Starry Eyed

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

The thing about Star Huntley was that she lived in the moment, and if the moment passed in the blink of an eye, so be it. She was spontaneous and explosive, bursting with emotion, twirling around a spinner with her finger and feeling whatever the arrow landed on. I guess I was lucky the arrow didn't hover on 'angry' all that long. It was a dangerous thing to have it swing from 'angry' to 'happy' in such a staccato way, but fortunate for those involved.

You never wanted to stop being with Star. So my answer was typically yes when she asked me if I wanted to track down and confront a phantom murderer. I wasn't thinking straight; then again, perhaps Star made everybody's thoughts throw a curveball. I didn't figure out how deadly this whole detective thing was until we were waist deep in it.

Anyway. I wasn't sure how we were supposed to find a murderer in the first place without being roasted and put on the spit, but Star had it all worked it. She had mapped out a plan of a basic academy dormitory on dry pink paper, not unlike my own, in ink that smelt like strawberries. The plan was tucked inside a neat blue folder along with all of her other important detective papers. My biggest question wa, if she was so organised and prepared, why did she need a weedy guy like me to help?

"Luca, have you ever watched a detective movie?" Today she had blue chalk at the tips of her hair, like she'd dipped it in a pool of Powerade. It was prettier than it sounds.

I bit my lip, not sure how to respond. Detective movies sounded nerdy enough- like me, admittedly- but I didn't really watch them. And nobody really knew how to talk to Star anyway.

"Well, only the really bad ones."

"Oh, those are the best ones," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement. As we walked, her leather boots pounding on the floor echoed down the hall. "For example, Inspector Gadget. He's a complete dork, he always ends up in some stupid situation alone, but he always gets out 'cos of his hat. I don't have a fancy hat like that though. So I need a sidekick."

"Should I be offended?"

"No way! I'm calling you my magic gadget hat man, for goodness sake. That's far from an insult."

I think it's strange that as humans, we forgive so easily. Sure, some people can hold grudges to the grave. But generally, if we really love the person, we cave in for them completely and forget all the bad things that ever happened. I accepted Star all over again in a split second. I was pathetic. But I don't regret it.

"Hey, can we stop for a coffee? I'm dying for a cappucino," she announced, flicking a strand of blue stained hair out of her eyes. I laughed.

"You must have a hell of a lot of trouble sleeping."

"Coffee is good for the soul," she retorted snappily, grinning. "Anyway, you can't talk. You're the one who smuggles freaking beer through the school. Or more like walks through the hall very obviously with a keg pretending he's invincible."

I chose to ignore her bite at me. It was easier to ignore her insults than remember we hadn't been talking. And isn't that another weakness of the human mind? We are so tragically positive. It feels like such a sin.

"Fine, we can get your precious coffee," I replied.

I'm about to admit something kind of embarassing. I only said yes to getting coffee because I liked her when she was all buzzed. Is that creepy? I don't know. But I loved the scent on her breath, the way she babbled like a litle kid on a sugar high when she was so wired up. Star was electric enough without coffee. Cappucinos from the cafe made her body light up neon.

In the cafe, a couple of students had scattered themselves around the room, bunching up at tables too small for their groups. The smell of coffee beans fanned around with every movement. I spotted Kale talking with a guy I didn't recognise. Kale, the boy I found walking with Audrey all those days ago. The last day before Harlem's death. He smiled in recognition at me, and I waved weakly back, even though it was weird realizing he remembered me. It's not like I've ever been the most memorable person.