Born of starlight and shadows

~Part eleven: Hannah~

"What happens if they say no?" Stella asks.

"Hopefully they won't say no," I say. "But they might, which is why you're going to ask right now, so we can figure out our next move."

To my surprise, she doesn't argue.

I have a feeling this might just be the last time she ever hears her mother's voice, and that could be what's going through her mind.

I feel as though I'm partly to blame for that-but I'm sorry, if she does go home, her family will be in danger, too!

I would never tell Stella this, of course, but I think they might already be.

But I stand by, waiting for her to get off the phone, as if everything's fine.

From what I can hear, it sounds as though her mother agrees with our plan-which, honestly, I'm not sure whether to feel pleased about or not.

I keep checking my watch as Stella's on the call, and I can see that she's been on the phone for close to ten minutes when she hangs up, saying, "Love you, mom."

For a moment she just stares at the phone in her hand as if is a foreign object.

Then she starts crying.

There have been times in my life where I wished I had siblings. Multiple times, actually. But now I realize, when the parents aren't around, the older siblings are in charge of taking care of the younger siblings.

Is Stella only a few months younger than I am? Yes. But do you get my point? My dad's in the other room, and I know by now never to bother him when he says he doesn't want to be disturbed. And there's no one else in the house. So, I'm the acting "sibling" here.

I figure I may as well give you a fair warning. This isn't going to be pretty.

Because if Plan A doesn't work-attempt to say something comforting, I'm probably going to start yelling at something. Somehow, in Stella's current state, I just can't see her enjoying that.

So. Fingers crossed-Plan A will work. Stella needs to chill a little bit in order to hear what I'm counting on Dad to say in a few minutes-the plan, of course. I know my father enough to know it might be longer than that-actually, a lot longer, but I'm hoping, really, really hoping it's sometime in the next few minutes. But either way, Stella needs to chill.

Call me insensitive if you must, but in truth, I just can't stand feeling useless. In this situation, my purpose: help the girl calm down, since, judging from the way she's continuing to cry louder, she cannot do on her own.

Still, I can't really blame her.

"I never asked to be different!" she's sobbing. "It's not fair!"

I sit down next to her.

"Even if you weren't a Star Child, life wouldn't be fair," I point out. "That's just the way it is."

She looks at me. "At least then I wouldn't be dealing with t-t-this nonsense!"

I sigh. She's not wrong.

I try to think of something comforting to say. For some reason, I find myself thinking about the story of my own mother. I can't explain what makes me do it, but I start telling it.

"I was five years old when I saw my mother for the very last time," I say.

"W-what?" she asks.

"You heard me," I say.

"Why are you telling me?" Stella asks.

"Keep listening. Maybe you'll see," I instruct.

Maybe you'll see...oh, who am I kidding? I've simply been carrying this around for too long, and now that I know she'll listen...I can't stop myself. The words, and memories, just sort of come.