Of Scars and Stardust

by Andrea Hannah

  Woodbury, Minnesota

  Copyright Information

  Of Scars and Stardust © 2014 by Andrea Hannah.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Flux, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  As the purchaser of this ebook, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. The text may not be otherwise reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or recorded on any other storage device in any form or by any means.

  Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the author’s copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover models used for illustrative purposes only and may not endorse or represent the book’s subject.

  First e-book edition © 2014

  Book design by Bob Gaul

  Cover design by Ellen Lawson

  Cover photo titled Ni La Neige, bile froid, Explore by Alexandra Sophie

  Flux is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  Flux does not participate in, endorse, or have any authority or responsibility concerning private business arrangements between our authors and the public.

  Any Internet references contained in this work are current at publication time, but the publisher cannot guarantee that a specific reference will continue or be maintained. Please refer to the publisher’s website for links to current author websites.

  Flux

  Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  2143 Wooddale Drive

  Woodbury, MN 55125

  www.fluxnow.com

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  To all the girls made of stardust.

  part one

  one

  When Rae told me the wolf was watching us in the cornfield again, I laughed. And then I punched her in the arm for being stupid. She used to say that the wolves knew all of our secrets, that with pricked ears they listened to the rumors about Lacey Jordan and the janitor, that the whole pack knew about how Rae had lost her virginity in her mom’s spare bedroom two summers ago. Sometimes she said they inched even closer when we smuggled cherry vodka under our fur-lined jackets, the bottles clinking against the buttons on our jeans. The wolves liked cherry-flavored things.

  My boots crunched through the icy film covering the cornfield. I followed Rae through the brittle stalks jutting out from the snow as the empty sky smothered us in blue. Her hair poked out from beneath her hat and her breath curdled like sour milk in the cold.

  “What are we doing? Seriously,” I huffed as I dodged a broken stalk.

  Rae laughed, and her pointy nose tipped toward the sky. “Can’t you ever just, like, go with the flow, Claire?” She stopped and lifted a puffy green mitten out to her side. “Look at this gorgeous day. Come on, enjoy it! Who knows when you’ll see the sun again.” She shuffled through the snow, swinging her hands through the broken corn.

  “Excuse me, ‘when you’ll see the sun’? Pretty sure you’re trapped here too, Rae.” But Rae just laughed, still swinging her mittens in lazy figure eights as she kicked up the first remnants of winter behind her.

  I followed. Because I always followed.

  Rae plopped into a clump of snow just the right size for two skinny girls and chewed on her chapped lips. I sank down next to her, even though I didn’t have my snow pants on. Cold seeped through my underwear and made my butt ache.

  For a second, I swore I almost saw the wolf, the one that Rae had said tried to pull a pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket one time. But I blinked, and the outline of fur melted into the snow.

  Rae’s head snapped up and she squinted into the blurry, almost-wolf shadow hidden between the stalks. “I’m totally going to get out of this crappy town,” she whispered into my ear, like if she said it too loud, the wolf would howl out her words until they bounced between the sleepy houses. “And I’m going to have an apartment on the fiftieth floor somewhere and my own couch and a chair that’s red, just because I can.”

  I sighed, poking a finger into the snow. “Yeah, me too.”

  “No. I’m going to get out of here.”

  I looked up and saw her watching me, eyes narrowed. “I know, Rae. Me too. We’re gonna move away together one day.”

  Rae sucked on her bottom lip. Then she let out a puff of air. “One day is in three days.”

  The day was still around us, so still that Rae’s words ec-hoed through the cornfield and the snow and the sky. Except for the snap of a brittle leaf just in front of us and a flash of gray as thick as a secret.

  I pulled in a breath between my teeth. Rae wrapped her green mitten around my wrist and squeezed. But if the wolf really was here, listening, it was either already gone or too quiet to be caught.

  I turned back to Rae and whispered: “What do you mean, three days? You’re, like, a year from graduating.”

  “But Robbie already has,” she said.

  I scrunched my nose as I poked another finger into the snow. “So?”

  “So, Robbie’s moving to Chicago. And I’m going with him. We’re leaving a couple days before Christmas.” She squealed and clapped her mittens together.

  “Are you insane?” I stood, brushing the snow from my jeans. “You’ve known him for, like, a week! And how much have you actually talked to him, since you’ve just been sucking face with him after your parents go to bed?” I paced between the stalks, my pink hands making circles in the air. “This is just … this is insane, Rae, don’t do it.”

  Rae stood, and instead of looking mad, her eyes were soft and empty. She grabbed my shoulders, and my boots scuffed the snow. “I’m going, Claire. And I need you to promise me something.”

  I closed my eyes and sucked in the winter air. I was almost afraid to ask. “What, Rae?”

  A mitten landed in the snow with a soft thump. I opened my eyes. The blade of a paring knife lay dangerously close to her palm. “What are you—”

  Rae flicked the knife and red slithered across her skin. Her eyes flashed as she grabbed my hand. “Now you.”

