Beneath the Stars

by Emily McIntire

  Chase lies down beside me, sighing like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “How you feeling today, Goldi?” He says this every time he sees me.

  “This popsicle is makin’ my mouth too cold,” I complain, throwing it on the grass.

  He smiles at my answer and then gets quiet.

  “You know,” I say in a whisper, “if you need someone to talk to, I’m always here.”

  He scoffs. “You’re a kid, Goldi. I’m not gonna complain to you about my issues. You just keep being a good friend to my sister. Promise to never leave us, and I’ll take care of you both. How’s that?”

  “Hey!” I push his arm. “You can act as grown as you want, but you’re a kid, too. Plus, Daddy always tells me I’m an old soul.” I puff my chest out in pride. “And ‘sides… you two are the best thing to happen around here, other than Becca. Where would I go?” I raise my arms and look around. “I’m your friend, too, not just Lily’s. Don’t forget that.”

  “Yeah, okay. I hear you. But I’m good, I promise.”

  I lean closer, placing my fingertip to his chest. “You can try to fool the world sad boy, but you can’t fool me. I see you.”

  He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but before he can Lily comes rushing out with her book bag hanging from one hand and a Coke in the other.

  “Okay! I’m ready.” She swipes the hair out of her face, smiling as she looks between the two of us. “See ya later, Lee!” She waves.

  Chase hops up, and just like that they both disappear down the street.

  Later that night, I’m lying in bed and just about to fall asleep when I hear my window slide open. I had no idea it wasn’t locked, and I’m so terrified someone is breaking into our house that I can’t move. I don’t usually pray when Mama makes me go to church on Sundays, but now I squeeze my eyes tight and pray to God Almighty that whoever is in my room decides to leave.

  “Goldi.”

  I feel the bed dip next to me, and the comforter pulls back before a warm body slides down next to mine.

  “Goldi, you awake?” It’s a whisper but I hear it loud and clear. My whole body relaxes and I turn around, looking at Chase, in shock. I don’t say anything. My heart is still recovering from thinking we were being robbed, so I just continue to stare at him.

  He squeezes his eyes shut. “I couldn’t sleep and I needed someone to talk to. Your offer still good?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I whisper. I don’t say anything else. I’m super nervous he’s here in the first place. Daddy would kill me for having a boy in my room, but there’s no way in heck I’m telling him to leave.

  We lay in silence for a long time, both of us staring at the glow ‘n stick stars covering my ceiling.

  “Do you ever look up at the stars and feel small, Goldi?”

  “What, the ones on my ceilin’?”

  “No, the real ones, high in the sky.”

  I chew my lip as I think about what he’s asking. “I’ve never really thought about it. But sometimes, I like to stare at the mountains, and think about how small I am next to ‘em. Is that what you mean?”

  “Yeah, kinda. I just… sometimes I look at the stars and think about how none of this shit really matters, you know?”

  I don’t know, so I stay quiet.

  “I think maybe that’s why my mom could leave me so easily,” he continues.

  “Because you’re smaller than the stars?”

  “Because to her, I didn’t really matter.”

  I reach my hand across the bed to grab his. I don’t say anything right away. I just try to imagine what it would be like to not have a mama who loves you like it’s the most important thing she’ll ever do. I decide right then that I hate her, wherever she is, for making him feel anything less than what he deserves to be.

  “You matter to me,” I whisper.

  I hear him swallow, the sound thick. “You matter to me, too. Promise you’ll never leave?”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  I squeeze his hand tight and he intertwines our fingers.

  When I wake up in the morning, he’s gone, but that night I make sure to leave my window unlocked, just in case.

  2

  Chase

  Thirteen Years Old

  I fucking hate small towns. Over the past five years, I’ve been bounced from one pathetic small town to the next, and at the end of the day, they’re all the same. Boring streets and boring people with pity in their eyes and force behind their fists. Life with my mom wasn’t sunshine and roses, but it sure beats having to put up with the scumbags that pretend to care about kids in the system.

