by L. Danvers
“What?”
“The stars? What did she say about them?”
“Oh. Sorry.” She lowered her voice so that the sentence that followed would sound as dramatic as the way Quinn always said it when they were young. “They say the stars are full of secrets. Kept quiet by the silence of the night.”
“That’s right.” His mouth curved up into a half-smile. “Who are they, anyway?”
“Ha. That is the question, isn’t it? Hey, speaking of Quinn. She got the job, you know. As an analyst for NASA.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah.” Cal hated the way that came out. She should sound happy for her sister.
“How are you two getting along these days?”
“Better.” Cal pulled the locket from underneath her dress collar and showed it to him. “She gave it to me for Christmas. She said she wants us to be close again.”
“I’m glad.”
Cal chugged the last of her glass and asked Flynn if he wanted to dance. He shook his head. He wasn’t much of a dancer. She handed him her drink and slinked to the dance floor, where she met up with her college roommate. Audrey grabbed her by the hand and twirled her around.
It felt good to let off some steam. She’d been under so much stress. It was nice to let loose and have fun. She knocked back a couple shots a server had handed out and danced all night.
There was one brief moment, one pause between songs, where she felt someone staring at her. She turned to see if it was Flynn, but he was nowhere to be found. The only person she saw looking in her direction was a middle-aged black woman in a green gown. She didn’t have a drink in her hand or a plate of hors d’oeuvres. She didn’t dance. She didn’t speak to anyone. She wasn’t smiling or scowling. She stood there, expressionless, watching. A group of buzzed college girls stumbled past her, and like that, the woman was gone.
“Isn’t this fun?” Audrey shouted over the blaring music, her freckled face flushed as red as her hair from dancing.
“What?” Cal asked, pointing to her ear to signal she couldn’t hear.
“Isn’t this fun?” Audrey screamed again, annunciating so Cal could read her lips.
Audrey encouraged Cal to take another shot, and Cal forgot about the mysterious woman in the green dress. A couple different guys, both of whom reeked of alcohol, tried cutting in to dance with Cal, but she declined. She was having fun with Audrey.
Shrill microphone feedback pierced her ears as someone tapped their finger against it to make an announcement. The partygoers fell silent, save for a handful of people who had had far too much to drink and were unaware it was close to midnight.
It occurred to Cal that she hadn’t seen Flynn in a while. Where could he have gone? They were on a boat. It wasn't like it was that big.
“Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen...”
The crowd raised their fists in the air, cheering as they counted down to the New Year.
She weaved between lovebirds and clusters of friends, and before the partygoers shouted one, a stranger scooped his hand around her waist, drew her in close and kissed her. Cal shoved him, swatted him and called him a creep before she descended down the steps to look for her friend. She found him sitting at a table by himself, empty drink in hand. The train of a green gown slinked around the corner and down the hall behind him.
“Where have you been?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.
He shrugged. “Around, I guess.”
She tugged his hand and dragged him back up to the deck. “Come on. We don’t want to miss the fireworks. They’re supposed to be spectacular this year.”
Crackling lights whirled into the night sky, bursting into a magnificent colorful display. Cal loved the ones that sparkled as they mushroomed and descended back toward Earth, disappearing into the black surrounding them.
It was two in the morning before the boat docked, and Cal and Flynn shared a hovercab home. Cal was happy to save a few bucks, and it didn’t hurt having a friend on hand in case she got sick. Her head was spinning. She slumped back against the seat and rested her hand on her pounding forehead.
“You doing alright?” Flynn asked.
“I’m fine,” she lied. She thought she was going to hurl. She needed to get her mind off her stomach. Fast. “Say something.”
“What?”
“Please. Say something. Anything.”
“Okay. Um. Do you have any plans for tomorrow?”
“You mean today?” She laughed. “Yeah. Get over this hangover for starters. And later I’m meeting up with Quinn to watch a movie.”
“Oh wow. So you two really are trying to work things out? That’s great.”
“Mhmm.”
The hovercab slowed to a stop.
“Do you want me to walk you inside? I don’t mind. I can make you a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll be alright. Thanks.” She climbed out, stepped on the hovering disc in front of her apartment door and waved goodbye.
Chapter Six
Cal chewed her nail, waiting for her shot as she stood there in front of the White House. The crisp night air stung her cheeks, and despite her efforts, she couldn’t stop sniffling.
“Standby.” Her producer’s voice rang through the small device tucked in her ear.
She felt ridiculous for worrying so much about how she would handle herself later that evening, about spending time with her own sister. Her own blood. All they were going to do was watch a movie at Quinn’s apartment. They didn’t have to talk if they didn’t want to.
Cal checked the notes on her FlexTab, illuminated by pale blue light. She scanned them once more and gulped. Here she was stressing over something as trivial as hanging out with her sister when she was about to read a horrid story on live television.
