Star

by V. C. Andrews

  there were big dead spots. The front porch on the

  house leaned to one side like it had collapsed after an

  earthquake or the beams holding it up had just rotted:

  A front window had a crack in it and most of the

  siding was peeled and faded badly. The truth is when I

  first came upon it, I thought I might have the wrong

  address. I didn't think anyone lived in this one either. "However, Steve must have been watching for

  me because the moment I turned into his short,

  chipped and broken cement sidewalk, he stepped out

  the front door.

  "'Welcome to my palace,' he said with a

  crooked smile, holding his arms out wide.

  "'How long have you lived here?' I asked trying

  not to sound too critical.

  "'Long as I can remember. It was my grandpa's

  house, my father's daddy. When he died, it was practically all he had to leave to him, I guess. Once it was

  nice. I know because I've seen some pictures. "'Well, come on inside. No sense in putting it

  off,' he added.

  "You could tell two men lived there by

  themselves the moment you stepped through the door.

  The living room furniture needed a good dusting, the

  rugs were worn so thin in spots, you could see the

  wood floor beneath them. There were glasses and

  bottles on tables and the ashtrays were full of butts.

  On closer look I could see places where Steve's father

  had let a cigarette ash burn into the sofa or the easy

  chair. I knew his father must have done it because

  Steve didn't smoke and I also knew how careless

  Momma used to be when she drank and smoked. "None of the windows had curtains, just shades,

  and the house itself had a musty, damp smell. Jade grimaced as if she had stomach gas. "The kitchen looked somewhat better, probably because Steve had done some last minute cleaning in anticipation of my arrival. They had a round, badly chipped wooden table and chairs in it, a microwave as well as a stove and a refrigerator that looked like it was threatening to drop dead. The motor made a small clang. The walls throughout the house needed a good whitewash, and in the kitchen, the linoleum floor was buckling in the corners and badly stained in many

  spots.

  "There was little decoration on the walls, no

  flowers, no pictures, no knickknacks, no feminine

  touch anywhere. I had a glimpse of his father's room

  when he showed me the rest of the small house. There

  were clothes lying on the floor, over chairs and on the

  unmade bed. Steve's room was neat, but the furniture

  looked ready for the antique farm, if you know what I

  mean, dull finish, chipped and scratched, just like

  most of the pieces in the house. There was just an old,

  faded oval gray area rug beside his bed.

  "Steve could see my reaction to his home. It's

  always hard for me to hide what I'm thinking I've got

  a pair of eyes that might as well be magnifying

  glasses over my thoughts."

  "You can say that again," Jade muttered. I glared at her for a moment and then returned

  to telling them about Steve.

  "'When my mother was alive, this place looked

  decent at least,' he told me.

  "'I bet,' I said and he laughed at how I had said

  it. 'I mean you and your father aren't much at

  housekeeping.'

  "'He ain't much at anything,' Steve muttered.

  'Hungry?' he asked.

  "'Sure,' I said and we went about preparing our

  dinner. He was excited about the pie. I told him my

  granny had made the crust. It was her specialty and no

  matter how much I tried, I couldn't get it as good. He

  liked hearing me talk about Granny, how she fidgeted

  over her home cooking, her stories about her own

  mother and father, and of course, her famous sayings. "When I asked him about his grandparents, he

  could only remember his father's daddy. He had never

  seen his mother's parents; they had both died before

  he was five or six.

  "I wondered why he didn't have any brothers or

  sisters and he said, 'Just luck.'

  "I was going to laugh when I saw how serious

  he was about it.

  "'Can you imagine if there was another kid in

  this house, especially younger, like Rodney? You know what things have been like for him,' he said and we sat and talked a little more about life with an alcoholic for a parent. That's when I realized even more that we really were birds of a feather," I said and

  paused.

  "Why?" Jade asked. She didn't want to give me

  a moment's rest, it seemed. Why was she so damn

  anxious to hear all my story? I had come this morning

  thinking they all wouldn't be interested in my poor

  girl's life, and they seemed more interested in me than

  in Misty and maybe themselves.

  "Because of the feelings he had about it, the

  kind of things he thought.

  "'I used to feel like smashing things,' he told

  me. 'My father was drunk so much, I was sure he

  didn't care about me. Counselors and such always told

  me I couldn't do anything about his problem. He was

  sick. They wanted me to think of him as suffering

  some diseases, you know.

  "'I'm not religious,' he said, 'but I couldn't help

  wondering why God let this happen to me and

  especially to my momma. You ever think that?' "'Lots of times,' I told him. 'Granny used to tell

  me it's all just a test and we should feel sorry for those

  who are hurting us.'

  "'You believe that?' he asked quickly. I didn't

  want to say I did. I knew he didn't.

  "'Sometimes,' I admitted, 'but not often.' "He laughed and talked about all the times he

  thought about running away.

