In the Stars

by Stacia Deutsch

  “Telescope?” I grind out the one word, slowly opening my right eye.

  “No damage,” he replies, but there’s an edge to his voice. “Wish I could say the same for you.”

  I open both eyes fully and allow Tyler to help me up off the hard rooftop. We both look down at my thigh. Even in the moonlight, it’s clear that there’s a growing red patch that will be blue by dawn. My first assessment was correct, however: no blood. Too bad I hadn’t thought to change out of my cotton sleep shorts and tank top before I came up here. If I’d been wearing jeans, I’d have had a more durable, slightly thicker padding.

  “You tried to save me.” I thank Tyler, handing him his cloak and taking a large step back, widening the distance between us. I gotta get away from his scent. It’s making my heart race in uncomfortable ways. I’m certain I’m having an allergic reaction to his cologne. At least that’s what I tell myself. Over and over again.

  For every step I’m taking backward, he’s taking one forward, hand outstretched. It’s just as I begin to get a bit nervous, wondering why he won’t take a hint and let the distance between us grow, that I notice Tyler is holding out my telescope.

  I stop running the backward marathon. I thank him profusely. From the bottom of my heart. I take the telescope and clutch it to my chest, like a new mother coddles her baby. “You made the right choice diving for the telescope,” I tell him.

  “I thought you might say that.” Tyler grins, his white (very white, I respectfully admire) teeth shining in the moonlight. He shrugs. “Still wish my plan would’ve worked. I could have rescued the damsel and her telescope in one swift movement.”

  “You tried and that’s what counts.” I set the telescope back on the tripod’s three legs, and angle the lens toward the night sky. “You might dress like Batman,” I say with a giggle, “but you’re only Bruce Wayne.”

  Tyler laughs. I like the way the sound echoes in the dark.

  “What are you doing up here?” we ask each other at nearly the exact same time.

  I decide to answer first and honestly, though I don’t know what has possessed me to be so frank. “I came to talk to my mom,” I tell him and point at the telescope. You’d think Tyler would pin me with one wide eye and say, “Huh?’ or grab his cell phone and call 911 to have me committed to a psych ward, but he does neither. Tyler casually replies, “Say hi for me.” And flashes me another toothy grin.

  “Now your turn,” I say simply.

  He points across the rooftop to a place in the shadows. I now notice a sleeping bag laid out and a pillow.

  “I was just about to settle in for the night,” he says.

  “You’re sleeping up here?’ I ask, stunned. “Isn’t the rooftop uncomfortable?”

  “I have an air mattress under my bag,” he replies simply.

  “Did you have a fight with your parents? Or Cherise?” I am wracking my brain trying to come up with a reason Tyler would want to sleep up here instead of in his room. I mean, I know why I like to sleep outside (not that I’ve ever slept on the roof of our apartment building before): Sleeping under the stars is a natural extension of my love for astronomy. As far as I know, Tyler doesn’t love astronomy … so maybe he likes astrology?

  He shakes his head at me. “Why do you think I’d have to be in a fight with someone to come out here? Couldn’t it be that I just like sleeping under the stars?”

  I shrug. “It just seems odd. You aren’t in the astronomy club.” I pause then ask, “Are you into astrology like Cherise?”

  “No,” Tyler answers. “Rest your brain, Sylvie. I like looking at the stars. It’s nice to sleep under them. That’s all there is to it.”

  I think about his answer. I guess I’ve never really considered that there’s a middle ground between astronomy and astrology. I suppose Tyler’s like most people: They like the stars because they’re beautiful. They don’t need to know about Neptune’s moons. Or about “Neptune’s moon” either.

  I nod as I take in this new realization.

  “Thanks,” I tell Tyler.

  “For what?”

  I consider telling him that his perspective on the stars is intriguing or that because of his questions that day at the Corner Café, I now understand clearly why I want to study astronomy, but decide against it. “Just thanks,” I reply. It’s enough.

  “You’re welcome.” He doesn’t press me for more.

  “Want to look through my telescope?” I ask him, then immediately wish I hadn’t offered. It was a step backward. I actually like that Tyler’s enjoying the stars simply because they twinkle. I don’t want to mess with that.