Cal thrust her shoulders back and raised her chin, her eyes wet from staring into the harsh light of the camera. She shifted her attention up to the stars, a brief respite from the burning sensation. She admired their stillness. Their simplicity. She wondered how silly her problems would seem to them. She was but a speck of sand—no, smaller than that—in the sea of the cosmos. Perhaps that’s why Quinn was so fascinated with understanding the universe. It put things in perspective.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Bonnie Bernhardt tossing to her in her signature flat tone. White House Correspondent Calista Cameron joins us with the latest.
“Thanks, Bonnie,” Cal said, with focus that surprised herself, considering how far her mind had wandered. “While the president remains tight-lipped on the possibility of U.S. involvement in what analysts speculate is a coming war, it was anything but quiet outside the White House this afternoon. Thousands gathered today in what started as a nonviolent protest, pleading for peace, when at 2:00 p.m. a gunman fired into the crowd and injured eight people, two of whom remain in critical condition. The rest, I am told, are expected to make a full recovery.
“Police fired shots at the gunman to subdue him. They aren’t saying much about him, but they did tell me he is undergoing surgery for his injuries. Police insist the public is no longer in danger.
“Funds have been set up to assist the victims with medical bills. If you would like to donate, please visit our website for more information. Reporting live from the White House, Calista Cameron, Channel 12 News. Back to you, Bonnie.”
Cal stood there, her somber expression frozen in place, until she got the all clear from her producer. She packed her camera and FlexTab, and she lugged her things through the grass, which was specked with candles, lit to honor each of the victims. Members of the community huddled in groups, praying for the victims’ recoveries, while other people stared with tear-filled eyes at the scene of the crime, hoping for clarity. To make sense of the tragedy.
Cal tried not to dwell on the day’s events. She couldn’t imagine why a man would shoot peaceful protesters. What motive could he have had? No, she didn’t want to think about it. She had been there too many times before.
It was hard not getting too invest
ed in the stories she covered, but for her own sanity she had to compartmentalize those thoughts and put them away at the end of the day. Otherwise she’d go mad.
Plus, she was pretty far down a different rabbit hole already. That morning, before the press briefing, before the protest, before the shooting, she’d spoken with two more family members of loved ones who disappeared without a trace. With each phone call she had hoped to gain some sense of understanding, but they left her more confused.
Maybe there wasn’t always a satisfying answer for why bad things happened. But maybe there was. Maybe she had to keep digging.
She hailed a hovercab, and she arrived at the doorstep of the lobby of Quinn’s high-rise apartment in a matter of minutes. Her reflection in the glass door had a hazy yellowish-pink look to it—light from the ancient neon signs across the street. Cal jumped back as the door swung open, propped by the arm of a doorman. Her eyes followed his pristine white glove, up his maroon suit jacket that covered his lanky arm and met his wide grin as he greeted her.
“Welcome, Ms. Cameron,” he said. Cal furrowed her brow. “My apologies, I know we haven’t met. My name’s Dale. Your sister informed me she was expecting you.”
“But how did you—”
“You look like her,” he answered before she could finish her question. “The elevator’s over there.”
She thanked him and made her way across the circular lobby. She found the design to be more artistic than practical. It fit Quinn’s style so well.
A sudden motion caught her line of vision. A man’s breath caught. The tops of his bulging knuckles were white from gripping his shiny black cane. In his other hand, the hand with which he was waving, was a leash. Attached to it was a golden retriever sitting by his side. Its white hairs around its eyes and snout made it look as old as its owner.
“Yes?” Cal said, her bag of camera gear weighing heavy on her shoulder. The dog wagged its tail and licked her leather boots as she approached.
“Would you mind, darling?” he asked. He handed her the leash and fished in his pocket. Cal knelt and brushed her fingers through the panting dog’s silky hair until the man pulled out a key. “My back is spasming,” he said, taking the leash and handing the key to her. “Could you reach up there and fetch my mail for me? Apartment 322.”
Cal smiled at the sweet man. He reminded her of Grandpa Jack. “Of course.” She found the metal box engraved with 322, unlocked it and handed him his pile of mail. She locked it back up for him and returned the key.
“Thank you so much. Sometimes I hate my body for betraying me in old age. When I was your age, I thought I’d be young forever. I surprise myself when I look in the mirror, wondering who that old guy is staring back at me. I feel twenty-five in here.” He tapped his finger against his left temple.
Cal’s heart sank. What could she say to that? She had to say something. “Listen. If you need anything, feel free to ask my sister.” She wished she could have come up with something more heartfelt, but that was what popped in her head. “Her name’s Quinn Cameron. I’m here visiting her.”
“Hmm,” he said, rubbing the white whiskers on his chin. “Quinn. Quinn.”
“She looks a lot like me,” Cal said, trying to jog his memory. “But she’s a few years older and has blonde hair. She hasn’t lived here long, so you probably haven’t run into her yet. Oh, you know what? I have a picture.” She dug her locket out from under her cherry coat and pressed down on the butterfly to reveal the holographic image of the two of them. “See? That’s Quinn. I’m sure you’ll see her around. She lives up on the 37th floor.”
“How lucky your parents are to have two beautiful daughters. Thank you, darling. I’ll remember that.”
