The Sound of Stars

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The Sound of Stars Page 34

by Alechia Dow


  “Janelle...” Allister’s eyes glisten. “You’re my favorite. And Morris...” He turns to Morris who leans in the doorway of the ship. “Never stop telling her you love her.”

  “Never.” Morris doesn’t hesitate.

  I step closer to Morris and the hatch. “You know we’ll be back, right?”

  Allister glances up at something beyond my sight. “We’ll be waiting.”

  Rupert’s voice carries across the atrium. “There’s music in there. Listen to it. It’s from Andarra.”

  Cecil swipes a tear from his cheek. “When you get there, catalog every memory you make so that you can tell me later. Help me remember my home.”

  “Our home,” Allister chokes, throwing an arm around Cecil’s shoulders.

  I don’t miss home. New York City stopped feeling like home and more like a prison before the Ilori came. I push down a laugh. I’ll have explored the sky before stepping foot in my city again. It hardly feels real.

  We wave one more time and close the hatch.

  The ship is small, one room and one bathroom, and colorful. It’s like being in a modern club on the Lower East Side. But cleaner and definitely more beautiful, artistic. The colors on the paneled walls change as we step farther inside. From midnight blue to a soothing lavender. I touch the panel beside me, and a brilliant purple seeps from my fingers until it surrounds us.

  “What do you think that means?”

  Morris does the same, and it turns a rich, dark green. “Something to do with emotions and auras...one never knows with Andarrans.”

  He tosses me a smile as he sets the supply pack by our feet. It’s got all the necessities—medicine, my books and music. There’s more music in it than before, but it’s much lighter now. Allister gave Morris a hard drive with the best music in the human experience, so he said. Morris left a lot of vinyl records behind, including the ones we borrowed from poor Mrs. Turner. I promised to give those back, and I will. We will.

  We strap in beside each other in the two seats across from the ship’s console. My hand grips Morris’s as he steers us forward into the sprawling back gardens of the mansion. It’s beautiful, and though it’s dark out here, I can see green grass—oh how I’ve missed the sight—and flowers and an elaborate water fountain. I wish we’d seen more of it before now.

  “We’ll be back,” Morris says as if reading my mind.

  I shake with nervous energy, and I begin counting everything I see in my vicinity. Five, Morris, who’s currently humming David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” to the rhythm of my counts. I laugh, but I also can’t stop counting.

  Four, the console on a ship that’ll take us somewhere beyond the only world I know.

  Three, the sky that’s bright and terrifying and mysterious.

  Two, me. Janelle Baker. Explorer and Possible Savior of Humanity.

  One, I add, chuckling at my own nonsense, the shakes rolling off my shoulders. One...a love, new and welcome.

  Morris hits a few buttons, and the panels light up. It’s really happening. “Are you ready?”

  I feel like speaking will allow my heart to jump out of my chest and the air to leave my lungs. So I don’t answer, and rest my head on his shoulder.

  I have to count again. It’s too much.

  Five, my heart pounding in my chest. Four, the paneled walls that are a light pink. Three, my books. Two, the music. One. I breathe. I don’t need one. Breathe in, breathe out. Relax. Sense. I squeeze Morris’s hand for dear life. I’m going to be okay. Slow and steady. I’m going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.

  “Hold on, my love.”

  I grip him tighter as we shoot through the night sky. My stomach plummets as we thread higher and higher and higher and the world below becomes smaller and smaller. And then we’re past the sky. The sky is not a limit. I want to laugh. I want to scream. Earth is below us, and it’s like every picture and movie and book and song I’ve read, seen and sung. It feels familiar. I know it. The rest is unknown, like stories I’ve not yet read.

  “I’m scared,” I say shakily.

  Morris hums “Across the Universe,” reminding me of the first time we met, when he calmed me in the storage closet. I add the words to it as minutes and Ilori ships pass, our Andarran ship keeping us safe, and planets I’ve seen only on posters or in planetariums come into view. They are wild, spectacular colors. Different than what I knew. Larger than I could ever have expected. I feel so small. Insignificant. Nothing could have prepared me for all of this. I gasp but keep singing. It’s beautiful, this universe. So beautiful. My eyes widen, my horizons broaden. There’s so much we didn’t know, so much more than our world. And I’m going to see it all.

  I look over at Morris. He presses his lips to mine and whispers, “You’ve got stars in your eyes.”

  I shake my head and kiss him one more time, the realization hitting. Legendary love. Stars in our eyes... Stars in my eyes just for you, I just want to be with you. Andarra has no time. I know many things, Janelle Baker. Oh, how I love a love story. Idol. Hero. You read me the book, I’ll sing you the tune.

  It was about us all along.

  “How long have you known?” I ask, his lips centimeters from mine. His hazel eyes sparkle while he holds me close. The universe is right outside the window.

  “Not much longer than you,” he answers. “But I did tell you—” I narrow my eyes at him, discouraging him from that line of thought. “Does it scare you? Does it weigh heavy on you? The knowledge of us?”

  “No. No,” I say with an ease I didn’t have before. “It’s freeing. It doesn’t just give me hope...it gives me so much to look forward to.” I can’t help the smile that creeps along my face and the way my heart flips. “You and me.”

  We are alive. A story and a song. Neither of those things can die.

  “Always.” Morris leans in and kisses me again. “And Ellie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Before it...before you met Brixton, and the ship exploded, and you...died, you began to tell me a story about a wizard in a world of magic. We have a while to go before we reach the outer worlds and I can establish a connection with my mother, so...in the meantime, would you tell me what happens?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Morris tinkers with the control panel and the music that streams forth is unlike any either of us have heard before. It’s both enchanting and fitting as we navigate through space.

