Swearing Off Stars

by Danielle Wong

  “We were walking through a park two years ago,” she continued. “Lucy was about to leave for Paris. She’d always wanted to go . . .” Scarlett’s eyes lit up once again. “Anyway, she gave me her bracelet and said to keep it safe until she got back.”

  I looked down and stared at the delicate sterling cuff on Scarlett’s left wrist. It was inscribed with an L.

  “A group of young soldiers were drinking in the park. They started saying things as we walked by. Awful things. I told Lucy to keep walking, but she was always so hardheaded.” A half smile crept across her lips but faded quickly. “One of the men grabbed us. He got really physical. Lucy pushed him hard when he did and . . . his friend pulled out a knife.”

  Scarlett was in tears now. I didn’t know what to say, so I held her hand tighter.

  In between sobs, Scarlett spoke her final words. “He. Hurt. Lucy.” The tears flooded her green eyes and rolled down her flushed cheeks.

  “She’s gone, Lia. My friend is go—”

  My navy peacoat muffled her choked sobs as she cried into my shoulder.

  And there it was: another contradiction. Just when Scarlett Daniels seemed like the strongest, luckiest person on earth, I met a completely different side of her.

  Chapter 5

  Weeks came and went like tourists taking a holiday. There were frequent meetings and more class assignments than I could sanely handle. I was waist-deep in study materials as exams approached.

  I was tempted to withdraw from economics after the incident with Professor Charles, but forced myself to finish out the class. None of my other professors had been so obvious about my presence being unwanted. Maybe they just didn’t care enough. I tried to pour all my energy into studying, hoping that it would help ease my frustration. The stuffy library became my home until the first round of dreaded midterms ended.

  I walked home one Friday night after a late mathematics review. As I unlocked the front door, I wondered if anyone was still awake. All of the downstairs lights were off, so I crept into the kitchen and set down my book bag. I found a heaping plate of leftovers on the stove, labeled with my name in Mrs. Watson’s unmistakably pristine handwriting.

  I unwrapped the dish and smiled at her kindness. We hadn’t really talked since that strange night in the reading nook. I hoped that she trusted me not to say anything; of course I wouldn’t tell Mr. Watson. I still wasn’t entirely sure what to make of our conversation, but a large part of me did feel bad for her.

  I hadn’t taken a second bite of pot roast before I heard a loud noise upstairs, followed by a frantic murmuring that was masked by the distance and the closed bedroom door.

  “For fuck’s sake, Camilla,” Mr. Watson’s voice boomed.

  Then there was angrier talking and some shouting.

  “Go get me another damn drink!”

  Something glass shattered above me. I immediately stood up, filled with a sense of urgency.

  “Please don’t wake the boys,” a timid voice begged.

  I thought I heard a bang, but it was impossible to know for sure. And then there was silence.

  NOVEMBER pumped new life into my schedule as vibrant colors crept onto the forest trees. I found myself outside more, taking morning walks and hiking with Scarlett and Will. The fresh air cleared my head and was a welcome change from the library.

  Scarlett never mentioned the eventful evening we shared in the west dining hall; in fact, she seemed happier than usual, as if it had never happened. I alluded to her story on a few occasions, but she always brushed it off.

  Late one night, Scarlett and I went to Wonderland to catch up and sip wine. Will was at a party and the place was empty, so I decided to broach the subject once again.

  “Scarlett, I’ve been thinking more about your friend, Lucy . . .”

  “I’d rather not talk about any of that,” she was quick to respond.

  “But—”

  “Christ, Amelia. There’s nothing to talk about.” The color drained completely from her face.

  “Does Will know?”

  The room was silent until she finally spoke again.

  “No. And there’s no need for him to.”

  “Don’t you think—”

  “I said I don’t want to talk about it!” she snapped. “Can’t you respect that?”

  “Fine.” My tone was anything but apologetic.

  Another painful silence surrounded us. All I could hear was the warm crackle of the fire in front of us.

