by Angel Lawson
“Starlee.”
I look up. She’s staring at me and there’s no doubt she’s pissed but trying so hard to keep it under control. “What?”
“I’ve tried to keep my distance on this. Let you take the lead and make your own decisions, but I get the feeling you’re just avoiding it all.”
“I’m not avoiding anything.”
“Then what’s going on?”
I look at my hands, then up at my mom, then back down at my hands. “I’m just not sure what I want to do.”
“You mean what school to go to? Is that what this is about? Emory?” She takes a step forward. “I know it’s a really hard school to get in and with the disruption this last year your GPA may have taken a slight hit, but I think you still have a shot. I mean, your test scores are great. I talked to your counselor and—"
“Stop.”
She blinks. “What?”
“Stop talking about it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“We have to talk about it. The applications are due, like, tomorrow.”
“I don’t care.” But that’s a lie. I do care. Too much. So much it’s overwhelming. My heart pounds in my chest and my hands get sweaty. I feel the anxiety creeping up my spine.
“How can you not care? It’s college. We’ve talked about this for years.”
“No, Mom. You’ve talked about it. You’re the one that thinks Emory is a good choice, that public health is a great career. You’re the one that has eyes on me getting a federal job—of living some life that’s…” I realize I’m pacing, running my hands through my hair. The emotions I’m feeling are so familiar. So raw.
“Starlee, I’m not suggesting you do anything we haven’t talked about before.”
“No. This is what you’ve always talked about. I just listened and obeyed and now that I have a small shred of autonomy, I have no idea what to do with it. I can’t make a decision to save my life. Every option feels like it’s too much. Like there’s too many choices. Too many ways to fail.”
She gives me a hard look. “Is that what’s going on with the boys? The fact you seem to be dating all of them? Because you can’t make a decision?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“You think that question is unreasonable, because I’ve kept my mouth shut about it. I love those boys—they’re amazing—but what you’ve got going on with them…it’s not normal.”
“No,” I say, backing up to the door, “you do not get to decide what’s normal here. You’re the one that tucked me away from the real world. Made every decision for me and stripped away my ability to make friends and handle my own life. I came here and changed all of that. You don’t get to question my actions.”
I turn and walk out the door before she has a chance to say anything else. I’d thought she’d changed when she came back but it was just a trick—a clever play to get me to let down my guard so she could get me back on path she’d wanted all along.
I go to the Wayward Sun because I’m stressed. When I’m stressed, I want something sweet, and I know for a fact Dexter’s plans for the day involved test runs for the icing on LeeLee and Tom’s wedding cake.
I need some of that icing.
I find him surrounded by bowls of creamy sugar, each a different color than the next. There’s a process here, I’m sure.
“Do you need a taster?” I ask strolling in the room.
“You’re like a gift from the heavens, do you know that?”
He hands me a bowl of fluffy white icing. I take a bite and groan. “Oh my god, perfection.” I lick the spoon. “Next?”
He hands me one after the other, a small smile on his lips as I lick each spoon. It’s so sugary, so sweet, but I need something to dull the pain of the altercation with my mom. Dexter’s no fool, because after six bowls he leans against the counter, crosses his arms over his chest and asks, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“My mom was pestering me about college.”
“Isn’t it about time to turn in your applications?”
I groan, but this time not from bliss. “Not you too.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Just asking. No judgments.”
I sigh. “It’s just overwhelming. A year ago, my life was on a very defined path. A path I did not create. I knew everything about my future, every step, and it’s the catalyst to why I ran away.”
“So you went off trail. That doesn’t mean you have to ditch the plan completely.” His eyes search mine. “Do you really not want to go to college?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know. It’s like I threw away my map and now I’m completely lost.” I bite my lower lip. “You guys have a way of being distracting.”
He steps close and slips his arms around my waist, dropping his forehead to mine. His arms are strong, hands firm, body confident. Dexter is a man that knows what he wants in the present and future. “There’s something I’ve known since the moment I met you—it’s what got under my skin so bad back then and shook me so much.”
“What?”
“As long as we have each other, then no one is lost, Star. Follow your heart about what comes next but understand that whatever you choose has nothing to do with your relationships with us. We’re all individuals with our own hopes and dreams, but I have no doubt what we have is a bond that won’t be broken just with distance. Think about everything we’ve gone through already.”
I nod, knowing he’s right. We’ve been through the ringer.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, vibrating against the table. I fish it out and look at the message. “It’s Claire,” I say, glancing at the photo on the screen. Dexter kisses my forehead.
“Oh yeah? What’s going on with her?”
I read the message and a slow grin crosses my face. It feels like perfect timing.
“What?” Dexter asks, a curious look on his face.
“Want to go to a party?”
17
Starlee
Jasper’s house overlooks Mammoth Lake. The lights are so bright I can see the glare off the remaining snow long before we reach the cabin. Cabin isn’t the right word, even though it’s made of planked wood, has a tin roof, and wide front porch with rocking chairs. When Dexter parks the car, all I know is that I’m different from the girl who went to my first high school house party six months ago. Back then I was overwhelmed by everything; the music, the drinking, the PDA. Tonight, I walk in confidently, four handsome boys flanking my sides. The thump of the base and packed house doesn’t scare me and when someone points out the giant vat of punch in the kitchen, I ladle a scoop in my red party cup.
