Page 1 of We Are the Stars

1

Elliott

Laundromats are my sanctuary.

To be more exact,thislaundromat is.

I know, I know, it’s strange. As an unwritten rule, laundromats have a certain wet, mildew-y smell to them, maybe a leaky roof or a lone creeper skulking in the corner—but this one doesn’t. No, it’s…quiet. Nice. It’s the place I go when I want to do some deep thinking or to get away while still getting things taken care of. The clanking of clothes rattling against the metal, the smooth hum of the washing machines, the squeak of the tile beneath my feet—I love it all. It’s my place, the peaceful, quiet space I use to gather my thoughts, to relax, to simplybe.

Or at least that’s the case when I come alone.

“Are you paying attention to anything coming out of my mouth right now?”

“Huh?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

I pull my gaze from the window, from the boy across the street clearing away dirty dishes with a scowl, and bring my attention to my best friend, who’s sitting next to me. We’re hanging out at the local laundromat waiting for our biweekly loads of dirty clothes to finish drying. They’re taking forever, and no offense to the company I keep, but I’m beyond bored. All that’s stopping me from taking my still-wet clothes and letting them air dry back home where life is even more boring is the stranger across the street. My eyes have already managed to drift back over there of their own accord.

“E?”

Forcing myself to again turn to my friend, I kick his Nike clad foot with my Converse and wiggle until my cheek is resting against the cool glass of the window. “Sorry, Jase. Keep talking.”

He rolls his dark brown eyes and huffs. “Anyway, like I was saying…”

I halfway listen as I watch an empty bag float across the pavement separating us from Vern’s Diner. The air is growing warmer by the day and soon summer will be in full swing. I shudder at the thought, because that means winter is nowhere near close, and it’s always been my favorite season. In my opinion, if you grow up in Wakefield, MA, it’s required to love winter, even if only a little bit. I truly wish I were donning scarves and snow boots instead of shorts and tanks. I want to feel the cold whip across my skin instead of the heat of the sun, leaving me streaky with sweat.

Yeah, winter is my favorite. Screw summer.

I glance through the window as Jase drones on about a class he took last semester and barely passed. I can feel his pain because I barely passed a few classes myself. It’s not that I’m not smart enough—I’m perfectly qualified for all my classes—I’m just bored.

With everything.

School, my friends, life. Everything is a routine that never deviates, an endless cycle of classes, study, party, laundry every other week, and then home.

All. So. Boring.

Nothing is giving me a zing anymore. I don’t get excited about debating in class with other stubborn students, nor do I get pumped about any party Jase drags me to. I want a change—no, Ineeda change.

The only thing that’s held my interest for more than a few minutes in months is what’s going on inside Vern’s Diner. Lame, sure, but I’ll take it.

From here, I can see there are a decent number of customers inside for this time of day. It’s right between breakfast and lunch, but almost all the tables are full. I can’t blame the patrons; I’ve been known to visit Vern’s often, which is why I find the stranger so intriguing. In all the times I’ve gone to the diner, I have never seen him before, and I’ve lived in Wakefield my entire twenty years of existence.

Just then, the boy in the window appears again, and Jase’s words are completely lost on me. I watch as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair then rests his hands on his hips. He closes his eyes against the bright sun and steps farther into its warmth before letting a frown curve his full lips. He looks as if he’s in pain, like something’s physically ailing him. I want to reach out and smooth the worry lines from his forehead, because he looks far too young to be carrying around so much hurt.

Then, almost imperceptibly, he grins. The action, no matter how small it is, transforms his whole face. With him standing in the glowing rays, I can see his ruffled hair is a mix of browns tinged with a soft red. With his eyes still closed, I can’t see their color from here, but I’m guessing it’s something magnificent.

Then, his eyes open and land on me.

I stop breathing.

He stares. I gaze back.

I wave. His scowl returns, and, for some unknown reason, it pisses me off. My instant childish reaction is to flip him off.

So, I do.

“ELLIOTT!” Jase dives my way, covering my hand with his. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he seethes. “You can’t flip off a stranger.” He squints out the window, trying to get a closer look at Frowny Face Boy.

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