Star rolled her eyes, laughed. “I’m not sure I can. Lucy couldn’t hear half of it and asked me or Jeremy to repeat just about every other sentence. Some kid behind me threw popcorn in my hair.”
She smiled, half listening, because from the library she heard Ben say in a low voice, “Lucy, what do you know about Jess?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
STAR
For a few hours tonight, Star had almost felt like a regular teenager. Dinner and a movie with a friend, although she suspected most teenagers wouldn’t dream of going to the movies with their grandmothers. Not that Lucy was her grandmother, but for a split second Star had let herself pretend she was, and it had felt good. Just like she’d let herself pretend that Jess was more than Lucy’s hired caregiver and that she actually spent time with Star because she wanted to, not because it was a paid job. Pretending was easy for Star with as much sleep as she’d gotten and on a full belly.
A few days had passed since Star found the fort in the living room, and everything had been quiet, meaning no more things she couldn’t explain. She bit her lip. One day she was a teenager with filthy clothes and nothing to lose, and the next she had a home, people who seemed to care about her, and the ghost of her friend haunting her. Star wanted to pretend she hadn’t seen his picture, pretend she hadn’t seen him. Then again, her life had been a shit show, and at this point, nothing really surprised her anymore. While the quiet made Star tense, it also gave her reason to hope that Chance didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. Still, deep inside she knew she needed to talk to Jess, and that made her afraid—afraid saying anything out loud would end everything.
After Jeremy dropped her and Lucy off, they’d come inside and found Jess with Officer Ben in the library. Star’s pulse had raced because she’d thought Jess had caved and finally told him, but from the way they faced each other, it looked to Star like they were in an old western standoff, and nobody said a thing about foster homes or caseworkers. She couldn’t relax, though, because Officer Ben looked at her like he already knew something.
Jess was in an unusually talkative mood after her evening alone, asking Star about the movie and Jeremy and if Lucy had any concerning episodes. Star was desperate to avoid more conversation with the woman, afraid that it might all spill out. So she shrugged at her questions, yawned, and rubbed at her eyes until Jess suggested that she go to bed. It took her a while to fall asleep, and when she did it was fractured by dreams that pierced her with longing and fear.
Her mother stood in the hallway outside her bedroom, exactly how Star remembered her: dark hair, smooth skin, the hint of cinnamon in the air around her. Her heart nearly burst. Her mother was alive! She ran, reached out, her fingertips sliding over her mom’s soft skin, but then she fell, and her mother slipped farther and farther away until Star was alone in the thick woods outside Lucy’s house, her back pressed into the rough bark of a pine tree, her bare feet cold on the earth. Something blunt hit her shin, then another. Rocks, pelting her, bruising, painful. One glanced across her forehead; another bounced off the bone beneath her eye; trickles of blood ran down her face. The rocks kept coming, one after another until they piled up over her feet, up her legs, to her waist, burying her. She cried out, Mommy! From deep in the forest came a thrashing of leaves and branches and a growl that echoed around her. She screamed and tried to move, tried to wake herself, chanting, Only a dream, only a dream. But the rocks were up to her neck now, and out of the darkness something charged at her. A man, running hunched over like a bear until he pulled up even with her, and then he stretched to his full height, his head disappearing in the branches of the tree above her but his badge even with her eyes. A star, burning so bright it blinded her. Then she was back in her bed, small again, being held tight by her mother, who cooed softy in her ear, and Star never, ever, ever wanted to wake up.
“No, no, no, no,” she sobbed, her body curled into a fetal position around her tangled and twisted sheets, her eyes tightly closed. “No, no, no.”
Arms surrounded her, gently removing the pillow and pulling her up so that she lay cradled against a soft, warm chest.
“Sh-sh-sh-sh. It’s okay, sweetie. You’re okay.” It was Jess, and the tenderness in her voice and the softness of her arms brought on another round of tears. Jess held her close, pressing Star’s head against her chest and stroking her back in a circular motion. “Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh.”