  “Look,” she said, the sharpness gone. “I’m sorry. I get like that sometimes when I have my guard up. I’m angry, that’s all.”

  “You have every right to be angry. But I’m just trying to be your friend here.”

  “I know you are. You’re a good friend, Amelia. I need to be a better one.”

  “You and Will have been great to me,” I disagreed.

  “Ah, Will. The lady charmer.” Scarlett chuckled under her breath.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, he’s sweet and very easy on the eyes,” she said with a wink.

  “I like Will because he’s kind. And good to you, Scarlett. Nothing more.”

  “God, Amelia. Don’t worry. I’m not accusing you of flirting, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “I didn’t . . . that’s not what I—”

  “He’s unfaithful,” she said flatly.

  “What?”

  “Doesn’t sound like dearest Will, right? Oh yeah, believe it. Caught him twice last term and once over the summer.”

  “God, Scarlett. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry. We have an arrangement.”

  “An arrangement?” I was under the impression that only troubled married couples could say that. But she changed the subject before I could ask more about it.

  “So what about you? Is there a bloke back in America?”

  “Kind of,” I said as an image of Robbie danced through my head.

  “Ooh la la! Do tell.”

  “His name is Robbie . . . I met him through my parents. We spent most of last fall walking through the orchards and—”

  “Having all sorts of salacious encounters?”

  “Scarlett!” My face must have turned beet red.

  “Don’t be such a prude.” She laughed and adjusted the fur throw under her feet.

  “I—I’ve never.” Embarrassment flooded my body as I struggled to think of another conversation topic.

  “You’re lying!” Scarlett’s emerald greens lit up as the fire crackled louder.

  “Anyway . . .” I said loudly.

  “Nice try! You’re not getting off that easy.”

  “Scarlett, really . . .”

  “You’re telling me that Miss Amelia Cole is a bluenosed virgin?”

  “You’re just trying to embarrass me to death, aren’t you?”

  “Of course not! Lia, it’s me you’re talking to. We’re practically best friends, for heaven’s sake.”

  The genuineness in her voice relaxed me. Scarlett had so many friends, but it was comforting to know she felt the same way I did. She was the only person I wanted to spend time with those days. In a way, I thought of her as different than just a friend.

  “Well, I don’t know about you British women, but in America it’s perfectly normal to save yourself until marriage.”

  I took a sip of my mulberry wine as Scarlett spit hers out.

  “You honestly think that unmarried American women aren’t having sex?” she cried. “That’s outrageous!”

  “No. What’s outrageous is expecting everyone our age to have a long list of sexual encounters.”

  I sounded so much more defensive than I intended. Scarlett noticed this and eased up a little.

  “Well, have you ever wanted to?” she prodded gently.

  “No,” I lied.

  “Not with anyone? Ever?”

  “No.”

  That was a bigger lie.

  “Maybe we should get you to meet some blokes
here, hmm?”

  I shrugged.

  “Let me think . . .” She tapped her shiny red nail against her bare lips. The glow of the fire only made her more beautiful. I sometimes caught myself staring at her for no particular reason.

  “Got it! Marshall Riley, Will’s mate. He’s perfect!”

  “Who?” I sounded almost as uninterested as I felt.

  “Trust me, you’ll like him. The four of us can go to the December Ball together! Like a double date.”

  “Scarlett”—I was ready to switch gears—“why haven’t you been in literature class lately?”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you! Someone’s asked me to be in the winter production! They’re doing Romeo and Juliet.”

  “You’re kidding!” I didn’t even know that Scarlett liked acting.

  “I’ve been doing drama on the side since I’ve been here,” she explained. “It’s an incredible opportunity . . . you know, for acting and modeling in London.”

  “I can imagine you doing that someday if you really want to.”

  “Really?” she smiled. “Thanks, Lia. You’re too sweet.”

  I blushed and told myself it was the wine.