The eyebrows of all four boys raise at that one.
“First sugar, now alcohol?” Dexter asks.
“I’ve had a hard day.” I take a sip. It’s sweeter than the icing. Claire appears at my side with her own cup.
“This stuff is awful,” she says, swallowing a gulp.
“Then why are you drinking it?” Jake asks—like he’d taint his epic body with any kind of garbage.
She elbows him in the stomach, then winces. “Damn, Jake, you got a brick wall under that shirt?”
I take another sip and nod. “Pretty much.”
He shakes his head and gestures to the guys. “Let’s let them have their fun. I know Jasper has a game room in the basement.”
Charlie perks up at the word “game” and George bailed three minutes ago and is talking to a group of kids from school. Dexter takes my hand and leans in. “We’ll be downstairs if you need us, okay?”
“Yep.” I blow the boys a kiss and look at Claire. “I had a seriously dumb day. Is it wrong that I just want to pretend like I’m a totally basic teenager at a house party and do what everyone else is doing?”
“I think that sounds like the most perfectly perfect thing to do tonight.” She holds up her cup and I “clink” it with mine.
Here’s to being basic.
18
Charlie
George is lining
the cue ball up, completely prepared to not only win a bet with Jake that will get him out of dishwashing duty for the week, but also humiliate our jock foster brother with his amazing pool skills, when Jasper walks anxiously up to me.
“Uh,” he seems a little lost for words.
“Hey Jasper,” George taunts, “want to play me after I kick Hollingsworth’s ass?”
Jake clenches his jaw so tight I’m pretty sure I hear it snap. Dexter laughs at the other end of the table. A safe distance away, I shake my head at my brother who just doesn’t know when to quit. Someone will get punched before the night is over.
“No,” he says, eyes darting back to me. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Me?” I ask. I’ve never spoken two words to the guy, but I do know that George got a little alpha male on the trip to the Christmas tree farm and in general, most people are hesitant around Dexter. His reputation may take a bit longer to fade.
“Yeah. Upstairs?”
I nod, realizing none of them are watching me—they’re too tied up in the game. Jasper walks up the stairs and I follow him. “Look, I know from the club Starlee and you are friends and I just thought maybe you’d want to—”
He doesn’t finish his sentence because the music that was a dull thump downstairs is rattling windows up here. A group is crowded around the massive stone fireplace at the back of the room and through the people I can tell people are up on the hearth. The whole places is swaying or bouncing with the beat. I look at Jasper in question and he grimaces, nodding to the fireplace. That’s when I see them.
Starlee, Claire, Christina, and Margaret, each holding a shiny silver candlestick that they’re using as a makeshift microphone and singing at full volume. It’s the oddest mix of girls but what’s even weirder is the fact they’re all laughing like they’re best friends.
“Look,” Jasper says, “I’m completely, totally, not judging what’s going on up there, but I know how you guys are about Starlee, and,” he swallows, eyes shifting back to the girls. Starlee’s pulled off her sweater, revealing a tight tank top that shows a thin sliver of skin between her shirt and low-rise jeans. “I didn’t want Dexter or Jake to come up here and lose their shit.”
Not about Starlee. I see that right off, but about the guys huddled around our girl, our very, very drunk girl. Just as I’m walking in her direction I see Wes Boyd walk up to her with a dollar bill in his hand and reach out—
I’m through the crowd in a heartbeat—a single heartbeat, grabbing Wes’ wrist.
“Dude, what the fuck?” He pushes me back. Once he realizes it’s me, he thinks on it. Why? Not because I’m a threat, but because of my brothers. I’m the last one to get in a fight with someone—although I would in a second if it came to Starlee—Wes just doesn’t know that. What he does know is that he doesn’t want to be on the other side of Dexter Falco’s fist.
“I suggest you put that money away.”
He scoffs. “What are you going to do?”
Not fight this guy. Jasper steps in behind me, telling Wes to chill out. I look around to make sure none of the other guys have any ideas about approaching Starlee but everyone seems to have lost interest.
“Charlie!” My name is cried over the pulsing music. I look up and can’t help but grin at the girl smiling down at me.
“Hey, you want to come down?”
Claire throws her arm around Starlee and shakes her head then tells me with a slur, “You can’t make us.”
Still dancing, Starlee reaches for me, pulling me up to the fireplace. “Come up here,” she asks. “Dance with me like Valentine's.”
I laugh. “Not a chance. Come on, hop down. We’ll go get some fresh air.”
Her cheeks are a bright pink and her hair curls by her ears from perspiration. Her green eyes are both bright and a little glazed. I hold out my hand to her.
“Seriously?” Claire says. “You’re leaving me?”
“I can’t help it,” Starlee says, eyes holding mine, “he’s just so cute.”
She hands the candlestick off to Claire and clasps my fingers. Hopping down, her small body teeters into mine. I toss my arm around her shoulder to steady her and bring her close, leading her away from the group. I spy a pair of glass doors leading to the porch and go through them.