Star let herself be gently rocked, feeling small, protected, and safe, and she hiccupped a sob, thinking that now that she’d started, she’d never stop crying. When her eyes had dried and swollen, she pushed away from Jess, hanging her head to avoid looking at her. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Jess pushed her chin up until Star met her eyes. “Don’t apologize.” She raised her eyebrows and didn’t release her chin until Star nodded. “Okay then. Another bad dream?”
Star nodded again, unable to speak yet, afraid she might tell her everything.
Jess let her hands fall into her lap but stayed seated on the bed, her knee just touching Star’s leg. Star swallowed; the physical contact, no matter how minimal, made her realize just how lonely she felt.
“I used to make cookies,” Jess said.
“Cookies?”
“After a bad dream I could never go back to sleep, so I’d make cookies. Dozens of them. I’d give them to my neighbors, the bus driver, a stranger I passed on my way to the diner.”
Star smiled. “What kind?”
“Chocolate chip, peanut butter, sugar—you name it.”
“Oh,” Star mumbled, twisting and untwisting her fingers.
Jess shifted, inhaled. “How long have you lived on the streets?” she said.
Thankful for a change of subject, Star said, “About six months.”
Jess cleared her throat. “What happened?”
Star leaned against the bed frame and pulled her knees up to her chest. “My last foster family—” She hesitated, but it was spilling out on its own now, as though a gate had been opened and all she could do was talk. “You were right about me.”
Jess raised her eyebrows. “How so?”
“You don’t know me. I’m not good. I’ve never done drugs or anything like that, but I steal—er, I mean I’ve stolen before.” She chewed on a fingernail. “From every one of my foster homes.”
“What did you steal?”
“Anything. Mostly food, some cash, a few stupid trinkets. It didn’t really matter; it was just something I could do.” Her state-appointed counselor had said that it was a compulsion. She had been caught nearly every time, and every time she’d said she was sorry and that she’d never do it again. And then she would. “By my last foster family, I guess I was tired of saying I was sorry.” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. “But you have to believe me. I’d never steal from you or Lucy. Ever.”
“What happened before the foster families?” she said in a soft voice.
Star rested her chin on her knees, her eyelids dry and itchy. “My mom got sick and died, and I guess the hospital bills were too much, because my dad lost everything—our house, our money.” She told her story in the same voice she might use to read the ingredients off a box of cereal. “And when I didn’t think things could get any worse, he started dealing drugs, and then he died too.” She was worn out, exhausted, and worried that at any moment the truth would be too much to hold in. “After that I landed in foster care.” She tried to smile, but it stretched her lips too thin, felt unnatural. “There were some good families. A few that really wanted to make things better for me.”
“But you didn’t want their help, did you?”
A sob welled in Star’s throat. She stopped, took a deep breath. “Everything sucked, the worst nightmare ever, and I wanted to wake up.” Jess placed her fingers over Star’s hand and squeezed. Star tried not to focus on the warmth that ran through her at the touch. “But there were awful foster homes too. And by my last one, when they discovered a twenty-dollar bill and the dad’s
worthless drugstore watch under my pillow, I’d had enough. I figured that I could take care of myself just as well, if not better. So I disappeared.”
“How did you . . .” Jess faltered, pulled at the leg of her pajama pants. “Did anything happen to you on the street?”
Star shook her head. “Nothing too bad. I was lucky, I guess.” She thought about the night of the attack, of Mel stopping it. What if he hadn’t been there? She crossed her arms. “Until I wasn’t. But then I came here.”
Jess smiled. “And I’m glad you did.” She touched Star’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For trusting me with your story. You’re one brave smart-ass.” She gave her shoulder a playful punch, eyed the bed. “Hop up. I think I’ll wash your sheets today. There’s nothing quite like clean sheets, is there?”
