The Stars in Ourselves

01

A/N: This isn't a sequel to John Green's, The Fault in Our Stars. All Rights Reserved.

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01

"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves."   - Lisa Mantchev

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There's always a day were it's sunny out and it's boiling hot. Already, on the fourth day after school ended for the year, it had to be really hot out. The heat itself could probably light up a cigarette or candle.

But with my suitcase packed for tomorrow's journey to visit my mother for the summer on the island I forget the name of, I was a little nervous about what she was going to think of me not having a boyfriend yet. I was also nervous about her going into a lecture about the boyfriends she had when she was sixteen and how I should probably have at least one by now. Then she'll probably call me a sexy beast and that I'm smoking hot like the sun.

The embarrassing things mothers say about you, I tell you.

But I'm just Eliza Williams, one of those loud obnoxious teenagers. I like to read and draw. That's just hobbies though. Mom wouldn't care what I read, as long as it's a good book. Dad just didn't have the spirit to tell me that I should stay for at least one summer with him and read a book with him. I know dad likes to hang out with his buddies and drink (probably flirt with some single ladies that are twice my age, too) but I know deep in my heart that he misses me.

My parents divorced when I was five, which didn't give much of an effect on me then than it does now. I was clueless when I was five, unaware that my parents were not going to be married anymore. It was until I got older, after plenty of summers visiting mom, that I realized they were really separated, broken up, divorced. However people say it.

I thought they would stay together forever, that they both found each other as true lovers - not in the sexual way, but it the lovey-dovey way. Clearly, I was wrong.

When I was around four, I started to hear them yelling when I came home from preschool. I thought they were yelling because of me, or because of my twelve year old sister Janelle. I would silently walk up to my room and cry my heart out, until Janelle would hear me, come into my room, and calm me down.

She was a wonderful sister. Smart too.

I didn't realize I had a single tear roll down my cheek until my dad asked me what was wrong.

"It's nothing, really. I was just thinking about Janie." I told him, using the nickname I used when I could properly say her name (I was two then and couldn't say long words). He nodded.

"Hamburgers for dinner?" He tried to cheer up my glum mood but I just shrugged it off. It didn't really matter to me what was for dinner, as long as it's tasty.

"Sweetheart, if your on your period then -"

"Dad!" I yelled, gawking at him. "How dare you mention my fucking period! That's just creepy."

"Watch your language, young lady."

I rolled my eyes. "Let's just get pizza." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He sat down on the chair beside me. "We'll get pizza. But your cooking breakfast for me tomorrow. Deal?" I grinned. Me making breakfast tomorrow would end up him making breakfast tomorrow since my cooking skills are just put shit together and burn it.

"Deal."

Our pizza came twenty minutes later. Dad and I decided not to order pizza from that place again since we had to heat our pieces up in the microwave.