  “Well there aren’t a lot of other options, are there?” she asked cynically. “I sure as hell don’t want to leave Oxford just to become someone’s housewife . . .”

  “You don’t?” I teased. “But that’s the dream!”

  We both giggled and sipped more wine. It was the reality, though. Most women would get married young, stay home, and raise a family.

  Chapter 6

  SCARLETT

  She has this way of permeating my guard. Amelia just slithers through—bit by bit—without me realizing. By the time I do recognize what she’s doing, I’m usually too late. My defenses are down and I’m forced to overreact. It’s vexing, really.

  The thing is, I don’t even think she’s doing it intentionally. She’s naturally curious, but it’s more than that. Amelia treats me differently than I’m used to. I’ve actually come to think of her as one of my best mates, a true confidant.

  We see each other regularly, usually at hangouts initiated by yours truly. I don’t mind it, really . . . Lia—she likes when I call her that—is just painfully shy compared to me. Then she invites me to Wonderland for tea, which has come to mean wine, and of course I agree to join her. We’re drinking and talking and I’m getting a warm flush. Then she mentions Will and I almost reveal everything. I stop drinking before I’m burning with a blue flame. Tipsy Scarlett isn’t great at keeping secrets.

  Chapter 7

  LIA

  It was Thursday, a mere twenty-four hours before we were to present our proposal to Oxford University’s board. Unexpected December sun shone on my face as I stared out the window. I took it as a sign of good luck. I was done with morning classes and manning our information table in the quad. We hoped to get last-minute supporters from the pool of students that frequented the area at lunchtime.

  A sharply dressed professor approached our table. I recognized him from my Tuesday history seminars—he taught across the hall.

  “Hello, Professor!” I said, attempting a friendly greeting.

  But there was no response as he walked faster toward us.

  “Hello, sir,” I tried again.

  Still nothing.

  Before I could venture another try he was towering over me, glaring down through his thin-framed glasses.

  “You ought to be ashamed,” he snarled. “Women don’t belong here, period. And here you are trying to bloody graduate!”

  I was lost for words. It was the opposite reaction I would expect from a professor. Ignorant students, maybe. But esteemed faculty? Definitely not.

  My eyes followed him as he walked away. He approached a group of male students clustered around the science building and as he spoke to them they kept glancing over, making me feel uneasy.

  It wasn’t long before several of them approached my tiny table. I sat up straighter, preparing to shoot back witty statements when they started egging me on. But to my surprise, they didn’t say a single word. Instead, they spread out around the table with their backs to me. Soon they had formed a complete circle, blocking my view of the students walking by. I realized that their true intention was to prevent any students from seeing me.

  A few of them glanced over their shoulders and sneered at me. Others made derogatory comments under their breath, just loud enough for me to hear. I was trapped, stuck in my trivial chair as these men towered over me. I felt my throat tighten as I tried to come up with a plan.

  Then I saw movement in front of me, and suddenly Scarlett was there, shoving men out of the way and forging a path to the table. They looked stunned, as if they didn’t expect a petite blonde to push back.

  She took a seat next to me and gave my hand a quick squeeze.

  “This is crazy . . . I think we should go,” I whispered.

  “What are you talking about?” She looked at me like I was insane.

  “They obviously don’t want us here, and there are a ton of them, Scarlett!” I hissed. My nerves were getting the absolute best of me.

  “That’s what this movement is about. You think we’d be doing all of this if they wanted us here?”

  “I know, but we’re supposed to see the board tomorrow and I want us to make it to the meeting in one piece.” I was half-joking, half-serious.

  “Amelia. You have to be brave.” Scarlett looked me straight in the eyes.

  “I don’t understand the point of all this,” I muttered under my breath. “It keeps getting us into trouble.”

  “The point? You know the point. We’ll be able to graduate with those men someday,” she said firmly. “We’ll be their equals.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “I am sure. So long as women keep believing in themselves.”

