Under the Stars

by Rebecca A. Rogers

  Mattie’s even breathing should be a rhythm to fall asleep to. Instead, it’s grating.

  They’re not even quiet inhales and exhales. They sound like a bug is lodged in his throat.

  Hmmm. Bvvvv.

  I bury my head under my pillow. This is not happening. I need rest. I need to dream serenely, without interruptions. How am I supposed to listen to wild insects slamming against our defenses at night, and then listen to Mattie almost snoring? Nope. This won’t work.

  I yank the pillow and sheet from my bed. Downstairs, the tattered couch will have to be converted to a makeshift bed. If that doesn’t do the trick, I don’t know what will.

  Just as I situate myself into a comfortable position and am drifting into the territory between what’s real and what’s imaginary, a knock, knock, knock sounds at the door.

  Besides practically jumping out of my skin, I want to scream at whoever stands behind that entry. I almost trip over the ugly coffee table.

  I answer with a “What?” before realizing who’s there.

  Malik.

  “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Not a morning person?”

  I redirect my eyes toward the floor. “S-Sorry. No. Not really.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not either.” There’s a snippet of laughter behind his words.

  “Come in,” I say, motioning for him to make himself at home. “I haven’t been able to sleep much. Mattie snores, and Mama rises early for work.”

  He steps inside, shutting the door behind him. “I have the same problem. Well, minus the little brother. But my parents have to get up before the sun is even awake.”

  I smile. “Sucks, huh?”

  He shrugs. “I can’t complain. It’s a better life.”

  I tug at the blanket and pillow so he has somewhere to sit.

  “Do you ever think about what life would be like if we pressed forward to another city?” I ask.

  “I haven’t thought much about it. So, I guess not.” He pauses, the edge of his lips curling up. “Why? Do you?”

  “I don’t know. It sounds crazy, but I feel like I don’t belong here. Like I’m destined to be somewhere else.” Oh no, why am I spilling about my girlish childhood fantasies? It’s not like he wants to hear that right now when his parents are barely getting by. And not when my family is facing the same problems.

  “Maybe you are,” he says.

  His answer reassures me that visions of a new world and a new life aren’t completely out of reach.

  “It sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

  “No, we can always dream. Dreaming is good for the soul. And, anyway, what else would we do with our time until we’re old enough to land a job in the market?”

  “Sleep the days away,” I tell him. He barely nods.

  Standing from the couch, he says, “Well, I just wanted to come over and say hi. I need to go home and clean the place up a bit. It’s one less thing my parents have to worry about when they get home from a long day.”

  I smile despite myself. Looking around our house, I’m hit with the idea that I should be doing the same.

  “It was good to see you. Thanks for checking on us, but I’m sure we’ll be all right.” I notice Mattie’s still making weird breathing noises upstairs.

  I amble with Malik to the door and say goodbye. For now. It’s not like we’re back in the clutches of the merciless desert.

  After he leaves, I try to fall asleep again, but it’s no use. I’m fully awake now. Mattie, however, gets to enjoy his dream world. Well, he does need it more than me, I suppose.

  Since I can’t hold a job until I’m eighteen, I get to tidy the house. There isn’t much to clean since we don’t have full amenities yet, but I locate cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink. There are dust rags and furniture sprays. Plus, window cleaner. Wiping down the counter, I realize that these places can accumulate more dust from living in a wasteland than I thought.

  Then I understand I have to clean the rest of the place.

  By the time I finish, I’m completely worn out. But the dwelling actually looks good. I mean, it’s not spotless, but Mama will be proud. Maybe now I can get some shut eye without any interruptions.

  Each time I close my eyelids, though, I’m greeted by the noise of those irritated creatures.

  17.

  Days of the same routine, the same consistent life we've come to live, infect our valued moments and the way things used to be between us. Mama wakes, throws on worn out clothes, and then leaves for work. I wake to Mattie’s sleep-induced hums, and vacate to the couch downstairs. When I can’t sleep, I clean an already spotless kitchen, living room, bathroom and loft. Some days, I hang out in the shade with Malik. Other days, I do nothing but stare at the bleak ceiling until Mama arrives home from work. She frequently brings a loaf of bread and fresh meat. We devour it all.

