Under Shifting Stars

by Alexandra Latos

  “I just think it’s really weird you’re wearing all of Adam’s clothes.”

  “Holy hell.” I roll my eyes. “Do you use that word for everything?”

  “You know,” Sharon ignores me and continues, “now that I think about it, it’s almost like you’re trying to become him or something. Like you’re trying to turn into your brother.”

  “Don’t talk about my brother.”

  “Why not? I knew him too.”

  “I mean it, Sharon.” I’m seething now, but behind all the anger is the hurt. Sharon is my best friend, was my best friend, and the person who was there for me after he died. To think I once thought she understood me better than anyone else.

  “I’m just saying that’s a really messed-up way to mourn someone, Clare.”

  “You don’t care about how I mourn Adam. You didn’t even care about Adam. I don’t think you really cared about me either, only about having a best friend who did whatever you wanted. And you know what? I think you were mean to Audrey because you were jealous of her.”

  Sharon snorts. “Yeah right. I was jealous of Audrey.” She rolls her eyes at Charlotte and Rhiannon.

  “Stop acting like there is something wrong with Audrey. You were jealous of her because she and I were so close. And you know what? I think you’re jealous that I’m doing what I want to do, regardless of what you think about it.”

  Sharon glares back at me, her eyes shiny, but she doesn’t deny it.

  “Look, I still care about you, Sharon, but I’m not going to hang out with someone who is cruel to my twin or my other friends, including Taylor. I saw that post you put on Audrey’s wall, I’ve heard the way you talk about Taylor, and I’m no longer going to put up with it. So if you ever valued our friendship, stop.”

  Charlotte and Rhiannon glance nervously at Sharon, who purses her lips together tightly. Before she can retaliate with something nasty and ruin things between us forever, I sling my bag over my shoulder and walk away.

  Audrey

  It takes me over a week to finish the carving. I work on it nonstop during my art period and at lunch. I work on it even when my hands start to curl and I can barely hold the chisel.

  It developed a different shape than I originally planned. I didn’t even know my idea until the carving was complete.

  You look happy, Audrey.

  Ms. Nguyen is standing behind me. I didn’t even hear her approach.

  I feel happy. Like a weight has been lifted off me.

  Ms. Nguyen touches the symbols and asks me what they stand for. I tell her and her eyes fill with tears.

  That’s very touching, Audrey. Clare will love it.

  I hope so.

  It’s heavy. Almost as large as a bowling ball. The top of the womb is like a handle but you shouldn’t carry it that way. It might break. So I cradle it against my chest as I get up to wrap it in paper to take home.

  Ms. Nguyen sits on the table. Audrey, I talked to Monsieur Martin about your desire to change schools.

  I freeze and almost knock over the carving.

  I’m going to give my support to your parents, she says. Monsieur Martin will too.

  You will? I pinch myself but I’m not dreaming.

  Ms. Nguyen nods. She’s smiling.

  Thank you, I say. Then I give her a hug. It surprises both of us because I don’t usually give hugs.

  After Mom drives me home, I wait in my room for Clare to come home. I don’t even know she’s downstairs until the phone rings. Then I hear her in the kitchen talking to someone, most likely Sharon. The old feeling of being replaced returns, but I pick up the carving anyway. It’s time to make up.

  When I enter the kitchen with my carving still wrapped in paper, Clare gives me a weird smile. At first I think I was right and she is talking to Sharon. But then Clare makes a motion with her hand for me to come closer like when she talks to Grandma and wants me to talk next. I stop dead in my tracks. I hate talking on the phone.

  Then Clare says, Oh, I thought you two met at Peak.

  Understanding dawns.

  No! NO! I run forward and whisper-yell at Clare. Take it back! Pretend you were joking!

  What? Clare frowns. Joking about what?

  I can’t breathe and I know it’s coming. A panic attack. It feels like the world is crashing. Like that time we went to the go-karts and Clare cut me off. I ran into a large stack of rubber tires.

  BAM.