  I don’t have to rescind my offer because Tyler turns me down. He moves across the roof and lies back on his sleeping bag, hands behind his head. “Want to look at the sky from my vantage?” he offers.

  “I …” I nearly choke as I brush away the thought of lying down on an air mattress with Tyler. “No, thanks.” I adjust the lens on my Hartforde and peer through the eyepiece.

  I get lost in the stars and we’re both silent for a while. It’s comfortable. There’s no need to fill the silence with words. I take a peek at Mercury, and laugh at the idea that all of Cherise’s predictions will be coming true because it’s “retrograde.”

  Time passes quickly. Tyler’s still and quiet. I glance at him lying on his mattress under the glow of the moon and wonder if he’s fallen asleep. I hope so, because I should go inside soon and I haven’t talked to Mom yet. I decide to go ahead and speak out loud, like I usually do, pushing Tyler’s presence out of my mind.

  “Do you believe in destiny?” I ask in a low tone, my words drifting off the roof and floating upwards to Mom.

  It’s not like I really expect a female booming voice to say, “Relax, Sylvie. Enjoy the process of falling in love. Those kisses will get better because Adam is the guy for you!” or alternately, “If the relationship doesn’t feel right, you should stop forcing it.”

  I look through the telescope lens, searching the skies for a sign that Mom has heard me. A shooting star or a little twinkle would be plenty reassuring. The sky seems still and quiet when I take a deep breath and ask my follow-up question on a long sigh. “What should I do?”

  “Make your own destiny.” The voice is so soft that at first I wonder if Mom has actually spoken to me from deep space. It takes a second to register; the voice, so smooth now, is the same one that surprised me when I first came to the rooftop.

  “Tyler?” I ask, turning my head to face him.

  “I know I’m interrupting a very private conversation, but I can’t help myself.” He rolls on his side and props himself up on one arm. I feel the heat of his gaze.

  “It’s okay. But what do you mean?” I pull myself back from the telescope and turn to face him straight on. “Make your own destiny?” I’m curious.

  “The stars illuminate our path,” Tyler says. “Like they have always done for explorers and navigators, the stars show us the way. Following the stars can provide courage to press forward when we feel lost.” He pauses, then adds, “They can’t tell us when or how to behave.”

  “I don’t expect the stars to tell me exactly what to do,” I say, feeling a bit judged.

  When Tyler doesn’t immediately respond, I put aside my initial reaction and allow myself to slip into that gray area where Tyler resides, the place where astronomy and astrology are secondary to the mysterious beauty of the sky. I look up and out at the night sky and imagine early explorers searching for the North Star to show them the way home.

  They’d get lost, lose hope, and then, as Tyler said, look to the stars to show them the way through the ocean, across the forest, over the mountains. They didn’t need to know how many planets were in our solar system, or the chemical makeup of cosmic debris, they only needed to find one big twinkling bulb in the sky, mark down its position from where it was the night before, and bravely march onward into previously uncharted territory. The stars were a guide. The path, their own.

  �
�You always seem so calm and collected,” I say, considering Tyler’s words. “When do you ever need a bump in courage?”

  He laughs then says, “Oh, Sylvie, you’d be surprised.” His laughter fades away and Tyler slips over onto his back, looking up at the sky again. “Have you ever gone somewhere and done something completely out of character? Taken a huge risk with the hope that everything will turn out in your favor?”

  I think about the past few hours. I went to a party at Gavin Masterson’s, wore a mini-miniskirt, and was entirely out of my element, all because I wanted Adam to ask me to the prom.

  “Yes,” I say. “I did all that tonight.”

  Tyler doesn’t reply. In fact, he’s quiet so long I’m convinced that this time, he’s really fallen asleep. In the quietude, I pack up my telescope. It’s time for me to go inside and get to bed.

  I start to slip toward the apartment building door, moving slowly so as not to wake Tyler up. As I open the door, I hear Tyler’s whispered voice from behind me.

  “Yeah. I did all that tonight, too.”

