Page 1 of Falling Like Stars

Prologue

NO ONE BELIEVES their life can change so fast. That it can shatter into a million pieces in a single instant…until it does. One minute your life is one way, in the Before. And then suddenly it’s After, and you don’t know how you got there. Whiplash of the soul, I guess you could call it.

My dad dying felt like that. Like an explosion that sent Mom and me flying. One minute he was here, and the next he was gone. My mother is technically still alive, but she didn’t survive the crash. Not really. She’s still Here, but mostly There. Undead. As for me, I was blasted above the wreckage and now float like an astronaut that’s been untethered from the mothership. I might just drift forever.

Before and After. Here and There.

Someday, I hope to land on solid ground. When I do, I know Josh will be there to catch me.

“You’re cold,” Josh says.

“I’m fine. Now, look.” I point at my sketch. “You’ll have a red waistcoat, see? And boots—”

“Why do we look like zombies?”

“Undead.”

“What’s the difference?”

“‘Zombie’ sounds cheesy. Undead is more elegant.”

Josh laughs. “If you say so.”

Halloween is a week away. Josh and I are going as the March Hare and Alice, from Alice in Wonderland, but with a twist.

“Everyone has seen Alice in Wonderland a hundred times,” I say. “I want us to stand out.”

A shiver escapes me. Josh gives me a knowing look, which I ignore. My cousins from Michigan think Los Angeles never gets cold, but the nights in late fall and winter are chilly, like tonight. And loud. We live in Tarzana, and it’s like that Tom Petty song; there’s a freeway running through the yard. Not exactly, but pretty close. The 101 is right there, with its endless stream of cars.

But we hardly notice anymore. I don’t notice much anyway when Josh is with me. Not the noise or being cold. I’m full of him. His body is close to mine as we sit together on my front porch swing.

Josh kisses my temple. “You’re a genius at this stuff. And you’re shivering.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll get you my hoodie.”

He starts to go, but I pull him back, tugging the sleeve of his plaid flannel. “There are other ways to keep me warm, you know.”

“Like what?” he asks, his blue eyes twinkling. He’s teasing because he knows I have a hard time saying the mushy stuff.

I keep my eyes on my sketch. “Actions can be taken.”

“Do you want me to put my arm around you, Rowan Walsh?”

Yes, always.

I shrug one shoulder, and he tilts my chin up so that I look up at him. He’s smiling, of course. He has the best smile. He wears it in his eyes, and his eyes are always on me. He slips his arm around my slight shoulders and kisses me softly. His kisses are the best too, though I don’t have anything to compare them to. I’ve only kissed Josh Bennett and will only ever kiss Josh Bennett. I may just be fifteen, but some things you just know.

The kiss deepens and gets breathless, but he pulls away.

“Don’t want your mom to see,” he says with a glance at the window behind us. It’s dark. My house is always dark. The only lights are the ones I turn on.

“Mom’s asleep,” I say even though it’s barely seven-thirty. Josh’s arm tightens around me because he knows the deal. Since Dad died two years ago, Mom’s checked out. Here but not here.

A zombie. Nothing elegant about it.

“At least she’s not laying out your clothes for school tomorrow like my mom is,” Josh says.

---