The porch is small, screened-in. There’s a small sitting area and a ladder that stretches to a second floor.
“Let’s go up there,” she says, pointing above.
“You sure you can make it up the ladder?”
“With a little help,” she smiles, placing my hand on her hip.
She climbs the ladder just fine, making me wonder if she’s not as drunk as she seems. On the second floor it’s another screened porch, complete with a trap door to keep people from coming up or down. I close it, just in case Starlee really is wasted. I don’t need her tumbling through a hole.
The little spot is quiet, giving a reprieve from the thumping music below. The view is amazing—the faint outlines of the lake and mountains in the distance. When I get a good look at the area, I see there’s a large swing that’s more couch than bench. There’s a thick padded cushion and soft-looking pillows, along with a fuzzy blanket hanging over the back.
“Ohh that looks comfy.” She lunges for the swing and I hold onto her to keep her steady. She lands with an awkward thud anyway, the swing chains rattling. She pats the cushion next to her. “Sit with me?”
I sit and she urges me to recline. When I do, leaning into a puffy red pillow, she kicks off her shoes, curling into me. The bare skin of her arms is pebbled from the cold.
“Where’s your sweater?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Lost it.”
I shake my head and reach for the blanket, spreading it over her legs, tugging it up to her shoulders. Her arms wrap around my waist and she rests her head on my chest, absorbing my warmth.
“What came over you in there?” I ask, finding that whole scene out of character. Starlee’s fun and carefree but usually only with us or back in Lee Vines. At school or in a group there’s usually more hesitation—one I relate to.
She looks up at me, hand reaching out to touch my chin. Her hands are soft, warm despite the cold, but send a shiver down my limbs. “I don’t know. Do you ever just feel like running away?”
From anyone else it may be rhetorical, but Starlee has run away before—ran here. Are we not enough? Does she want more?
She’s holding my gaze, waiting for an answer. I swallow. “From my dad, yeah, every day. But beyond that all I’ve ever wanted was the stability of a home.”
“And you have that in Lee Vines?”
“As much as I’ll ever get, I think, until…”
Her eyebrows furrow. “Until what?”
“Later, I guess. If I have a family of my own.”
She nods, but doesn’t push. It’s an unspoken understanding that the future isn’t a conversation any of us are ready to have. There’s so much that comes first. The decisions about college. George’s art school. Jake’s exams. Dad’s court hearing.
“I don’t know what to do, Charlie.”
Her thigh hitches over mine, pulling me closer.
“What do you mean?”
“For the future. College. Do I even want to go? Where? Study what? I’m not like the rest of you with goals and aspirations. For so long I just did what my mother told me, never knowing what I wanted on my own.” She swallows. “Until I met you. When I met the four of you, I knew what I wanted—but beyond that—I’m a mess."
Her forehead is creased and it’s all unnecessary. She’s winding herself up for no reason. I brush her hair aside, trailing my fingers across her cheek and down her neck. “Do you want my opinion?”
“Please.”
“It’s probably hard to imagine how messed up we all were when Sierra brought us into her home. George was a complete spaz, sneaking out, tagging what he could. Dex, as you know, was just a burnout with a nasty attitude problem and temper. Jake, a basic dum
b jock. Me? I could barely talk to anyone. I was deeply lost in my gaming. Coming to a party like this would have been unheard of. Sitting with a beautiful girl like you would have been a fantasy.”
She smiles. “So Sierra changed that?”
“Sierra, the social workers, therapy…we learned to turn our talents into a coping mechanism and then honed them into actual skills.” I link my fingers with hers under the blanket. “At least, hopefully.”
“My coping skills involved me hiding out at home and rebelling against my mother.”
“Maybe, but what I’ve noticed is that you’re really good at helping people. You’re awesome at the service projects. Not just the planning and organizing, but working with people directly. You’re great with guests and customers at the lodge or Wayward Sun. You have a way of anticipating people’s needs.” Her ear rests close to my heart and she makes little circles on my stomach. “You’re not afraid of anything, Starlee. You completely took us in stride, and trust me, loving two juvenile delinquents, one social recluse, and a jock with severe learning disabilities isn’t easy. Ask our parents.”
“Whatever,” she says, but I see the smile on her pink lips, “you guys are pretty lovable.”
“No,” I tell her, tilting her chin so she looks at me, “you not only found the best in us and so many others, but you know how to cultivate it. Discern needs. I think that may be your real calling.”
The glassy, intoxicated look in her eyes fades completely and Starlee lifts her mouth, kissing me under the jaw. Her lips are warm, her tongue hot, and her breath fans over my skin as she marks territory. I grit my teeth as her hands wander, settling on my belly, slipping beneath my shirt. I wrap my fingers around her wrist and stop her movements.
Using every ounce of willpower, I say, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
A little line slashes across the bridge of her nose. “Why?”
“Because you’re drunk and you and I have agreed to take this slow. This doesn’t feel slow.”
She pushes herself up on her elbow, jostling the chains. “First of all, I’m not drunk. Swear.” She makes a cross sign over her heart. “Second, just because we’re moving slow doesn’t mean we don’t move at all.”