Heartbroken

Chapter 23: Allegra

 "What are you doing?" I stood at the top of the stairs, watching as Milo stood on the tallest ladder I have ever seen, dusting the chandelier. He glanced down at me and almost lost his balance, dropping the feather duster.

"George is afraid of heights and needed some help for the party," he called. "Can you throw that up to me?" He leaned over, reaching his hands down to catch the duster. It took me a few tries, but by the end I was spitting dust out of my mouth and shaking it from my hair.

When Mr. Chans adopted Mercy and I, he told us that he wanted to throw a party, and tomorrow was that day. George had been spending the last couple of days cleaning and decorating, and it made sense that Milo got dragged into it. If he was bored enough to judge the chemical compound of roof tiles, he would be dusting the chandeliers. And judging by the way he was looking at the chandelier, I wouldn't have been surprised if he had been inspecting the dust for... other unusual substances. Whatever those might be.

"Do you need any help?" I yelled again, moving myself away from where the dust fell.

"You really want to?" Milo finished and backed down the ladder with one hand, but his foot slipped on the last rung. I was too far away to help, and I watched as he fell hard, feeling the impact through the floor.

"Are you okay?" I asked, fighting laughter as he pushed himself up off the floor. He grunted and threw the duster at me, landing itself in my mouth. I shrieked and chucked the duster back at him, scrambling up the stairs.

"And now you have an unfair advantage because you're approximately nine feet above me." I saw his rare smile.

"Did you measure the height of the stairs, too?"

"I've had a lot of time in this house."

"Have you lived here your entire life?"

"As long as I can remember."

"Good thing or bad thing?"

Milo shrugged. "It changes."

I raised my eyebrow. "Like how you change your scarf every day?" I nodded to him, folding my arms and walking back down the stairs. "Or how the seasons change?" he seemed to contemplate my words.

"I am in... a sense of constant change. I'm like the moon; always waxing and waning and continually moving away from where I just was. I revisit some places, but others I never see twice." He shrugged. "And if that's not enough, everything around me is changing too."

"Like what?"

He glanced at me before throwing the duster on the ground, slouching against the wall and sliding down to sit.

"The stars are always there, a constant light. But sometimes they're too much." He rubbed his eyes, holding his temples. I looked to the side before sitting next to him, not too close. "And I can never see the sun," he whispered, staring down at the ground. I thought for a moment.

"Have you ever looked?"

"Allegra, I – of course I have." He folded his arms and looked away, and his leg started to bounce. I pushed myself up and held my hand out to help him up.

"You've got so much time in this house, Chans," I smiled when I used Ingot's nickname for him. "It just seems like there could be better things to do than judging the chemical composition of roof tiles." He accepted my hand and I pulled him up, bringing the duster with him.

"Yeah, but there are a lot of important things you can learn from a roof," he said, teasing me back. "You never know when you might need to melt the tiles down to forge weapons to fight the demonic zombies rising from the ground."

"Oooh, sounds scary," I laughed.

"Not as scary as I will be if you don't get back to dusting!" this time George stood at the top of the stairs, holding a turquoise vase of white flowers. I laughed.

"Is that the vase that belonged to the Egyptians that you could care less about?" I was referring back to the time when he gave me a tour around the house.

"It was actually made by the Mayans," he retorted.

"So you do care!"

He scowled and walked away down the hall.

"What's up with him?" I asked, pointing my thumb at his retreating back. Milo shrugged.

"He gets stressed when my father has parties,"

"Same,"

Milo looked at me, confused.

"You get stressed when we have parties? Have you ever been to one?"

"No, Milo, it was just – I was just saying that I get stressed too,"

"At my dad's parties?"

I stared at him, baffled that he couldn't understand what I was trying to say.

"Just give me that," I took the duster from him, swishing past.

"What?" he turned to follow me.

"We have things to dust, Milo,"

"I already dusted all the lights,"

"Well let's go dust some Mayan vases, then."

"You don't dust those,"

"Why not?" I whirled around to face him, feeling a little annoyed.

"You could break them,"

"Watch me,"

Milo took a step back, realizing that I wasn't in the best mood. But he was right. And I broke a vase.

"Mercy!" I yelled across the large room. "Leave it there! Just hold it – "the long silver streamer ripped in the middle, and it fluttered down to the floor. We were just finishing decorating the large front hall where the party would actually take place, but the paper streamers were not cooperating like we wanted them to. I sighed and put my face in my hand, balancing on the ladder.

"Sorry," Mercy called.

"It's okay," I smiled but it didn't reach my eyes.

"It looks like George isn't the only one who's stressed," Milo joked, walking in with his hands in his pockets. I shoved my feelings inside, trying to be nice.

"I like your scarf," I climbed down the ladder, meeting him at the bottom. It was a beautiful navy blue with small splatters of gold and silver, representing the stars. I remembered our conversation earlier that day, and realized that I couldn't see the sun either.

"Where's the sun?" I asked quietly.

"Do you not know where the sun is?" Mercy said, confused, walking over to us. She pointed to the window above the large front doors. The sun was lined up almost perfectly with the circular pane, the sun shining a pillar of light through the middle of the room. The sky was slowly coloring to orange and pink, showing the beginning of the ending day.

"So pretty," Milo and I said at the same time, and I smiled and nudged his shoulder.

"Stealing my thunder, huh?"

He smiled sadly. "I would never be able to do that."

I faltered. "What do you mean?"

"You have thunder?" Mercy asked, sidling next to me with big eyes. Slightly uncomfortable, I leaned back.

"...yes?"

"How come you never told me?" she grabbed my arm and started shaking me, rattling my teeth.

"Mercy, its figurative language," Milo tried, separating her hands from my forearm. Our arms touched for a second, and I remembered my breakdown a couple days ago, a light blush creeping into my cheeks.

"Mercy, why don't we go find out what's for dinner?"

"I'm getting pizza," Milo held his phone up next to his ear. "Want some?" I stood, speechless.

"Yes!" Mercy screamed.

"I guess that's decided then..." I mumbled, turning away to watch the sun as Milo ordered pizza, and for once I felt like there was some hope for the future.