The Fairest Stars

Chapter Four: 'I talk of dreams.'

Hope you enjoy! the picture on the side is precisely how I imagine Isis, like, down to each and every freckle! is that weird?! haha, anyway, thank you SOOO much for the comments, I love you all <3

Isis couldn’t stop the feeling of excitement mingled with the sensation of butterflies in her stomach the next day. She wanted a part so much that she’d even dreamed about Romeo and Juliet last night.         

As she made a packed lunch for both herself and Freya, she hummed a little tune to herself, imagining the dream way in which today could turn out. In an ideal world, what character would she be assigned? The answer came immediately to her. Juliet.

Smiling, she indulged herself in a daydream of what it would be like to play Juliet. Imagine what her mum would say! She might even persuade her to come out and watch it… Isis imagined looking out into the audience and seeing the outline of her mother, silhouetted by the bright lights, and grinned to herself. That would be perfect.

Coming back and hitting the reality rather quickly, Isis stared at the bread she was meant to be buttering. This was only if she got the part, she realised. Mm. 

Quickly buttering the last of the bread and starting to put in some filling to distract herself, Isis tried to take her mind off of what would happen if she didn’t get a part, after all. She wasn’t sure she could really cope with it if she didn’t.

Freya appeared in the kitchen, bleary eyed with sleep. Giving her a smile, Isis pointed out the toast she’d made for her. ‘Did you sleep well?’ she asked her, as Freya started to munch on it. 

She shook her head. ‘No. Mum was talking in her sleep again.’

‘She was asleep?’ Isis beamed. That was brilliant news. She had been wondering if she’d have to slip sleeping pills into her mother’s drink, or something.

 Freya nodded. ‘But she kept murmuring Dad’s name,’ she told Isis. ‘All night.’

Looking into her younger sister’s blue eyes, Isis was suddenly aware that they too were full of concern and worry. Freya was just as worried about her mother as Seb and herself were, she realised. It didn't seem right for such a little girl to bear such a worry.

‘Mum’s going to be alright,’ Isis reassured her. ‘I promise.’

Freya twisted her lips, looking as uncertain as Isis felt. 

‘Come on then,’ Isis said, reaching for the hairbrush in an attempt to distract the little girl. ‘What would you like in your hair today?’ 

Freya shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’

Brushing back the long, blonde hair, paler than her own, Isis began to plait it, her hands deft with practised ease. The different colours of Freya’s hair really shone through when plaited, the white blonde against the darker yellow contrasting strongly with each other. Isis had always had her own hair in plaits when she had been younger, but now she barely had time to brush it, let alone put it up. 

Sending Freya off to brush her teeth, Isis finished packing the lunches and slotted them into each respective bag, her stomach tingling with excitement. When she ate this lunch, she should know whether she had the part or not. It was almost too much excitement to bear.

Heading out of the door a few minutes later, with Freya in tow, they began the descent of the several flights of stairs that lead to their flat. Each staircase was cold metal, tiled walls and a tiled floor; not something that looked particularly appealing at all. Isis was so used to it that she barely noticed how unpleasant and dark it was. This was probably best; whenever she looked too close, the dodgy stains and needles turned her stomach.