Page 1 of The Star

prologue

LOGAN

Eight weeks ago

Sirens sound all around me, and I would love to say they send a shock wave of panic or alarm through me, but they don’t. At this point, I’m very much used to it. Sirens, gunshots, random shouting – all of that – it’s usually what I listen to when I’m drifting off at night.

I have ever since I was a little girl.

That’s what you get when you live on the wrong side of the train tracks in Franklin. The noises kind of soothe me now, make me drift into sleep like a child’s night time story or lullaby.

Tonight, though, the sirens are really loud and extremely close.

“Sounds like they’re on your street,” my best friend whispers into the darkness of my bedroom from where she lies next to me in bed, the comforter shifting when she rolls over to face me.

I turn to face her as well, her green eyes looking a little worried when my eyes adjust to the darkness. “I wouldn’t worry about it, G.”

Her neighborhood is hood-adjacent, so she doesn’t see as much action as we do over here on Fifth Street. I’m deep in it, making my skin a little thicker than hers. Like I said, I’m used to it.

Her eyes fall closed again, but she doesn’t roll back over so I don’t either. I think she feels more secure when I’m facing her.

I let my eyes drop closed too, trying to find sleep again.

That is, until I start seeing little flashes beyond my eyelids. I open my eyes again to find my room illuminated with blue, white, and red lights from the window behind me. My eyebrows pull down, and Giuliana’s eyes pop open to look at me.

“What the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” I mutter as I sit up to turn around and look through my blinds.

There’re two cop cars parked at the curb outside of my house, lighting up the entire street. I sit frozen, with Giuliana looking over my shoulder, and we just wait anxiously to see what’s going to happen. I hope from the very pit of my stomach that they’re parked there for the neighbors, but I have feeling that’s not the case.

That unsettling feeling is screaming deep inside of me, something is wrong, Logan.

My chest aches, but I keep my breathing steady so I don’t set off the alarms inside Giuliana’s mind. She’s jumpy, and I’m the rock. I need to keep shit together for her. I don’t need her freaking out tonight, since we have to be up for a volunteering event at the park in 5 hours.

Time seems to creep by, almost like we’re watching everything happen in slow motion. A cop gets out of each car, both of them stepping onto my lawn and walking toward the front door.Fuck.

They leave on the lights from their cars – to tell the whole block who it is they’re coming for, like some sort of warning for everyone else.

As for me and Giuliana, we’re still frozen at the window when they finally bang on the door.

“Police!”

That’s the way they knock on someone’s door in the hood. You wouldn’t find anyone announcing themselves like that across the tracks. They’re more sophisticated over there, more respected.

But here? On Fifth and Third? We’re trash. Criminals. The ones to watch.

They shoot first and ask questions later, like that’ll get them any closer to cleaning the streets of crime and violence.

Giuliana just about jumps out of her skin at the pounding on the front door, so I follow her when she lies back down in bed and curls herself under my comforter like it can protect her.

“It’s okay,” I say into the multicolor illuminated room, trying to keep my tone compassionate when all I really feel is irritated.

The fear in my gut has dissipated, and now I’m just annoyed that I’m losing sleep.

I hear my dad get out of bed through the thin wall of my bedroom and listen to his footsteps down the hallway, then out through the living room to get the door.

I hold my breath, like that’ll make things easier to hear, and wait.

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