Rocco lights a candle, and so do my other cousins. We stand in silence and watch the candles flicker to life. Granny Ranieri utters an “Our Father” in Italian, and soon Papa Ranieri and Aunt Giovanna join her. The prayer envelops us, tugging us closer together under the warmth of candlelight. I close my eyes. I count my slow breaths and the consistent beat of my heart.
Faith, magic, hope.
Faith, magic, hope.
Faith, magic, hope.
Someone squeezes my shoulder. I turn and see Aunt Therese smiling. “Let’s go find seats before it gets too crowded,” she says.
My family takes up two and a half pews. I sit on the end, near the aisle next to Rocco, and look over the familiar Christmas songs in the hymnal.
“Hey, where are your parents?” he asks.
I look down our row and at the two pews behind us. Mom and Dad aren’t there. They aren’t in the cathedral at all.
“Maybe they’re in the bathroom,” Gloria says, leaning over her brother. “Mass is so long. Granny will probably have to get up a gazillion times.”
The organist enters and sits down at the bench. She begins warming up with “O Holy Night.” I look over my shoulder. A few people are streaming through the doors; most are already seated.
“I’m going to go look for my parents,” I say. I hurry down the aisle, passing families excitedly chatting about Christmas, and enter the lobby.
My eyes widen. Mom is sitting on the bench, cuddled up to Dad in his wheelchair. Both underneath the mistletoe. Kissing!
I run from the lobby and back to my seat at the end of the pew. Mom and Dad kissing! They’ve hardly hugged since the accident. It must be Mrs. Sapienti’s dust mixture. Dad’s been feeling good enough to make things better with Mom. And he was able to stand up to Nonna earlier. It has to be magic. My body buzzes, my legs shaking against the pew. I clench my fists in my lap. Don’t get your hopes up, Luna. Still. My heart thrums against my chest. I lean back in the pew, smiling.
Chapter 22
Luna? You still have one gift left.” Mom grabs the hot pink and yellow polka-dotted wrapped present I put on the shelf in my closet. Tailee’s present. Her mom brought it over yesterday morning. Mom smiles and hands it to me, along with a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
Mom, Dad, and I opened our gifts early in the morning before the rest of the family came over. This year was the first time I didn’t receive a doll. Instead, I got new paints, art books, an easel, and some clothes for spring. Dad surprised Mom with a gold heart-shaped locket that has our pictures inside and she hugged him tight.
The family started coming over around midmorning, just in time for pancakes and bacon. The rest of the day was a blur of wrapping paper, Christmas cookies, and lots of food. My cousins and I chased one another outside, hurling snowballs and making snow angels. My grandfathers settled in the living room with my dad and uncles, while my grandmothers busied about the kitchen with my mom, aunts, and Uncle Mike. We exchanged gifts with the entire family before sitting down to our second feast in two days. By the time everyone started to leave, I was so stuffed that I vowed to never eat another bite of food for the rest of my life.
“Want some cookies to go with that hot chocolate?”
“Maybe just a couple,” I say.
Mom laughs and turns to head back to the kitchen. “Open your present,” she calls down the hallway.
I cross my legs on the window bench and stare down at the present in my lap. Tailee’s pretty handwriting spells out my name with a glittery gel pen. My stomach knots up. This could be the last gift I ever get from her. I tug at the purple ribbon and slip my fingernail underneath the tape on the top and sides, careful not to tear the wrapping. It’s nice, heavy paper. I could use it in an art project. The box underneath the paper is simple, white. The top comes off easy and reveals a sea of lime-green tissue paper. It crinkles between my fingers.
Underneath the tissue paper is a framed photo of Tailee and me from Halloween two years ago. We’re standing outside her house, our arms over each other’s shoulders. She’s dressed up as Dracula with a white face, dark bags under her eyes, and blood smeared across her lips and chin. Tailee convinced me to dress up as the Swamp Thing and spray-painted a yellow hula skirt different shades of dark and light green for my swampy monster hair. We ran all around the neighborhood that night and went to every house at least three times.
