Starlight

by Chelsea M. Campbell

“How am I supposed to fulfill your wishes if I’m not around? It’s in your best interest to take me to school with you.” He puts on his scarf, like he thinks he’s actually convinced me.

  I can just imagine bringing him with me. One step inside the school, and the natural order of things will take over. Saiph, good-looking, overly confident new kid will immediately be swept up into the popular crowd. Where they’ll all have a good laugh at poor Adrienne, who wants to be popular and go to the dance. And he’ll probably tell them how he kissed me, and how terrible I was. I don’t know what the rules are for Saiph having to stick around and grant me those wishes, but after one day at school¸ I bet he’ll never speak to me again.

  And it won’t be like it is in the movies. If this was a movie, Saiph would become popular in an instant, then drag me up with him. I’d become not-so-bad by association, and voilà, instant popularity. People who hated me yesterday would soon be hanging on my every word, wanting to go shopping with me and invite me to parties. The next wish, going to the dance, would practically grant itself.

  But that’s Hollywood, not real life, and Saiph isn’t exactly my friend. I’ll bet it wouldn’t be hard for someone like Nichole to persuade him that the dirt princess is actually a big loser. But, then again, he heard what my wishes are—he probably already knows what a loser I am.

  “You can’t come with me,” I tell him, trying to convey how much I mean it.

  He tries to shove past me anyway.

  I push him back, blocking the doorknob. “I don’t need you around, okay? Just stay here. Mom has a dentist appointment today, so she’ll be home early. Make sure you’re upstairs. In the attic. Behind the—”

  “Behind the boxes. I know.” He unwinds his scarf and rolls his eyes at me. “Fine, have it your way today. But tomorrow? I guarantee you’ll change your mind.” He gives me a knowing smirk, but I ignore him.

  My mind’s made up. He’s never going to school with me. Not today, not tomorrow, and there’s nothing he can do to change that.

  ***

  Lunch is overrated. I mean, I have last lunch, and that’s only a couple hours before I go home anyway. I don’t see the point in having an extra half hour of humiliation every day, just to get to eat a little earlier.

  Today, like every day, I stand at the edge of the lunchroom with my tray of fish sticks, creamed corn, and a little cup of off-brand green gelatin. I glance around, in the hopes of finding a table. Most of them are already taken. There are a bunch of kids sitting by the stage—the lunchroom doubles as a theater—and their group spreads across two of the round tables. Another girl comes up with her lunch, and even though the two tables are already way too crowded, everybody scoots out to make room for her.

  Meanwhile, I’m just standing here, letting my food get cold on the off chance that today won’t be like every other day of my life. I keep looking for a table. I know I’m not going to find one that’s empty. But maybe one with only a couple people around it. Friendly-looking people, who might not bite my head off if I try and sit with them. If I could ever work up the courage to try.

  I actually sat at a table the first day of school in the fall. It was my mom’s fault. She told me her and Mrs. Hamilton were best friends. She told me I should sit with Mrs. Hamilton’s daughter, Nichole. I wonder if secretly Mom knew me and Nichole wouldn’t get along, or if she was just hoping some of whatever made Nichole a cheerleader and a drama queen would rub off on me.

  Mom had pointed Nichole out to me before, but I hadn’t met her yet. She told me we would hit it off, that she just knew we would be as good of friends as she and Nichole’s mom were in school. And I believed her.

  So there I was, an innocent nobody—nice and unnoticed—and I did what my mom wanted me to do, not realizing the trouble it would cause. I sat with Nichole’s group at lunch, as if it was perfectly natural for wimpy lambs like me to sit down with bloody-toothed lions like her. She had her mouth closed, okay? I didn’t see the fangs until it was too late.

  I was a complete dork. I even introduced myself as Mrs. Speck’s daughter and tried to shake hands. I mean, who even does that? Nichole’s blond cronies laughed until their robotic heads blew a fuse and spun around in circles with smoke coming out their ears.

  Okay, maybe that part didn’t happen, but it might as well have.

  So much for not ending up alone and table-less all year. I sigh as I take one last look around. All the tables are full. There’s no room, not even for a speck. I slump down against the wall.

