Starstruck

STARSTRUCK

Brenda Hiatt

STARSTRUCK

Electronic edition

Copyright © 2013 by Brenda Hiatt

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between actual events or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION

For Bethany, Dawn and Keith, my first readers and greatest encouragers. Thank you.

STARSTRUCK

by Brenda Hiatt

CHAPTER 1

Shifting orbits

I boarded the bus on the first day of school with a weird sense of anticipation. Even after nine years as the class dork, I couldn’t quite squelch a fizzy little hope that this year would be different.

Maybe this year Jimmy Franklin would finally notice I existed. I was fifteen now and marginally less awkward than I’d been last year as a freshman. Maybe I’d do something wild and daring, like, oh, run for treasurer of the French Club. I might even get elected, since last year they’d had to arm-twist someone into doing it.

The familiar sour-stale schoolbus smell—like old french fries that had been baking in the Indiana sun all summer, with maybe a whiff of vomit—took some of the fizz out of my mood. It was the smell of a dozen past humiliations. Still, I clung to what I hoped was a confident half-smile as I headed for an empty seat two-thirds of the way back.

“Wow, Marsha, nice blouse.”

It was Trina Squires, of course—my nemesis. Trina was everything I wasn’t: pretty, rich, popular, athletic. And we’d more or less hated each other ever since that bracelet incident back in third grade.

“Get dressed in the dark again?” she continued.

My best friend Bri, who had about fifty times more fashion sense than me, had picked out my outfit—a cute white cap-sleeve blouse dotted with tiny blue stars, and denim capris. I totally trusted Bri’s taste. Not wanting Trina to think I cared what she said, I passed her before glancing down at myself.

Oh. Crap. Nice blouse, yeah—buttoned one button off. How did I not notice that before I left the house? Hitching my tattered green backpack a little higher, I tried to cover the neckline, where it was most obvious.

And tripped over Bobby Jeeter’s foot, which he’d stuck out just for me. I caught myself—barely—before I went sprawling, but that didn’t keep half the bus from laughing.

“You know, most guys gave that up back in fifth grade,” I informed Bobby, grabbing my glasses before they slipped off my nose.

“What can I say?” Bobby shrugged, not the least bit apologetic. “It’s still funny.”

More laughter.

Trying to ignore them all, I pushed my glasses back up, sat down in the empty seat and started rebuttoning my blouse as inconspicuously as possible.

Nope, it didn’t look like this year was going to be any different.

Attention shifted away from me and back to other first-day-of-school gossip as the bus left Jewel’s shabby historic district, where I lived with my aunt and uncle just a block from Diamond, our “Main Street.” I stared out the window as we trundled through progressively newer areas with bigger yards and hardly any fences.

No hills, of course. All of Jewel was flat—and boring. Like most other small towns in north-central Indiana, it consisted of a tiny little “downtown,” a few widely scattered clusters of homes, a couple dozen farms, and cornfields. Lots of cornfields. Its only claim to character was an unusual number of artisan jewelry shops capitalizing on the town name, and the annual Jewel Jewelry Festival every May.

Brianna Morrison and Debbi Andrews, my two closest friends, got on the bus a few stops later. “Oh good, you wore it,” Bri said, sliding in beside me. Debbi sat right across the aisle. “I really like that top, M.”

I didn’t see any point in telling her about my screwup. “Thanks, Bri. You look great, as always—you too, Deb.”

Brianna was a little more popular than me and a lot more outgoing. A bit on the geeky side, like me, but with more style. Though neither of us could claim to be pretty, Bri had thick, curly brunette hair, while mine was limp and mousy brown, with a tendency to frizz. We’d known each other pretty much all our lives and had been BFFs since kindergarten.

When we were all in fifth grade, Debbi moved in next door to Bri and became a third star in our tiny constellation. While Bri was almost as stick-figured as I was, Deb was just the opposite—barely five feet tall with curves bordering on chubby, but with a blonde, baby-doll cuteness that tended to make guys kind of protective of her. Though none of us had ever had an actual boyfriend, Debbi sometimes got asked to dance at school mixers, which was more than Bri or I could claim.

“Did you hear?” Bri looked at Deb, then me, then back at Deb, letting the suspense build. “We have a new quarterback! My dad told me at breakfast this morning.”

Bri was kind of a sports nut, since her dad was an assistant football coach. He also taught some computer and gym classes, since at a school as small as Jewel High, most of the teachers wore multiple hats.

“Who is it?” Deb asked. “Ooh, is it Gary?” Bri had had a crush on Gary Chambers nearly as long as I’d had one on Jimmy Franklin.

But she shook her head, making her dark curls bounce. “No, it’s a new guy—a transfer from Center North. He
just
moved here, like last week.”

Now Brianna had the attention of everyone within earshot. New students were rare enough at our little rural high school, but a new boy coming in to quarterback our pathetic football team? That was big news!

“Whoa, Center North? Seriously?” Joe Thomas hung over the back of his seat. “If he played for them, he’s gotta be way better than any of our losers. Did he quarterback there?”

“Backup quarterback,” Bri said. “Rigel Stuart? Anyone hear of him?”

“Like the star?” I blurted out without thinking. A few people gave me weird looks.

Joe frowned at me. “There’s a star named Rigel? What has he been in?”