  If I only had myself to worry about, I would have made the jump to a street kid before the first foster home—but it’s not just me. I have a little sister to protect, and the thought of leaving her to the wolves makes me sick to my stomach. So, I’ve taken the insults and the beatings for both of us with a smile on my face, knowing I’m protecting her the best way I know how.

  The last piece of shit “foster parent” begged our caseworker to take us back after I caught him trying to sneak into Lily’s room. I guess he didn’t take too kindly to a thirteen-year-old holding a knife to his dick. He liked it even less when I threatened to cut it off and shove it down his throat if he so much as looked at her again. I asked Lily if he ever did anything, but she swears up and down nothing happened. I take her at face value because the alternative means I have to kill a motherfucker, and I’m too pretty for jail.

  So, here we are with Sam and Anna. They’re a couple who just moved us from Nashville to Sugarlake, Tennessee. Population three-thousand. Well three-thousand plus four, I guess. They’re different than other foster parents we’ve had. Nice even, but I still don’t want them. Like any kid, I just want my mom. But she packed up our life in Chicago, trekked us seven hours down to Nashville, and got high, forgetting us at a gas station. I’m angry at her. So, so angry. But, no matter how pissed off I am, it doesn’t stop the dreams at night of her coming back. I hate those dreams because when I wake up I feel that hole she put inside me fester and rip open all over again.

  We’re driving through the one main road in this town, and I’m looking out the window to see if there’s anything different about this place than the other ones. The main street is actually called Main Street. I scoff at the predictability.

  “Tennessee is so pretty. I bet it’s the prettiest state in the whole universe,” Lily exclaims.

  I smirk at her. “That’s just because you don’t remember living anywhere else.”

  “Whatever, doesn’t matter. I’m sure it wasn’t like this.” She points toward the mountain range through the window.

  She’s not wrong. It is a beautiful state. But how beautiful can something be if it’s filled with the ugliness of your past?

  “I’ve always loved Tennessee, too, Lily.” Anna smiles at her from the front seat. “I think you’ll really like it in Sugarlake. You know, that’s where I grew up as a little girl. I’ve always dreamed of comin’ back one day and raisin’ a family here.”

  She shares a heavy look with Sam. He places a hand on her knee as she tears up. “I’m so happy you two are here with us to experience it.”

  I roll my eyes. Give it a month or two and she’ll be singing the same songs as all the other ones. If it’s not them being the fuck-ups, they quickly realize it’s me. “He’s too angry. He curses too much. He doesn’t act his age.” I’m about to tell Anna exactly what I think of her empty words, but I glance at Lily who has the biggest smile on her face and decide to keep my mouth shut. She deserves a little bit of happiness, even if it doesn’t last.

  We’ve been living here for seven months now, and I’m sitting at the dining room table watching Lily cry tears of happiness. They just dropped the bomb that they want to officially adopt us. I’m not sure how I feel. I guess I never really thought it was a possibility. I should be happy, ecstatic even. We’re finally getting a family. New
last names. Chase and Lily Adams.

  Sam and Anna are good people and they treat us well, even with the bullshit I put them through. I’m not an easy person to love—my mom made sure I knew it.

  I think back to our first day here. Sam and Anna said they hoped this place would be good for me. That I could relax and “just be a kid.” I laughed in their faces, stole a cigarette from Sam’s stash, and flipped them off through the front door. If you haven’t gone through what I have then you don’t get a fucking say, as far as I’m concerned.

  “Chase, isn’t this the best news?” Lily throws her arms around my neck. I shake myself out of my stupor and loosely wrap my arms to hug her back.

  “Yeah, Lil. The best.” I try to smile, but it feels more like a grimace. Sam puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing. I don’t think I’m fooling him. It makes me feel guilty because he’s been nothing but the father figure I always wished for. I’ll try harder to be a better son for them. That’s what I am now, I guess.

