, but thought it would sound forward.

"So how about your name?"

I grimaced. "My name? I dunno--I always assumed my birth parents gave it to me, but I don't actually know that."

"And what was that face? You don't like your name?" He had that intent look again, like he could see inside me or something.

So I told him the truth. "Not much. It wasn't so bad when I was little--well, not until the Marsha the Martian bit." He gave a little twitch but covered it quickly, so I continued. "But now that they're showing 'Brady Bunch' reruns on TV Land, I get a lot of 'Marsha, Marsha, Marsha.' I wish everyone would just call me M. I've even thought about switching to my middle name."

He leaned forward, seeming way more interested than the subject warranted. "So . . . what is your middle name?"

"Prentiss. I did ask my aunt about that once, and she said it was a family name. But when I asked which family, she got all evasive--so that's all I know."

Rigel shook his head. "I can't imagine knowing so little about myself or my family. Does it ever bother you?"

"Sometimes," I admitted. "It bothered me a lot when I was ten or eleven--when I first started to really think about it. I used to ask a lot of questions, but my aunt, well, you met her. She's not the kind of person to pester. My uncle is easier, but he doesn't seem to know a lot. About me, I mean. So now I just . . . try not to think about it too much."

"I guess that makes sense."

"So what about your family?" I asked before he could start feeling sorry for me again. "You don't have any brothers or sisters? What about grandparents?"

"No, no brothers or sisters. My grandfather--my dad's father--lives in Washington, DC. I don't see him very often, but he calls every week."

"How about your other grandparents? Where do they live?"

He got a strange look on his face, kind of an oh, crap look, but then he gave a little half-shrug. "Um, they're dead. Died before I was born, so I never knew them."

"Oh. I'm sorry," I said automatically, confused by his initial reaction. It didn't seem to fit his answer at all, but it wasn't really something I could ask about. "Any cousins?" I asked instead.

"No, at least, not . . . no. No cousins."

Again, I had the feeling he'd nearly said something, then changed his mind for some reason. Was there something awful about his mother's side of the family he didn't want to talk about? If so, it was his business, I told myself. It didn't stop me from wondering, though.

Since he clearly didn't want to talk about his family, I switched to talking about our Science projects for the rest of the lunch period. As we got up after the bell, Rigel gave a sudden jerk of his head, glancing over at Trina's table, then frowned.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

Frustrated and a little bit irritated, I didn't say anything else on the way to History, but he seemed so preoccupied, I wasn't sure he even noticed. Then, just as we reached the classroom, he turned to me.

"You have Trina in your Health class, don't you?"

"Yeah, why?"

For a moment I thought he wasn't going to answer--again. But then he looked at me from under his eyebrows, frowning just like he had in the cafeteria. "Check your seat before you sit down, okay?"

"In Health class, you mean? Why?"

"Just do it. Or don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, he turned away and headed to his seat without looking at me again, leaving me to make my mystified way across the room to Bri and Deb, who were waiting--of course--to hear the latest update. They both squealed when I told them I wouldn't be on the bus this afternoon because Rigel had asked me to come to football practice.

"Shh!" I hissed, glancing over at Rigel, who was looking amused. "It's not like he asked me to prom!"

"Still," Bri whispered, "it's a really big deal, M. I mean, it's one thing for girls with crushes to sneak into the stands to watch practice." She and I had done that more than once last year when Greg and Jimmy were practicing with the JV team. "But for him to actually ask you?"

Deb nodded vigorously. "Only girlfriends--like serious girlfriends!--go to the practices. This is huge, M. Trust us."

I just shrugged. Much as I wanted to believe them, I didn't want to set myself up for a crushing disappointment. Plus, Rigel hadn't made it sound huge at all, more like a friendly invite to pass the afternoon.

Still, I couldn't think about much else for the rest of the school day. History and French went by in a fog of hope, fear and anticipation.

It wasn't until I was about to sit down in my last class that I suddenly remembered that weird warning Rigel had given me after lunch and paused to examine my desk chair. It looked shinier than usual, so I took the precaution of touching it. Sticky, like it was covered with glue.

I glanced at Trina just in time to see her look away with a fake innocent expression. Yep, she'd definitely done something.

There was still a minute or two till the bell, so I went up to the front of the room and stopped next to the teacher, then looked at Trina again. Now she was looking nervous--and so were her minions, Donna and Amber.

Just to mess with them, I asked Mrs. Harklewood a quiet question about yesterday's lesson before going to the paper towel dispenser near the door and grabbing a few sheets, then returning to my desk. Without even a hint of a glance at Trina or her buddies, I calmly spread the towels over my seat, then sat down.

Once class was underway and everyone around us was distracted, Trina leaned across the aisle and whispered, "Okay, which one of you warned her? Nobody else knew I was going to do that!"

I couldn't quite hear their replies, but it was obvious they were both vigorously denying saying a word to me. I smiled to myself.

And wondered how on earth Rigel had known.

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