Stella and her Stars

Chapter One

      I always felt the stars spoke to me.
      I used to sneak out every night onto my roof, just to look at the stars. There was very little pollution where I used to live, a small town out in the country in Michigan. Now we’ve moved across the country, right on the coast in California, so it always smells like the ocean. We moved to leave our old life behind, to make the grief less heavy. But all it did was make me homesick, make me miss her even more.
      Ever since the incident happened, I’ve distanced myself from the stars. The stars reminded me of her. It was like salt in a fresh wound. 

⎻☽ ☆ ☾⎻

      “Stella!” My mom yelled from downstairs. “The last of our moving boxes came!” 
      I ran down the stairs to pick up the boxes for my room so I could decorate more. Perfect, I thought, a distraction. 
      She stopped me in my tracks, with her sad look on her face she always seemed to have nowadays. “Sweetie,” she said softly, “you should probably get ready for school tomorrow. We’ve let you stay home for the past 3 weeks now. Don’t you think it’s time you learn again?”
      I said nothing. I didn’t think there was anything to say. The silence had to have said it all, right? She heaved a giant sigh. “You used to love learning.”
      “So did she,” I whispered, and left it at that. 
      Then I stared at her, realizing what I said. I turned and ran up the stairs as quickly as I could back up to my room, forgetting the boxes. But I knew I couldn’t go back down there. I couldn’t bear to see my mom cry. Not again.

      The next morning, I snuck out. I stood in front of the abandoned house on Mulberry Street; It was a tall, old, Victorian-like house, painted a warm white with star-shaped periwinkle windows. It was worn, and most of the gutters were falling off of the house. Windows were broken and destroyed, every single one, except for the two star-shaped windows. They reminded me of eyes, which was mildly unsettling, and got me thinking of the movie Monster House.
      Maybe I see her, I hoped in the bottom of my heart. 
      “What’s the use,” I said aloud, knowing no one was there anyway. “Even though this is the house from my dreams, its not like they would actually tell me where their keeping her. They took her for a reason.” 
      I heard a rustle in the bushes. My heart pounded. Not because I was scared, but maybe because it heard me. 
“Who’s there?” I yelled toward the bush. “Very funny. Come out now.”
      A tall boy, with caramel-colored hair and green eyes that reminded me of crystal jade, who was about my age, maybe 14 or 15, emerged from behind the bush with an awkward smile. He waved at me nervously and said, “Hey, um⎻ I’m Caleb.” 
      “What were you doing?” I said warily. Had he heard what I said?
      “Oh,” He said, avoiding eye contact. “Just, ya know, er⎼ taking a walk.”
      “Right, taking a walk. Totally not spying on me.”
      His face turned red. “No, it’s⎼ it’s not that…” He stuttered. At this point I was done talking to him. The only person I want to talk to was⎼ well, wasn’t here.
      I started to walk away from him, but he stopped me.
      “Wait! Ok, fine… this is going to sound sort of creepy, but basically my mom wanted me to invite you to the neighborhood, since I’m your neighbor, but I saw you leaving the house so I followed you here to catch up with you.”
      He was stumbling across his words, and talking fast. I could feel my face getting hot. So he had heard what I said. There’s no way he hadn’t. 
      I wanted to push him away. Like I seemed to do with everyone else lately. But I realized I needed someone, someone who wasn’t my mom or my dad, someone who didn’t know about her or that she was missing.
      I outstretched my hand, still cautious. “I’m Stella.” He took my hand and shook it. 
    “Nice to meet you, Stella.”

    ⎻☽ ☆ ☾⎻

      Me and Caleb talked as we made our way back to my house. 
      He told me was 15 (so, the same age as me), and he has lived here his whole life. I told him we just moved here from Michigan, close to Lake Michigan, but way out in the country. I was careful with what I shared; it was best not to overshare and scare him away. 
      We rounded the corner, just a block away from our houses. He pointed to a mauve house across the street from mine.
      “See that house?” he asked, and I nodded. “That’s my house.” 
      I pointed to my house, a smaller, pale blue house, and responded, “That one over there, that’s mine.” 
      “So,” he started, “I, um, overheard you talking about… a dream? Someone being taken?”
      My heart sank as we reached my house. Caleb stared at me, waiting for my response. 
      He's going to find out eventually.