I press my fingers to the picture. We were so happy. We had no idea what would happen. That I’d hide away from her and everyone else.
I take a breath and sift through the rest of the box. Bobbing up and down on the tissue is a velvet jewelry box. It fits in the palm of my hand. Navy, gold, and square. Inside is half a gold heart with the word “best” etched into it. I look at the jewelry box. At the bottom is a quick note in Tailee’s precise letters and gold glitter ink: “You’re still my best friend.”
“What did Tailee give you?” Mom walks into my room with a plate of Christmas cookies. I pass her the picture and the necklace but hide Tailee’s note underneath the tissue paper. “Oh, these are really nice.”
“I don’t know what to do. I haven’t even gotten her anything yet.”
“There’s still time. Tailee loves you. She’ll understand.”
“How can I even get her a gift when I can’t go to the mall without freaking?”
“You’ll figure something out. You always do.” Mom brushes the hair out of my face and kisses me on the head. She leaves the plate of cookies next to me and hands me Tailee’s gifts before heading toward the door. “Merry Christmas, honey. Don’t stay up too late tonight.”
Mom closes the door, her footsteps disappearing down the hallway.
I unclasp the necklace Tailee gave me and put it around my neck. It sits next to Dad’s cornicello, and both shine in the lamplight.
Guilt twists around my heart. So much has gone wrong. And it’s all my fault. I grab Tailee’s note out of the tissue paper and hold it tight.
Chiara taps my window. Behind her the ship floats between our houses.
I open the window, warm air slipping into my room. “What’re you doing?”
“The baby stars are ready to be released!” Chiara says. “We weren’t gonna go up on Christmas, but Papa really wants us to get them back up there. Come on!”
I grab the leather bomber jacket out of my closet, pull on a pair of boots over my pajama bottoms, and tuck my sketch pad under my arm. I grab the plate of cookies Mom brought up before heading out of the window and hopping into the zeppelin.
It’s only a matter of moments before we’re soaring high up into the clouds. The city grows farther and farther away until it’s nothing more than a glowing speck. The wind blows through my hair and whips against my cheeks.
“Here,” Chiara says, holding out a thermos. “It’s Mama’s hot chocolate.”
I open the top and take a sip, letting the sweet chocolate heat me up from the inside. “I brought some cookies. My mom makes the best. Look at the stars on them.”
“Ooh, so pretty.” Chiara takes a cookie and examines it. “I love the glitter.”
We bring the cookies up to Alessandro and sit with him. The clouds break up and the stars shine brighter. They peek through the night, watching the city sleep, watching us as we travel higher into the heavens.
“Are the baby stars excited?” I ask.
“I think so. It’s kind of hard to tell,” Chiara says. “Alessandro’s definitely excited.”
“It’s a lot of work watching after baby stars.” Alessandro rolls his eyes. “It’s like house training twenty puppies at once.”
“But they’re so cute! We were lucky that Gemini needed new stars. They can all stay together.”
Chiara, Alessandro, and I finish off the cookies. Only some stray sprinkles and chocolate remain on the plate.
“What did you do for Christmas?” Chiara wipes the crumbs from her mouth with the back of her hand.
“We celebrated the Feast of the Seven F
ishes on Christmas Eve and went to Midnight Mass,” I say. “My family came over this morning, and we cooked and had snowball fights outside.”
Chiara’s eyes widen. “That sounds amazing! We’ve only ever had one Christmas in Italy with our whole family. It was so nice.”
“We still have a lot of food,” Alessandro says. “And presents.”
Alessandro lines the ship up next to a large, dark gap in the Gemini constellation. Chiara was right. They really do need more stars. The closest are about a mile away on both sides.
“Time to get the stars.” Chiara springs to her feet. She rushes to the small room that serves as the ship’s nursery.
“Will we need goggles when they come out?” I ask Alessandro.
