Stardust: Half Light

by Alyssa Rose Ivy

  “Frozen treats?”

  “Yes. I remember there were different colors and flavors. My aunt took us sometimes.”

  “You’re talking about sno-balls, aren’t you?” Angie walked up to us with Dale right behind her. “Sweet flavored ice?”

  “Yes.” Rachel nodded. “That sounds right.”

  “Plum Street just opened up again for the season.” Dale surprisingly supplied helpful information. “We could go there.”

  “And are the animals still here? On the other side of the park?”

  “The zoo?” I wasn’t sure why I was asking. She couldn’t have really have been talking about anything else.

  “Yes!” She grinned. “The elephants were huge. And those cute animals who swam around in circles.” Rachel sounded so young as she reminisced. Underneath her excitement was a sadness that was hard to miss.

  “We can go to the zoo if you want.” I was missing class, but worse things had happened.

  “Oh.” Her face became blank. “I mean we have to find Benjamin.”

  “We don’t have to stay long. I have a membership, so I can get you in for free.” Angie nudged my shoulder.

  “Yeah, it won’t take long.”

  “Okay. Zoo first, and then we’ll find him.”

  12 Noah

  “Still want that sno-ball?” We were headed back toward home after a few hours at the zoo. Rachel had been as mesmerized by the animals as she hinted that she’d be. I’d been to the zoo a bunch of times, yet it felt like the first time when I was with her. Instead of rushing by like I usually did, she took her time. She generally walked around an enclosure until she found an ideal spot. She zoned in so intently, it took one of us loudly clearing our throat or gently coaxing her along to move anywhere.

  I didn’t want to, but I was beginning to agree more and more with Angie about the trauma angle. Based on the way Rachel viewed things as if seeing them for the first time, my best guess was she had been in a bunker or something.

  Rachel shook her head. “Oh. No. That’s okay.”

  “You’re not in the mood?” Angie asked gently.

  “No… I. I don’t have any money.”

  “Yeah, we know.” Angie smiled. “I can afford to buy you one.”

  “You are already being so nice to me.”

  “So let me be nicer.” Angie walked by her side. Sometimes my sister could be really cool.

  Instead of turning immediately toward the house, we detoured to Plum and Burdette Street to hit up the best sno-balls around as far as I was concerned.

  “Wow. That’s a lot of choices.” Rachel stared at the menu of flavors. “What kind should I get?”

  “Well, what do you like?” I turned my back to the bright yellow sign behind the counter.

  “I’m not sure.” She frowned.

  I needed to get rid of that expression. “You can’t go wrong with classics like cherry and lemon.”

  “Ok. I’ll have that.” The frown was replaced by a smile, and I returned it with a smile of my own.

  “Get her a pail, so she gets the Chinese food container.” Dale pointed to the cups displayed on the wall. “That way she gets the real experience.”

  She shook her head. “The smallest is fine with me.”

  “We could split if you want cherry and lemon,” I suggested without really thinking it through. That probably came off as pushy. “But you could also get your own and eat what you want.”

  “Sharing sounds good.”

  A few minutes later we had our sno-balls and started the walk back to my house. Rachel took a bite with her plastic spoon. She closed her eyes, as if to better savor the taste. “Just as good as I remember.”

  Angie shoved me. I stopped staring. I was a creeper. A certified creeper, but I couldn’t help it. I’d never seen anyone enjoy a sno-ball that much.

  “So you got them a lot with your brother then?” Angie took a bite of her strawberry shortcake cream flavored one. Angie was weird about flavors.

  “Not a lot, but enough that I remember the taste.”

  “I’d never had one until I moved here. Other places have shaved ice or Italian ice, but this is different,” I rambled on.

  “You picked good flavors.” She handed the container back over to me.

  “Oh. Glad you like them.” I glanced at my watch as we turned on my street. “Crap. I have class in fifteen minutes.” Normally I’d have skipped. I’d already missed one class that day, but I couldn’t miss Modern American History. Not a chance.

  “Oh.” Rachel reached over and took another spoonful. “I forgot you are still in school.”

  “Unfortunately I have plenty of years to go.” The house came into view.

  “Should I wait at the house?” The house? I noticed she didn’t refer to it as my house. I knew there was no reason to read into it. She was used to viewing the house as hers.

  “You can come with me.” Once again I spoke without thinking.

  “Really?” Rachel’s voice lilted. “I won’t be a burden?”

  “No. It’s really not going to be a problem.”

  “But isn’t that a small class?” Dale pulled out his keys as we reached the steps. “Your professor is going to notice. She’d be better off going to bio chem with me.”

  “And bore her to death?” I held open the door for Rachel and Angie.

  “How would any subject bore me that much?” Rachel’s brow furrowed.

  “It’s a joke.” Dale took a seat at the table. “I’m going to skip bio chem. I wasn’t supposed to be back for class today anyway.”

  “What is your class about?” Rachel turned to me.

  “History. It’s specifically about the turn of the twentieth century through World War II.”

  “Oh.” Rachel clasped her hands together. “I’d really like to go to that class.”