A lump hardened in Star’s throat at Jess’s offer, and before she could stop herself, Star blurted out, “I need to tell you something, Jess.”
Jess had begun to pull off the fitted sheet and stopped, hovering over the bed, waiting. Star crossed and uncrossed her arms, trying to find the right words.
“You can tell me anything, Star.”
Her eyes burned but no tears came, and the words she desperately wanted to say vanished. She was a coward. “It’s nothing big,” she said with a weak laugh. “Jeremy invited me to have dinner with his family tonight. I don’t have to go or anything—”
“Go—of course you should go. I like that Jeremy. He’s good for you.”
Star stiffened. “How’s that?”
“He makes you laugh.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
STAR
“I’m nervous,” Jeremy said.
“You’re nervous?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“Shouldn’t I be the one who’s nervous?” Star and Jeremy sat in the taxi in front of a beautiful two-story log home. After the movie last night, Jeremy had invited her over for dinner. He’d said his parents wanted to meet his mysterious new friend. Would they have invited the girl who’d stepped off the bus last week? Probably not.
She was surprised to find that she was curious about his big family. Did they hug? Did they laugh? She pulled at the tips of her hair. Her last foster family had been quiet and skittish. The mom barely spoke, and the dad hid in his home office. At dinner on the first night, Dawn, the mom with graying blonde hair, had said, “I hope you won’t be any trouble.”
The nervous thrumming of Jeremy’s fingers on the steering wheel interrupted her thoughts. Could his family be that bad? “Why are you so nervous? Do they shoot strangers and ask questions later?”
Jeremy turned to stare at her. “You’re not a boy.”
“Huh?”
“Ever since I came out, they’ve been waiting. They never ask, and they’ve never said anything, but I know them too well. They’re waiting to see what it will be like when I bring a boy home. But you’re not a boy, and this might confuse them. I’ve talked about you a ton, told them all about you.” He paused. “Well, not all about you, of course. Just that you’re Jess’s niece who’s come up for the summer.” His forehead dropped, resting against the steering wheel. “But you’re not a boy, and now I’m afraid they’ll think it was a phase.”
“Did they have a hard time with it when you told them?”
Jeremy lifted his head from the steering wheel, a lock of hair falling over one eye. “Not at all. My parents are pretty great.”
“So you’re worried that your parents, who are pretty great and obviously love you, will meet me and think that you’re not gay?”
“I knew you’d understand, Tuesday.” His fingers moved to turn the keys, still hanging from the ignition. “And you’re right—this was a terrible idea.”
She slapped his hand away from the keys. “You know, downtown we have a name for people like you.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, meth heads. They talk all kinds of crazy. You’d fit right in.” She punched him on the shoulder, grabbed the keys, and hopped out of the van.
After a moment he climbed out and walked around the van to stand beside her. She’d known him only one week. And now she was going to meet his parents. How very small town of her.
He leaned down and whispered, “I suppose it does sound kinda crazy.”
She laughed, and together they walked up to the house.
A covered porch stretched across the front with several rocking chairs, making Star want to sit down and take in the darkened mountains beyond. But the front door opened just then, bathing the wooden porch in a warm glow.
“We wondered when you’d get out of the car! Hello, Star, I’m Maryellen.” Maryellen was tall with a mane of hair that fell in silvery-blonde curls to just below her ears. “And this is David.”
David towered over all of them, thin like the stalk of a dandelion. He smiled warmly, taking her hand between both of his. “It’s nice to meet you, Star.”
Giggles and whispering came from inside the house, where Jeremy’s ten younger brothers and sisters filled the doorway. Something tugged on her jeans, and she glanced down to find a very small boy peering up at her.
“You have funny hair,” he said.
“Luke!” Maryellen shot him a stern look.
“He’s right.” Star ran her hands along the shaved section of her hair, then pulled at the long strands on top. “It is funny, Luke.”
“Do you like it that way?”