  The only thing I can think is how glad I am Saiph stayed home.

  Chapter Eight

  There’s music blasting from my room when I get home. I wonder at first if I’m going crazy and somehow left it on this morning. Then I think, No, if I did, Saiph would have turned it off. And it hits me. He’s in my room. Listening to my music. I don’t know what stars listen to, but he’s probably laughing. He probably got on my computer and went straight for my iTunes folder, going, “Oh ho ho, what is this stupid junk that Adrienne listens to? Let’s find out and have a good laugh.”

  Okay, my music isn’t junk. But in my experience, people only want to know what kind of music you listen to so they can compare it with what they listen to. And what they listen to always ends up being something much cooler than what I listen to. Smug looks and uncontrollable laughter often ensue.

  Oh, great. As I’m kicking my shoes off, my mom storms into the living room, giving me one of her disappointed looks. “Adrienne!” She has to shout to be heard above the music.

  Terror floods my veins. She knows. She has to know. I shut my eyes and wonder if I should just confess now. Maybe she’ll go easy on me. “I have something to tell you!”

  “What? Adrienne, I’ve been telling you for ten minutes now to turn that down!” She frowns at me and shakes her head. “And what is this?”

  “It’s called rockabilly.” At least he’s blasting HorrorPops and not one of my ancient CDs, like my Britney Spears album. The one I keep hidden deep inside my closet where, in case Hell freezes over and I actually have someone over to visit, there’s no chance of them seeing it.

  “What?” She cups a hand to her ear. “Never mind. Just… make it stop!”

  Coincidentally, it does. I can see Mom’s shoulders relax. She lets out a deep breath. “Thank you.” She glances at me, then up at my room, probably wondering how I turned it off from here.

  “The playlist must have ended.”

  She sighs. “Why don’t you ever play the songs I bought you?”

  Um, because it’s what you like, not me? Mom thinks I should listen to classical music. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I don’t appreciate what a great job Mozart and Beethoven and all them did with their work. ’Cause I do. It’s just that… it’s boring. And besides, anything Mom shoves at me in her attempt to turn me into her, into the daughter she really wanted, isn’t likely to make it into my number one favorites list.

  Mom puts her hand on her chin, no doubt contemplating how we could possibly be related. “And why did you stop your flute lessons? You were so good.”

  “Mom, that was five years ago. Give it a rest.” And I wasn’t that great at it. Not bad for an eleven-year-old, maybe, but I was still pretty terrible. That, and I hated it.

  “Now, did you say you had something to tell me?”

  I thought she hadn’t heard that part. She doesn’t seem suspicious, just worn out from all the noise. And she bought the playlist ending thing. There’s no way she knows about Saiph. “It’s nothing.”

  “Are you sure? Because I’m always here for you, if—”

  Oops, I Did It Again suddenly blares in the background. “Sorry, Mom. Must be one of those hidden bonus tracks!” I shout, even though that doesn’t make any sense. Not that she can hear me above the noise. But I don’t stay to answer any more questions. I drop my backpack on the floor and run as fast as I can up the stairs.

  ***

  I’m going to kill him. I have to knock on my own do
or. Three times.

  “Saiph! It’s me!”

  Finally, he unlocks it and lets me in. I shove past him and run to the computer and press the mute button. My ears still hurt from the noise. I look around. My room is trashed. Like, rock-stars-in-a-hotel-room trashed. The wastebasket is overturned, like he’s been digging in my garbage. All the clothes from my closet are draped across the floor. My desk drawers are open.

  Saiph yawns and closes the door, like this is no big deal. Ho hum, just another boring day for him.

  “What were you thinking!” I don’t think I’ve ever screamed this loud in my life. Heck, I don’t know if I’ve ever screamed. “You were supposed to stay in the attic. My mom could have found you here—”

  “I locked the door.”

  “She thinks I was the one blasting the music. And what were you doing, going through all my stuff?” I grab the clothes off the floor, scooping them into my arms. One of them is a pink flower-girl dress from when I was five. Completely frilly. I remember tripping on the hem and falling down and crying in front of everyone. It’s still the only dress I own. I drop the heap of clothes on my desk chair.

