She Dims the Stars

by Amber L. Johnson

  “That much sleep is called a coma!” I yell to him and watch as his door slowly opens and his head appears.

  Elliot is completely still on top of me, and Cline walks toward us with tentative steps, his eyes wide and hands up in front of him. “Let’s all remember that the coma joke was said by Audrey. I was not the one who instigated it. I had no hand in it …”

  With a nudge, I shove Elliot off of me, and I’m sitting up next to him on the couch, looking them both over. “Is this how it’s going to be? Eggshells? Because if it is, you need to stop that shit right now. I’m not a fragile fucking flower. I ride an alicorn.” I nod my head for emphasis. “I slay fedora wearing dragons.”

  “No, you don’t. He’s your friend,” Cline says, pointing a finger at me.

  “I’m the hero in this game, boys. Don’t you forget it.” I stand and walk over to Cline, standing on my tiptoes to reach up and give him a hug. “I love you, you idiot,” I whisper when he hugs me back.

  “I have a girlfriend,” he says back right before I poke him in the neck and make him fold in two, giggling like a doughboy.

  Pushing him back, I extend my hand to Elliot, and he takes it, following behind me to his bedroom. “So does Elliot,” I say as I close the door.

  We’re alone in his room, his piles of clothes still scattered about and wires still coming from every possible place imaginable. He sits on the bed and watches me while I settle into the desk chair and swivel side to side.

  “Are you tired?” I ask.

  He shakes his head no, and I turn some more, tilting my head to look up at the ceiling.

  “Me either. What a conundrum.”

  “I can think of a few things we could do,” he says, and I roll my head forward to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

  “Does one of them include using your superpower?”

  He makes a “come hither” motion with two fingers, and I nod.

  “Yep. That’s the one.”

  “Since we’re on the subject…” His gaze lowers to the bedspread and he licks his lips before he speaks again, quieter this time. “That night. Was that your first time?”

  “Would you be super shocked if I said that it was? I told you before that I’m not comfortable with my body.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” The look on his face is almost adorable, but my cheeks are on fire and my hands are sweating so it’s a little hard to appreciate.

  I shrug. “You’re awkward and I have panic attacks. Did you really think that would go over well?”

  He nods a couple times and blinks rapidly. “Fair enough.”

  “The truth is that you’re the first person I felt safe with. And if you’re wondering whether or not it had anything to with what happened afterward…”

  “I saw the texts. I know it wasn’t that.”

  “So sure of yourself,” I joke, swiveling in the chair once more.

  “I mean if you’re not sure whether it was good or not, we could always try it again. You know. For science.” He’s grinning and that pull in my chest becomes so tight I can hardly breathe, but it’s in the very best way.

  “I could never deny science.” I stand, cross to the bed, and crawl onto the mattress with him, lying on my side so that he mirrors my position. Our hands find each other and fingers link between us as we stare at one another in his one-lamp-lit bedroom. He’s looking at me with such adoration, but there’s another layer behind it—worry—that he’s trying to bury for this moment between us. “I’m okay. I can’t promise you that every single day is going to be perfect, but I what I can promise is that I’m trying my very hardest. It’ll be amazing and sometimes it’ll be terrible, but I’m in here fighting to stay afloat. For the first time in years, I have people I trust to talk to about it. Besides a doctor, I mean. You see me, and because of that, I don’t want to disappear anymore.”

  He touches his nose to mine and brushes his lips softly over my chin. “And if you ever get to that place again?”

  I lean back and hold up our hands between us, my palm open to his, fist unfurled. “I have a hand to reach for.”

  I can’t find Audrey in this swarm of people, and it’s beginning to make me nervous.

  “Elliot! Elliooootttttt!” Cline is waving frantically at me from one of the vendor booths, his beer sloshing over the side of the cup he’s holding in his hand. I follow where he’s pointing and can’t help but laugh at what he’s freaking out about. A group of girls are waiting for the next act to take the stage, and they’re all wearing a Dims t-shirt. They’ve cut them up so that they’re basically shredded tank tops, but if they want to trash a thirty dollar t-shirt, that’s not my business.

