Starlight

by Chelsea M. Campbell

  I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  “In math? When you knew the answers. I mean, no one ever says anything, like they’re all brain dead or something. And, you know, it gets kind of intimidating. Like we’re not supposed to know the answers, even if we do. But you weren’t afraid to speak up.”

  I don’t know what world he’s living in, but Saiph had to stand on his desk and embarrass me into it. Not exactly fearless on my part. It’s not like I wanted to let everyone know I’m good at math. Even worse, nobody was supposed to remember I answered all those questions, even someone like Toby, who probably knew the answers, too.

  “It’s impressive, you know? It takes, um, guts.” Toby puts his glasses on and actually sees my face. He squints at me. “Is something wrong?” Then something visibly clicks in his brain, like he hadn’t realized what was wrong with this situation before. He glances around, all panicked, and when he sees the urinals lining the wall, his shoulders sink in relief. “You scared me! For a second there, I thought maybe I was in the girls’ room.”

  Rub it in, why don’t you? Yes, something’s wrong. Something is very wrong. I’m sobbing, in the wrong bathroom, in front of a boy who’s reminding me of what a loser I am. Saiph lied to me, Jason trashed me in front of everyone, and now Toby’s watching me cry my eyes out. Only he’s not sure if I’m crying my eyes out, he has to ask. He has to bring it up, so now we can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.

  I glare at him. For a moment, I wonder if he’s making fun of me, too. He’s probably going to go tell everyone he saw Adrienne Speck in tears. Not that anyone will be surprised I’m crying. They expect it. Answering a few math problems doesn’t make you strong, and it doesn’t make anyone look up to you. I’m still just the same loser girl who wrote a crappy poem and who doesn’t know her place in the world. Nichole will probably tell everyone she saw me at the dress shop, thinking I could ever wear a beautiful dress like that one. And now that I asked Jason out, it’s going to look even worse.

  Me, trying on a dress that’s too good for me, then asking out a boy who by every law of nature has to say no? Who do I think I am, anyway?

  Toby no longer looks like he’s not sure I’m crying. Now he looks totally freaked. It’s dawned on him that he’s stuck in the boys’ bathroom with a sobbing girl who keeps glaring at him. He’s probably wondering what he did to deserve my wrath.

  I try to smile at him, as an apology, but I don’t think it comes out right. Then I get out of there before anyone else comes in, and before I can confuse Toby any more than I already have. I make a run for it. I plow through the crowd in the hall, keeping my head down. I can’t tell if people are still laughing. I just want to get away.

  I burst into the girls’ room and sink to my knees. It’s gross, I know, but I just can’t take it. If there’s anybody qualified to play a girl whose life is unfair, it’s me. I try to remember there are people worse off than I am. I have a home and a mom and plenty of food. There are starving kids in Africa who would probably scoff at my problems, if scoffing is something they do there. But thinking about how selfish I am doesn’t help.

  Like everything I do, it only makes things worse.

  Charlotte, the girl I stood in line with at the audition, rushes into the bathroom after me. “Oh my God,” she says. My first instinct is that she’s come to rub my nose in all this. But the concern in her voice gives her away. “I heard what happened.”

  I bury my face in my arm. There’s no way I can ever face anyone now, not even a nice person like Charlotte. “I don’t know what possessed me to do that.” My voice comes out choked and squeaky, so much so that I’m not sure she can even understand me. “I was so stupid.”

  “It’s okay.” Charlotte squats down next to me, not actually touching the bathroom floor like I am. “Most girls like us wouldn’t have had the moxie to ask.”

  I peek out from underneath my tear-soaked arm. “Most girls wouldn’t have been as crazy, you mean. There must be something wrong with me. I can’t even run to the bathroom right. I went in the boys’ room first.”

  She grins and tries not to laugh. She takes my arm and helps me off the floor.

  “He probably already has a date,” I mutter.

  “Isn’t he going out with Nichole Hamilton?”