  Clare’s mouth pulls funny so I can see her bottom teeth. Um, just a second, she says to Calvin. Then she holds the phone out to me. Do you want to talk to him?

  What do you think? This time I yell it at her. No! Hang up now!

  Clare’s eyes go big. She quickly puts the receiver down. What the hell, Audrey? He heard that, you know.

  Why would you tell him that about me? Why would you tell him I go there?

  Clare blinks at me. Doesn’t he go to Peak too?

  No! And he doesn’t know that I do.

  How was I supposed to know that? You never lie, Audrey.

  I didn’t lie to him. I just never told him.

  That is a lie, Audrey. It’s called a “lie of omission.” Why didn’t you just talk to him? Now he knows you go to Peak AND you insulted him. I doubt he’ll ever call back now.

  Now he’ll never want to be my boyfriend!

  He won’t want to be your boyfriend because you hung up on him! she yells back.

  You told him on purpose.

  Why would I do that?

  Because you hate me. I say the words and know they’re true.

  Clare’s mouth falls open. I think she might try to deny it. I wait.

  And wait.

  I turn and run from the kitchen.

  My legs shake as I climb the stairs. I hold tight to the bannister as I carry the carving back to my room. I find Calvin’s phone number in my sketchbook and rip it into tiny little pieces. They flutter to the floor like snowflakes.

  It’s over. It’s done.

  None of my stupid fantasies will come true. That’s just what they were: stupid fantasies. Like Sirius.

  I know I shouldn’t, but no one will know. I open the chest under the window and pick up where I left off. I play a scene.

  Iron Man has a minion hostage on top of the K’Nex roller coaster. Elsa could normally make an ice staircase and save him. But Iron Man’s goon is holding her hostage: a troll doll with a pink diamond embedded in its stomach.

  Elsa yells up to Iron Man. Why are you doing this? Because I broke your heart?

  And he says, You’re so conceited.

  Elsa keeps him distracted while the monkeys slip out of their barrel and inch toward the roller coaster.

  Maybe I just like to be bad, Iron Man says. Maybe I’m not really the good guy. Maybe all the battles alongside the Avengers made me realize what I want.

  The monkeys are at the back of the roller coaster where Iron Man can’t see them. They begin to climb in a chain. High, higher, highest.

  You could join me, Elsa. With your powers, we would be unstoppable.

  I want to use my powers for good. I just got my sister back.

  For good? That is so boring. Only the good die young.

  Billy Joel’s song begins to play.

  Nice touch, Elsa mutters. Very theatrical.

  The song echoes through the abandoned theme park. The other rides are half-broken. Empty. Soulless.

  Iron Man flies closer to the minion tied to the roller coaster. You would risk it all for your sister, but would she do the same for you?

  No, but I don’t care. She means everything to me.

  More than a life?

  Everything.

  That’s the answer I was hoping for. With an evil smile, Iron Man cuts the ropes, releasing the minion.

  He falls to his death.

  Clare

  Gasping for air, my eyes fly open and I roll to the left, reaching out like I did as a child. But Audrey’s no longer there. Instead of a twin bed, I’m sleeping in a que
en bed in the middle of the room, and my heart is still racing from the nightmare.

  It was as if I were a ghost, floating above Calgary’s river valley. At first it was peaceful—the sun was shining, people were tubing down the Elbow River and having a good time. Then the sky grew dark and full of clouds and rain began to fall, harder and faster, until the roads were slick. I heard a screech and looked down Elbow Drive to see a TJ swerve to miss an oncoming car, roll down the bank, and into the turbulent river. Adam’s TJ.

  Adam! I screamed. Adam, I’m coming! I’ll save you!

  The TJ was upside down in the water. The fog was thick and the wind kept pushing me backwards, but at last I reached the car, grasped the edge of the broken passenger window, and ducked my head inside.

  Only it wasn’t just Adam inside. He’d made it in time to pick up Audrey before the accident. Both of them were covered in ice.

  Still reeling from the nightmare, I draw my knees up to my chest and press my forehead against them, panting hard. Outside, rain hammers my bedroom windows.

