The Brightest Star in a Constellation

51: The Sky Is on Fire

☆ Evan ☆

"Oh my god, Lex," Jay says as he slides his game piece—a tiny silver race car—on the Monopoly game board. He's landed on Lexa's properties four times in a row now, and wears an exasperated expression on his face. "You're cheating."

"I am not! You're just a sore loser," Lexa replies from across the table. Jay hands them a wad of paper money from his dwindling reserve, and then it's my turn.

"Cut us some slack," I say. "You've won at almost every board game so far."

They nod, leaning over to move their own game piece. We're sitting in the student council room, near the school's lobby. It's a small room with windows on either side, allowing me to see into the hallway. Since the eclipse doesn't fall on a regular club day, Ms. Crozier was busy hosting extra help sessions for her classes. Willow offered to let us stay here instead; she even brought lollipops with her, adding to the collection of food on the table.

Carrying a bracelet-making kit, Willow brings it over to Nicole, offering her the bright threads and lettered beads to match. The two of them laugh and braid the strings together. Dina and Peter are both positioned closest to the snacks. Peter reaches for a blue lollipop and unwraps it. It paints his tongue the same colour.

After a few more rounds, the game is finished with Lexa as its winner, and lunch is about to end.

I grab a lollipop as Lexa ponders over a plate of brownies with fudge, baked by Dina, and of which I have already eaten too many. I say, "For tonight, you can be temporary Vice President."

"I've got it," Lexa says and smiles. "I'm going to pick everyone up in my mom's minivan. Are you sure you can't come?"

"Yeah." I gulp down a breath. "I'm sure."

I am spared from having to explain when the bell rings. I sweep my backpack into my hands and head to class. Social studies passes quickly, and after that, I have my core French class. I'm learning at the leisurely speed of a turtle, but I have a few phrases mastered.

One sentence in particular, in fact. I just don't know if I have the capacity to speak it out loud.

☆ ☽ ☆

I hang off the side of the bed, with a pillow as cushioning under my side. The lamp illuminated by my side is the only source of light to combat the darkness living outside and inside my heart.

I reach for my phone and bring up Peter's contact for the thousandth time. My heart stirs with butterflies. It's twenty-five minutes and thirty-one seconds until nine o'clock, when the Astronomy Club is supposed to meet.

Swinging my legs onto the carpeted floor, I move towards the window. Ms. Crozier will be there, so I won't be able to stay for long, but I could drop by. I could make it seem like a coincidence, as if I was just on a run around the block, and I happened to be in the area.

I pull the curtains back. The water is still as glass. It shines metallic cobalt, dyed like blueberry-flavoured candy. The clouds are backed by the white hue of the moon as it slips out from behind the horizon.

My phone buzzes. Peter's name graces my lock screen photo of a dense forest, (I've changed it more than once since getting it, and I can't yet seem to decide on what to make it—but I have options).