She tucked her locket back under her coat, said goodbye to the old man and his dog and took the glass elevator to Quinn’s floor. She felt awkward standing there, knowing people could see her as she ascended. She felt exposed. This must be what zoo animals felt like.
The elevator came to a halt, and the door whooshed open. She walked down the carpeted hall and banged on the door of Room 374.
“Come in!” Quinn yelled from inside.
Cal slipped into the apartment and closed the door behind her. She stared in wonder at the spacious living room that was big enough to eat her whole apartment for breakfast. She worried Quinn was being too frivolous. She hadn’t started the job at NASA yet, and she was already spending money like crazy. First the FlexTabs for everyone at Christmas, next the locket, and now this? What was she thinking?
Cal resisted the urge to grab her sister by the shoulders and shake her until she realized how irresponsible she was being. That wouldn’t go over well. It wasn’t her place.
She had to admit, though, the room did look spectacular.
“You’ve already decorated,” she said.
“Oh, I picked up a couple things here and there. I was out and about the other day with a friend, and we walked into this furniture shop. I couldn’t help myself.”
It was more than a couple things, though. The wall separating the coat closet and kitchen was home to three silver-trimmed circular mirrors which fanned out like rays of the sun. They were a stark contrast to the navy blue paint that filled the space. Those were new. There was a turquoise sofa just ahead, across from the kitchen. It was overflowing with pillows and had a white fur blanket draped over the back. Those were new. Across from the sofa, on the floor in front of the wall, sat a long rectangular box. A holographic projector. That was new.
“What are you doing standing there?” Quinn asked. “Sit down.”
She hung up her bag and coat. She sat on the tufted couch in the center of the room. The lights dimmed at the press of a button, and Quinn sat beside her. She had a bowl of steaming buttery popcorn in one arm and a package of red licorice, Cal’s favorite candy, in her free hand.
“You remembered,” Cal said, smiling. She grabbed the box, broke a piece from the end of the strand and ate it. Her sister gave her a funny look. “What?”
“Who eats licorice like that?”
“I do.”
Quinn pulled up Hello From Across the Moonlit Sea, Cal’s favorite actress’s new romantic comedy, on the HP. Cal appreciated the gesture. Quinn used to pick on her for watching these kinds of movies, her guilty pleasure, but Cal always suspected her sister secretly liked them, too.
The movie characters and background appeared, hovering over the projector. The opening scene depicted a handsome sailor saying goodbye to his high school sweetheart. It was amazing how lifelike holograms had become. The sound, from the dialogue to the waves splashing against the naval ship in the background, filled the entire living room. It felt like they were there witnessing the movie’s events firsthand. If it wasn’t for the aura of soft light around them, and of course the projectors underneath, it would be hard to separate the three-dimensional holograms from real life. That was why so many people were so celebrity-obsessed. They felt like they knew the actors, had them in their homes.
Cal tried to stifle her sniffles when the movie came to an end. She dabbed the warm tears from her cheek, praying Quinn wouldn’t notice. But she did.
“Oh my God. Are you crying? That was so cheesy and predictable.”
“Of course it was predictable,” Cal said between sniffs. “It was a romantic comedy. That doesn’t make it any less sweet. He loved her so much.”
“I can’t understand why you like this garbage anyway. The guy and girl always end up together at the end. Why can’t she be happy on her own? Take this movie. She was a brilliant nurse. And she gave it up for some guy.”
“He wasn’t some guy. He was her soulmate. And I didn’t ask you to watch it. You’re the one who picked it out.”
“I was trying to be nice. And she couldn’t be with him and work? Come on, that’s ridiculous.”
“What if she didn’t want to keep working? What if he was enough for her?”
“That’s your problem, Cal,” Quinn said. “You live in this fan
tasy world.”
Cal clenched her jaw and squinted her eyes, daring Quinn to finish this... this attack.
“Life isn’t like the movies. You expect everything to be perfect. That’s not real. Life is messy and confusing, and it doesn’t always end happily ever after. Life doesn’t go according to plan. You have this idea in your head of what it should be like, and when it doesn’t go the way you envisioned you act like the world is against you. Take your job for instance.”
Cal stood and put her hands on her hips. “Not everyone can be like you, Quinn. Most people don’t know what they want to be when they grow up when they’re in third grade, let alone have that dream come true.”
“Why are you getting so defensive? And you know what? This job wasn’t handed to me. I spent years of my life working hard for it.”
“I guess I wasn’t lucky enough to be like you and know what I was supposed to do with my life,” Cal snapped, her heart racing. She knew she was escalating the situation, but she couldn’t stop herself. It was like her mouth was working independent of her brain. “I didn’t grow up dreaming of working as a reporter. Writing was the only thing I was good at.”
Quinn stood up, raising her voice to match Cal’s. “Stop playing the victim. You act like you have such a difficult life. You were the popular one in school. You were the athletic one. You were the clever one. You—”
A blue light shone from Quinn’s wristband. A name flashed across the screen. Luke Porter. Cal’s Luke. The Luke that she had caught cheating on her with someone he’d listed as hot blonde.
“Why is Luke texting you?”
“What?”
“You heard me. How does my ex-boyfriend have your number?”