He shakes his head, dropping the Stella Cadente’s anchor into a nearby cloud. “Those are only needed when the stars are in a contained area. There’s plenty of room for them to shine brightly out here.”
Chiara hurries back with a large wicker basket full of beaming baby stars. They bounce up and down, bumping into one another.
“Get the rest, Alessandro.”
Alessandro hops down the stairs and disappears into the nursery.
“Luna, will you help me?” Chiara calls from the deck. “They’re great at floating now. All you need to do is hold them up and let them flap from your arms. They’ll know which spots to fill in the constellation,” she says. “But be careful.”
I pet one of the stars on her head. She wriggles, her mouth quirking into a smile. “Are you ready, little one?” The star bounces into my arms and I hug her close, her warmth radiating through my body.
“Good! Now hold her high and let her go,” Chiara calls.
She holds her own star over her head. The little baby tumbles from her arms before floating higher and higher above the ship. Chiara clasps her hands together. “Look at him go! Great job, little guy!”
The star bounces around in my arms. Carefully, I hold her up as high as I can. She kicks upward out of my grasp, and soon only my fingertips are touching her. The star twirls around just above us, her dust sprinkling down on my head, before she floats up toward Gemini.
“Two down, three to go,” Alessandro says. In his arms is another wicker basket with two more baby stars. “Looks like they’re doing well.”
“They’re so happy!” Chiara spins around the deck before hoisting another star from the basket. Alessandro grabs one too, and I pick up the last. “Let’s release them on the count of three. One.”
“Two,” Alessandro says.
The star’s warmth spreads from my chest all the way down to the tips of my toes. I hold her over my head. “Three!” I say.
She slips from my hands and zips up to meet the others. The three stars twinkle against the darkness as they whirl around one another, floating farther away until they join the other two. All five baby stars lined up in a row, part of Gemini.
“Glorious!” Chiara jumps up on her tiptoes. She points at the constellation. “Look at them up there. They’re going to be great.”
“We’ll need to check in on them soon.” A smile slips over Alessandro’s face. “I’m glad they’re happy. Thank you for your help, Luna.”
The baby stars shine bright as part of Gemini, closing the gap that had darkened the constellation. Alessandro and Chiara prepare the ship for our departure, but I don’t move. I hold on to Dad’s cornicello, watching the baby stars work together to illuminate the black sky.
Chapter 23
Hey, look!” Chiara runs toward the other side of the ship. “A shooting star!”
I whip my head in her direction. “Really?”
Alessandro consults his moon device—the one with all the odd-looking attachments—and hurries over to where Chiara is standing. “He’s closer than the other one. Only three-point-seven miles away and headed in our direction. He’s going to pass us about one-point-five miles to the left.”
“I can see his tail.” She runs to the closet and pulls out a large net with a long wooden handle. One I imagine could be used to catch giant butterflies. She shoves it into my hands. “You need to catch the shooting star, Luna!”
In the distance is a fiery ball of light hurtling through the heavens. Its tail lashes behind it like lightning cracking the sky wide open.
“He’s coming fast.” My pulse races, beating so loud in my ears I can hardly hear my own voice.
Alessandro hurries for the wheel. “We’re going for it, right?”
He and Chiara look at me as if for instruction. I stare at the net. Its polished handle shines under the lanterns’ flames.
“What’ve we got to lose?” I grip the net tight to focus the excitement pumping through my veins. “Let’s do it.”
Alessandro makes a sharp left, nearly knocking Chiara and me off our feet.
“Hey!” Chiara yells. “Be careful.”
“I’m lining us up so we’re in the way.” We travel at full speed, dipping under asteroids and dodging space debris. Before we can even regain our balance, the ship comes to a jerking stop and tosses us forward. “You’d better steady yourself,” he shouts. “He’s going to be here soon.”
He moves the Stella Cadente so she’s in the shooting star’s path. Alessandro rushes down from the wheel to the main deck, his moon device in his hand. “Only one-point-two miles now. It’s going to come about five feet closer—most likely on the left side.”