  Afterward, we gather on the couch—just the three of us—and Mama tells us stories of how the world used to be. How she and Dad met. How they fell in love. Sometimes I wonder if she inserts bits of fiction into her tales to make them more interesting, but I never ask. Mattie seems to like her chronicles of a life he’s never seen. He listens attentively, leaning forward, as if that helps enhance his hearing.

  “I think he’s enjoying this,” I say, nodding toward Mattie.

  Mama smiles and gives him a short hug. “I think so too.”

  The house is cruelly silent without Mama’s voice. Neither of us has anything to say for a few seconds, so she speaks up. “I think they’re going to call another meeting soon.”

  “About what?”

  “Money, I’m sure. But there is good news. I’ll have enough money tomorrow to buy us all a new outfit.” She tickles Mattie, but he tries to avoid her fingers and scoots toward the armrest of the couch.

  I pick at my drab shirt and holey pants. “That’ll be nice.”

  “Yes, dear. I think so. Now, why don’t you and Mattie get ready for bed?”

  “Is it all right if I sleep down here tonight? Mattie’s snoring keeps me up. I haven’t been resting well lately.” Mattie’s eyes watch me, and I give him the best sorry I can assemble with mine.

  “I don’t see why not. I’ll sleep in your bed, then.”

  She and Mattie meander to the loft.

  “Good night, hon.”

  “Night, Mama. Night, Mattie.”

  One day he’ll tell me good night.

  The next morning, light peeps through the glass encased around the front door. I don’t know why they made the houses that way, unless they didn’t want them to be dark and depressing all the time. At least with that glow of light we have something to illuminate the house. We’ve been told that electricity hasn’t been set up in Legora yet. Everything is lit by lamps, candles, anything with a flame.

  Always fire.

  I roll over, blocking the blush of intensity from hitting the backs of my eyelids. Once again, I can’t sleep. This sucks.

  Mattie’s still soundly sleeping upstairs. I decide to leave the house, find something to get into. Maybe I’ll see Mama working her jewelry magic in the bazaar.

  In the streets, the sun coils its violent rays around my body, draining my energy within a matter of minutes. Down the hill from housing, the market is lively. Crowded, even. Vendors tug at the ropes harnessed around the necks of cows, goats and donkeys. When did animals arrive in Legora? They must’ve entered with a fresh batch of travelers.

  I weasel my way in and out of the hysteria. Not sure where Mama is stationed, I begin with the left side of town, scanning the faces behind the stands. It’s not until I penetrate the inner circle of town that I see her. She and another woman hold out a handmade product to each person that strolls by.

  “Any luck with business today?” I ask, startling Mama. She almost jumps at the sight of me.

  “Andy, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be home with Mattie,” she scolds.

  I smile at the other woman in the tent, and then re
ply, “I couldn’t sleep, and he was lost in his own dream world when I left. He’ll be fine. What harm could come to him now?”

  An embarrassed grin crosses her face. “You’re right. I shouldn’t worry now that we’re here. I’ve been fretting for too long now.”

  I place my hand on her arm, letting her know that I’m aware of what she went through. “It’s okay, Mama. We’re going to be okay.”

  She nods.

  “I just wanted to come down here and get some fresh air, but I see the sun never relents.” I hold a hand up to my eyebrows, squinting in its direction.

  “No, that’s one thing that won’t change.”

  “And one thing that won’t show mercy,” says the woman in Mama’s booth. “I’m Xara.” She reaches out to shake my hand.

  “I’m Andrina, but you can call me Andy,” I say.

  “I know who you are. Your mother here speaks about you and your brother as if you are the stars’ gifts to mankind.”

  Mama cheeks blush. It’s good to see her with some color.

