The Sound of Shooting Stars (3 page)

I shake my head and aim for the door. There’s no point in making any connections with these people. My stay will be brief. I take the city bus to the stop half of a mile from the school. The ocean breeze blows the brackish smell toward me as I walk through the thick heat.

I listen in each class trying to keep my mind off of the life changing events that happened yesterday. The day drones on and I check my phone often to see if Michelle has found a new place. When she dropped me off yesterday she said I would be her first priority this morning. I frown, realizing that maybe she forgot because it’s already two o’clock.

When the bell rings signaling the end of yet another day, I trek across the parking lot toward the road. An air deprived voice rings after me, “Jamie, wait, wait!”

I stop and turn, curious as to who is bent on stopping me. I was wiser than my years when I went back into the system after Sam’s family.  I was twelve but I vowed back then that attachments are lethal. So it’s been my mantra through the years that I don’t bond with families and I don’t make friends. It’s all so fleeting. I would rather not endure the pain I suffered through back then again.

I turn standing stock still while raising my brows as a tall, skinny kid runs toward me. He stops when he reaches me and pushes his black framed glasses up his nose. His breathing is erratic and he pauses a moment to catch his breath. I chuckle at the stereotype but it rings true in this case that he is more nerd than jock.

He straightens and the words rush out, “Brian Pierce sent me to give you a message.”

I lean in puzzled by his news.
Who in the hell is Brian Pierce
? I quirk my eyebrows and wait for the message.

“He said if you so much as look at Stacy again, he’ll beat your face in.”

I’m still waiting as what he says registers. My smile widens at his words. I tell him, “Thanks,” before turning to go back to wherever it is I will be sleeping tonight.

The skinny kid calls out after me, “That’s it, just thanks? I would take his warning seriously if I were you. Hey by the way, what happened to your jaw?”

I turn back to him, deciding to have a little fun. My jaw is a dark purple today. There wasn’t a shortage of stares in any of my classes.

“My dad hit me so I beat the shit out of him.”

His eyes widen in surprise.

I don’t give him a chance to respond as I spin back to continue on my way. With any luck I won’t be here tomorrow for whoever this Brian Pierce is to bully me any further. Obviously someone’s bored.

My phone chimes on the bus. I answer reluctantly when I see Michelle’s name light up the screen.

“Hello.”

Her voice is cheery, “Hi Jamie. I have good news. “

I wait silently not acknowledging her statement. Her good news and mine are probably on completely different planes.

“Jamie, are you still there?”

“Yeah, Michelle.”

“Sorry it took me all day to call. I pulled some strings though and got you placed with a family in Palm Beach. They agreed to the whole year.”

I’ve heard that one before. The Stones committed to the full year as well. Look how that ended.

I ask the only thing that matters at this moment, “When?”

Silence spreads and then she answers softly, “Jamie, I need you to know that this is a favor to me from a friend. You have to try this time.”

A small breath escapes my lips at her statement as if what happened at the Stone’s is my fault. But as usual I relent, “I will Michelle.”

Her voice picks back up as if her warning didn’t pass through the phone.

“Don’t go to school tomorrow. I’ll pick you up around noon and we’ll get lunch before I take you over in the evening. Unfortunately, you will have to switch schools.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Great! New school and new place. At least that Brian dude will have to find someone else to pick on.

Chapter Four

Beckett Chase

Taurus – The Bull

Zeus adopted the shape of a bull in order to seduce and abduct Europa, the beautiful daughter of the Phoenician King Agenor. Zeus mingled with the king’s herd and, being the most handsome bull there, he got Europa’s attention. When she sat on his back, he rose and headed for the sea. Zeus carried Europa all the way to Crete, where he revealed himself and lavished the princess with presents.

~*~

The message from Marla today put a crimp in my plans. I was going to swing by the beach with Trina and Dani.
Shit Marla, terrible timing
. As I maneuver my car down Ocean Avenue, I dial Dani.

She answers on the first ring, “Beckett, you better not cancel. We’re on our way already.”

“I was on my way but Marla texted that I need to come straight home. Who knows what she wants.”

“Damn, alright we’ll see you tomorrow then. Call tonight if you need to.”

I hang up pissed that I have to change my plans. I turn down our road and pass Dani’s house before turning into the short drive behind tall white wrought iron gates. I lean out my window and flinch at the heat emanating off of the window frame. Crap it’s hot! My fingers move over the buttons deftly punching in the code, as if they have a mind of their own. I put the window up quickly, cursing my mother further for making me miss the beach. A dip in the ocean would have been nice today.

The narrow road winds through tall palm trees offering spotty shade to the grass below. It finally ends in a circular drive preceding our expansive two story home. It’s Mediterranean in style that screams my mother all over it. She’s a decorator but she never limits herself to the interior especially when it comes to her own home.

I march up the wide tiled steps and unlock the glass door before stepping into the cool air. Finally, relief from this stifling heat. I unload my purse and keys on the marble table centered in the grand entryway.

I call out aiming for the Florida room, “I’m home, Marla. This better be good because I had plans.”

My voice tapers off as I enter the bright room in the back of the house that overlooks the pool with a long yard before disappearing over the edge of the salty water beyond. Both of my parents are seated in the plush white furniture. My dad is still dressed in his suit with only his jacket removed and splayed carefully over the back of the couch. My mom has a cream flowered mini dress on and her feet are still fitted into her tan two- inch heels. I hesitate in the doorway at the serious expression on their faces.