  Seventeen

  Look beyond the obvious. Let your mind’s eye bear witness to the world.

  www.astrology4stars.com

  Costume Castle is not really a castle, no matter what the name says. It’s actually a converted storefront in a strip mall. They try to make it look all castle-y with an arching door frame and crenellations, but once you’re through the door, if you look back, you can see that the gray bricks are nothing but foam.

  Adam picks me up at the tuxedo shop after his swim practice. He waits until we’re at his car before sweeping me into his arms and kissing me hard on the lips. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he tells me as we break apart and get into the car. “There’s no privacy in high school,” he adds with a laugh.

  “Me, too,” I lie. How bad is it to pretend to your boyfriend that you’ve been dreaming about kissing him, when really the thought never crossed your mind? It was a busy day at school and as far as that Yale chat room is concerned, this is the week that scholarships will be announced. I’ve had a lot on my mind today.

  As for the kiss, this one was too rough and quick to place on the rating scale. I am certain the knock-my-socks-off kiss is coming around the corner. I mean, it has to be, right?

  We’re all here. The quadruple date. Cherise and Nathan want to start in the medical aisle. They already borrowed surgical scrubs from Nathan’s dad, a general surgeon. “We’re looking for medical supplies,” Cherise tells me as they head off together. “Let’s meet back here in ten.”

  “Great,” I say. I’m holding hands with Adam. I’d like to let go; my palm is getting a bit sweaty, but since he is making no move to break the hold, I’m not going to be the big killjoy.

  Jennifer is going to the Spring Fling with her longtime boyfriend, Jordan Berman. Jordan’s exactly the kind of guy you’d imagine dating a girl like Jennifer. Blond hair, blue eyes; Jordan’s the ultimate jock. He plays three sports and excels at them all. I’ve actually never had a conversation with Jordan. We’ve never been in the same class and the only sports I’ve done at school were forced upon me by the PE requirement for graduation.

  Now would be a perfect op for me to drop Adam’s hand and give a half-wave “hello” to Jordan. But I don’t. I nod and say, “Hey,” instead. And then greet Lee, Tanisha’s boyfriend, the same way.

  Tanisha hasn’t been dating Lee Cooke very long, but she’s totally into him. Unlike Jennifer and Jordan, who look as good together as Angelina and Brad, Tanisha’s choice of Lee baffles me. She’s so good looking and Lee, well, let’s just say, he isn’t.

  Since our freshman year, Lee and I have taken a lot of classes together. He’s about three inches shorter than Tanisha, and round. Some might politely say he’s “full.” Not fat. His dark brown skin is stretched full of Lee Cooke. What he lacks in good looks, he more than makes up for in smarts. He’s a genius. I swear. I do well in school because I work hard. Lee breezes through everything. In fact, though he’s a senior like me, he’s only sixteen because of all those grades he skipped in elementary school. I’m just glad that he decided to accept early admission to MIT for biochemistry. If he’d selected Yale, I’d have had to compete with him for one of those science scholarships. Not that I wouldn’t win it, mind you, but it would be a bloody battle.

  Jordan, Lee, and Adam all need costumes. Jordan needs to find something to complement Jennifer’s wood nymph. Jennifer warned us that he’d like to be a tree. Tanisha and I are supposed to discourage him and point him to the male fairy-looking costumes instead. Personally, I think a tree is far more manly, but Jennifer does not want to be dancing with an oak.

  Lee will go Renaissance. I shiver at the thought of seeing him in tights and a codpiece.

  Adam pulls on our attached hands and leads me to the prince outfits. He finally lets go of my hand to take a royal purple velvet cape off a rack. I quickly shove my free hands into my blue jeans pockets. What’s the matter with me? I like holding hands with Adam! I shouldn’t be hiding my palms, I should be grabbing his hand back in mine and begging him not to let go. But I’m not. I push my hands down into my pockets as far as they can go.

  Adam selects a few things to try on and we meet Cherise, Jennifer, Tanisha, Nathan, Jordan, and Lee by the dressing rooms.

  Obviously Jordan convinced Jennifer that a fairy costume was going too far for an athlete like himself. He’s wearing a tree. It has branches and leaves and an owl hole for his head. I am struggling so hard to hold in my laughter that I nearly choke.