  Seeing a group of girls wearing our shirts with rainbow poop cookies on them at a four-day music festival in Memphis is a little surreal, though. Even after all these months.

  A pink head of hair stops in front of me, and Audrey’s eyes appear beneath the neatly trimmed bangs. She’s holding VIP passes in one hand and cold water bottles in the other. “Did you see them? The girls in the shirts?”

  “Of course, I did. Cline was freaking out and not being the least bit cool about it,” I tell her as I take a VIP pass and a water from her.

  September and Thursday arrive just seconds later, both wearing wigs as well, one bright blue and the other electric green. It was an act of solidarity when Audrey realized she wasn’t going to be able to go to the festival without being recognized as the face of the wildly popular game/app Dims the Stars.

  When a college kid makes that kind of money, in that small of an amount of time, press gets wind of it, and then there are news outlets involved and magazines get called. I wasn’t going to lie and say that I’d created it on my own. Audrey and Cline were stakeholders as far as I was concerned.

  I paid off mom’s mortgage. Put some money away for a rainy day. I still took the internship at Ten2One, but essentially they offered me a regular position, and I couldn’t handle the load with school work, so they’re holding it for me until after I graduate. If I still want it.

  Who knows, though? I might just be able to start my own company after this.

  It took an adjustment period for Audrey to accept that people related to her through the game. When she did an interview and shared her battle with depression and anxiety, the outpouring of support and people sharing their stories with her was overwhelming to the point that she actually had to go offline for about a week.

  “I can’t be someone’s role model,” she said. Pale and shaking, she pushed the laptop away and shook her head over and over. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “And if you save one life? Just one because you were honest enough to tell other people that they’re not alone, and someone out there understands even just a glimpse of what they’re going through … wouldn’t that be worth it?” That was September, who we had to call, because it was one of those low moments that Audrey had said would happen but we were still unprepared for.

  I think it took two days for her to let it sink in that what she’d been through could end up helping someone else. We had a discussion. I set up a website, and she wrote a blog. Then she added an anonymous question button for anyone who wanted to ask her anything. Some stuff was easy, and she answered it with grace. Others were harder, and it took some hand holding to get her through it.

  The entire experience helped her find herself and her purpose, though. She works closely with certain organizations, like Project Semicolon, to spread hope where people may not feel there’s any to be had. She even has a little semicolon tattoo between her thumb and forefinger. She says it’s a reminder, a promise. Every time we hold hands and our skin touches in that exact place, Audrey knows that she has more life to live. She has more of her story to tell.

  “Thursday, where is Micah?” Audrey asks, and the girl in the green wig points toward where Cline is standing, next to the tall redheaded guy we’ve recently come to know as her boyfriend. “Oh, no. He has that look on his face, Sep. He’
s going to do something stupid. You’d better intervene.”

  The sisters take her warning and run off to stop whatever ridiculousness our best friend is about to pull, and I take Audrey into my arms, pulling her close as the crowds start to shift forward for the next band.

  One year is all it took to change my life completely.

  One moment to shift it on a different course.

  One second of a stranger’s kiss—a rock on a window—a call from out of the blue.

  All of it started with one girl and a question.

  Audrey is leaning back against my chest while the music begins to grow louder and the crowd starts to get more amped up. Without her having to ask, I walk us backward until we’re away from the center of the madness, holding her in place against my body. She’s safe here with me. Always has been and always will be.

  She turns and looks up at me from behind neon yellow glasses, then pulls them down off her face and tilts her head to the side to give me a wistful smile. “What?”

  I brush a strand of pink away from her forehead and lean in to kiss her mouth, cradling the back of her head so that I can look her in the eyes when I pull back. “Run away with me,” I say and press another light kiss to her parted lips.

