Molly
“Molly, are you ready to try that new move we talked about yesterday?” Trina, our head cheerleader asks as we finish our pre-practice warmup on the track by the football field.
“Sure.” I step between the two girls who act as my “bases” for most of the flyer routines. “I have it looking pretty good on the ground, anyway. Where’s Amber?” She’s usually my back spotter.
Trina looks around, frowning. “This is the second time this month she’s been late. If she doesn’t— Oh, here she comes.”
Amber trots up, all smiles. “Sorry I’m late, but I come bearing gossip. Believe it or not, we’re getting another new student tomorrow!”
All the girls start talking excitedly.
“Seriously?”
“That will make nine in one semester!”
Just three weeks ago we got eight new students all at once. That would have been a huge deal for a school as small as Jewel High even if they weren’t all from Mars. Not that any of the other cheerleaders know that particular detail.
“Boy or girl?” Trina demands, cutting through the chatter.
“Boy.” Amber waggles her eyebrows. “Sounds like his parents will be working out at NuAgra, too.”
NuAgra is the new company on the outskirts of Jewel supposedly responsible for the recent influx of newcomers to town. Along with its stated purpose of conducting top-secret agricultural research, it’s also supposed to become a sort of government headquarters for Martians on Earth.
“Hm. I wonder if he’ll be as good looking as the other new guys?” Trina’s eyes narrow speculatively.
I suspect he will, since Echtrans in general tend to be unusually attractive by Earth standards.
“Did you hear what year he’ll be?” she asks then.
Amber nods. “A junior, I peeked at his paperwork. His name’s Tristan. Tristan Roark.”
“Ooh, yummy name,” Donna declares, to general agreement.
“Tomorrow we’ll see if he lives up to it,” Trina says, but then she’s all business again. “Okay, time to get serious, girls. It’s barely two weeks till our first playoff game and Jewel’s bound to go to State this year. We need to be in top form by then. Molly, you ready to fly?”
I am. We start our latest choreographed routine with its synchronized dance steps and kicks, then Donna and Tiffany, my base girls, hoist me up by both legs to their chin level. I wait a beat, lift one knee into my basic Liberty pose, wait three more beats, then transition into an Arabesque, moving my raised leg straight behind me as I lean forward slightly and spread my arms out to the sides.
I’m about to shift from that to the Needle, the new move, when Donna changes her grip slightly.
“Ooh,” she exclaims, looking back at Amber. “You said this new guy’s a junior. Did you hear what classes he’ll be in?”
After a slight wobble, I feel pretty solid again. Tipping further forward, I point my back leg straight up until I’m doing a vertical split—the Needle. I hold that pose for a beat, just like I rehearsed in the gym, then take two beats to return to my prep position so I can do my pop-cradle dismount.
“I did!” Amber replies from behind me. “I even jotted his classes down, so I’d remember. Remind me after and I’ll—”
“Quiet!” Trina yells. “Do the finish first.”
My bases pop me up for the cradle dismount but Donna and Amber, both distracted, are out of position to catch me properly. I hear everyone screaming as I pitch backward and see the asphalt track hurtling toward my face.
In desperation, I tuck into a last-second reverse somersault and miraculously manage to land on my feet, well behind everyone else. I’m still marveling at my close call when I belatedly realize no normal Earth human could ever have pulled off that maneuver. It was purely my Martian reflexes that saved me from a cracked skull.
“Omigod Molly!” Amber shrieks. “I’m so sorry! How did you—?”
Trina shoulders her aside. “That was amazing, Molly! You should always dismount like that.”
The others are still staring at me with expressions of shock mingled with relief. I force a laugh.
“Um, no thanks, Trina. That was way more up-close than I ever want to see the pavement again. I’m just glad I remembered that gymnastics move from when I used to compete back in Ireland. I only ever managed it twice before, and that was with nice thick mats under me.”
Not true, of course. I never actually competed in gymnastics, though I took a few classes as a kid. But claiming that keeps the other cheerleaders from freaking out over my superhuman flip, which is all I care about. I’m just glad there were no other Echtrans around to see me do it, or I’d be in big trouble.
On that thought I glance up at the bleachers to see M there, staring right at me…and looking more than a little upset. Oops.
With a sheepish grin, I wave at her. To my relief, she smiles back as she returns my wave. I hope that means she’s not too mad at me. Because in addition to being my best friend, M also happens to be our people’s supreme leader, Sovereign Emileia.
From beside me, Trina makes a disgusted noise.
“Do you have to, Molly? It reflects badly on the whole squad when you insist on hanging around with a loser like Marsha Truitt. If you weren’t such a good flyer, I’d be tempted— Never mind. Let’s practice that routine again. And Amber, try to focus this time, okay? Injuries reflect badly, too.”
I want to tell Trina—again—that M is the exact opposite of a loser, but I know it won’t do any good. She’s apparently been determined to hate M since they were both in elementary school. So I just shoot another quick smile M’s way and get back into position.
At the end of practice, when the rest of the squad heads to the locker room, I sprint up into the bleachers to talk to M.
“Guess you saw that, huh?” I brace myself for a well-deserved scold, even though I can’t remember her ever yelling at me before.
“Yes, I saw! What happened? I was scared to death you were going to break your neck.”
“The girls were gossiping about this new guy instead of paying attention to my dismount. I think they all bought my excuse that it was something I learned in gymnastics, but it was dumb to panic and pull such a crazy stunt in front of everyone. Guess it was pretty obvious, huh?”
