STARDUST

Chapter 2

My coat of many colors

That my momma made for me

Made only from rags

But I wore it so proudly

Although we had no money

I was rich as I could be

In my coat of many colors

My momma made for me

So with patches on my britches

Holes in both my shoes

In my coat of many colors

I hurried off to school

Just to find the others laughing

And making fun of me

In my coat of many colors

My momma made for me

And oh I couldn't understand it

For I felt I was rich

And I told them of the love

My momma sewed in every stitch

And I told em all the story

Momma told me while she sewed

And how my coat of many colors

Was worth more than all their clothes

Spica sang along with the soft and soothing music which flodded the whole room as the small music box lay on top of Grandma Vega's coffin.

Stardusts didn't stay too long in a place to keep the secret of their existence safe. As much as possible they avoided making attachments with anyone. Antares and Spica's friendship was allowed because Grandma liked Spica's name.

They spent the whole night for Vega's wake. Few people who knew Vega came to give their condolences. The very next day, Vega was buried beside their ancestors' grave.

After the burial, Procyon, Antares and Spica spent few hours in a coffee shop. Procyon wasn't ready to tell Spica the truth. He was thinking what if she gets mad at him for leaving her mother?

Silence reigned as they drank their coffee.

"Spica, I have something to tell you," Antares started the conversation. Procyon froze in his seat. His heart pounded hardly in his chest.

Spica looked up at Antares with a questioning look but she didn't say any word. Antares held her hand and put a silver watch around her wrist.

"Happy birthday. I should have given you that yesterday but it was not appropriate with the situation that we had."

Spica looked at the watch and smiled sweetly at Antares. "I thought you forgot."

"How could I forget my bestfriend's 18th birthday? You're a woman now. You should stop cussing and do stuff woman does. But I'd be happier if you stay the way I had you. Just a bit of maturity would be enough." Antares winked at her.

Procyon's eyes grew wide. It was another confirmation that Spica really was the eighteenth beholder. As always, on the eighteenth birthday of the beholder, the previous owner dies.

"Eighteenth," Procyon uttered.

"Yeah. I'm eighteen years old," Spica answered. "Thank you so much, Ares," she added.