  She smiles, her eyes so full of life and mischief, as she places the sunglasses on top of her head. “Name the time and place, Elliot Clark. I’m all yours.”

  These words I know are true.

  Somehow, I know they always will be.

  I plan to watch Byrdie fly for the rest of my entire life.

  Hello, sweet reader! Thank you for taking a chance on me. On this book. On Audrey, Elliot, and Cline.

  It should be noted that Bertram Falls, Tennessee does not exist. Neither does the fictional Brixton College (just my homage to the late Mr. Bowie). The Confession Tree is not a real thing, however the cemetery and bridge that are described leading to it are very much a place that can be visited – but I would advise against it.

  Audrey, though… Audrey does exist in one way or another. She’s someone you know, or knew, or she’s possibly a little bit of you.

  I wrote this book for a very specific reason and that was to show another side of anxiety and depression that doesn’t get a spotlight very much: the hidden kind. The kind that’s folded away behind a nod and a smile, a joke or a laugh, an entire night out with friends that leaves that person exhausted for days afterward having to recharge because being ‘on’ all the time takes so much out of them.

  Depression is a hard topic to discuss. It’s hard to understand. And even deeper than that? If you have experienced it, your depression may not be the same as someone else’s. It may not be the same as mine. You could ask a million people what their experience is like and you might hear that 90% of what you've experienced is the same, but the other 10%?

  Mine and yours alone

  Depression is an ugly, ugly thing. It starts small and grows until it's like those vines around trees that envelope the entire plant until it's suffocated and the intruder is satisfied and full because it's taken the host's life source. Even when you are doing your very best to fight it, depression and anxiety kinda hold your hand and pop in every once in a while like that annoying neighbor you try to deter from visiting by turning off your porch light. They know you're home, though. They persist. It persists.

  Even on medication that is supposed to help with this mess, the depression creeps in. It hovers and seeps and tries to vine its way in. But I fight. You fight. They fight. Every day we face the battle to hold the hand of the one who keeps us down or look up and hope that we can say that today was a good day.

  So trust me when I say that I know about 90% of what you're going through. And because of that you are NOT alone. Some of us are silent in our suffering and others will look you straight in the eye and say that we're in pain. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that no matter which side of the fence you're on you need to hear something that will make you see the light and the only thing I can offer is this:

  I am glad you're alive. I'm glad you were born. I'm glad you're still here.

  You keep up the good fight, okay?

  You are the hero in this game. Don’t you ever forget it.

  Xoxox,

  Amber L. Johnson

  First and foremost I have to thank my husband and my son for giving me a month and a half of Sundays to complete this book. AJ and EJ, those precious few hours you gave me in a quiet house made all of this possible. A, thank you for always being my inspiration, you video game creating genius. E, I’m sorry I ate all the Halloween candy in the process of getting this finished. Mostly. I’m mostly sorry I ate it all. There are a few pieces left in the freezer.

  I tried to find a way to thank Dylan O’Brien for his face, Miles Teller for his mannerisms, and coffee for getting me through all those early mornings without sounding like a weirdo, but that’s not going to happen. It is what it is.

  Stephanie DeBear, my writing partner, critique partner, and the reason half of the weirdest pieces of the dialogue in this book exist thanks to our real life texts - Thank you. We both know I’m crazy, but you signed on for life, and you can’t back out now. It’s in the contract. Your genuine enthusiasm to see me be successful makes me want to cry, but that would ruin my make up so let’s stop that right now. Our collective brains are now responsible for rainbow poop shitting unicorns, penis throwing octopi, and scrotum beetles. Our parents are so proud.

  Lori Wilt, thank you for loving Audrey and Elliot for the last three years, back when they were part of a YA book called ‘Falling for the Girl Next Door.’ I know they don’t resemble the original characters much, but you’ve stuck by my side as I trudged my way through this process and chipped away at them until they became who I wanted them to be. You’re the driving force in all of my soundtracks.

