Legends of Mirandis Academy

Chapter 61: And the Stars Still Caper Overhead

 "Are you ready?" Kelam asked Luna.

She was sitting next to him in his car, parked outside the building. They were downtown, in front of a nondescript row of shops. Some of the windows were crowded with merchandise; some of them were empty, dark spaces in a bright afternoon. Tucked between a shoe shop and a bar was a little place, resembling an office or equally inconspicuous business. The only clue to its purpose was the muted rainbow lettering on the sign, which read "Youth Support," and a small pride flag in the top corner of the door.

Kelam hadn't adjusted the passenger seat back after driving Duran and Hugo to the mall, and Luna hadn't touched the controls. She was scooted absurdly far back, without any hope of her legs touching the floor. It made her seem oddly childlike. She was bent forwards, hands squeezed tightly together in her lap.

"Maybe they're closed," she said, uncertainly. She didn't look up at the building.

"I called beforehand," Kelam reminded her, gently. "They're open until six."

It had taken nearly two weeks to even get Luna to this point. After the success of the senior prank, she had taken to visiting him in the art classroom during lunch period. Last year, he would have mourned the loss of his quiet space to paint. Indeed, last year, it would have truly been a loss: he was certain that Luna would have chattered about any object that entered her awareness.

It was not last year. Kelam found himself unable to resent the extra presence in the room—and Luna, for her part, was not as garrulous as she might once have been. There were still plenty of occasions where she draped herself across a table and asked absurdities to Kelam. He had never laughed so much before in the studio. There were also times when she arrived with her mouth clamped in a determined line, and it was then that she didn't speak, but instead scribbled in a notebook. She didn't seem to mind when Kelam watched over her shoulder. She was writing. Sometimes the words came carefully, one at a time; sometimes her pen went so frenetically across the page that half its contents were misspelled.

She was writing memories. Kelam never saw much—glimpses of descriptions of Green Valley, a depiction of a campfire and of a pickup truck, mentions of chains and spiked collars and lighters stolen from the gas station. He didn't ask her about them. On the very rarest days, Luna was neither completely talkative nor silent. She would tell him, in a halting voice, about a girl with bright eyes and long, brown hair and a deep laugh. Kelam somehow knew that she was the reason why Luna was writing.

Two weeks ago, they had been in the art studio together when there came a knock on the door. Kelam and Luna had both turned to find an unfamiliar boy standing halfway in the room. He was perhaps a freshman or a sophomore, with a round face and a timid disposition. He looked at Luna with a strange mixture of fear and longing.

"Can I help you?" Kelam asked.

He spoke with a stammer. "I w-wanted to talk to Luna."

It almost seemed as if he didn't want to talk to Luna; he dragged his feet across the tiles of the art studio. But his jaw was set. "Luna. I just wanted to say—" he clenched his hands. "They shouldn't have treated you like that, and me and the others... well, we th-think you're really brave. You know." He gazed downwards self-consciously.

"Brave?" Luna blinked. "The others?"

"Oh!" He seemed surprised by her confusion. "I'm gay. Like you. My name is Stuart. Everyone calls me Stu."

He held out his hand for Luna to shake. Her lips parted, but Luna didn't say anything. Slowly, as if wading into cold water, she reached out and shook it.

"There are more of us," he told her. "We meet at the youth support group downtown. Here."

With his other hand, he offered her a card. Luna just looked at it. Kelam had to accept it on her behalf.