  I pulled back but she was too quick; another flick, and then the heat of my own blood pooled in my palm. Rae dropped the knife and held her hand in front of mine.

  “Promise me that you won’t tell anyone, not even Ella, that you know where I am,” she breathed. “Even when they ask.”

  I stared at her hand, constellations of blood collecting at the creases. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” Rae smiled and pressed her hand to mine. “Blood oath. Non-breakable.” We pulled away, and I stuck my hand into the snow to dilute the itchy feeling of dried blood. When I stood up again, Rae wrapped me in a hug. “Now I’m always with you, wherever you go,” she whispered. “I know you’ll keep your promise.”

  I did keep my promise.

  For as long as the wolves let me.

  two

  “No, Laura, I’m just as lost as you are about the whole thing,” Mom said, stretching the phone cord between her fingers. Her long hair was thrown into a messy knot at her neck. “I’d just tell her if she raids your liquor cabinet one more time, she’s going to live with your sister in Alpena.”

  I sat at the breakfast bar, my flannel pajamas bunched up at my wais
t. I pulled at the drawstrings. A small, embroidered R followed by a crooked B stared up at me. “Oh,” I said, and Dad folded down the paper and raised an eyebrow.

  “Hold on a sec, Laura.” Mom wrapped her fingers around the end of the phone. “Do you know something, Claire?” she whispered, her eyes shining.

  “About what, Mom?” I asked, even though I already knew. It had to be about Rae. It always was.

  “Rae,” she whispered. “Laura found a packed suitcase under her bed.”

  My cheeks felt hot as I ran my thumb over the letters. “Um, no. I don’t know anything about that. I just remembered these are Rae’s pajamas, that’s all. I think she left them last time she spent the night.”

  Mom nodded and her face sagged. “Why don’t you get dressed, okay? Tell Ella to get dressed, too. We’ll do your birthday cake before church tonight.” She smiled and the bags beneath her eyes tightened. She pressed the phone to her cheek. “No, I thought she might know what’s going on with Rae, but she hasn’t said anything … ”

  My stomach churned as I jumped off the stool, still clutching the giant pants so they wouldn’t end up around my ankles. Even though Rae was only a year and a half older than me, sometimes it felt more like a decade between us. We’d always talked about leaving Amble, getting in an old beater with a guy who smelled like cigarettes and drove fast enough to make the cornstalks blur on our way out of town. But the idea of actually doing it—actually packing up a suitcase and slipping into the night—made me feel a little sick. Not Rae, though.

  Dad cleared his throat from the other side of the paper, cutting through my thoughts. “Do you know something, Claire? Why Rae has a full suitcase under her bed?” The words were so quiet that I barely heard them over the rustling pages.

  My mind tumbled over Rae’s plans: snapshots of her getting into a car with a guy who had too much hair and a future that was too unclear to see past the Ohio state border.

  Just tell him.

  I twisted Rae’s initials around my fingers. Dad set down the paper and folded his hands over the headlines. “Well?”

  The secret burned in my throat like the cheap grape cough syrup that Mom always made me and Ella take if we even so much as sneezed. I swallowed it down.

  “I have no idea.”

  Dad watched me for a long moment before nodding. His eyes flicked back to the paper. “Well, if you remember anything, you know where to find me.”

  I tried to say something cheery and confident, like “Oh yes, I will most definitely tell you if I hear anything.” But a strangled little noise came out instead. I tugged at the pajama drawstrings as I walked down the hall.

  “Mom says to get dressed,” I said, shoving open Ella’s door. She sat in the middle of her room, under her self-made canopy of paper stars and lightning bolts. A riot of rainbow twinkle lights blinked around the window. Remnants of her childhood still clung to the yellowing walls, while posters of bands and boys had started to spread between them like ivy.

  “I am dressed,” she said, smoothing down the stripes on her skirt. She blinked up at me. “What’s wrong with this?”

  “Ell, it’s winter. You’ll totally freeze.” As I freed her from the too-short skirt, she grabbed at my hand. “Where are those brown pants I gave you?”

  She brushed a blond curl from her cheek. “Um, the closet … maybe.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her before flinging open the closet door. A pile of wrinkly, sparkly clothes smelling kind of like her Cherry Blast body spray tumbled out. I groaned and started picking through the disaster. “Mom is so going to kill you.”

  Ella threw her hands to her hips. “No, she’s not! Have you seen her closet? It looks just like mine.”

  I wrestled with some kind of fuzzy sweater to free the pants, smiling as I turned to throw them at her. Neon yellow and black striped tights crawled up her legs until they collided with a blue tank top that looked like someone had sneezed sequins across it. She looked like a tiny, misguided fashion experiment, like a cutout of one of those outfits that showed up in Seventeen and made you wonder if anyone in fashion was sane.

  “Please, put these on,” I said, laughing. “And throw a sweater on while you’re at it.”

  Ella grabbed the pants, rolling her eyes. I started untangling stray socks and underwear from the closet floor.