  Amber Sachs, Lynsey Johnson, Dani Hart, Angela Williams, Nicki Firman, and Mandy Arthur: reading your feedback and responses as you experienced the book was such a joy for me. You helped me in more ways than you will ever know, the biggest of which being to push me to actually publish this book and to keep writing, no matter how hard it was at the time. You kept me going. I owe you big time. And I adore you endlessly.

  Thank you to my editors: April Brumley, thank you for swooping in so fast and for turning things around just as quickly. I swear I will never call a man’s bathing suit swim trunks again. And Catherine Jones, you are incredible. Thank you for making this manuscript look so pretty before it went to print. Karen D. I appreciate you taking time to work on the first half of the book. I’ll never look at run-on sentences the same!

  Amber Maxwell, thank you for the beautiful gift of the Dims cover. It far exceeded my expectations and continues to take my breath away. You are a true artist and I’m blessed to know you.

  Lindsey Gray, thank you for making my book look so gorgeous. Your formatting skills are always impeccable and I know I can always count on your professionalism whenever we work together.

  Nurse Angela VanBuren, thank you for making sure our girl got the right help she needed in the hospital. You always give me the best medical advice and if I ever ended up in the hospital in your state, I would demand to be seen by you. I heart your face.

  Jocelyn, my September in July…thank you for allowing me to use your likeness and your face. We’ve been friends for over 10 years. Legally, we’re sisters now.

  Laura, my Delilah, thank you for your gift of song and for allowing me to share it with the world. We’re beyond common law friendship too, now. I’m your other sister. Tell Kelita sorry-not-sorry.

  Huge thanks to The A Team, my street team on Facebook who helps spread the word about my new releases. I am honored you’d spend your time with me. You are the actual best. I’ll make you t-shirts to prove it.

  To Mariana’s Trench for being the never ending loop that I listened to while writing this book: Thanks for the harmonies, the imagery, and the lyrics that kept me going, even when writer’s block settled in.
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  Lastly, to you the reader, for taking a chance on this book. Personal stories are super scary to write. They are terrifying to share. Having someone believe in them makes it all worthwhile.

  http://itunes.apple.com/album/id1083108616?ls=1&app=itunes

  Purchase a copy of It’s Okay by Laura Engelbrecht (an original song written for She Dims the Stars)

  YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLm73_7yqLQje0UN8RtWYzYx0Xz8xE6yYX

  Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/user/22jqntx6k3mtidmkm2s5tzmkq/playlist/2ZaErFBAPT4v0zJCkLvHbt

  1.Cecilia & the Satellite - Andrew McMahon & The Wilderness

  2.First - Cold War Kids

  3.I Am -AWOLNATION

  4.Underdog - Imagine Dragons

  5.Four of July - Fall Out Boy

  6.Ever After - Mariana’s Trench

  7.Water Under the Bridge - Adele

  8.A Little Too Much - Shawn Mendes

  9.Roses - The Chainsmokers

  10. Molecules - Atlas Genius

  11. Believe - Mumford and Sons

  12.Cocoon - Catfish & the Battlement

  13. Chasing Stars - Fleure

  14. Pieces - Hushed

  15.This Love - Taylor Swift

  16.Pretty Little Girl - Blink 182

  17.What If - Safety Suit

  18.This is Gospel (Acoustic) - Panic! At the Disco

  19. It’s Okay - Laura Engelbrecht

  http://www.projectsemicolon.org

  MISSION STATEMENT

  PROJECT SEMICOLON IS A GLOBAL NON-PROFIT MOVEMENT DEDICATED TO PRESENTING HOPE AND LOVE FOR THOSE WHO ARE STRUGGLING WITH MENTAL ILLNESS, SUICIDE, ADDICTION AND SELF-INJURY. PROJECT SEMICOLON EXISTS TO ENCOURAGE, LOVE AND INSPIRE.

  STAY STRONG; LOVE ENDLESSLY; CHANGE LIVES

  National Hopeline Network :: 1.800.SUICIDE (784-2433)