  "'I almost did last year,' he said, 'but I talked to

  this counselor at school, Mr. VanVleet, and he said,

  "Just accept it, Steve. Accept it and move on with

  your own life. When your father's ready to help

  himself, he will, or if he won't, you can't make him." "'I thought that made sense so I tried doing

  what he suggested and I ignored my father as much as

  I could. If he wasn't home to eat, too bad. If he fell

  over and slept on the floor most of the night, tough,

  even if he threw up over himself. For a little while, it

  was like a truce or something in here. We didn't talk

  much and we didn't see each other much when he was

  sober.'

  "'Did it help any?' I asked.

  "'Some, I think He drank less for a while and

  started to act like he cared about me, you know. He'd

  ask how's your schoolwork? What do you want to do

  with yourself after you finish school? Questions I

  guess other parents ask their kids all the time. "'And then . . .' He paused and looked like he

  wasn't going to go on.

  "'What?' I pushed.

  "'He got mixed up with a woman who drinks

  more than he does. I can't stand her. A lot of garbage

  comes out of her mouth and when he turns his back or

  leaves her alone with me, she . .

  "'She what?' I asked

  "'Never mind,' he said. 'Luckily, most of the

  time he's at her place. That's probably where he's at

  tonight,' he told me.

  "He was so full of rage, he made my anger look


  like a little drizzle. We were both quiet for a long

  moment, both trying to keep our blood calm. "'What does your father do for work now?' I

  asked him. He had told me his father once had a good

  job with the water department but got fired because he

  came in late too often and drunk once.

  "'He works at a garage. I think it's a chop shop,

  myself,' he added.

  "I asked him what that was and he said a place

  where they bring stolen cars to tear off parts and sell

  them. Of course, that frightened me a little, but he

  shrugged and said, 'Like the man told me, ignore him.' "In the fading, purplish light of the falling day,

  his glimmering eyes met with mine and we stared at each other for a long moment. Though I knew his heart had been shredded even worse than mine, I could sense his longing to put it together and fill it with some sort of love and he knew what I was thinking, Like I said," I added with a small smile,

  "two magnifying glasses on my thoughts.

  "'You're a really nice girl,' he said.

  "'Thank you,' I told him.

  "'I don't mean just nice,' he continued. 'I mean

  you're pretty in and out.'

  "I smiled, not really knowing what he meant.

  He looked frustrated with his attempt to express

  himself.

  "'Granny's always telling me I'm pretty,' I said. "'She's right of course, but I mean more. There

  are lots of good-looking girls at our school, I guess,

  but they're just beautiful on the outside. Your beauty

  goes deep. Yours is where it really counts,' he said. "I thanked him again. He felt awkward so we

  talked about dinner and set the table. Together with

  the salad and some fresh bread he had bought, our pot

  pies tasted pretty good. Afterward, we had the apple

  pie and he had some ice cream to put on it. We both

  had seconds.

  "'I bet you think I'm a pig,' I said. 'I don't

  usually eat like this.'

  "'I think when you feel happy, you have a

  bigger appetite,' he said. I agreed and I told him how I

  thought sadness was like a sickness. I couldn't believe

  how easy it was to talk with him now and how much I

  wanted to tell him. The more we talked, the closer I

  felt to him.

  "'When we got up to put the dishes in the sink,

  we stood really close to each other and we kissed. It

  was just a short kiss. I call it a test kiss. You throw

  your lips out there and see what happens."

  "What happened?" Misty asked.

  "We kissed again, longer, and then . . "You forgot about the dishes," Jade said with a

  slow, know-it-all nod. Her eyes were bright and sharp

  and full of her own experiences.

  "Exactly," I said.

  Misty's smile widened into a small laugh. Cat

  looked like she was turning white from holding her

  breath so long.

  A wry smile twisted Jade's lips.

  "Thought so," she said with great selfsatisfaction.

  "Yeah, but what you think happened, didn't

  happen."

  "Ever?" she challenged.

  "That night," I said and she sat back, still quite

  pleased with herself.

  After a beat of silence, Misty asked, "Why

  didn't it?" "His daddy came home," I said, "and things

  got very unpleasant very quickly."

  Jade's eyebrows rose. Cathy bit down on her

  lower lip. Doctor Marlowe sipped some water and

  stared at me. I could almost hear her asking herself,

  "Would I go on?"

  "Steve and I cleaned up the kitchen, neither of

  us saying very much. Every once in a while, we

  would look into each other's eyes and pause. My heart

  started a heavy, faster beat that grew louder and

  harder every time he and I grazed each other. It was

  like electricity was in the air.

