Page 11 of The Sun and Her Star

I found the lake a few days after we buried Ellie.

He went to town without my mother. She lay in her room and wailed so loudly that I couldn’t stand it. I’d started running and ended up in the forest behind our house. I ran farther than I ever had before. Farther than I knew I was allowed.

I found the chain-link fence that served as a border to our town. And right where I stopped, there was a break in the links that I was able to pull apart and crawl through to the other side.

I walked through a cornfield until I reached the forest that hides the lake from view.

Now, every day while my stepfather is in one of his leadership meetings, between the hours of two to four, I come here.

Every day the adventures of Bilbo Baggins chase away the endless nightmare of my life.

It’s the closest thing to what I imagine heaven is like. And today, my little slice of heaven got even better.

The girl who literally fell from the sky is the first person who’s not from here that I’ve spoken to since we moved ten years ago.

She’s already taught me something I didn’t know. At first, I thought her constant smiling was weird, but it’s nice to have someone not be angry or sad at the sight of me.

It makes me feel warm, like the sun shining on me.

I can’t remember the last time my own mother smiled at me. She’s barely spoken a word since Ellie died.

Before, she told me stories of our life before she marriedhimand moved us here. She told me about the buildings in the big city and how they rose up and disappeared into the clouds.

She told me that there were entire buildings full of books, that you could walk in and read anything they had on their shelves. Even if you didn’t have any money.

She talked about us going to see all those things one day. When Ellie died, she just stopped.

All I have left is my book. All my hope, happiness, and motivation bound together and held together inside those pages.

Until today.

Today, I made a friend, and tomorrow, we’re meeting at the lake. She’s bringing me more books, and I’m going to get to read them.

I look up, and the moon is clearer than I remember it ever being. I stare up at her, and for the first time in my life, I feel like she’s looking at me, too.

Hope

Apollo

“Tante Isabel, I’m going now.” I have one foot out the door as I watch my aunt warily for signs that she heard me. When she doesn’t respond, I walk back to the table where she’s sitting and wave a hand in front of her face.

“Tante,” I repeat, but I don’t bother to raise my voice. It wouldn’t matter. When she’s sculpting, she can’t see anything else. Maman used to say that it’s what made her so wonderful and terrible at the same time.

I think she’s wonderful all the time. Even though she overreacts. Like she did yesterday when I got back home. Maybe I should have left out the part about Graham having to save me from the lake.

Daddy told me there was nothing worse than a lie. I promised him that I would always tell the truth. So, I told her all about Graham. I promised to be careful and told her about our reading plans. So, she said it was okay for me to go back tomorrow.

After dinner, we made pineapple upside down cake. It’s my grandmother’s recipe, and even though this is the third time we’ve made it since we’ve been here, we always pull out the recipe card and read off each step.

“Can I take Graham a piece of cake? To say thank you for saving me?”

She nods yes, but she doesn’t look away from the clay she’s working on.

I run to the kitchen and cut two big pieces and wrap them up in some wax paper. I start to stuff them in my backpack but decide to hold them when I see all the books inside. I don’t want it to get mushed.

I run down the steps that I’d sat on, alone and bored, for the first week of our stay.

I stared out at the cornfield and wondered what was beyond it.

---