I squeeze the net’s handle until my knuckles go white and my hands ache and lean even farther over the railing. This is the moment I’ve dreamed of. I can’t mess it up now. The shooting star nears, and it’s almost too hard to look at him. He burns white-hot like a poker left in the fireplace, and his tail licks at the darkness—searing it with light.
“Ground your feet,” Chiara yells. She wraps her arms around my middle, and Alessandro holds on to her to anchor us to the ship.
The shooting star is close enough for me to make out his eyes and mouth. His expression changes as he notices the net only a few yards in front of him, but he is going too fast to stop. I extend the net farther. My mouth goes dry. Sweat beads on my neck and hairline.
He collides with the net and tugs it about half a mile ahead of us. My waist hits hard against the railing, and I groan. Pain shoots through my arms, and the wooden handle rubs my palms raw. I want to let go. The shooting star pulls the ship behind him before he comes to a stop, his tail whipping back and forth like an angry cat’s. “Why isn’t the net breaking?” I yell, readjusting my grip on the handle.
“It’s made of spider silk and moondust. Like the bridge,” Chiara says while tightening her arms around me.
The shooting star begins to settle, and the ship lurches forward. Chiara and Alessandro slam into me before the ship swings and tosses us backward. I scramble to my feet and pull the net aboard. The shooting star floats a few inches above the deck, the net still covering him. Alessandro steps forward and pulls the net from the star’s body.
“What do you want?” he asks, swiping at the net with his tiny pointed arms. “I was on my way to the other side of the galaxy.”
Chiara nudges me toward the star.
I look at Alessandro, who nods.
“Well?” The shooting star looks at me. “You caught me. What’s your name?”
“Luna Andrea Marie Bianchini.” I straighten my shoulders, hands clenched.
“Where are you from, Luna Andrea Marie Bianchini?”
“Staten Island, New York.”
“I can feel your wish radiating off you.” His gaze is so intense it’s like he’s trying to drill into my soul. “I can see it in your heart. You’ve been waiting some time to catch a shooting star.” He spins back and forth. “Please. Ask your wish out loud so that I may hear it too.”
“I wish to go back in time to before the accident. When everything was normal,” I say. “Before I had to wear this compression mask and needed surgery. Before my dad was in a wheelchair and couldn’t go to work. Before my mom had to take care of
us every day and was fighting with my dad.”
“Luna Andrea Marie Bianchini.” The shooting star flies closer to me. So close I can see myself reflected in his dark eyes. “Let me ask: Won’t surgery mean you’ll no longer need to wear your mask?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Well, yes. That’s what Dr. Tucker says.”
“And your dad has been going back to the deli more, correct? He’s been feeling better. Happier?”
“I guess so.”
“Your mom and dad haven’t been arguing as much, either. In fact, it seems like their relationship is growing stronger by the day.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I can see it,” he says. “Shooting stars know everything.”
Panic flares in my chest. “You can grant my wish, right?”
He shakes his head. “I’m afraid I can’t give you what you want. Changing time is impossible. But things are already getting better for you and your family.”
“What do you mean?” My voice hitches in my throat. “I wish for the accident to have never happened. My dad and I would be healed. Why is that wrong?”
The shooting star comes closer and touches my arm. Alessandro and Chiara back up to give us space. “The things you want changed are in the midst of changing.”
“But how do I know they will?” I take a ragged breath.
“What happens when you’re unhappy again? Are you going to make another wish?” he asks. “You need to be patient.”
“If you can’t make Luna’s wish come true, what can you do?” Chiara asks.
“Shooting stars ignite a spark within a human’s soul.” He spins around in front of us. “When a person wishes for something, we give them the urgency to act to make their wish come true. You, Luna, lit your own spark. You don’t need me.”
Tears well up in my eyes, and Chiara tucks a tissue into my hand. “I can’t fix all these big things,” I say, my voice quivering. “I’m just a kid.”
The Trouble with Shooting Stars Page 18
