by Ahmet Zappa
Her voice trailed off as she noticed that Libby had pulled her soft pink blanket over her head, obviously ignoring her. Gemma threw back the covers and nimbly hopped out of bed. She opened her closet and grabbed her bathrobe. “I call first stars on the sparkle shower!” she cried.
Libby sighed. Gemma had called first stars on the sparkle shower every day that week. They were supposed to take turns. She removed the covers and took a deep, calming breath. Then another for good measure. She smiled, feeling much better. There. No reason to get annoyed. She and Gemma were the perfect roommates, the envy of all the other Star Darlings. They got along well, accepting each other’s idiosyncrasies, easily working through any issues that came up, and never letting resentments get in the way of their respect and affection for each other. Sure, Gemma had a mercurial personality, and Libby sometimes had difficulty making even the smallest decision without carefully weighing the pros and cons (deciding what to order for dinner sometimes required the thought process others reserved for major life decisions). But they had similar live-and-let-live personalities that served them both well. So it really confounded Libby that she was feeling irked that morning. And over something as silly as a vase of flowers that would probably be wilted by the afternoon!
Libby yawned and stretched. She slipped her feet into a pair of fluffy pink slippers and shuffled to the mysterious bouquet of flowers, which was sitting on her pink desk, exactly where the two roommates had discovered it the night before to their delight and surprise.
She leaned over and took a deep sniff. She shook her head. The smell was actually more spicy than sweet, in her estimation. Just like blushbelles, no question about it. Maybe Gemma was teasing her. She sighed with happiness as she surveyed her half of the double room. She, like all incoming students at Starling Academy, had filled out an extensive questionnaire about her dorm room preferences. The results were spectacular. Her half of the room was pink, pink, and more pink as far as the eye could see, just as she had requested, from the round bed, with its padded fabric headboard, to the sumptuous rug, recessed wall lights, desk/vanity, and sparkling crystal chandelier. (The lovely white lacquered dresser with spindly legs that stood in the corner was the sole nonpink touch.) And the wide, low pink table was surrounded by luxurious floor cushions. It was the perfect place for friends to gather, and Libby often invited her classmates over to hang out during their free time.
Luckily, Gemma was very social and fun-loving, too. But on the occasional day that she wasn’t in the mood for company, she would just draw the starry curtain that ran along the middle of the room, climb into bed, and read or listen to music. But she could usually be coaxed to join in when the conversation got too good to ignore.
Gemma stepped into the room. Her skin glimmered, covered in a fresh layer of sparkles from her shower. Star Darlings were born with glittery skin and hair, but a daily sparkle shower helped keep them as luminous as possible. Libby headed in next, and the sparkle shower, invigorating and refreshing, cleared her mind and improved her mood. She applied her toothlight, first to the top row, then to the bottom. Starlings used their toothlights twice a day, in the morning and the evening, to keep their teeth as clean, white, and sparkly as could be.
Libby put her toothlight back in the mirrored cabinet, closed it, and stared at her reflection for a moment, taking in her long pink hair, alabaster skin, rose-colored eyes, and dimpled chin. She smiled at her reflection and headed back into the other room. She found Gemma sitting on her bed, tying her yellow shoelaces. She had put on an orange mesh three-quarter-length-sleeved shirt over an orange tank top and matching capri pants and pulled her hair into two cute pigtails. She looked effortlessly hip, as always. As soon as she spotted Libby, she launched right back into the conversation, as though no time had passed. “So wouldn’t you agree that they are the most delicious-smelling flowers ever? I mean, I have never smelled anything so sweet in my entire life. No lie. Have you?”
Libby had indeed smelled something sweeter. For her sixth birthday, her parents had taken her and eleven of her closest friends on a behind-the-scenes private tour of the Floffenhoofer Candy Factory. The very air in the jellyjooble processing room had nearly knocked her over with its fruity deliciousness. Just thinking about it made her mouth water. “Well, once I went on a—”
“Come to think of it, we had an orchard of goldenella trees on the farm,” Gemma continued, as if she had never asked Libby her opinion. “You know, the kind that bloom nonstop for one week straight, and the flowers pop off the tree just like popcorn. When they bloomed, Tessa and I would just drop to the ground and roll around in the flowers. The smell was intoxicating! They positively carpeted the grass.” She shook her head. “But even that was nothing like this delicious fragrance.” She sniffed again.
“Well, I once—” Libby tried again.