  “I’ll tell my professor you’re a friend visiting. Just go along with my explanation. Okay?” I didn’t want to get a professor involved if I didn’t have to.

  “Sure.” She nodded. “Do we go now?”

  “I need to grab my stuff, but then we can head over.”

  “Ok.”

  “I need to run to class too. I’ll meet up with you guys later?” Angie met my eyes.

  “Yes. Sounds good.” I had a feeling she wasn’t going to class. She was likely going to be researching something relating to Rachel.

  I expected Rachel to remind me of my promise to help find her brother afterward, but she didn’t this time. I grabbed my bag, and we started the short walk over toward campus. Rachel walked beside me, always looking up and around. “Do you hear that?” She stopped.

  “Hear what?”

  “That bird? It’s beautiful.” There was genuine wonder in her voice.

  “Oh.” I focused and could barely hear a bird chirping over the sounds of cars passing by. “You’ve got good hearing.”

  “No. I just missed those sounds.”

  “There are no birds where you live?” And this is where I was acutely reminded of our situation.

  “Not like this.” Her voice was low. “Sorry to make you stop.”

  “Please don’t apologize. It’s good to stop to listen to the birds. Kind of like when people say, take the time to stop and smell the roses.”

  “That’s a nice saying.” She put her hands back in the pockets of the sweatshirt.

  “You haven’t heard it?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “People say it everywhere. Well, in the U.S.”

  “Yeah, not where I was raised.”

  We fell into silence as we crossed the quad. I stopped her right before we walked into the grey stone building. “Remember, go along with whatever I tell the teacher.”

  “I will.”

  I led the way down the hallway and into the classroom. Professor O’Neil was seated at the desk at the front of the room. I walked over, hoping he bought my story.

  Professor O’Neil smiled. “Hi, Mr. Cole. What can I do for you?”r />
  “This is my friend. Rachel. She’s visiting for a few days. Is it okay if she sits in on class today?”

  “Of course.” Professor O’Neil smiled. “Welcome to my class.”

  Rachel nodded. “Thank you. I look forward to listening.”

  “Are you a fan of history?” Professor O’Neil adjusted his glasses.

  “Yes. Very much so.” She smiled. “Although I don’t know much about it.”

  “Well then, studying history is the right move. I hope you enjoy our discussion today.”

  “Thanks, Professor O’Neil.” I led Rachel to two empty seats in the middle of the room.

  Rachel sat with her hands folded on the desk in front of her. I opened my notebook. I preferred to take notes on my laptop, but there was no chance of that happening for a few days.

  “Today we are going to continue our discussion on the lead up to the United State’s entry into World War II.” Professor O’Neil stood in front of his desk. “I trust everyone has finished the Pearl Harbor reading.”

  There was a collective murmur of yes. Thankfully I’d read that a few days before. I’d gotten no work done the night before.

  Rachel stared ahead with rapt attention.

  “Why did it take Pearl Harbor for the U.S. to enter the war?” A girl named Emily asked. We’d ended up in quite a few classes together. “With all the articles in the newspapers, all the evidence about what the Nazis were doing? No one cared until a U.S. base was attacked.”

  “It’s not that no one cared.” Martin, a kid who found a way to argue with everyone, jumped in. “They didn’t believe it.”

  “It has nothing to do with believing it. They were trying to keep the U.S. out of another war. We had enough of our own problems.” A girl, I had no idea what her name was, jumped in.

  Emily groaned. “See nothing changes.”

  I raised my hand. Twenty percent of our grade was participation. “It’s because people don’t want to get involved until they have to. Even when we went to war, it was because it would benefit us in some way, or really the politicians.”

  “Exactly my point.” Emily turned around.

  I glanced over at Rachel. She was leaning on her elbow. I couldn’t get a read on what she thought of the discussion.

  Professor O’Neil let us debate things for a while before he reeled us back in to talk about Pearl Harbor. The fifty minutes flew by, and before I knew it class was dismissed.

  Rachel remained in her seat. I smiled at her. “Up for another class?”

  “What’s the topic of that one?” She sounded tired. Weak even.

  “Music. It’s another fifty minutes, and then I’ll be done with class for the day.”

  “Music? That could be fun.”

  “It kind of is.” I shrugged.

  “Only kind of?”

  “What I mean is I prefer to actually play music.”

  “What kind of music do you play?” The excitement was back in her voice.

  “Jazz mostly. I play guitar and piano.”

  “But you have no piano at home.” She looked at my hands, and I wondered if she were studying my fingers.

  “I do. I mean at my parents’ house. I’m only renting your old house for this year.”

  “Yes. You mentioned you hadn’t been there long.” She swung her arms at her side. “I wonder who lived there before you.”

  I pulled her out of the way just in time before a bike knocked her over. I understood the appeal of cycling but not if you can’t manage to do it without taking pedestrians out. “You okay?”

  She nodded. “Of course. Who lived there before you?”

  “A couple of girls. I know the owners have rented it out for at least a few years, but based on the condition, I’d say longer.”

  “Do you know the owner? Could we maybe find records?” There was a hopeful note to her voice.

