Page 62 of We Are the Stars

“So he doesn’t threaten every guy you bring home? Or every guy who returns your cell phone to you? I’m special?”

“Well, I don’t bring guys home—except Jase when I was eight. I have no idea how he came up with that plan or who he’s possibly used it on in the past.” She shrugs. “But, to be fair, hedidknow we were making out in my bedroom. I’m certain that played into it all.”

“You’re justifying this?”

“Someone has to. He’ll need someone to bail him out of jail and I’m not sure I can count on my mother. She only truly loves him on Tuesdays, so what happens if this occurs on a Wednesday? I shudder at the thought of him rotting away in a cell because you decided to annihilate my heart.”

“You’re insane.”

“You’re not wrong,” she agrees, lying back down, this time resting her head on my chest. I wrap my arm around her and hug her tighter.

“He’s a good guy.”

“He is.”

After a few moments of silence, I say, “Trace your path.”

“Huh?”

“The stars. Trace them for me.”

She doesn’t move for a while, but I know she’s thinking. I can practically hear her thoughts jumping out of her head. Finally, she lifts her hand and begins tracing a messy path.

“This was me when I was younger. I was all over the place. I never liked one thing for too long—or too short.” She stops. “That’s when I met Jase. I had this rad TMNT backpack that he complimented. He had an ugly, ratty Spiderman lunchbox, and I told him just that. We’ve been friends since.” I can feel her frown against me. “Well, until recently.”

“Keep going.”

“I calmed down when I hit about thirteen and was in a perpetual state of ‘perfection’ for two or so years.”

She stops again.

“What happened then?” I prompt.

“I had my first kiss.”

“Was it good?”

“Are any first kisses?”

“I didn’t think mine was too bad.”

“Then it was bad.”

I laugh and tell her to keep going. She continues outlining her path then abruptly stops again.

“And this?” I ask.

“It’s where I gotbored.”

“What?”

She drops her hand. “With life, my friends, my schoolwork, books, movies. Everything. I’m bored. I need adventure. I need new. I need something that’s going to rock me, keep me guessing. Someone like…”

She doesn’t finish the thought, but we both know what she was going to say.

Me. Someone like me.

Is that what I am to her? A distraction? Something shiny and new and impulsive? I’m not sure that’s who I want to be. I don’t know if I want to be someone’s distraction, someone’s discarded thing when they’re done with me. Someone to—

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