  Saiph shrugs. “It was boring in the attic.”

  “So you trashed my room?” He’s gone through everything I own. He knows about the Britney Spears CD. He went through the garbage. Oh, God, he might have even seen it. The poem of total embarrassment.

  “You’ll thank me later.” Saiph sticks his tongue out at me. “And anyway, maybe tomorrow you’ll take me to school with you.”

  Thank him? I’m ready to strangle him. I don’t know if a couple of wishes is worth this. Staying unknown, that was working for me. Why would I want to be popular? And Saiph absolutely can’t ever go to school with me. Not now that he knows all my secrets, like what music I like and that I haven’t owned a girly outfit since Kindergarten. Even if the unicorns were embarrassing, at least they weren’t me.

  Saiph is ignoring my outbursts. “Don’t worry so much. It’s not like I hurt anything.” He leans against my dresser. The movement sends the glass trophy I won six years ago wobbling off the edge. I make a dive to catch it, grabbing it before it hits the floor. Tears well up in my eyes, even though I really, really don’t want to cry in front of him. Or anybody.

  “You jerk!” I wave the trophy at him. It’s from when I won first place in a spelling bee when I was ten. It’s my only worthwhile accomplishment in life. It’s the only thing I have to show that I might not be a complete and total loser. And he almost broke it.

  Saiph’s mouth hangs open. He looks sorry, but I don’t care. “Adrienne, I didn’t mean—”

  A knock on the door interrupts him. We both go silent. Neither of us moves.

  “Adrienne?” My mom knocks on the door again. “Is everything okay?”

  I point to the closet. I glare so hard at him that even if my mom wasn’t hovering just outside the door, he wouldn’t dare argue with me. I set the trophy back on my dresser and wipe my eyes.

  Saiph closes himself up in the closet just as Mom comes in. “I heard shouting. Is something going on?” She surveys my room, taking in all the wreckage. She makes tutting noises and marches over to the heap of clothes, picking them up and heading for the closet. “Adrienne, what were you—”

  “It’s for the school play!” I run in front of her, pulling the clothes out of her arms. “I’m practicing.”

  “The play?” She forgets about cleaning. She stares at me like I just said I was abducted by aliens. Then her whole face lights up. She clasps her hands together. “You got a part in the play? Is it a big part?”

  “Oh, yeah. I got the lead role.” I say this completely sarcastically, complete with an eye roll, but she must not catch that part because her face lights up even more. She sucks in her breath, holding a hand to her chest.

  “The lead,” she breathes, and I can practically see the gears working in her brain as she realizes that means I finally beat Nichole at something. “Oh, honey, I’m so proud of you!” She grabs me in a huge hug and squeezes.

  “Mom!”

  “I have to tell Grandma. And Joanne and Tina and everyone from the old neighborhood. They’ll want to know. Oh, and don’t forget your great aunt Clara, she’ll get such a kick out of this.”

  “But, Mom…”

  “Don’t let me stop you. You just keep practicing!” She’s so happy, she’s shaking. She reminds me of an excited little dog. I don’t know if she’s going to bite someone or piddle on the floor.

  She hurries out of the room, her cell phone already in her hand. I lean against the door to close it, taking a deep breath.

  Saiph slides the closet open.

  “That was close,” I say. I’m done yelling at him, but I haven’t forgiven him yet. A pang of guilt wells up in my chest. That, and fear. I don’t know how I’m going to tell my mom the truth.

  “At least someone in this house took their happy pills today,” he says, nodding towards the hall. He leans against the door with me and smiles, as if he hadn’t spent all day destroying my room and trying to blackmail me into letting him come to school.

  “I know. It’s going to suck having to disappoint her. She’s going to be so mad when she finds out I lied.” I wince, picturing her having to call up all our friends and relatives and tell them how it was all a big misunderstanding, just like they suspected, and her daughter’s still just a nobody. I hope Nichole’s mom isn’t first on her list of bragging phone calls.

  “Well, there’s one way to fix all that, you know.”