  “Oh, great, Miss Perfect wins again.” I want to beat my head against the sink. It’ll either put me out of my misery or knock some sense into me. Maybe this whole ordeal wouldn’t be so bad if I thought it would never happen again. But I’m beginning to think humiliating myself in front of the whole school is classic Adrienne material, and I’m doomed to repeat it for all eternity.

  Charlotte’s giving me a funny look, like she thinks I’ve already hit my head one too many times. “You think Nichole’s perfect?”

  “My mom does.” I think Nichole’s a bitch and not the angel our mothers believe her to be. But my mom will never see that, only that I’m not living up to her expectations of the perfect daughter.

  “He could have said yes. Just remember that. He could have realized how wretched Nichole is and gone with you instead.”

  Charlotte barely knows me. That’s the only way she can say these things. “He called me a dog-loser.”

  “You lose dogs?”

  “He hates me. He thought one of his friends was playing a joke on him. I’m disgusting, and I was right—a guy would probably throw up if he ever saw me in a dress anyway, so what’s the point of building up my hopes for the dance?”

  “You’re not…” I think Charlotte was about to tell me I’m not disgusting, but then she glances in the mirror. My whole face is bright red. I’ve mostly stopped crying, but tear tracks stain my cheeks like I got run over by a herd of slugs. Snot drips out of my nose, and my hair has little frizzy strands sticking out all over. I look like I forgot to comb it. Disgusting is definitely a word that describes me.

  I wash the yuck from the bathroom floor off my hands, then rinse my face. Saiph saw me in a dress, and he didn’t puke. He even saw me in a bikini, and as far as I know is vomit and nightmare free. But Saiph is from outer space, and he’s going to be dead when I’m through with him anyway, so he doesn’t count. “I thought he was my friend.” New tears trickle to the surface. “I thought that lousy Saiph was my friend, and he lied to me.” Now that the initial pain of embarrassment is over, I just feel hollow inside. Like someone yanked out one of my organs, only I can’t tell which one, only that it was really, really important. I feel bad for calling Saiph lousy, but that’s what he is.

  Charlotte leans her head to one side, then the other, trying to figure out what I’m babbling on about.

  “He encouraged this. He made me think I could do it. It’s like… like he wanted me to get laughed at.” I think of all the other times Saiph claimed he was “helping,” only to embarrass me or sic a dragon on me.

  The bell rings. “Come on,” Charlotte says, “we’ll be late for class.”

  “Go on. I think I’m coming down with something anyway.” It’s called Speck’s Disease: the sudden and overwhelming urge to go home to avoid the whole world treating you like crap. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to get it.”

  Charlotte shrugs and hurries out the door.

  I wait until I’m sure everybody’s had time to clear the halls. I dry my face. The tear tracks are gone, but my nose and my eyes are still all red and puffy. I think I’m having an allergic reaction to the world. I push open the bathroom door and peer out. The halls are clear. Except for Saiph, who’s leaning against the wall, waiting for me. I storm out, grinding my teeth. The hollow place his betrayal left in me fills up with anger.

  Saiph looks mad, too. His eyebrows come together when he sees me, and the corners of his mouth twitch into a scowl. He starts to speak, but I cut him off.

  “Don’t you dare tell me that was ‘helping.’ Don’t tell me you lied to me to help me in some way, because I don’t want to hear it. I was on my way back to obscurity, and then you had to come along and en
courage me to ruin everything I had going for me!”

  Saiph looks at his shoes, then back up at me. There’s something odd about his expression, and if I didn’t know it was pure guilt he must be feeling, I’d think he looked hurt. As if he has any right to after what he did.

  “And those other two wishes? You know where you can stuff them, because I’ve had it. I’m through with all this.” I wave my hands like I imagine a wizard would if he were undoing a magic spell. “I release you from your bonds or whatever. You can go home.”

  “It doesn’t work like that.” Mr. Confidence says that awfully quietly, and the blood drains from his face.

  I wish I could take some kind of comfort in that, but instead I just feel mean and kind of sorry for him. I was going to tell him to walk home, but realizing how horrible I’m being drains the anger right out of me, even if he was the one who lied in the first place. I feel itchy and dirty. I pretend to adjust my backpack straps. “Come on.” I head for my car, before someone decides to come hassle me about loitering in the halls while class is in session.

