Starry Eyes(92)

My dad is going to kill him. Straight-up murder. I seriously wonder if I should call for help, and then I see him physically force himself to calm down. Hard breaths. Crack of the jaw. Eyes on the ground. “Zorie, you’re coming home with us. And that’s final.”

He’s serious. This is all falling apart.

What am I going to do?

“I won’t leave you,” I tell Lennon through my tears, turning away from my parents. “I won’t let him do this to us. I won’t lose you. I won’t lose you,” I repeat, desperate, fisting my hands in his shirt.

Lennon’s face is stony, and he’s glancing over my shoulder at my father. His head dips low, and he speaks quickly in my ear. “Go home with them. I’ll be okay here. And we’ll figure something out.”

How? How will we figure something out? I can’t see how this can work. But more than that, I can’t see my life without him in it. I tried living like that over the last year, and it wasn’t living. It was surviving.

Without thinking, I stand on my toes and kiss him. It’s quick and hard, and I’m still crying. He kisses me back, and it feels like goodbye.

“Joy,” my father says coldly, “talk sense into Zorie before I say something I regret. We’re leaving in three minutes.”

“I came here to take photos of the meteor shower,” I protest weakly. It doesn’t even matter anymore, and I’m fighting a battle I’ve already lost. “I was supposed to meet Sandra Faber.”

My dad shakes his head. “You lost that privilege when you lied to us about who you were coming out here with.”

“I came to the Sierras with Reagan! She didn’t tell me Lennon was coming along, and she definitely didn’t tell either one of us that she was going to abandon the glamping trip and take off with her friends. Lennon and I didn’t know we were going to be stranded in the middle of the wilderness. We didn’t plan this!”

“Life is hard,” my dad says, turning away from me sharply, storm clouds behind his eyes. “None of us plan for any of it.”

*

The atmosphere inside the car is silent and oppressive as my father drives out of the camp’s parking lot. I turn around in the backseat and see all the red lights of the star party. Lennon is already lost among the masses, so I can’t even see his face one last time. All I can see is my freedom slipping away as white meteoroids streak across the black sky. Dust and particles, some no bigger than a grain of sand, disintegrating as they pass through Earth’s atmosphere. Something so small can create a brilliant flash of light. It looks like a miracle. Unearthly.

Shooting stars.

No wonder people wish upon them.

And though I know they aren’t really stars, and that wishing is pointless, I watch the white streaks zipping over the mountains, and I wish. I wish so hard. Don’t let me lose him again.





26




* * *



My father speeds the entire way home and heads straight for my parents’ bedroom without saying a word. It’s as if he can’t get away from us fast enough. Fine by me. I don’t have anything I want to say to him. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to make up.

At this point, I never want to see his face again.

With Andromeda on my heels, I hike up the stairs and shut the door to my room so hard, one of my glow-in-the-dark stars falls off the ceiling. It’s weird to be back here. This used to be a safe space, but now it feels tainted. Everything smells weird. Dusty and artificial. I think I was out in the wild for too long, because this feels like a prison, not a sanctuary. Andromeda is the only happy thing in this apartment. At least she seems to have missed me.

It’s one in the morning, and I’m in that weird state of being exhausted but not tired. I can’t even look at my wall calendars. Summer is a disaster, and right now, instead of helping me stay calm, they are a reminder of everything that’s gone wrong. So I busy myself with what I can control, steadily unpacking my gear. And I’m in the process of making a pile of dirty clothes to take to the washer when I hear a soft knock on my door.

“It’s open,” I say flatly.

My mom’s face appears in the doorway. “Can I come in for a second?”

“How am I going to stop you?”

She sighs, closes the door behind her, and sits on the bed next to my backpack. “I know you’re angry with us right now.”

“You have to admit, I have pretty good reasons to be.”

Dark circles hang beneath her eyes. “And we’ve got reasons to be angry with you, too. You lied to me, Zorie. When we talked a couple of days ago, you could have told me you were with Lennon.”

“Did you already know?”

She fiddles with a zipper on my backpack. “Reagan’s mom called me. Apparently, Reagan came home early with Brett Seager, but she didn’t tell her mother that they’d abandoned you and Lennon in the national park. The glamping compound got in touch with Mrs. Reid, and they’re the ones who informed her what actually happened. Kicked out for stealing wine?”

“I wasn’t a part of that plan,” I argue. Mostly. “It was Brett’s idea.”

Mom sighs and shakes her head. “Regardless, the glamping compound’s phone call poked holes in Reagan’s story, and that’s when Reagan admitted that they left you and Lennon. Mrs. Reid called me in a panic, a couple hours before I heard from you. Your dad wasn’t here, so I went next door and talked to the Mackenzies.”