  “Wait.” Something dawned on me. “You’re looking for your brother, but what about your aunt? If she owned the house she might be easier to track down. Whether the landlord has records or not, all home sales are public record I think. But if she rented it I can’t help you there.”

  “My Aunt Ruth was older then. I assumed she would no longer be around, but how long do people generally live here?”

  “Here as in New Orleans? I would think the rate would be pretty similar to everywhere else in the developed world.”

  “The developed world?”

  She’d definitely been living under a rock or in a bunker somewhere. “Yeah, developed countries. Not to say other countries aren’t good.” I needed to cover my bases in case she’d been living somewhere that wasn’t considered developed. “But they might have different life expectancies.”

  “And how long would that be? For the developed world?”

  “I don’t know. I think the average is eighty or something, but some people can live to a hundred. Not many though.”

  “So technically she could be alive.”

  “What’s her last name? Is it Miller too?”

  “I think so.”

  I pulled out my phone and texted the name to Angie. “I’ll have Angie look into it while we’re in class.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “For all of this.”

  “We’ll help you find your family.” I had no idea if we’d be successful or not, but telling her anything else wasn’t an option.

  “Maybe I can hear you play music sometime?”

  “Oh.” Okay, wasn’t expecting that. “Sure. I can pull my guitar out back at the house.”

  “Great.”

  My music appreciation class was large enough that I didn’t have to talk to the professor. I took my usual spot, and Rachel settled in next to me. I showed her how to pull out the desk that went with the seat in case she wanted it.

  “Hey, Noah.” Claudia tapped me on the shoulder. “Are you free on Friday? Want to go to a date party with me?”

  “Oh.” I struggled to come up with an excuse to miss a sorority party, but realized there was a chance Rachel would still be around. “Thanks for the invite, but my friend will still be in town.” I pointed to Rachel. “Sorry.”

  “Oh, hey.” Claudia smiled.

  Before Rachel could respond the professor started class.

  Rachel seemed unusually interested in the dry lecture on fugues, especially when the professor played sample music. I like Bach and all, but the professor’s history lesson about his music wasn’t doing it for me. Rachel on the other hand was entranced.

  She was smiling most of the way back to the house. We spent most of it in a comfortable enough silence, but eventually I had to break it. “You are moved by so many things.”

  “What do you mean?” She brushed some hair off her shoulder.

  “Sorry if that came off rude. I didn’t mean it that way. What I meant is you notice a lot more. It gets to you.”

  “It doesn’t affect you?” She stopped. “You’re a musician, you must see beauty in it all?”

  “I used to.” I adjusted the straps of my backpack.

  “What changed?”

  “Nothing you want to hear about.”

  She grabbed my hand, and I froze even as warmth spread through me. “Please. You can tell me.”

  “Not here. Not now.”

  “Okay. But before I leave.”

  “Do you plan to leave?”

  “When we find my brother. It’s the main reason I’m back.”

  “We’ll find him.” But I don’t want you to leave. I left that part to myself.

  13 Noah

  I was getting really used to having Rachel around. Not in the lame ‘it was so natural’ way, but in a comfortable way where I could see her hanging around a lot longer. I wanted her to hang around longer. It had been ages since I’d wanted anyone new around. Most of my friends in college I’d made simply out of necessity.

  But Rachel was different in a way I couldn’t really describe. I spent the rest of the walk back to my house watching her look at things.
She was awed by everything, which in turn made me want to find something more than the mundane. For the first time in years I wanted something beyond survival.

  “Cars have changed.” She pointed at a large SUV that drove by. The windows were rolled down, and loud music spilled out before it disappeared from view.

  “Yeah? I guess I haven’t noticed much of a change, but I don’t really remember what they looked like thirteen years ago since I was seven.”

  “Well, they look different to me.” She looked the other way, her eyes roaming over the large, historic homes that lined St. Charles Avenue in the Garden District.

  “Are there no cars where you live?” I asked. “Or they just looked different?”

  “We had something similar, but different.” She didn’t offer any more details, and I let it go. Instead I kept us on St. Charles a block longer than we had to before turning down a far more narrow street with houses a fraction of the size of those mansions.

  Once we reached my street Rachel took the lead. I even noticed she skipped the defective step. She was already getting used to things.

  I tried the knob. It was locked. I messed with my key and pushed open the door. “We’re back.”

  No one answered. Evidently Dale had left too.

  “Do you think they’re still in class?” Rachel walked around the living room, peeking into each little corner as if they held secrets.

  I set my bag down on the floor. “Who knows where Dale is, and Angie doesn’t live here, so technically she doesn’t need to come back.”

  “But she probably will.” There was something hopeful in Rachel’s voice. Was she worried about being alone with me? Or did she just want Angie’s help?

  I nodded. “Yes. She’s my big sister. She worries.”

  Rachel turned to me, her brown eyes locking on mine. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Hurt me? I’d just been thinking she’d been worrying about the opposite. “I know.” There was something hypnotic about her gaze, a warmth or something. At first it felt good, and then it freaked me out. I pulled myself away and walked into the kitchen. I tried to forget the sensation—the way it felt like she was seeing into my soul or something. Instead I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and finally replied to her. “I’m not going to hurt you either.”