  That was one of the things I loved about Scarlett. Despite the crimson lipstick and traditional clothes, she was unlike any woman I knew.

  THE dim evening light was just enough to illuminate the windy path in front of me. I had stayed late after mathematics class to ask a few questions, and was late to meet Scarlett. Again.

  I thought about what we would do that night at Wonder-land. Practice our presentation, gossip, sip wine. Those private meetings had become the most exciting part of my schedule.

  I noticed a group of men as I made my way through the woods. They were huddled around a fire pit, joking around and talking indistinctly. A couple of them looked over when I tried to stray from the path.

  “Hey,” someone shouted as I picked up my pace.

  “You there! Pretty girl!”

  I put my hood on and stuck my hands in my pockets. I knew they would stop if I ignored them. The others murmured something, and then loud footsteps were trailing me.

  “Stop!”

  I didn’t let myself turn around.

  “I said stop, bitch!”

  His voice was much more aggressive than before. My breath quickened as I stumbled over fallen branches.

  “Where are you going?” he shouted as I broke into a full run.

  Chills were running down my back now, and I wasn’t sure if it was the cold air or the impending threat behind me. Two hundred yards out, I was gasping so loudly that I could barely hear his footsteps.

  Finally, I stopped, sure that I’d lost him. I looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. The gentle gray of dusk had intensified to a smoky blue.

  “There you are!” A forceful shove sent me to the ground, and my book bag slid off my shoulder.

  Shaking, I rolled over and faced my attacker.

  “Filthy American,” he sneered. “Go home.”

  He had a squinty face with bitter blue eyes. As I registered his shirt and trousers, I realized that he was one of the protesters from that afternoon. I stood up and dusted off my palms. Every fiber of my being told me to punch him, to hurt him— badly, if possible. But instead I hurried away as he shouted unthinkable things in m
y direction.

  I never told Scarlett about what happened that night. Maybe I didn’t want her to worry about me. Or maybe I just didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that I fled when I should have fought.

  FRIDAY morning finally came. The sun was hidden behind swollen gray clouds and I was a bundle of nerves as I got ready for our big meeting. I put on every smart piece of clothing Scarlett had picked out for me, stopping only to admire how businesslike I looked. But I still couldn’t shake thoughts of what had happened the night before.

  I met Scarlett, Ida, and Will outside of the administration building promptly at 7 a.m. We’d spent the previous night rehearsing everything backward and forward, taking turns pretending to be board members. Now, hoping desperately that it would pay off, we walked up the stone steps and through the daunting double doors. All I could do was take a deep breath, look straight ahead, and march into the university office like I knew what I was doing. Scarlett flashed a nervous smile and followed my lead.

  TWO hours later and we were back on those stone steps. The entire meeting had been a blur. I wasn’t sure if I had blacked out from excitement or sheer embarrassment. I looked around, hoping that my friends could fill in the blank spaces.

  “You were brilliant, Lia!” Will wrapped me into a bear hug and kissed me on the cheek.

  “Very impressive,” Ida agreed dryly.

  I waited for the only opinion I really cared about.

  “That was . . . astounding,” Scarlett finally added after a few moments.

  I flushed red.

  “Where did that come from?!” Will nearly shouted.

  “I—I don’t know . . .” I said honestly.

  He grinned and shook his head. “So humble, Lia. So bloody humble.”

  But humility had nothing to do with it. I honestly had no idea what had just happened. Apparently, though, I’d done something good, even brave—according to my friends, anyway. As we all walked away in separate directions, I heard Will whisper to Scarlett, “Lia can be awfully quiet, but damn, she speaks up when it counts.”

  Later on they would tell grand stories about how I took charge during the meeting. That when the board initially rejected our proposal, I fired back with reasons why they should listen to what we had to say. Apparently I ran the discussion from there, but it just sounded so unlike me. I wondered if Will was right. Maybe I had developed a quiet strength that only came out when it really mattered.