To my surprise, she shrugs. “Maybe a little, but your safety is way more important. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Her concern warms me. “Thanks, M. I was worried you’d be mad. So,” I continue, “about this new guy who almost got me killed. Sounds like it’ll be another Echtran—Tristan Roark?”
“Roark?” she repeats. “Connor has a son? I didn’t even know he was married.”
“Connor’s last name is Roark?” I wince. Connor is easily my least favorite member of the Echtran Council, which meets at my house most weekends. “Did you know he was moving to Jewel?”
She lifts a shoulder. “Sure, eventually, because of the new government center at NuAgra, but not this soon. It’s weird he didn’t say anything about it last Saturday. I wonder what his son is like?”
“Snooty and arrogant, just like his dad,” I predict.
M laughs. “Come on, you don’t know that. Maybe he’ll be nice, like the rest of the newcomers.”
“None of them are Royals. You watch, this guy will look down on me for being a lowly Ag the way Connor always does. Like father, like son.”
“Well, he’d better not do it in front of me or I’ll— Oh, there’s Rigel.”
I turn and see Jewel’s quarterback—M’s boyfriend—jogging toward us.
“See you later, M. I’d better scurry if I want to catch my ride.” With a smile for Rigel, I trot off to the locker room.
I doubt Amber will really leave without me after her screwup earlier, but I know M and Rigel like to have a few minutes together before taking their separate late buses. Even if playing chaperone is technically one of my duties.
It was a huge honor to be appointed M’s official Chomseireach, or Handmaid, before we went to Mars last spring. While we were there I selected all her outfits, chaperoned her when necessary and kept presumptuous favor-seekers from getting too close. Sure, she had a Bodyguard, but I was always her last line of defense—and did a great job, according to M.
Since getting back to Earth, not so much. For obvious reasons, she doesn’t want me tagging along whenever she and Rigel are together, and it’s not practical for me to pick out what she’ll wear to school every day. As for being a last line of defense—hah! I didn’t even hear about last month’s attempt on her life until the next day, because I was at some stupid cheerleading party.
I need to seriously up my game…if M will let me.
Like father, like son. My words to M yesterday echo in my head when the new boy waltzes into Pre-Cal the next morning like he owns the place. His Adonis-like profile is remarkably like Connor’s, his deep gold hair only a shade darker. In other words, outrageously handsome, same as his dad—and probably just as stuck up.
Sauntering up to the teacher, he hands her a slip from the office and turns to survey the classroom, his gaze lingering on M. Then, with a confident smile, he ambles over to the empty desk closest to her—which happens to be on my other side. Before sitting down he pauses, one proprietary hand on my desk, and inclines his head to M. Not a bow, which would be too obvious, but respectful.
“Hi, I’m Tristan,” he says, looking right past me, “and you must be…Marsha?” It’s like the people sitting around her, even those of us who are obviously Echtran, don’t exist.
“Hello, Tristan.” M’s voice is a tiny shade cooler than normal. “Welcome to Jewel.”
“Thank you. I very much look forward to getting to know you better.” There’s something distinctly suggestive in his low, smooth voice that puts me on high alert.
Rigel, on M’s other side, leans over to see past M and me. “We’ll look forward to that, too. We all will.” His glance includes me and Liam, another Echtran, sitting just in front of me.
Tristan’s dark brown eyes slide over us negligently and refocus on M as if Rigel hadn’t spoken.
“Maybe you and I can get together after school to, you know, talk.”
By now every girl in the room is staring at him with blatant interest, though as over-the-top handsome as he is, I’m sure he’s used to that. I get the distinct impression he’s disappointed M isn’t reacting the same way. He finally sits down when class starts but continues to direct intense, almost smoldering glances at M every time the teacher isn’t looking. If she notices she doesn’t let on, though Rigel occasionally glares back.
When the bell rings, Tristan quickly stands, then sidles forward in an attempt to wedge himself between M and Rigel as they move toward the door. Finally, a chance for me to do my job!
Stepping in close, I cut Tristan off just before he reaches them. “Hey, Tristan.” I stick out my hand despite my reluctance to touch him. “I’m Molly.”
He totally ignores my hand, still watching M. “O’Gara, right?” He sounds bored.
“That’s right. Sean’s sister. Have you met him yet?” My only goal is to keep him occupied until M and Rigel are out of the room where it will be easier to avoid him. Creeper.
“Not yet. Why? He’s renounced his claim there, hasn’t he?”
His smirk when referring to my brother makes me bristle. Because that was definitely a smirk.
“Yes, and for good reason. So there’s no point you trying to stake one, if that’s what you’re planning.”
Whether it’s my words or the acid in my tone, he finally looks at me. “No point? What makes you think so?”
“The fact that I know a lot more about them both than you do. Trust me, you’d be wasting your time.”
M and Rigel reach the door and a moment later they’re gone. He isn’t watching them now, though. Instead he looks down his perfect, aquiline nose at me, still with that slight curl to his lip. “Of course you’d think that. You’re Sean’s sister.”
“That has nothing to do with it,” I assure him. “I just happen to know—”
I break off, suddenly aware of several interested pairs of eyes, most belonging to girls. At least half a dozen of them have moved in close, obviously hoping to introduce themselves to Tristan before he leaves the room. With a tiny smirk of my own, I step back to let them converge.
“Have a nice day,” I toss over my shoulder as I walk off to French class.
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