“I do,” Star said with a smile. She hadn’t been around little kids much.
Luke crossed his arms and squeezed one eye shut. “Why would you want to have funny hair?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it.”
“Okay.” He turned and scurried inside the house, pushing through his throng of siblings to get inside.
“Do any of the rest of you have questions for Star?” Jeremy addressed the group. “No? Good. May we come in?”
They ate a dinner of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes around a long table constructed from old doors, scratched and worn from years of use. David explained that it was the first piece of furniture he had ever made and that Jeremy had been his helper.
“I was only two when you built this.”
“Even so,” David responded.
Conversation flowed throughout dinner. Star learned that David owned a successful business selling custom and refurbished antique furniture pieces. Most of his clients lived in Aspen and Vail, but he also had a small shop in Pine Lake. Maryellen had been a real estate lawyer, she told Star, until two years ago when she decided to homeschool the kids.
“So you just stopped being a lawyer?” Star asked.
Maryellen smiled. “In a way.”
“But why? Don’t you have to work hard to become one?” Star didn’t know much about being a lawyer except that it took years of schooling and lots of books.
“I did.” Here Maryellen looked at Jeremy. “But the kids needed me.”
“Because you have so many?” Star said, and the table erupted into laughter. Her cheeks warmed, and she fidgeted in her seat, feeling out of her depth. She tried to explain. “The moms I knew with so many kids were, uh, different.”
The chattering around her grew quiet. Star pressed her lips together and looked down at her lap. Bonehead.
But when Maryellen answered, her voice was warm. “I suppose that must be true for some families. But see, David and I were told we couldn’t have a single child. We were so thrilled when Jeremy came along that I guess we just didn’t know when to quit. Then we got to Luke, and well . . .” She gestured toward him as if in explanation.
Luke giggled, and Star looked his way. Crusty bits of mashed potato stuck to his cheeks. “That’s ’cause Mommy said if I were first,” he said around a mouthful of chicken, “then I would have been the last.”
The entire table, including Star, broke out into laughter, leaving Star’s awkward statement behind.
Warm
apple pie topped with a scoop of vanilla-bean ice cream finished the dinner. Star’s belly pushed against the waistband of her jeans, and she had to fight the urge to undo the top button to make room for more.
After dinner, Maryellen opened the windows, and a cool breeze brought the clean scent of pine into the family room. The children formed small groups to play board games. Star joined Luke and a few of the younger siblings in a game of Candy Land. When Luke sat down in her lap, Star stiffened, but he didn’t seem to notice, and eventually she relaxed. He smelled like soap and mashed potatoes.
Not surprisingly, it was Luke who started the questions, but he was quickly joined by the other kids.
“Does everyone have hair like you where you come from?” That one was from Luke.
“Where are you from?”
“How long will you be here?”
“Are you scared of Lucy?”
“Have you seen a ghost yet?”
“Does she cook in a black cauldron?”
“Fly on a broomstick?”
Jeremy’s hands shot up. “I’ve told you guys to leave Miss Lucy alone. She’s not a witch.”
“How long will you be in Pine Lake, Star?” asked Maryellen.
“Um, I don’t know—maybe through the summer, I guess.” She rubbed her arms, unsure and uncomfortable at the lie, convinced that Maryellen could see right through her. She shrugged. “Maybe longer?”
Maryellen raised her eyebrows. “Longer? Then will Jess enroll you in the public school?”
Star chewed on a nail. “Um, maybe? I, uh, well, I haven’t attended a traditional school since, well, in a long time.”
Maryellen brightened. “Have you been homeschooled?”
“Something like that.” She shifted her eyes to Jeremy, hoping he could save her from digging a bigger hole.
“You’re welcome to come here for school anytime you like. I homeschool year-round, so we only have class in the morning. I’d be happy to fill in for your mom while you’re here.”
The Secrets of Lost Stones Page 19