  Lee looks equally ridiculous. Like Romeo, only fuller. He is wearing bright green ballooning pantaloons with beige tights. I have to look away from the codpiece, which is like an old-fashioned support cup, worn on the outside of a man’s tights. My eyes are drawn to it every time I glance in Lee’s direction. I force myself to look away. Tanisha says something about how she thinks Lee would look better as a red Romeo and hustles back to the aisle where they found his costume. He retreats into the dressing room to wait for Tanisha to come back.

  Cherise and Nathan found their costumes. They would have preferred stethoscopes made of recycled rubber tubing, but compromised on plastic ones made in the USA (where we have strong child labor laws) instead. After one look at Lee in his codpiece, they decided not to wait around. It might take a while for Tanisha to find the right outfit for Lee, so they go to pay. We’ll meet them at the deli next door when we’re done.

  “Adam?” I call out. He’s been in the dressing room quite a while. “Need any help?”

  A throaty laugh is his reply.

  “What’s taking so long?” I ask.

  “Tights,” is his response.

  I smile. Girls are used to pulling on tights. Maybe I should have told Adam to roll down to the foot before shoving his whole leg into the tights. Then again, live and learn.

  A few minutes later the door to Adam’s dressing room opens. It’s like one of those scenes in the teen movies, where the music starts to play and the room fills with smoke. The handsome hero emerges in soft light.

  Jennifer is standing next to me. Hearing Adam’s voice outside the dressing room, Tanisha comes rushing down the aisle to get a look. When she sees him, she nearly drops the armful of costumes she is carrying.

  “So?” Adam puts out his arms and spins around for us to see the whole costume. He’s wearing tights, all right. Bright blue tights. Red cape, blue breastplate, yellow belt. “Check this out. It was hanging in the dressing room.” He turns around again. “It fits just right.”

  I have to admit that unlike Lee, Adam looks hot in tights, but this is not the costume I imagined.

  “I thought you were going to be Prince Charming.” Jennifer is saying what I’m thinking. “Sylvie has been sewing herself a Cinderella dress.”

  “The whole Prince Charming thing just isn’t me.” Adam adjusts his breastplate, centering the big S on his chest. “I’m a little sick of the whole PC nickname around school. I think t
his costume will help destroy that image.”

  I thought the PC thing was funny. It’s part of why I agreed to make the Cinderella costume for myself. This is such a bummer.

  “You look great,” I say honestly, because he does. Then I think, If Adam’s going to wear that to the dance, do I have to change costumes, too? Is there even such a thing as a Lois Lane costume?

  Truth is, I’ve barely started to sew the Cinderella dress. I’ve been too busy with the nymph and gown. I remind myself that I’ve set aside tomorrow night to make headway. There’s still plenty of time to get it done. I love the dress that Jennifer and Tanisha designed. I really don’t want to change costumes.

  Adam’s being super sweet, but I can tell he really wants to be Superman. I can compromise. “We’ll call me a damsel-in-distress instead of Cinderella.”

  “Terrific!” Adam cheers. “I’ll save you!” He raises his eyebrows and grins, adding, “As many times as you’d like.”

  I smile, but it’s strained. I need a little while to process the change. I’ll be okay. I mean, I did sorta force the whole PC thing on him in the first place. I never considered that Adam might want to pick his own costume.

  Superman and a damsel-in-distress. Okay. And, there are those tights.…

  Adam goes back to the dressing room to change into his regular clothes.

  Tanisha finally finds a costume for Lee. He’s wearing regular pants tied with a rope belt. A peasant shirt and leather vest. More plebian than royalty, but it’s a far cry from the tights and codpiece. Thank goodness. Let’s leave the tights to Adam.

  If we need comic relief on prom night, Jordan will provide it. Jennifer couldn’t change his mind. He’s getting the tree.

  We’re set to go.

  Before we pay, Adam suggests that I go pick out a crown to complete my own damsel costume. I’m not sure I need a crown now, but Adam insists. “Okay.” I agree to go find myself a crown while he gets in line for a cashier.