her they worked perfectly.
“So there’s no rush for an optometry appointment,” I said.
She hmphed again but didn’t argue, and I thought she looked a little relieved. So was I. Apart from the cost, the eye doctor would probably treat me like some kind of medical curiosity, attention I really didn’t want.
Today, Rigel actually walked me to lunch from Science class. I couldn’t help feeling like the queen of the world, entering the lunchroom at his side, knowing everyone there was staring at us. For once in my life, I didn’t mind being the center of attention. Bri and Deb grinned at us as we approached the table, then scurried off for yet another “project” the minute we sat down.
Rigel and I both chuckled a little as they left, but then he turned to me, suddenly serious.
“Before I forget, M, would you be at all, well, interested in coming to this afternoon’s football practice?” He said it in kind of a rush—the way I said things when I didn’t want to lose my nerve. Not that I could imagine Rigel ever losing his nerve about anything.
At least as flattered as I was startled, I nodded. “I’d love . . . uh, that is, sure. I mean, I’ll need to call home, but I’m sure it’ll be okay. I’ll use Bri’s cell phone after school.”
“You can use mine if you want,” he offered.
“Oh, um, thanks! So . . . you don’t have any problems using a cell phone with the, er, static thing?”
He shrugged, then grinned. “Well, I did fry my first one, but then my dad got me one of these shockproof ones with the rubber casing.” He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to me.
I touched the table leg before taking it, still afraid I might manage to destroy it, but it didn’t spark at all when I touched it. It was completely covered with a tough, rubbery skin.
“Cool! My aunt won’t let me have one until I start driving, but I think she was going to use my electrical problem to put it off even longer. Now I can tell her about this.”
“Do you want to call her now?”
I knew she wouldn’t be home yet, but I went ahead and left a message on the answering machine at home, saying I was staying after school but would be home in plenty of time for dinner.
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
“So there’s no rush for an optometry appointment,” I said.
She hmphed again but didn’t argue, and I thought she looked a little relieved. So was I. Apart from the cost, the eye doctor would probably treat me like some kind of medical curiosity, attention I really didn’t want.
Today, Rigel actually walked me to lunch from Science class. I couldn’t help feeling like the queen of the world, entering the lunchroom at his side, knowing everyone there was staring at us. For once in my life, I didn’t mind being the center of attention. Bri and Deb grinned at us as we approached the table, then scurried off for yet another “project” the minute we sat down.
Rigel and I both chuckled a little as they left, but then he turned to me, suddenly serious.
“Before I forget, M, would you be at all, well, interested in coming to this afternoon’s football practice?” He said it in kind of a rush—the way I said things when I didn’t want to lose my nerve. Not that I could imagine Rigel ever losing his nerve about anything.
At least as flattered as I was startled, I nodded. “I’d love . . . uh, that is, sure. I mean, I’ll need to call home, but I’m sure it’ll be okay. I’ll use Bri’s cell phone after school.”
“You can use mine if you want,” he offered.
“Oh, um, thanks! So . . . you don’t have any problems using a cell phone with the, er, static thing?”
He shrugged, then grinned. “Well, I did fry my first one, but then my dad got me one of these shockproof ones with the rubber casing.” He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to me.
I touched the table leg before taking it, still afraid I might manage to destroy it, but it didn’t spark at all when I touched it. It was completely covered with a tough, rubbery skin.
“Cool! My aunt won’t let me have one until I start driving, but I think she was going to use my electrical problem to put it off even longer. Now I can tell her about this.”
“Do you want to call her now?”
I knew she wouldn’t be home yet, but I went ahead and left a message on the answering machine at home, saying I was staying after school but would be home in plenty of time for dinner.
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
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