Starcrossed

of heatstroke and that it may have caused her strange outburst. He listened patiently and then asked Mrs. Crane for a moment alone with his daughter, which she gave them.
    Jerry didn’t say anything at first; he just sort of hovered over Helen’s cot while she sat up and fidgeted with her necklace. Finally, he sat down next to her.
    “You wouldn’t lie to me right now, would you?” he asked softly. She shook her head. “Are you sick?”
    “I don’t know, Dad. I don’t feel right—but I don’t know what’s wrong,” she told him earnestly.
    “We’ve got to take you to the doctor, you know.”
    “I figured,” she said, nodding. They smiled at each other, and then suddenly they both turned their heads at the sound of hurried footsteps coming toward the nurse’s office.
    Jerry stood up and faced the door, putting himself in front of Helen. A tall, impossibly fit man in his early forties burst into the room. Helen jumped off the cot and stood on the other side of it, glancing around instinctively for another exit. There wasn’t one. Helen had the feeling that she was going to die.
    In the corner of the tiny office, one of the sobbing sisters appeared. She was hunkered down on her knees, her face covered by her filthy hair, moaning names and saying “blood for blood” as she hit her forehead repeatedly against the wall.
    Helen put her hands over her ears. She pulled her eyes away from the horror in the corner and mustered enough courage to look back at the large man. A spark of recognition passed between them. She had never seen him before, but somehow she knew that she should be very afraid of him. At first his angular face was set with determination, but it quickly morphed into shock and then confusion. His eyes zeroed in on Jerry, and a nearly comical look of disbelief derailed what might have been a terrible fight.
    “Are you . . . are you the father of the young lady that attacked my son?” he asked in a halting voice.
    Jerry nodded curtly. “My daughter, Helen,” he said, gesturing back to her. “I’m Jerry Hamilton.”
    “Castor Delos,” the big man replied. “My wife, Noel, won’t be able to make it. And Helen’s mother?”
    Jerry shook his head. “It’s just Lennie and me,” he said with finality.
    Castor’s eyes darted to Helen and back to Jerry and he pursed his lips as if he had set something right in his head. “Pardon me. I didn’t mean to bring up personal matters. Is there any way you and I might have a word alone?”
    “NO!” Helen shouted. She lunged across the cot, grabbing her father’s arm and yanking him away from Castor.
    “What is wrong with you?” Jerry shouted. He tried, and failed, to shake Helen off.
    “Please don’t go anywhere with him!” she begged, tears welling up in her eyes.
    Jerry made a frustrated sound, put his arms around Helen, and held her reassuringly. “She hasn’t been well,” he explained to Castor, who looked on with sympathy.
    “I have a daughter,” Castor replied gently as if that explained everything.
    Mrs. Crane and the principal, Dr. Hoover, rushed into the room as if they had been trying to catch up to Castor.
    “Mr. Delos,” the principal began in an irritated voice, but Castor talked over him.
    “I hope your daughter feels better soon, Jerry. I’ve had heatstroke myself, and I was told I did all kinds of strange things. It can make you hallucinate, you know,” he said to no one in particular.
    Helen saw him glance quickly at her and then into the corner where the sobbing sister was still rocking back and forth. Did he see her, too, she wondered, and if he did, how the heck could two people share a hallucination?
    “Well . . . okay. There’s no animosity then?” Dr. Hoover said uncertainly, looking from Castor to Jerry.
    “Not on my part, nor on my son’s, I’m sure. I’m more concerned about you, young lady,” Castor said, turning politely to Helen. “Luke told me he had to be, well, a bit rough. Did he hurt you?” Castor inquired. On the surface, it seemed like he had extraordinarily good manners, but Helen didn’t buy it. He was just trying to gauge how strong she was.
    “I’m fine,” she replied tartly. “Not a scratch.”
    His eyes widened ever so slightly. She didn’t know why she was baiting a full-grown man, a very big man in the prime of his life at that, but she simply couldn’t help herself. Usually, she hated arguments so much she couldn’t even bear to watch those trashy daytime