Where the Stars Still Shine(24)

When Kat drops me off a few hours later, I have so many bags that she has to help me carry them all. The whole experience was exhausting—especially trying on dozens of pairs of jeans because Kat was on a mission to find the “perfect” pair—but it’s a wondrous feeling to have clothes and shoes and books that belong to me. That no one else has worn—or read. She picked out jewelry for me, suggested decorations for the Airstream, and insisted on makeup, although I don’t usually wear much. And even though Kat assures me that all these things are a fraction of what she owns, it’s more than I could ever imagine.

“I can’t get over your hair,” she says, as I fold a pair of denim shorts into a drawer. She’s repeated it about a million times since I had my hair cut earlier at the mall, but now the tangles, brassy ends, and dreadlocked bits are gone, and the curls are full and soft. It doesn’t even feel like my hair. “It looks amazing. I’m so jealous.”

“Thanks. For—everything,” I say. “And I’m sorry about what I said earlier.”

“Ooh! That reminds me.” Kat ignores my apology and rummages through the pile of bags for the small one she said was a surprise. Inside is a box of tiny white star-shaped Christmas lights. “Every girl needs a string of these for her room,” she says. “Not only are they beautiful, but when you have fairy lights, you’re never completely in the dark.”

The lump in my throat won’t let me speak, but she doesn’t wait for a reply. Instead she hands me one end of the string. “Let’s hang them now.”

We loop them around the curtain rod on the window beside my bed. It takes only a minute and when we finish, Kat plugs her end into the outlet. With daylight still streaming in through the window, the stars are pale yellow and weak.

“Well, okay, they don’t seem very special at the moment,” she says. “But later? They’ll be spectacular.”





Chapter 9


Following my ugly outburst in the hallway earlier, I’m dreading dinner. Although I’m not certain I owe Greg and Phoebe an apology for my feelings, I should probably apologize for being such a bitch. I don’t want to face them, though, so I drag my feet until the last minute, looking at my new shirts, paging through books I can’t wait to read, and smelling the new pomegranate-scented body wash that came from the store selling nothing but lotions and soaps.

There is no one in the kitchen when I go inside, but it’s still warm from the oven and I hear voices in the dining room. I round the corner, going through the doorway, and stop abruptly.

Alex Kosta is sitting at the dining-room table.

He looks up and his eyes go wide for a split second, then he levels that devastating grin at me and my whole body feels as if it’s about to spontaneously combust, leaving me a pile of embarrassed ash on the carpet. What the hell is he doing here?

“Hey, Callie.” Greg’s tone is pleasant, as if this morning never happened. Right now, though, I think I’d prefer an uncomfortably silent meal with him, over one with the last person to see me naked. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you this morning that we’d be having company for dinner. This is Phoebe’s brother, Alex.”

Oh my God. Her brother? Has he known all along?

Alex stands politely as I come around the table to the empty place beside him. Although his eyes follow me the whole time, his expression is inscrutable. It’s only his neck below his curls—flushed pink the way my face must surely be—that gives away his embarrassment at the awkwardness of this moment.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, as I sit down, and I’m torn between wanting to punch him in the mouth, and wanting to drag him under the table and kiss his face off. Instead, I mumble a hello and turn spreading my napkin on my lap into an Olympic event.

“Callie, your hair looks gorgeous,” Phoebe says, breaking bits of roasted chicken into a small bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy for Joe.

“You look like Super Mario,” Tucker says.

Alex laughs as he takes a dinner roll and hands me the basket. “Do you mean Princess Peach, buddy?”

Tucker nods. “Yeah, only Callie’s hair is not yellow and she doesn’t wear a pink dress that’s long.”

Joe giggles and points a tiny finger at me. “Peach.”

“I’d take that as a compliment,” Greg says. “Tuck doesn’t have a broad basis for comparison and Peach is pretty cute, as far as video-game girls go. And if Joe agrees? It’s some seriously good hair.”

All of them are looking at me and it makes me want to hide. “Thanks.”

“Kat didn’t go crazy with my credit card today, did she?” Greg asks.

I think about all those bags. It never occurred to me that she was paying for everything with his money, but of course, it makes sense. How else would she have been able to afford it all? “I, um—”

“I’m kidding, Callie,” he says. “Did you get everything you needed?”

“I think so.”

The room goes quiet for a moment, the only sound the clinking of silverware against plates.

“Alex,” Phoebe says, “Callie’s going to start working for Theo tomorrow at the shop. Maybe after dinner you could give her a crash course in sponges, so when the tourists ask questions, she’ll be able to answer.”