  “That sounds like something she would do.” I playfully nudge her with my shoulder. “You look familiar, though. Were you with the gypsies?” I ask Xara.

  “Yes, I was. I remember you well. Our people praised you after our incident with those crazed vagabonds.”

  My stomach turns into a heap of guilty pulp. I had forgotten all about that, and wanted to shove it into the darkest nooks of my mind. “Yeah… about that…”

  “Don’t be frightened by it, Andy. What you did saved our people.”

  “But I didn’t save all of them,” I protest.

  She faintly shakes her head. “We can’t protect everyone’s fate. It’s up to us what we do with it. But you saved the others. That’s what matters.”

  My stomach twisting into knots, untangling, and then tightening back again, tells me that it mattered if I saved the people who didn’t make it. It’s my fault I didn’t act sooner to help them. But if she’s telling me it doesn’t, then I guess I should let it go.

  “Do you know Malik?” I ask. “He helped me. Did your people praise him too?”

  “Malik is my son, and of course we praised him,” Xara says.

  It’s as if she struck my cheek.

  “He talks about you, you know,” she says.

  “Does he? What does he say?”

  “He says you’re one of the strongest girls he’s ever known. He also says you have dreams that extend beyond our lifetime.”

  Now it’s my turn for cheeks to blush. “That’s very sweet of him.” That’s really all I have to say?

  Xara grins. “He should be somewhere around here soon. He comes to visit me every day.”

  “Well, I need to get home and check on Mattie. But if you see him, tell him I said hi.”

  “I will.”

  I hug Mama, and then dodge my way through the sea of merchants. Back to the hill compiled of measly houses. Back to Mattie’s annoying snores. Back to lying on my back, staring at the ceiling for the remainder of the day.

  18.

  Climbing up the hill to the housing district, I notice our front door is propped open a small amount. My first thought is Mattie.

  “Mattie!” I yell, bursting through the front door. “Mattie, can you hear me? Where are you?”

  Silence rings against my eardrums.

  I check the loft, just in case. But, of course, he’s not there. And he’s obviously not downstairs. I try cabinets and every nook and cranny he can fit into.

  Nothing. He’s just…gone.

  I don’t think anyone here would’ve taken him. I’m pretty sure we don’t have children thieves in Legora, not with all the kids sitting outside, playing in the dirt. Unless they specifically targeted Mattie because he was alone.

  Oh, God. Mama’s going to kill me.

  “Mattie!” I scream, now that I’m outside again. I receive awkward glares from the neighbors, but right now is not the time to worry about what they think. “Mattie! Where are you?”

  Okay, what are all places he might go if he left? Maybe he was looking for me or Mama.

  The marketplace.

  I run back down the hill, my feet moving faster than they should. I come close to tripping, but I don’t stop.

  Without paying attention to who’s in front of me, someone grabs my arm. I’m whisked around to face my captor.

  “What’s going on?” Malik asks, his eyebrows melding together.

  “I can’t—” I’m breathless. I bend over, hoping my air supply will replenish. “I can’t find Mattie,” I strangle out.

  Malik’s indigo eyes expand. “He’s got to be around here somewhere. Where was he—”

  “The house. He was at the house. And then he was gone.” My chest burns, like some has set it aflame. Every intake of breath pains me. I don’t think it’s all from running, either. My heart would crumple into a vacant shell if something happened to Mattie.

  “Okay, well, we’ll find him. No big deal. I bet he was just trying to find you. He’s probably with your mom.” Malik’s words are comforting, but could be a complete lie. Deep down, I know Mattie’s not with Mama.

  Turning the corner into the inner market, my fears are confirmed.

  Malik tugs on my arm.

  “No.” I weasel out of his grasp. “If Mama knows he’s missing, she’ll have a heart attack. And I wish I were joking.” I cut him a serious glance.

  “Let’s search the rest of the bazaar then.”

  We do. We search and search and search, and still no Mattie. He’s not visiting any of the tents. He’s not wandering hopelessly. He’s nowhere to be found.