Feeling even more like a dork, I shook my head. “Not that kind of star. Rigel is the seventh brightest . . . oh, never mind,” I mumbled.

Astronomy had been a hobby of mine for years and everyone knew it. Back in middle school, when we’d taken a class trip to the planetarium, I’d played nerdy know-it-all, raising my hand and showing off. I cringed, remembering that, and wished I hadn’t reminded everybody all over again.

Luckily, nobody seemed as interested in making fun of me as they were in hearing about the new quarterback. That topic obsessed everyone as the bus drove through endless cornfields along the state road. I didn’t pay much attention, since I wasn’t into football. Unless Jimmy Franklin made the team this year. I considered asking Bri, but decided that would be too obvious.

Instead, I retreated into a pleasant fantasy where Jimmy, seeing me for the first time since spring, suddenly realized how much I meant to him. He’d stare, then smile, then hurry toward me, arms outstretched, to sweep me into a hug and tell me how much he’d missed me over the summer. I’d shyly admit I’d missed him, too, then we’d walk down the hall holding hands, making me the envy of every girl in school. If only.

The bus pulled up in front of one-story Jewel Senior High, three miles out of town. Jewel Junior High, a smaller but similar yellow brick building, was right across the street. Nothing else was nearby but more cornfields. Bri, Deb and I followed the others into the school and across the skylighted atrium to the hand-lettered signs taped to the opposite wall telling us which homeroom to report to.

“See you at lunch,” Bri said as she and Deb headed off to the left. I turned right, to the S through Z room.

I didn’t hurry. The bell wouldn’t ring for almost ten minutes, and I was hoping for a glimpse of Jimmy in the still-crowded hallway. Besides, if they seated us alphabetically again—Squires, Truitt—I’d be right behind Trina, who probably already had some new humiliation planned for me.

A familiar voice made me turn, and there he was—Jimmy Franklin. Just as hot, blond and unattainable as he’d been last spring, but with a tan. He was laughing with two other boys and heading my way. I tried to screw up my courage to say hi, but all I managed was a little twitch of my hand as he passed.

He didn’t notice. I hoped nobody else had.

When I walked into homeroom, Trina slanted a glance at me then turned to Donna Smith, one of her hangers-on. “My dad’s getting me a car for my birthday,” she said in a carrying voice. “He was going to buy one at the place here in town, but everyone knows the service sucks so we’ll probably drive down to Indy instead.”

Trina knew very well my Uncle Louie sold cars at the local dealership—and business had been so slow this last year his job was in danger. I tried to tell myself she was just acting out because her dad traveled a lot, but since he made up for it by showering her with stuff like cars and designer clothes, I didn’t really believe myself.

Her father owned Squires Electronics and probably made ten times what my aunt and uncle did. My Aunt Theresa taught third grade. Trina’s mom served on committees and stuff.

And even if her dad was gone a lot, at least Trina lived with both her parents. I didn’t even know who my real parents were. Plus, Aunt Theresa made it clear in a hundred little ways that she resented the fact that I’d been left on her hands by Uncle Louie’s “reckless” brother and sister-in-law, and that she fully expected me to turn out just as wild and irresponsible as they’d been. Which wasn’t fair at all, considering I wasn’t even related to them. Besides, it’s not like they’d
meant
to fall off a mountain just a couple years after adopting me.

Just like on the bus, I tried to ignore Trina as I walked past, though this time I made sure no one had a leg out to trip me. I was about to take my usual seat behind her when I noticed that the schedule on that desk wasn’t mine. It was labeled “Rigel Stuart”—the new quarterback everyone had been talking about. I hadn’t realized he was only a sophomore.

I was just sliding into the next desk back when he walked into the room. It had to be him, since he was the only one here I didn’t recognize. In a school of barely four hundred students any new kid was a standout but this guy would have turned heads anywhere. No wonder he was named after a star. Even in a plain white shirt and jeans, he was utterly gorgeous—tall, dark-haired and broad shouldered, with a face that belonged in a magazine fashion ad. His hazel eyes had lashes most girls would kill for, but his perfectly chiseled features and strong jaw were totally masculine. He was hands-down the best looking guy I’d ever seen.

The hum of voices muted as everyone turned to watch him but he didn’t seem to notice. He just moved confidently to the desk Mrs. Cummins indicated—the desk in front of mine. I absolutely couldn’t help staring but it really didn’t matter, since every other girl in the room was doing the same. Trina was the first to speak to him. Of course.

“Hi! You must be Rigel. I’m Trina Squires. I’ll be happy to show you around and everything today.” Her tone implied that if he was interested, “everything” might include a lot more than just the school.

He paused, one hand on his desk, and looked at her with an odd, arrested expression. Trina’s big blue eyes and strawberry blonde waves sometimes had that effect on boys, but I’d have thought a guy this hot would be so used to pretty girls throwing themselves at him he’d be immune. Apparently not.

“That would be nice,” he replied, and his voice shot through me like an electric current, snapping my nerves to attention and leaving me breathless. “Maybe at lunchtime?”

I blinked and gave my head a little shake. He had a pleasant voice, low and smooth, but why should that make every single hair on my arms stand on end? I was no stranger to static electricity—in fact, I got teased for my weird ability to generate sparks year round, and for frying electronics on a regular basis—but this felt different. Plus, Rigel hadn’t touched me. He hadn’t even
looked
at me—and probably never would.