  Saiph drags his feet. “You weren’t supposed to ask him,” he says.

  Great. Thanks, Saiph, for that bit of information. Thanks for practically telling me to ask out any guy I want, because your mystic powers would make it all okay, and then changing your mind. How hard is it to say, “Oh, wait, Adrienne, I forgot. I meant don’t ask anyone out, because all the magic in the heavens isn’t enough to make you appealing,” before I go and commit social suicide in front of the whole school? Not very.

  Saiph gives me a sidelong glance, like he expects me to say something. I might be giving him a ride home with me, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re not on speaking terms. I give him the cold shoulder.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Go away.” I pull the covers over my shoulder and bury my head under my pillow as Saiph comes into my room the next morning.

  “Hey. It’s time to go.”

  “Mom already said I could stay home. And I’m not talking to you.” I haven’t spoken to him since yesterday morning.

  “Adrienne.” He sighs, frustrated with me. “You’re so much better than this.”

  “Better than what? Refusing to speak to the jerk who tricked me into making myself the laughingstock of the whole school?” My words are a little muffled, because I’ve got my face pressed against my bed. I sit up so I can yell at Saiph properly.

  He rolls his eyes at me. “You can’t seriously like that guy?”

  “Oh, so my problem doesn’t even matter to you. That’s just great.” Even Saiph thinks Jason’s too good for me.

  “You’re stronger than lying in bed, moping all day, just because some loser was mean to you.”

  “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. That and, oh, what was it? Oh, yeah. All that crap about being confident? Boy were you ever W—R—O—N—G about that. Maybe that works for naturally magical people like you, but losers like me?”

  Saiph scowls. “Everyone laughed at you, so you’re just going to stay here all day, is that it?”

  I snap my fingers. “Give the boy a prize!”

  “You’re never going to get popular if you don’t leave the house.”

  “Yeah, but no one can make fun of me, either. At least not to my face.” I pull the covers tighter and squish down into them. “I don’t care about being popular anymore. I don’t care about the wishes. Give my extras to somebody else. Some girl who has a hope of getting what she wants.”

  Saiph grabs the blanket and yanks it back. I’m lucky I’m wearing my pajama pants. He might be completely cool and have a lot going for him in the looks department, but apparently he hasn’t had much experience with girls. Otherwise he’d know we don’t appreciate boys ripping our blankets away first thing in the morning when we’re mad at them and just want to curl up and mope.

  “If you don’t go to school,” Saiph says, “you’re letting them win. You shouldn’t care what people think.”

  I snatch my blankets back. “That’s so easy for you to say.” I can’t believe how mean and nasty I sound, but I don’t care, because I’m so pissed off. And jealous. Of him. “Life’s a breeze for you. You have to ugly yourself up just to go to school with me, so nobody goes blind from how dazzlingly cool you are. So you can go undercover to follow me around without people wondering what the hell you’re doing with someone like me. It’s easy for you to say I can get what I want. You don’t even need magic! You can just… just smile at people, and they’ll probably hand over your heart’s desire. You’re just like Nichole and everybody else.”

  Saiph is silent. His mouth slips open a little, but he doesn’t say anything. He stares straight ahead, looking like somebody knocked the wind out of him.

  “And encouraging me? Pretending I could ever look good in a dress? Thanks, but no thanks, star boy. I don’t need your pity. Now. Get. Out. Of. My. Room.”

  He turns around and leaves without a word. I think good riddance, but as soon as the door shuts behind him, I bury my face in my pillow and sob.

  ***

  It’s the next day, and while I might have gotten away with wallowing in my misery yesterday, today I have a math test. It’s time to face the world, and I’m not ready. Not like I ever will be.

  Saiph doesn’t speak to me as we get ready for school. I assume he’s still coming with me, though I thought he’d be back in star land by now. I was almost afraid to get up this morning, in case I found out he was gone. I was the one who yelled at him to get out of my room—maybe he thought I meant he should get out of my life, too. I told him I didn’t want my wishes. I told him I didn’t need him and he could go home.