Marla shifts carefully instructing, “Have a seat Beckett. We need to talk to you.”

I move to rest across from them. As an afterthought she adds, “I thought we discussed the mom thing.”

I shrug my shoulders. I prefer to call them by their first names. It’s second nature to me now. For as long as I can remember I’ve called them Marla and David. The story I’ve been told is that as I learned how to talk mama and dada turned into Marla and David. I suppose they may sound a bit similar. Anyway they thought it was cute at the time and encouraged it. I think they regret that now. Asking me to change is like asking an alcoholic to quit cold turkey. They don’t go down without a fight and neither will I.

“Okay, Marla.”

Exasperation fills her face. David pats her hand with a small smile before looking up to my blank expression.

“Beckett, we have something to tell you.”

I wait because it’s probably something that they think will affect me like going on a week -long trip. Usually the things they think are major are minor blips on my radar.

Marla sits up straighter and declares, “We’ve decided to take in a foster child.”

I forget to breathe for a second. When the air rushes back, my guttural objection sounds foreign to my ears but gains in momentum as the reality of her statement settles.

“What? How could you decide this without me? I thought we were a team. We always discuss big decisions and this is a huge one.”

I stand and start to pace as my heart pumps blood faster, making my ears heat up with anger.

“Mom, dad, what has come over you? How could you do this to me?”

My dad squeezes my mom’s hand. His smile remains and I want nothing more than to wipe it from his face. My mom stands up and steps over taking me into her arms. At first I protest but she tightens her grasp and I let her coddle me. She says over my head, “Beckett, I was asked by a friend to do this. He has nowhere else to go.”

I move out of her grasp even more surprised, “
He
? Why can’t someone else take
him
?”

I look over at my dad and watch as his amused smile draws into a tight line.
Oh great here comes the lawyer. Now I have no chance to plead my case.

His voice is even, “Beckett, your mom has already committed. He will be here for the whole school year so I would advise you to get over your shock and accept it.”

Of course he is advising me to do something. Usually it’s not in my best interest. I huff out a breath and run out of the room. Yes, extremely immature but I never claimed to act my age all the time. My feet meet the steps briefly as I climb higher, eager to get away from this terrible news.

It would be one thing if it was another girl that I might have a tiny bit in common with but a boy, no way. Then I realize that they didn’t tell me how old he is. It could be a boy in elementary school in which case, I can arrange to have nothing to do with him. He might be older though. As I enter my pale yellow room, I plop down on the king sized bed centered under the wide wall of windows overlooking the inter-coastal waterway. I pull my phone out of my sock because our school skirts don’t have pockets and debate whether I should call the girls. They’ll have a thousand questions, most of which I can’t answer because I reacted so childishly. I don’t even know when he’ll be here or how old he is for that matter.

I roll over onto my back and stare at the ceiling. The colorful stars I put up there as a child with David’s help, glimmer when the light hits them just right. I used to lay here at night staring up at them as they glowed in the dark. I would imagine them falling out of the sky. Just one falling away would change the way things line up and how life is supposed to be. Obviously something is out of alignment.

I turn my head to the clock and wince at my luck. What a crappy day. First, Trina gets mad at me for nothing, well not really nothing but not in comparison to this it’s tiny. Then I have to forgo the beach for what, this stupid situation. My eyelids start to fall. I don’t fight them. Maybe a small nap will make things look better when I wake up.

***

When I open my eyes the light from the sun has set and my stars glow, revealing that one
is
actually missing. I knew it. I look over at the clock and realize that I’ve probably missed dinner. Reluctantly, I pull myself up and visit the bathroom to splash cold water over my face. I glance into the mirror and wrestle with the tangles in my hair, finally giving up and propping it in a ponytail high up on my head. Then I realize that I’m still in my plaid uniform skirt and white button down shirt from school. I change into black sweats and a purple tank top.

When I step out into the hall, I listen for my parents but they aren’t in their room down the hall. The descent down the stairs is torture because I don’t know what to expect with this foster kid thing. Why does Marla always have this ‘do good for the community’ mentality? Can’t she just leave well enough alone? I remember when I was eleven; she made me go through all of my clothes and toys from when I was younger. If I hadn’t worn it in a month, she was giving it away to charity.

I walk across the entryway into the kitchen. Our housekeeper, Sasha is washing dishes in the sink. Her yellow dress covers her round figure with an apron expertly tied at rise of her hips. She turns as I come in.

“Hi Beckett, do you want dinner? I saved you a plate.”

I glance around to find that we’re alone.

“Um, yeah, that would be great.”

She takes a plate out of the oven and places it on the round table in the corner of the kitchen. I collapse into the chair and pull my legs up under me. When I pick up the fork, I look up to find her staring at me, the grey in her eyes is more pronounced, as if she’s worried. She smiles and looks away obviously uncomfortable about something. I eye her back curiously and ask, “Okay, Sasha, what is it you aren’t telling me?”

I stab a piece of chicken and raise it to my mouth. Sasha is kind of like a grandmother to me. She has been here for as long as I can remember and she’s here way more often than my actual grandmother who is usually off on some cruise or trip most of the year.

She turns and leans on the counter bracing her hands carefully on both sides of her plump frame.

“Did your parents tell you about Jamie?’

I frown as I chew another bite and nod my head. It seems as if relief washes over her face and she turns to continue washing the dishes. Her graying hair is rolled in a low bun at the nape of her neck colliding with the collar of her dress.