  I take a deep breath, settling into the seat. “So...where did we leave off?”

  * * *

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to say a gigantic THANK YOU to:

  The reader holding this book, thank you, first and foremost. You are the stars sparkling above on the darkest of nights.

  My mom, who is undoubtedly in some heavenly universe right now, beating Prince at Scattergories and adding backup vocals for Aretha Franklin. I miss you.

  My dad, for encouraging me to write, and for providing me with the most ridiculous stories. You are the definition of endurance.

  My editor, Natashya Wilson, whose love of The Greatest Showman introduced me to new music and whose enthusiasm kept me smiling as we worked together to make this the absolute best book it could be. It is such a privilege and pleasure to work with you.

  Dr. Uwe Stender. You not only believed in this book, you believed in me. You were with me on the sidelines, and you gave me confidence when I needed it most. I’m so happy to have had you championing my work. We stayed the course.

  Everyone at Inkyard Press! Anne-Marie Rutella, whose copyedits made this book shiny and clean; Bess Brasswell; Linette Kim; Brittany Mitchell; Gina Macdonald; Connolly Bottom; Gabby Vicedomini—who fought for this book (I can’t wait to see pictures of your wedding!); and Laura Gianino. Thank you so, so much for choosing Ellie and M0Rr1S.

  Hillary Jacobson, who helped me shape this b
ook; Amanda Farbanish, whose excitement encouraged me; sensitivity readers, whose insights made the story stronger; and Natalie Lakosil, who I’m beyond lucky to have in my corner. Natalie, thank you for choosing me.

  Tracy Badua, Kendell Penington, T.S. Bazelli and Rachel Somer: I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, for letting me whine incessantly, for sending out Target boxes filled with Raisinets (Tracy), for sharing your talent, time and friendship. You all deserve a million boxes of German chocolate. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.

  Mel Howard, Maria Houssain, Kate Talbot, Jessica James, Kat Enright, Ayana Gray, J. Elle, Gail Villanueva, Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé and the Inkyard Squad (Mara Rutherford, Laura Namey, Hannah Capin and Eric Smith): you all got me through every patch of self-doubt and kept me on track. Thank you a million times.

  Justina Ireland for selecting me as a Writing in the Margins mentee. Those months changed my entire world, as did my mentor and friend, Tamara Mataya. I’m inhaling art and exhaling words because of you.

  The B-Street 6 crew: Cass Francis, Tori Bovalino, Mara Rutherford, Adiba Jaigirdar and Rose Deniz. Meeting up with you all was one of the best moments of my life abroad. Your friendship and laughter sticks with me when I’m feeling isolated. I wonder where we’ll go next.

  Adrienne, thank you for supporting me, for being excited with me, for being a cheerleader. Amani, Amya and Pudge (we really should call you Christopher, huh?), you all have massively big hearts and you are so, so intelligent. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for you and I’m always here, cheering you on.

  My sisterpants, Nicole Redd-McIntosh. You are incredibly talented, and you light up the world with your creations. I’ll always be awed and inspired by you. And I’m so glad to call you my family.

  My guardian angel, Kristin Olsen. I’ll miss you forever.

  Darrah, you read my first (terrible) book in college, and you liked it. You have no idea that your encouragement was what got me to write again and again. You believed in me, and you made me believe in myself. Grams is always smiling down on you, I know it.

  RAPID ROUND. Saundra Mitchell, Laura Weymouth, Erin Hahn, Joelle Charbonneau, Ashley Poston, Amie Kaufman, MK England, Dhonielle Clayton, Kayla Ancrum, Claudia Gray, Angie Thomas, J.K. Rowling, Justin A. Reynolds, Julie Murphy, David Levithan, Gita Trelease, Suzanne Collins, Leigh Bardugo, Sandhya Menon, Becky Albertalli, Stephenie Meyer, Star Wars, for being Ellie’s favorite stories that she both reads and shares with Morris, and for your incredible blurbs. Also, Brooklyn Public Library, Milford Town Library (especially Kathie Kirchner) and West Warwick Public Library. You were home to me. Beyoncé, David Bowie, Prince, Stevie Wonder, Coldplay, Elton John and “All the Stars” by Kendrick Lamar feat. SZA. I’m still listening. And to the Class of 2k20 and The Sound of Stars street team: you have no idea how much I appreciate you and the work you do to help me succeed. You all are the absolute best.

  The Hirt family: Stephanie, Ingeborg, Markus, Manfred and baby Erik. Thank you all for accepting me, for your support, for reading this in English and for all the delicious semmelknödel.

  Christoph, thank you for reading this book when it was only half an idea and coming along with me on this adventure. Your stubborn belief in me keeps me going (and drives me mad). I love you, my hubular spectacular.

  Liv. Nothing in the world could have prepared me for how much I’d love you. You’re so sassy, outspoken, smart and bold and I wouldn’t have you any other way. Please know I’m proud of you, forever and always.

  To all the librarians, media specialists, teachers, booksellers, book bloggers, vloggers, bookstagrammers and the online book community: you are superstars, and so much of this community relies on you. Thank you for everything you do.

  To the teens who found this book while meandering through the bookstore or skimming the library shelves and decided to give it a chance, I wrote this for you.

  ISBN: 9781488056581

  The Sound of Stars

  Copyright © 2020 by Alechia Dow

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  For questions and comments about the quality of this book, please contact us at [email protected].

  Inkyard Press

  22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor

  Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada

  www.InkyardPress.com

 

 

 


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