“And when I call it a carpet of flowers, I am talking wall-to-wall,” Gemma pressed on. “Nothing but lemon-yellow blossoms as far as the eye could see. And they didn’t fade at all. It looked like a sea of sunshine. I remember one time when Tessa and I decided to…”
Libby, who usually listened with pleasure to Gemma’s stories, found herself tuning out. Gemma’s older sister, Tessa, was a third-year student and also a Star Darling. The sisters had been raised on a farm far out in the countryside, in a place called Solar Springs. There wasn’t even a real town nearby, Gemma had told her, just a dusty old general store, where they did their very occasional shopping. They grew nearly everything they needed on the farm. Libby, who’d had a completely different upbringing in Starland City, had heard countless stories about their life and thoroughly enjoyed each one. It was such a different existence from hers, and she found it quite fascinating. And Gemma loved to talk about it. She liked to talk in general, actually. When she was in the mood, she could talk all day long, from the moment she woke up to when she went to bed. Libby had even been woken up in the middle of the night by Gemma talking in her sleep! But Libby had just laughed, rolled over, and gone back to bed. The truth was that Libby loved a good discussion and relished a friendly argument. But for some reason she was not enjoying it that day.
Libby finished getting dressed in a pink dress with star-shaped pockets and white tights embroidered with pink stars. She hung her Wish Pendant, a necklace that resembled a constellation of golden stars, around her neck and fastened the clasp. Her signature look was sweetly stylish. She stood in front of the mirror in her closet, brushing her long pink hair. The exact shade of cotton candy and jellyjoobles, it rippled down her back. Her silky, flowing rosy-hued hair was her secret pride.
“So who do you think sent us the flowers?” Gemma asked. “There wasn’t a holo-card. Why would anyone be so mysterious? If you’re sending such a nice gift, you’d think you’d want to get credit for it. That reminds me of the time I—”
“That’s a good question,” interrupted Libby. She sifted through the evidence. Neither of them recognized the glittery flowers, so they must be rare (and, most likely, expensive). Receiving them had been a pleasant, unexpected surprise. And anything rare, beautiful, thoughtful, or extravagant in Libby’s life always came from one place. “My parents must have sent them,” she said with a smile. “They love surprises.” Especially expensive ones, she thought.
Gemma, who was the secondary beneficiary of many a care package from Libby’s parents, Erica and Miles, nodded. “Hey! I think you’re right!” she exclaimed.
As if on cue, Libby’s holo-phone rang and an image of her mother, drumming her fingers impatiently on the Starcar’s dashboard, was projected in the air. She hesitated because she wasn’t sure she felt like talking to her mom at the moment, but she accepted the call with a swipe of her hand.
“Sweetheart!” said her mother, appearing as a live hologram in front of Libby. She was sitting next to Libby’s father on their way to work. Libby’s parents worked hard as investment bankers at a large firm and liked to enjoy the best life had to offer, showering their daughter with pricey gi
fts and one-of-a-kind experiences. Of course these rare fragrant blooms had come from them!
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad!” said Libby.
Gemma popped her head into the frame. “Hi, there!” she shouted.
Libby’s dad put down his holo-reader and smiled. “Hello, girls. How’s school?” he asked.
“Fine,” said Libby, not looking at Gemma. It was a weird feeling not to be able to share everything that was going on at school with her mom and dad. But the Star Darlings had to keep their new duties top secret, even from their parents. Libby changed the subject quickly. “So we got the flowers you sent. They’re beautiful. Thanks a lot.”
“Yeah, thank you!” Gemma called out. “We love them.”
Libby’s mom looked confused. “Flowers? We didn’t send you any flowers,” she said. She turned to her husband. “Miles, we should have sent the girls flowers! That’s such a nice idea!”
“Well, how about some glimmerchips?” offered Libby’s dad. “We could send you a case or two.”
“Yes, please,” said Gemma automatically. She had never tasted the thin, crispy, salty, and, yes, glimmery chips before she had started at Starling Academy, and she had developed quite a taste for them.
Libby shook her head. “We’re fine, Daddy.” She still had an unopened case under her bed. “But thank you.”
“Starsweetie, the actual reason I called, besides to say hello, is to discuss your upcoming mid–Time of Shadows break,” Libby’s mother explained, pulling up a holo-calendar in the air in front of her. Libby could see that it was already packed with events and plans. Her parents always had a very full social calendar. “Daddy and I were thinking we’d go to Supernova Island. Or maybe Glamora-ora,” she said, naming two exclusive vacation destinations. The holidays were still a ways off, but Libby’s parents were so busy they had to schedule everything months in advance.