  That wasn’t how it happened. On the night of The Accident, it hadn’t been storming like it is now. The roads weren’t even slick. Adam had swerved to avoid a car whose driver was texting and drifted into the opposite lane.

  And thankfully Audrey hadn’t died too. Audrey was still here.

  I hug my knees until the remnants of the dream finally fade away. My skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat, and I’m staring at the space where Audrey’s bed used to be. It’s been almost two years since we shared a room. Back when one of us had a nightmare, we would climb into the other’s bed. We didn’t have to say anything—we knew what had happened. That was because it was usually me crawling in with her.

  I should have said something to her after our fight. I should have told her that I didn’t tell Calvin on purpose and that I don’t hate her. Audrey never asked for any of this. She never asked to be different, and that’s something we have in common. I really hope I haven’t wrecked things with Calvin because he’s the first real friend she’s had in years. Kind of like Taylor is to me, I realize, and feel extra bad.

  I have to see Audrey.

  I throw my blankets off, tiptoe to my door, and open it as quietly as possible. Audrey’s room is across the hall, the door closed. I grasp her doorknob to open it but then pause. What if she refuses to talk to me, the way I’ve refused to talk to her in the past? What if she yells at me again like she did before I cut my hair?

  Her words from our fight earlier come flooding back: You told him on purpose. Because you hate me. Is that what she really thinks?

  Of course it is.

  A month after Adam’s death I had Sharon & Co. over, and Audrey came into the TV room where we were watching a movie and just kind of leaned against the door, waiting to be asked to join. I knew what she wanted but I didn’t invite her. Everyone else ignored her too. So eventually she pretended that she was getting construction paper out of the cupboard and went back to her room.

  I knew I was punishing her and she knew she was being punished. Now I can barely remember a time when I wasn’t punishing her.

  I let go of the doorknob and slip back into my room.

  * * *

  It’s been a week since my standoff with Sharon. She’s ignored me since, indicating she’s made her choice, but I’m okay with that part of my life being over. I’ve been dressing how I feel every morning, and to my surprise, none of the kids have made any comments. So maybe we’ve struck a truce.

  Since the GSA meeting, I’ve been getting together with Taylor and the other kids from the alliance to eat lunch in the park, or grab a slice of pizza or a smoothie down the street from school. On Friday, the last day of classes, everyone is giddy and excited for summer, and the juniors and seniors have an epic water fight in the courtyard before a bunch of teachers rush out of the school to break it up. As we’re heading to Pizza Palace, Taylor grabs my hand and pulls me off the sidewalk and behind a tree in Tomkins Park.

  “You okay?” I ask as they release my hand and pace back and forth, back and forth.

  “Yes. No. I’m nervous.” They stop pacing and take a deep breath. “Okay, I’m just going to come right out and say it. I don’t know how you see me. I mean, we’ve just started hanging out, but we have a connection. Do you feel it?”

  “Yeah.” I look into those beautiful storm-gray eyes and know this is serious. This is one of the most serious moments of my life. “I do.”

  “At first I thought maybe we were just intrigued by each other, you know?” Taylor begins pacing again, talking fast. “But I think it’s more than that. At least for me. I wasn’t sure for you.”

  I step forward to close the gap between us and take both of their hands in my own. I look at their lips, at the subtle shape of them, so naturally red. I get it now: the sweaty palms, the racing heartbeat, the adrenaline that courses through my veins whenever Taylor touches me. “Don’t worry, I feel the exact same way. It’s more than that for me, too.”

  “Thank goodness.” Taylor sags into me with relief. “I’ve been trying to fight it because I wanted to be a friend to you. A real friend.”

  “You are my friend. Probably the first real friend I’ve had in years.”

  “Same. That’s why I’m terrified of messing it up.”

  “It would be worth it. Even if it completely ruins our friendship, which it won’t, it would be completely worth it to have you as my . . .”

  “Datemate,” Taylor offers with a smile.