  “Hey! You need your birthday prize!” she chirped from behind me. A wind chime made of rusty spoons she’d collected from the diner downtown jangled as she opened her desk drawer.

  I scrunched my nose. “My birthday prize should be for you to let me destroy that wind chime.” I made my fingers into scissors and pretended to cut the strings free from the knob.

  Ella laughed, smacking my hand away. “No way. You may hate it, but this wind chime is the awesomest. I swear, I get good luck every time it rings.” Her hair slid down her neck as she shuffled through the drawer. “So today’s my lucky day, not yours.” She stuck her tongue out.

  My heart skipped a beat. I could definitely use some luck, I thought. For a quick second, I considered actually borrowing Ella’s wind chime.

  “Here it is!” she sang, pulling out a small box wrapped in her own artwork. “Happy fifteenth birthday!”

  “Hmm … what is it?” I shook the box wildly next to one ear and then the other. Making Ella wait was always the best part of opening birthday presents. “What could it be—?”

  “Open it, open it!” Ella bounced on the desk chair, her pink cheeks glowing.

  “Okay, okay.” I grinned, tugging the lid off the box. Inside sat a small knitted bird. Threads of periwinkle blue and smoky gray yarn wove through the wings. A fat black bead sat in place for an eye. I picked it up and held it in my palm.

  “It’s so pretty, Ell,” I breathed. I glanced up at her. “Did you make this?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, nodding. “It’s a bookmark, see? The wings can stick out of the book.” She grabbed the bird from my hand and tilted it so its wing poked upward. “And it’s a bird because I know you want to move away to New York and study clothes and all that stuff. So it’s, like, saying you can fly or something.”

  I took the bird from Ella’s hand and ran my fingers over the soft little bumps of yarn.

  Ella bit her lip, glancing between me and the bird. “It was Mom’s idea.”

  I smiled and reached to pull her into a giant hug. “Thank you so much,” I whispered. “It’s the best present in the whole universe.”

  “Hey girls,” Dad said, tapping on the door as he poked his head in. “Mom and I have to run out.”

  Ella’s eyes went wide. “Why? It’s Claire’s birthday!”

  “I know, sweetheart, we’re so sorry.” Mom pushed past Dad and reached for my hand. “We’re going to stop by Laura’s and see if we can help her talk some sense into Rae.” She opened her mouth to say something but choked back the thought with a cough. Then she said, “She thinks Rae’s going to try to leave again.” She squeezed my fingers, like her words were sharp enough to puncture my skin. But really they just bounced off of me like butter knives, leaving only an itchy spot where they’d been thrown. Rae always said she was going to leave. “We’ll still have cake tonight, promise.”

  I slid my hand from hers. “This isn’t the first time she’s packed a suitcase, you know,” I blurted. “She always comes back anyway.”

  Rae had tried to run away twice before. Once on her seventh birthday, and once on Halloween last year, still dressed in her evil fairy costume. She always said that holidays were the best days for running away because everyone was too busy to notice until it was too late. But both times Rae had come back on her own, saying it was because she’d forgotten her favorite yellow slippers, or a magazine, or a pack of Diet Coke.

  The only difference this time was that Robbie would be driving her. And that between the two of them, they probably had enough money to buy a pa
ck of Diet Coke when they ran out.

  “Okay, Telegram, we’re gonna go.” Dad patted the top of Ella’s head and she winced under the weight of his palm or the cheesy nickname; either one. “Claire, look after your sister.”

  They walked out the door and Ella plopped back under her canopy, making the stars and lightning bolts dance on their strings. I let the air out of my chest.

  Relief flooded over me and my stomach tingled with giddiness. On one hand, I knew Rae would be super disappointed if Dad and the rest of the Amble Police Department (all three of them) discovered her plans and made her ditch Robbie and stay home. But on the other hand, if she stayed home, safe and sound, I could keep the secret and have Rae around.

  The front door clicked shut and Ella popped back up. “Come on.” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the hall.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I asked while Ella combed through the coat closet. A pile of mismatched mittens and totally nasty hats began to grow on the floor.

  “We’re going on a bike ride.” Ella turned, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve got another birthday prize! A surprise prize. Come on.” She shoved my coat into my arms, and a small wooden box tumbled to the floor.

  “Is this the surprise prize?” I asked, bending down to pick it up. Ella grabbed it out of my hands and popped the lid off before I could even guess what was inside.

  She scrunched her nose as she peered at its contents. “Ew, no. This is not your surprise prize, Claire.” She picked up a dingy knife from the box and wrapped her fingers around the warped wooden handle. Her eyes narrowed as she examined the tip. “Is that—”

  “Blood,” I said. My stomach churned as I stared at the rust-colored splatters. “I think so.”

  “Gross,” Ella said as she jammed the knife back into the box and chucked it into the closet. “Dad has the weirdest stuff.”

  I swallowed back the sick feeling in my throat. The sight of blood never failed to make me woozy. “Yeah. Probably a hunting knife.” Just a hunting knife. I closed my eyes and forced the vision away. “So what is this surprise you keep talking about?”