Starstruck

Chapter 8b: Resolving patterns (part 2)

Though it wasn't easy, I forced my mind back to the real reason we were out here in the rain. "Then I guess you'd better tell me the whole truth, huh?" I tried for a cheerful, conversational tone. "You said you were a . . . a Martian." I stumbled just a little over the word. "So, is that like a code word for a secret government experiment or something?"

He turned and grinned at me. "That's a pretty good theory. I see you've spent some time thinking about this. But no."

"Then--"

He took my hands in his and his touch zinged through me, making me willing to believe anything he told me. "I meant it literally. Martian as in 'from Mars.'"

Okay, I was willing to believe almost anything. I started shaking my head, all the reasons it couldn't be true crowding back. I'd been so sure Rigel had some logical explanation, that he wasn't insane, but--

"I know it sounds crazy. I do. I didn't believe it either, when my parents finally told me a few years ago."

That startled me. "Wait. You . . . you're telling me your parents are Martians, too?" I remembered how rational and intelligent his parents had seemed. Like Rigel. I wondered if they were aware that their son was delusional.

"Yep. In fact, they were both born on Mars. I wasn't--I was born here, on Earth. So I guess in the strictest sense I'm not exactly a Martian." He sounded perfectly sane, apart from the words he was speaking.

But I shook my head again. "No. There can't possibly be people on Mars," I said. "At least, not humans. Or . . . aren't you really human?"

Strangely, that prospect didn't horrify me nearly as much as the idea of him plotting with Trina had.

"I'm human. We all are. Though, as you've noticed, we are a little bit different. That's because we've evolved separately from the humans on Earth for centuries. Or, at least, that's part of the reason."

As much as I wanted to believe him--or at least to believe he wasn't crazy--I couldn't just reason away what I knew about the conditions on Mars. No way humans could survive there, much less evolve there. But because he seemed so sincere, I felt like I had to tread cautiously. There was no knowing what he might do if I attacked his delusion directly.

"Okay, so you're human. But different. The gravity on Mars is like one third of Earth's. How do the people there cope with that? And even if they could, what about when they come here, like you say your parents did? Anyone who grew up on Mars would have a really hard time dealing with our gravity here."

He let out a breath, like I'd passed some kind of test and he was relieved. "I knew you'd be able to come at this reasonably," he said, not realizing I was humoring him. "The colony on Mars is underground, with artificial gravity and atmosphere, all climate-controlled. So the conditions there are almost exactly the same as on Earth, except for the underground part."

That answered what would have been my next two questions. He'd really thought this thing through! Of course, I'd made up all kinds of details for my own Martian fantasy back in second grade, too. Like a lavender sky with purple clouds and a castle made of pink space diamonds.

Unlike me at age seven, Rigel knew enough science to make his details a little more plausible, that was all. I tried again.

"Okay, how did this, er, colony end up on Mars in the first place?"

He hesitated. Had I stumped him? But then he said, "That part is as hard to believe as the first. According to my parents, over two thousand years ago an advanced alien race, um, kidnapped a bunch of humans and took them to Mars."

"Of course they did." I accidentally said it out loud.

"So you don't believe me after all." He was obviously disappointed, and his disappointment bothered me more than I expected it to. "I thought this was going a little too well."

"I want to believe you. I do--so much. But come on, Rigel. Think about what you're saying! Some alien master race grabs a bunch of Earthlings and whisks them off to their specially-prepared underground facility on Mars for . . . what? To experiment on them?"

"Yeah, pretty much." But he sounded a little sheepish. "Look, I warned you it would sound crazy."

I didn't disagree. I just sat there, looking at him. I'd been so happy since he'd kissed me yesterday, thinking I'd found someone who liked me, who understood me. Even now, knowing he was probably crazy, I couldn't help loving him. I knew I needed to get my feelings under control, something I couldn't seem to do with him touching me. Gently, I started to extricate my hand from his.

"Wait." He tightened his grip. "Before you completely make up your mind and get a restraining order or something, talk to my parents. I warned them you might not believe me, but they can--"

"Your parents?" I stopped trying to pull away. "They know you believe all this stuff?"

"Like I said, they're the ones who told me. And it's true. All of it." His eyes willed me to believe him.

For the first time, I almost did. Almost.

"Okay, okay, let's just say I do believe you. If there are . . . Martians on Earth, it's a huge deal, and it would have to be kept really secret so people--the government, even--wouldn't freak out. So why are you telling me?"

"A couple of reasons," he said slowly, like he was carefully choosing his words. "First, you asked--because you were noticing things. I figured it was better to tell you the truth than to let you make up your own theories, and maybe talk about them to your friends and family--and my parents agreed."

"Which is why you didn't want me telling anybody anything about this."

"Exactly."

"You said a couple of reasons. What's the other one?"

Now he smiled at me, that smile that always squeezed my heart. "Because you're special, M. But you knew that, didn't you?"

I swallowed. "I . . . am I?" I'd certainly never felt special, unless you counted the static thing. I kind of hoped he meant special to him, but I didn't dare assume that.

"You're more special than you know, M--especially to me," he said, making my heart stutter.

His eyes held mine until I gave a little nod. Incredible as it still seemed, I knew he was telling me the truth about this. I didn't understand how I--plain Marsha Truitt--could be so special to the most amazing guy I'd ever met, but I reveled in it. How could I not?

Whether he was really a Martian or really crazy barely even mattered. He was still incredible. And I was head over heels in love with him.

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