  “Datemate,” I finish.

  “All right, then how about we go for dinner tonight to celebrate?”

  So when I get home I tell the ’rents that some kids from class are going for burgers and ice cream to celebrate the start of summer. I pull almost everything out of my closet before deciding on a ripped jean skirt and a black backless sweater. It’s my sexiest sweater, the one that used to make guys throw themselves at me. I hope it does the same for Taylor. Maybe it’s the idea of going on a date, but I feel extra feminine today. In addition to the dark liner I used to wear, I apply bright red lipstick.

  The ’rents are playing Scrabble in the living room when I leave, and they do a really bad job of hiding their shock when they see me. Dad even scratches his head like he’s confused.

  I shrug so they know it’s not a big deal. “I just felt like wearing this.”

  “You look good,” Mom says and then adds, “But sweetie, don’t feel like you have to act a certain way just to fit in with the girls.”

  This time I say, “Don’t worry, Mom. This has nothing to do with them. It’s all me.”

  Outside, Taylor is idling in the rain in a little black hatchback. I’m super nervous as I run down the walk with my umbrella and almost wish I could hide behind it in the car. Instead I fumble with it outside the passenger door before sliding into the car.

  “Dressing for my personality,” I explain. “Date night.”

  “Love it.”

  And then we’re off. Across the console Taylor reaches out and takes my hand as we drive, gives me a reassuring squeeze.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “You like this look?” Even though I no longer feel the need to label Taylor, I still can’t help but wonder if they prefer me dressed as a guy or girl.

  “I’d like you in a paper bag.” That suggestive smile is back. “Actually, we should try that.”

  “Mmm, paper bags. So sexy,” I joke.

  “You’re sexy.”

  Reddening, I try to pull my hand away, but Taylor holds tight and I don’t really want to stop. There’s no room to park in front of the restaurant, so we have to run through the rain, huddled under my umbrella. It’s exciting and I’m not even afraid of who might see us. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this confident. As we walk up, I see couples sitting at small tables with white tablecloths, flickering candles warming shy smiles. Taylor gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

  We shake off the umbrella and dart inside. />
  It’s a little French restaurant, dimly lit and romantic, with gold-framed mirrors and paintings of French bistros, rivers, and gardens on the walls. I’m glad I dressed up—I feel pretty and confident, even though I have to keep reminding myself to take deep breaths. It feels so grown-up to be here, smiling at each other over the flickering flame as we butter our bread and swap plates to try each other’s meals. I ordered macaroni au gratin, and Taylor ordered a savory crepe filled with bacon, potato, onions, mushrooms, and parsley. The server knows Taylor and brings us free mochas with whipped cream for dessert. We sit by the rain-soaked windowpane holding our steaming cups, our legs entwined under the table. I like how the rain obscures the view of outside and makes it feel like we’re in a different world.

  “Have you been here a lot?”

  “It’s my parents’ favorite restaurant.” Taylor laughs. “They love crepes. When we lived in London, it was easy to take the train to Paris for a weekend. They miss that, so we started coming here.”

  “A train from London to Paris? Isn’t there an ocean between them?”

  “The English Channel, yes. You can ferry across too but it’s longer and more expensive than the Chunnel. It’s a train that goes underwater.”

  My mouth falls open. “Underwater? That’s so scary. How deep does it go?”

  “Seventy-ish meters? About two hundred fifty feet,” Taylor clarifies.

  “And you’ve been on it?”

  They laugh. “Of course. The whole ride takes two and a half hours, but you’re only underwater for maybe twenty minutes. It just feels like going through a really long tunnel.”

  “I would probably pay more for the ferry.”

  Taylor laughs again. “Maybe one day we can go on it together.”

  It’s a nice dream, especially in this setting. “Where else would we go?”

  “Anywhere you want.”

  “We could travel through France and then go to Italy.”

  “Yes, let’s go to Venice! We can take a gondola ride and drink cappuccinos. It’s very touristy, though. There are a lot of shops and stands selling glass jewelry and masquerade masks.”