  A son.

  Again.

  Hopefully, it goes better the second time around.

  At night, when my mind won’t shut the fuck up, I slide out of the bedroom window. It’s surprisingly easy for me to sneak out of the house. So I do it, often. Usually, I just walk down the street to the open field, where I lay down and stare at the stars. Tonight, there’s something that makes me stop short in front of the house with blue shutters.

  I war with myself over whether or not I should keep walking. Goldi is everything good in the world, and I do my best to keep my distance. She doesn’t need someone like me coming around and dirtying up her life. But fuck, if staying away isn’t the hardest thing I’ve ever tried to do. I’ve never had anyone look at me the way she does—like she sees straight into my soul. I can tell she wants my friendship, but I don’t think I need another person in my life to disappoint. Especially an eleven-year-old girl who’s never had anything hurt her worse than a scraped knee.

  But even as I repeat to myself that I can’t be her friend, my feet move toward her bedroom window, where I slip inside.

  3

  Alina

  Fourteen Years Old

  A new boy moved into the house behind us. I haven’t seen him much, but there’s a small hole in the fence that separates our back yards, and I’m not proud to admit that sometimes I go out there and sneak a peek. He’s got shaggy blond hair, and he’s always hunkering underneath the hood of a car. Today, Mama caught me looking, and told me to stop being a peeping Tammy or she’d tan my hide. Then, she plopped her famous banana bread in my hands and shooed me on over to introduce myself, telling me it’s the neighborly thing to do. I figure it’s as good an idea as any, seeing as how we’ll be going to school together at Sugarlake High this year.

  I don’t want to go alone, but Chase and Lily are on vacation in Florida, so here I am walking onto his porch. I raise my fist to knock, but it swings open before my knuckles hit, and out he walks. He leans against the front porch ledge, taking up an air of nonchalance.

  I’m stunned a little stupid when I get a good look at him. I’ve never seen a guy with hair long enough to be pulled in a bun, but somehow it looks better on him than it ever has on me. His hair isn’t what keeps my attention, though. It’s that gaze of his. The strangest green, like God couldn’t decide what shade to pick, so instead, he swirled around all the colors of the forest and placed them in his eyes.

  “Hi there. I’m Alina May.” I force the banana bread into his hands, stepping back, plastering a smile on my face. “I’m your back yard neighbor, and figured it’s well past time for introductions, so here I am… you know, introducin’ myself.”

  He tips his head down. “What’s this?” He lifts it to his nose, taking a sniff.

  “That right there is the best chocolate chip banana bread this side of the Mason Dixon line,” I say it proudly because it’s true. No one can out bake my mama, I dare them to try.

  “Oh yeah?” He smiles and it draws my eyes to his perfectly straight, white as snow, teeth.

  “Are those your real teeth?” I spout off before I can stop myself.

  His smile widens. “You think I have fake teeth?”

  “I mean… maybe?” I shrug my shoulders.

  He doesn’t say anything, just stands there with banana bread in his hands, and a grin on his face.

  “Gah, forget I asked that.” I run my hands through my hair, cheeks flushing. “What’s your name, anyway?”

  He breathes out a chuckle. “Man, are all the girls as cute as you around here?”

  “Matter of perspective, I guess.” I shrug again, waiting for him to tell me his name. He doesn’t. “You know, some say it’s mighty rude to not return the favor when a person introduces themselves.”

  “Some say, huh?” He places the banana bread on the ground, stepping over to me. My head is level to his chest, and he’s close enough that I have to crane my neck to maintain eye contact.

  “My apologies, Alina May.” He picks up my left hand. “My name’s Jackson Rhoades, and believe me when I say it is my absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  I expect him to shake my hand, but instead, he brings it to his mouth, lightly brushing his lips across my knuckles in a whisper of a kiss.