Gemma’s eyes were wide. “Wow,” she mouthed, stunned into uncustomary silence. Her parents didn’t like to leave the farm for more than a couple of hours at a time, so the sisters always spent their holidays at home.
Libby twirled a piece of her pink hair around her finger, a grimace on her face. She hated disappointing her parents. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“That’s not an attractive look, my dear,” said her mother. “Is something wrong?”
“I…uh…was talking to Aunt Kit about joining her on a volunteering vacation during break,” Libby explained. “We’re thinking of traveling from city to city, helping out at different orphanages and animal shelters. And I might even be able to get some credits for school.” Aunt Kit and Libby’s mom were sisters, but they couldn’t have been more different. Libby adored her mother, but she had so much more in common with the young, altruistic Kit, who loved helping others even more than she enjoyed traveling—which was saying a lot.
The matching looks of dismay on her parents’ faces would have been funny if they hadn’t been so disconcerting to Libby. It was painful for her to disappoint anyone, particularly her generous and kind parents. But you’d think she had told them she wanted them to take her camping on the Isle of Misera, a barren, rocky, uninhabitable island off the coast of New Prism. Libby sighed. The problem was that her parents just didn’t get her.
Until Libby was ten years old, she had been unaware that she lived an exceptional life. She hadn’t given a second thought to any of it—the huge sprawling mansion in the fanciest neighborhood in Starland City, Starland’s largest metropolis; the exclusive vacations; the closetful of expensive clothes and shoes and accessories; any toy she desired, plus many more she hadn’t even realized she had wanted until she received them. All that changed one day when she was off from school. The family’s housekeeper was away, so little Libby’s parents took her to work with them. She was playing in the conference room with her newest toy, an exclusive child-sized doll that could have full conversations on any subject with its owner, when a little girl walked in. She was the daughter of the building’s janitor and she was totally fascinated with Libby’s doll. When Libby asked the girl if she had one just like it at home, she was shocked to hear that the girl didn’t own a doll of any kind. Libby was dubious. Was that even possible? The girl explained that her parents didn’t have money for unnecessary things. Libby felt terrible. “Take it, it’s yours,” she said to the girl. The look of pure joy on the girl’s face staggered Libby. The feeling she got from giving was much better than the happiness she got from receiving. She went home that night and took a good look around her. Meeting the girl had really opened her eyes to her privileged existence and the joy she could bring others with her generosity.
Libby had started small, donating the toys she didn’t play with to a children’s hospital. Her parents were amused, calling her “our little philanthropist.” But when Libby next gave away every other toy she owned, and then asked for donations to her favorite charity instead of gifts on her Bright Day, they began to object. They especially did not appreciate it when she questioned their lavish lifestyle, which they felt they deserved, as they had earned it through their hard work.
Libby’s mother spoke first. “That’s our Libby, always thinking about others,” she said. Libby perked up. Maybe they were starting to see her point of view….
“And never about us!” her parents said together.
No such luck. Libby felt her spirits deflate like a punctured floating star globe.
“The choice is yours, my love,” said her father sadly. “But we were looking forward to spending some quality time relaxing together, like we always do on vacation.”
Libby was careful not to smile, as she could recall many family holidays when she was left to her own devices while her parents took their daily holo-conference calls. Her parents didn’t really know how to relax.
“Well, we’ve arrived,” announced Libby’s dad in the fake cheerful voice Libby knew all too well. The car would drop them off at the building’s entrance, then park itself in their designated parking space.
“Bye, Mom and Dad, talk soon,” said Libby, rushing off the phone. She was glad to be out of the starlight, but she still felt a lump in her throat as her parents signed off, about to begin another day of acquisitions and mergers. Or whatever it was they did all day.
She stood there for a moment. She was glad that Gemma understood that she needed a moment to collect her—
“Well,” said Gemma. “That didn’t go over so well. What are you going to do? Me, I guess I would just go to—”
Libby whirled around to face her roommate, about to give her a piece of her mind.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
SHANA MULDOON ZAPPA is a jewelry designer and writer who was born and raised in Los Angeles. She has an endless imagination and a passion to inspire positivity through her many artistic endeavors. She and her husband, Ahmet Zappa, collaborated on Star Darlings just in time for their magical little girl and biggest inspiration, Halo Violetta Zappa.
AHMET ZAPPA is the New York Times best-selling author of Because I’m Your Dad and The Monstrous Memoirs of a Mighty McFearless. He writes and produces films and television shows and loves pancakes, unicorns, and making funny faces for Halo and Shana.