  I collapse into an unstable mess.

  “How could this have happened?” I whisper.

  Malik sits next to my body, rubbing my arm. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You thought he was safe. How were you to know he’d run off?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “See.”

  “You don’t understand. I have to find him before Mama leaves the market. If she comes home to an empty house and two missing children…well…the wrath of falling stars will be nothing compared to her.”

  Malik chuckles at my horrible joke.

  “We’ll find him. I promise.”

  I sit up, brushing the sand off my worn clothes. “Where could he have gone? I mean, it’s not like Legora has many places to hide. Everything’s sectioned off.”

  He’d have to pass through the guards if he were to leave the town. I don’t think they’d let a kid roam directly into the harmful desert.

  “What if he’s outside Legora? Can that happen?” I ask.

  Malik scans the perimeter of our walls, and, from where we stand, we’re halfway up the hill to the housing. “Surely they wouldn’t.” He shakes his head. “There’s no way.”

  I nod, trying to convince myself he’s right, that I’m right. “I thought so, too.”

  Another search of the market, and of the housing, turns up empty-handed. We sit on the porch steps, defeated. I have to face Mama when she comes home. I’m toast. She’ll banish me to the Forgotten Sands—the most despairing place on the planet. As if the desert we trekked through wasn’t bad enough, this place makes it look like a walk in a park. Nobody goes there. Not unless they want to die.

  I bury my face against the palms of my hands, propping my elbows against my knees. I blow a couple of raspberries in aggravation. My right leg won’t stop twitching.

  “It’s going to be all right. Everything’s going to work out.” Malik says.

  I give him this look—one that screams, Are you freaking kidding me? He doesn’t say anything else until he sees Mama walking up the hill.

  With Mattie in hand.

  “Oh, Mama. I’m so sorry. He was asleep when I left and—”

  “It’s okay, Andy. He’s fine. He told me what happened.”

  “You mean—you’re not going to exile me or anything?” It takes several seconds before I register what she said. “Wait. He told you? As in,
he spoke?” I screech out the words.

  Mama bobs her head up and down enthusiastically. But it’s warranted.

  I drop to my knees in front of Mattie. “Say something to me, buddy. Say my name. Say anything.”

  He just stares at me with one of his blank expressions. Mama squeezes his hand, swinging his arm a little.

  “You don’t want to say hi to your big sister?” she asks him.

  Again with the glare. What’s up with that? He’s not upset because I ran to the market while he was busy snoring, is he? The noises escaping that boy’s throat when he sleeps are enough to wake the dead.

  “Maybe next time, huh?” I pat him once on the shoulder.

  Mama smiles at me, a smile that means I should give him time.

  Malik stands and says, “I need to go home and eat. I’ll catch ya later.” He hugs me before he leaves.

  Mama winks at me.

  “I told you—we’re just friends. That’s it.”

  “Okay,” she says, but the air behind her words means differently.

  19.

  The next morning, while I’m lounging on the couch completely bored, Mattie takes his time down the stairs.

  I pull myself into a sitting position and ask, “Did you sleep well last night?”

  His expression is blank, but if I could guess what it means, then I’d say he’s still mad at me for leaving him.

  “Look, Mattie, I’m sorry about yesterday.”

  Still, he doesn’t speak. He’s frozen in place at the base of the stairs. His brows knit together, and his tiny mouth forms an upside down smile.

  “How do you want me to make it up to you? Do you want to go see Mama at lunchtime?”

  No response from him. He’s kind of freaking me out.

  “Okaaay,” I mumble, falling back. The cushion is so worn out that I don’t even bounce. He’ll come around. I’m sure of it. Whenever he gets over this stupid grudge.

  20.

  “I don’t understand what his problem is,” I say to Malik the following day. “I mean, I get that he’s mad about me leaving him. Alone. But does he have to drag it out?”

  “Children can be mad for several reasons, but the child’s mind is observant. They can have their feelings crushed without us ever knowing.”