  He said he couldn’t do that, so maybe that’s why he’s still here. I risk a glance at him at the breakfast table. He’s picking at one of the frozen waffles I cooked in the toaster for us. I really want to say something to him, like how glad I am that he didn’t leave. But he probably only stayed because he had to. I bet he doesn’t want to talk to me ever again. And I might be relieved that he didn’t ditch me, but I’m still mad. It’s not even what he did that bothers me so much anymore as the fact that he did it. And if he lied about me being able to ask somebody out, maybe he lied about all the other stuff, too. Like the dress. And he probably sits in the attic at night cracking up about all the dumb stuff he found in my room.

  Okay, I don’t know that for sure, and maybe I can’t really picture him doing that.

  I jangle my keys and Saiph abandons his practically untouched waffle and follows me to the car. Neither of us says anything.

  Facing the world might be inevitable, and I might never be ready for it, but I wish I didn’t feel so alone. I wish I had my friend back.

  ***

  “Hey, Adrienne! Over here! Sit with us.”

  Those three little words I’ve been longing to hear. I nearly drop my lunch tray. I’m sure it’s a joke, but then I turn around and see Charlotte and Toby waving at me from their table. There are five people sitting there total, with just enough room for one more.

  Me and Saiph approach them. We’re still not talking, but I wish we were, even if I’m still kind of mad at him. Charlotte smiles at me. I’ve had people smiling at me all day, but usually only because they’re getting a good laugh on my behalf. Charlotte’s smile is sincere. She pulls out the chair next to her. “Sit. Unless you already have plans—”

  “I don’t.” Lunch plans? Me? Ha.

  “He can sit, too,” she says, nodding at Saiph. “We’ll get another chair.”

  “It’s okay.” Saiph shrugs off her offer. It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice since yesterday morning. “I’m not that hungry.”

  He runs off before I can stop him. “It’s no problem,” I mutter, even though it’s too late. I set my tray on the table and sit down. I feel a little weird, sitting here while he has nowhere to go.

  “Is that him?” Charlotte whispers, cupping a hand to her mouth, like it’s a big secret.

  I nod. “He’s
probably glad to get away from me.”

  Charlotte’s forehead wrinkles.

  Toby leans across the table. “Hey, Adrienne. I’m sorry about the other day. I can’t think without my glasses on.”

  A girl I’ve never met before with frizzy blond hair and a big nose looks me over, her eyes wide. “Did you really ask Jason Thomas to the dance?”

  My mouth goes dry and my jaw doesn’t want to work. It can only hang open, making me look stupid.

  “She sure did,” Charlotte says. She sounds proud of me.

  “Wow.” The frizzy-haired girl’s eyes widen. She looks at me like I’m ten feet tall. Then she giggles. “What a loser.”

  My face goes from comfortable to burning in two seconds flat. I thought they invited me here because they liked me. Did they do it to make fun of me?

  The frizzy-haired girl’s oblivious to my plight, too busy laughing. “He actually thought someone like you would lower yourself to go out with him. Good prank.” She raises her hand to give me a high five.

  I’m frozen in place, like a scared bunny. Slowly, I reach up and meet her hand.

  “Stupid jocks,” Toby says, shaking his head. “They think everyone wants them.”

  I have news for you, Toby. Everyone does. “Why wouldn’t I have asked him for real again?”

  Everyone bursts into laughter. I’m hilarious.

  The girl next to Frizzy Hair has freckles and is wearing a neon pink headband with fake jewels on it. She snorts. “Like he could get a girl like you. He’d probably want you to help him with his homework.”

  “You’re way cooler than him,” Frizzy Hair says, taking a bite of her sandwich.

  I think they’re all crazy, but I’m not stupid enough to tell them it wasn’t a joke and that Jason’s rejection made me feel like dirt. I try to laugh along with them, until I see Saiph out of the corner of my eye. He’s sitting slumped against the wall with his lunch tray. All alone. He looks so dejected. People walking by give him the same look they used to give me, like seeing him there makes them feel good, because they think they’re better than him.