  I jerk my hand back, laughing with disbelief. “I think you may be what the old biddies in this town call a shameless flirt, Jackson.”

  I take a few steps back, regaining my personal space. “That may work on girls wherever you come from, but you really shouldn’t waste your time on me. I don’t fall for empty words and pretty smiles.”

  He nods, rocking back on his heels. “Noted.”

  “But if you’re lookin’ for a friend, I can be that all day long. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m pretty great at the whole friendship thing, so I recommend you take me up on my offer.”

  “In that case, how can I refuse?” He smirks.

  I widen my eyes. “Well, I don’t think you can. And since we’re friends now, I suppose you can call me Lee.”

  “Alright, Lee. Then I suppose you can call me Jax.”

  “Jax.” I test the nickname out loud, nodding my head in satisfaction.

  “Do you always make friends like you’re doing a business transaction?”

  “A what?”

  He chuckles. “Never mind. You in high school yet?”

  “I’ll be a freshman when the semester starts. How about you?”

  “Supposed to be a junior, but got held back last year when my dad got sick.” He plays with a chain around his neck, his eyes flashing with grief.

  “Is he better now?” I watch as the chain rolls between his fingers.

  Both his face and his voice flatline. “He’s dead.”

  “Oh,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.” I cringe as the words leave my mouth. I don’t think he appreciates the apology, but it’s all I can think to give him.

  “It is what it is.” He shrugs. “Anyway, thanks for the banana bread, I’m sure my mom will love it.” We both stand there, the air filling with awkward tension. I wish I could rewind time and bring back the Jackson from five minutes earlier.

  “I’d introduce you to my brother, but he’s always tied up with basketball.” I roll my eyes. “But, one of my best friends, Chase, lives around here. I’ll send him over to say hi, although I don’t think your charm will work on him,” I tease.

  He clears his throat. “Sure. Listen, as much as I’d like to stand around and chat all day, I really have better things to do, so if you’re done with the twenty questions...” He turns his face to the side.

  I inhale sharply, dizzy from the complete one-eighty of his personality.

  “Alright then.” I squint my eyes, pursing my lips. “Look… Jax, I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

  He doesn’t give me any indication he heard what I said, but he doesn’t need to. I know when I’ve outstayed my welcome.

  My shoulders hunch. “I guess I’ll see you around
.”

  I book it off his porch, each step allowing me to stew in my rising mortification. How the heck was I supposed to know about his daddy? I take deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves before I walk in my house. It doesn’t work, and Mama sees them plain as day on my face.

  “What in the world happened to make you so flustered?” She places her novel down on the side table.

  “I think I messed things up with the new boy. Everything was goin’ fine ‘til we started talkin’ about his dead daddy.” I chew on my bottom lip. “Then he got plain mean, and now I think he hates me when he was the one who brought him up in the first place!” My voice rises with indignation. I can’t stand when people think bad about me.

  Mama walks over and smoothes my hair. “Oh baby, we have no clue what that boy must be goin’ through. The best thing you can do is be there for him and forgive his faults.”

  “Fat chance of that. See if I’ll be his friend now,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.

  She kisses the top of my head. “Forgiveness is divine, Alina May.” She sits back down, picks up her book, and continues reading.

  I’ve been staring in my room’s full-length mirror for the past ten minutes. I have on the new two-piece I bought last week, but I’m not sure I can pull it off. It looked great on the mannequin, so when Becca begged me to get it, I gave in to peer pressure. The problem is, no matter how I try to adjust the top, the dang thing is still like a bright red polka-dotted sign advertising my newly acquired cleavage. I swear, I went to bed one night and woke up the next morning with two giant melons on my chest.

  I cup them in my hands and marvel at the weight. Who knew they would be so heavy?

  “What are you doing?” The voice comes out of nowhere. I jump in shock, spinning toward it.

  “Good Lord, Chase. Knock much?” I complain, my heart racing underneath the palm of my hand. “I didn’t think you were back in town.”