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.
Told my folks about Smith. They called Shim and he's checking on it, doesn't think it's Morven. But you felt it too, right? Really, REALLY important we not let on we even know each other until we know what's what!! Thinking of you, even if I don't show it. -R
I hugged the note to my chest, comforted beyond all reason by those last few words. It really was all an act to keep me safe! I knew I should flush the note, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Instead, I folded it up really small and tucked it into my bra, grateful that I no longer had to deal with gym class.
Rigel's hidden note helped me cope with what was otherwise a really yucky day. For one thing, the nausea and aches had been getting worse and worse as the week went on. The only relief had been in English, where I sat right behind Rigel, and Science, where I sat right in front of him.
But today Rigel was taking avoiding me to new lengths. He seemed to be actively encouraging not only Trina, but the other cheerleaders, as well. It was bad enough in first period--Deb hissed her indignation to me--but even worse in English.
Right directly in front of me, he laughed at Trina's lame jokes and murmured stuff back to her in what I considered an unnecessarily sexy voice. When she put her hand over his, on his desk, he didn't pull away. Even after class started, she kept sending flirty glances over her shoulder at him and I could tell from her reactions that he was totally going along with it.
I was struggling so hard to keep from crying that if I was getting any benefit from having Rigel so close, I couldn't feel it. I just wanted to die, and honestly couldn't tell if I was in more emotional or physical pain. I kept repeating to myself that he was only doing this because Mr. Smith was watching. I had his note to prove it. But did he have to be so convincing?
Science was a little better, if only because I couldn't actually see what was going on behind me. I did my best not to listen, but I thought, just maybe, Rigel wasn't being quite as encouraging now. It comforted me a little. But only a little.
"Marsha, what's wrong?" Will whispered partway through class. We were supposed to be taking turns sorting rocks into piles depending on their type--igneous, sedimentary, etc.--and I kept missing my turn. "You look a little sick."
I felt a little sick. More than a little, actually, but I managed a smile. "Sorry. I didn't sleep very well last night." That was true enough, even if it was only a tiny part of the whole truth.
"Well, here, let me do those. We're way behind everyone else," he said, sliding half of my pile into his.
"Thanks." I didn't even try to argue, which showed just how awful I was feeling.
At lunch, Rigel was surrounded by cheerleaders again. I sat with my back to them all and played with my food.
"C'mon, M," Bri said, kicking me under the table. "You can't let him get to you like this. Eat." She glared over my shoulder and I knew all too well what she was looking at.
"I'm not hungry." Massive understatement since I thought I might throw up. "Maybe I have a stomach bug or something."
"Y'know, I think Rigel misses you more than he's letting on," Bri commented after a moment. "He's smiling and all, but it doesn't look like his heart is in it. His color looks off--kind of like yours."
That reminded me of what Trina had said in Health class on Monday--and that I still really, really needed to talk to Rigel to find out exactly what his folks had said last night about Mr. Smith. He might even have talked to them on his cell since this morning.
After lunch, I checked my locker for another note, but I didn't find one--not even when I dug through the old papers on the bottom. Disgusted, I threw them all out, leaving the bottom bare so I couldn't possibly miss any future notes. I wrote another quick note of my own that just said, Any news? and dropped it onto Rigel's desk in History as I walked past it to my own.
It was risky, but I didn't care much at this point. And not really so risky, since it disappeared into Rigel's pocket before anyone else could see it. Still, he half-turned to give me a quick glare. I just smiled blandly back.
I didn't get an answer until the end of the day when, after detouring to check my locker between every single class, I finally found another note. There was nothing warm and tingly about this one, though.
Shim says it's not him. All I know. Do NOT pass notes in class again.
Not even an initial at the end. Hmph. And even if Smith wasn't Morven, he was somebody bad. I just had to figure out some way to actually talk to Rigel and find out what was going on.
By the time I got on the bus, I was feeling so lousy I told Bri and Deb I wasn't sure I'd be able to come to tonight's game, even though it was at home.
"What?" Bri was aghast. "No! You have to come. If you don't, it's like forfeiting to Trina! Everybody will think you stayed away because of Rigel."
Deb nodded. "She's right, M. Unless you're really sick?" She looked at me in concern.
"Yeah, actually, I--"
But Bri cut me off. "We'll pick you up for the game. If you start feeling worse--and I mean only if you're throwing up or something--call me."
"And my mom can drive you home if you start feeling really bad," Deb offered. "She's just coming to sell t-shirts before the game and doesn't have to stay."
"Okay, okay," I caved, against my better judgment.
But by the time Bri's mom came by to pick me up, I decided it was just as well I was going. There would be tons of people swarming around Rigel before the game to wish him luck, and there was no reason I couldn't do the same. I'd written another long note asking a bunch of questions, and that would be a perfect chance to slip it to him unnoticed. I could totally ignore Trina.
We got to the stadium well before kickoff, while the players were doing drills out on the field. Bri and Deb and I staked out our now usual spot near the fifty yard line, three rows up, but I didn't even sit before I headed down to the sidelines. The players had just taken a break, and all the early birds were converging on them.
I made a beeline toward Rigel--along with at least half of the fans and pretty much all of the cheerleaders--with my note clutched in my hand. He didn't see me until I was just a few yards away, but I saw his eyes widen with alarm when he spotted me. I knew he was going to try to motion me away, but I didn't care. I was determined to at least give him the note.
I shouldered my way through the crowd, occasionally losing sight of him, since most of the people in front of me were taller than I was. Finally I broke through, just an arm's length away from him--only to see Trina right next to him, flanked by two of her fellow cheerleaders.
She saw me at the same time I saw her, and gave me an evil smile before flinging herself into Rigel's arms.
"Good luck, Rigel," she cooed. "I just know you're going to have a fabulous game, with me cheering for you!"
Then, right in front of my face, she planted a big kiss directly on Rigel's mouth.
I froze, disbelieving, waiting for him to push her away. But he didn't. His eyes locked with mine for a split second, and then he turned half away from me and kissed her back. Actually kissed her back!
I heard a weird, strangled sound then realized it was coming from my own throat. Blinded by sudden tears, I whipped around and forced my way back through the crowd, back to the stands, my undelivered note a crushed wad in my fist. I could tell as soon as I reached them that Bri and Deb had seen exactly what I had, but I absolutely did not want to hear whatever they had to say about it.
"Deb, can your mom take me home?" I asked in a tight little voice. "I . . . I'm feeling really sick."
All the pity I didn't want was evident in her eyes, but she only said, "Sure. Let's go find her."
It seemed forever before Mrs. Andrews could hand off the t-shirt sales to someone else, but finally, just a couple minutes after kickoff, we were headed to the parking lot.
"I really appreciate this," I said as we reached the car. "I'm sorry to be such a bother."
"It's no trouble at all, Marsha." Her voice was kind. "You really shouldn't have come at all if you weren't feeling well."
"No," I agreed. "I really shouldn't have."
I was glad she didn't insist on coming to the door with me. I waited until she drove away, then sat on the front porch and stared into the dark for the next two hours, trying unsuccessfully to keep my mind blank. Finally, when I saw other people driving up the street on their way home from the game, I went inside.
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