  "I know a lot. of people, especially other girls

  my age, look at me and think I've been with a lot of

  boys, but I'd never had anything like a boyfriend

  before I met Steve. I had crushes on boys and some

  had crushes on me, but nothing had ever come of it. "I read enough romance stories and stuff and

  had been around Mamma enough to know about sex

  and such, but when it's you, really you, it's different." "That's for sure," Misty said. Cat looked at her for a moment and then turned back quickly to me,

  anticipating.

  "We just held hands first. It was like both our

  palms had magnets in them or something. My hand

  practically floated into his and next thing I knew, we

  were walking toward his room, neither of us saying a

  word.

  "When we got there, he let go and flopped on

  his bed, on his back, looking up at the ceiling with his

  hands behind his head.

  "'I guess you know what it's like for me laying

  around in my room and hearing my father bang into

  things when he comes home from a night out there,'

  he said. 'I hear him cursing and ranting. Sometimes, I

  can hear him crying through the wall. That's how he

  comes down from a drunk.'

  "'He feels bad about what happened with your

  mother,' I said.

  "Steve opened his eyes wider and looked at me. "'Yeah, I suppose,' he said. 'Maybe that's why

  he drinks more and more now, to forget. Only, I don't

  think it helps you forget. I think it makes it come

  back, only like some. . . some nightmare.'

  "'I suppose you're right,' I said.

  "I sat beside him and he brought his hands around and took my right hand into his and just held it, studying my fingers as if they was something special. Then he looked up at me again, his eyes practically speaking to me, drawing me toward him. I didn't even realize I had leaned so far over we were

  close enough to kiss again until we did.

  "Suddenly I was beside him on the bed and he

  was hovering over me, his face so serious it made my

  heart skip beats until he brought his lips to mine again

  and then, when he touched me and unbuttoned my

  blouse, my heart felt more like a wild, frantic animal

  in my chest, thundering hard against my ribs. I was

  scared but excited.

  "It didn't take long to get half undressed. The

  whole time I kept thinking Granny might be mad. I

  told her I was a good girl and she shouldn't worry and

  now look what I'm doing. But some other voice inside

  me said I was still a good girl. This wasn't wrong. I

  wanted to be loved. I needed to be loved.

  "And so did Steve. We were giving something

  precious to each other, something we had been denied

  too long, and I don't just mean sex," I added quickly,

  my eyes throwing warning darts at Jade, but she didn't

  look like she was about to ridicule me anyway. She

  looked sad and excited and full of sympathy, all at

  once. "I loved his lips all over me. I would have given

  myself to him right then and there. I know it was

  foolish to be like that and not to think of protection. I

  was aware of all that, but now I understood firsthand

  why some girls forget or lose control. I remember I

  was the impatient one, pushing myself at him, helping

  him with my skirt zipper, struggling to get

  comfortable.

 
"He pulled back the blanket and I got under as

  he finished taking off his clothes. He was kissing me

  and caressing me and I was thinking I'm a woman

  now. I don't care what happens; I don't care.

  "I felt him about to be in me when suddenly, we

  heard the door open, loud laughter and a chair or

  something get knocked over. Steve froze and then his

  face filled with fear. He pulled back.

  "'You better get dressed,' he said. 'That's him

  for sure.'

  "I hurriedly did so. We heard a female voice,

  too. "'She's with him,' Steve said. 'It'll be worse,' he

  predicted.

  "Now my heart was really pounding, but in a

  different way. It was more like a thump, a deep drum

  vibrating my bones. I had a cold chill up and down my spine. I wasn't quite finished dressing when the door crashed open and Steve's father stood there,

  wobbling and looking in at us.

  "He was a big man, four or five inches taller

  than Steve and probably forty pounds heavier, with

  large facial features and a balding head His eyes were

  a familiar bloodshot red and I thought to myself, all

  drunks look alike. He had that same slobbering lip,

  that same dazed, unsteady stance, that same stream of

  madness running through his brain like a polluted

  stream.

  "'Well now, lookie here,' he declared. 'The boy

  got himself some action.'

  "'Shut up,' Steve told him

  "His father laughed and then a small, buxom

  woman came up beside him looking drunker than he

  did, her hair down, her pearl white blouse open so that

  her bosom was visible almost to the nipples. She had

  dark freckles over her caramel cheeks. She was

  attractive enough that I was surprised she was with

  Steve's father. Steve had apparently gotten his good

  looks mainly from his mother.

  "His girlfriend laughed.

  "'Well, let him be,' she said. 'He needs all the

  experience he can get.'

  "'That's for sure. It's about time he had a

  girlfriend. I was beginning to think he wasn't all right,'

  his father declared and swayed.

  "'Shut your foul mouth!' Steve shouted at him "His father seemed to swell, his shoulders

  rising and his neck thickening.

  "'Who are you talking to, boy?'

  " 'C'mon, let 'em be,' his girlfriend said and

  tried to pull him away, but Steve's father hovered

  there, so wide he almost filled the doorway. She

  tugged to no avail and walked away.