  “Fake my own death? Move to Europe? Become a nun?”

  Saiph licks his lips and sighs, as if dealing with me is exhausting. He’s probably just worn out from trashing my room. “You’re going to be in that play, Adrienne. You’re going to be the lead.”

  My eyes go wide. “You can really make that happen?”

  “No, but you can.”

  Chapter Nine

  I’m taking him to school with me. I can’t believe I’m giving in. But I can’t believe what he did to my room, or that my mom actually thinks I’m in the play, either. He’s made it clear that taking him with me is the lesser of two evils.

  “Just… don’t talk.”

  “Don’t talk?” Saiph peels an orange so that the peel is in one piece and sets it on my head as I’m shoveling bran flakes down my throat. “But talking is what I do best.”

  I grab the orange peel and hurl it at him. “No calling me dirt princess. No teasing. No talking about me, no mentioning anything you found in my room, and do not tell anyone you’re from outer space.” By this point, I’m holding up my spoon, waving it around and flinging milk all over.

  “So… inviting everyone to hug unicorns with us is out?” He’s fidgety, practically dancing around the kitchen. He’s way too eager for this, and that can’t be good.

  “Oh, and try not to fall asleep in class, even if it’s boring.” I slurp the leftover milk out of my bowl, then toss my dishes in the sink. I groan as I grab my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. “And if, like, some kids ask you to eat lunch with them, go ahead. You know, without me.”

  He puts an arm around my shoulders. “And miss watching you stuff food in your mouth? Crumbs flinging everywhere, you making little piggy grunting noises as you chow down—”

  “That’s not how I eat.” I shove him away and grab my keys out of my bag. “People are going to talk to you, and they’re not going to talk to me. And I’ll… I’ll understand if you want to just pretend you don’t…” I can’t finish. I can’t actually say it, that he should just pretend he doesn’t know me. I shrug instead.

  Saiph closes his eyes. He presses his palms together and takes a deep breath. The smell of sugar that follows him around everywhere gets slightly stronger. Then suddenly he’s wearing a green and yellow plaid jacket. It looks stiff, itchy, and uncomfortable. He spreads his hands apart and pulls a pair of thick glasses and a pocket protector out of thin air. He stuffs the protector in the front pocket of his sh
irt—a pocket I could have sworn didn’t exist a minute ago. Carefully, he puts on the glasses. They’re the dorkiest things I’ve ever seen. Coke-bottle lenses, with black square frames. He rubs his hands through his hair, and as he touches it, it goes from perfectly clean to greasy and unwashed.

  I glare at him. “Where was all that when I was stuck wearing a pink bikini?”

  “Come on. You haven’t even told me how great I look.” He elbows me in the ribs. “You just wish you could be as awesome as me.”

  He might be joking, but he’s right. There’s no way I’d ever make myself look purposely even nerdier than I already am, then laugh about it. I guess I don’t have to worry about any popular kids stealing him away from me. At least not today.

  Not that he’s mine. I mean, it’s not like I own him. Just because he came down from the sky to grant me three wishes, and I gave him room and board and he’s seen the unicorns and the Britney Spears CD and is still talking to me, doesn’t mean I care.

  “You can make all that, but you can’t get me my coat back?”

  “Look at it this way. You can get a new coat anywhere, but you’ll never find a bikini that looks that great on you.”

  I open the door and storm outside. He follows me and practically bounces up and down with anticipation as I lock the front door. I fumble with the key, still thinking about the bikini remark. “You said you couldn’t do any more magic.”

  “No.” He jumps down all five of our porch stairs in one leap. “I said the bikini was a favor. This wonderful ensemble”—he gestures to his new jacket and accessories—“is all for business purposes. It’s perfectly allowed. Tax deductible and everything.”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about. I stomp down the stairs, careful to watch out for ice first. Expressing my pissed-off-ness is one thing. Falling down the stairs and landing on my butt while I’m doing it is another. “Wearing glasses doesn’t actually make you smarter, you know.” Though they do make his eyes look huge. “And what do you care about your grades? You’re not even going to be here the whole semester.”