Every Soul a Star: Chapter 3

Whenever I crossed paths with my parents today, I felt like they were always about to say something, and then changed their minds. Kenny thinks I'm just being paranoid.

"She's probably hurrying off to meet her boyfriend." Then they both guffaw like that's the funniest thing they ever heard. I guess it is pretty funny considering there are no boys my age within an hour's drive.

I open my eyes to find a grinning Kenny, clad in his favorite pajamas (green, with giant grasshoppers on them), pressing a purple ice pop against my nose.

Ryan's grandparents always leave their house before dawn and arrive promptly at nine.

"Not nice," I admonish, breathing heavily.

The overhead fan does a good job of keeping the cabin cool. Ryan pulls the string on it a few times and it goes even faster. The weather doesn't faze me and my family the way it does the guests.

“I told you, sir, only six people can fit comfortably in a cabin. But your party is welcome to join the campers in the field...Yes, there are bathrooms, and you're welcome to use the kitchen facilities...Okay, I'll switch you over."

People have been altering their reservations all month. Mom takes it all in stride. She's starting to look a little frazzled though.

I run in and collapse on the white leather couch. I'm panting worse than Claire's dog Maizy, who's watching me warily from across the room.

My hair will lose all its sheen by being subjected to harsh outdoor conditions.

She runs upstairs while I shoot my mom such a look that she turns away and feigns interest in the gold silk drapes.

How will I know who I am if I'm not Claire's best friend and co-leader of the A-Clique? My whole life has been about being at the top of the social hierarchy.

Now they want me to abandon that and, what, wallow in obscurity during the prime of my life?

Now they want me to abandon that and, what, wallow in obscurity during the prime of my life?

I'm sure no one expects me to donate anything since they're always saying how materialistic I am.

Clearly I'll have plenty of time to tape them into my Book once we get to Purgatory, which is how I've begun to think of the campground. We learned in English class that Purgatory is the place where souls go to wait before being sent on to their final destination. That's like me. My life is being put on hold for three whole years.

Mom gets on the phone with the people who will be renting our house, and Dad goes out to the driveway to tinker with the van.

It will give me plenty of time to practice my runway strut.

And without the smog from the city, I bet my complexion will be totally clear.

The aisle isn't very wide, and I have to be careful not to jostle anyone on my way down.

I catch bits and pieces of words that make no sense to me. Words like Baily's Beads, Corona, Shadow Bands, Diamond Ring.

She laughs and then starts coughing. It goes on so long I start to worry. I wonder if resuscitating old people is on my list of official responsibilities.

"Well, it's the same thing, what makes up a teardrop and the ocean, but completely different in magnitude. Yes, it gets dark during an eclipse, and the stars come out in the daytime, and that's all well and good," she explains. "But it's what the SUN does that makes it so special..."

We'll search for faint fuzzies—those distant deep sky objects—with a variety of telescopes and binoculars. And during the day we'll search for intelligent life on other planets, we'll walk a labyrinth, and contemplate the beauty of nature from a kayak in the middle of a pristine lake.

We'll search for faint fuzzies—those distant deep sky objects—with a variety of telescopes and binoculars. And during the day we'll search for intelligent life on other planets, we'll walk a labyrinth, and contemplate the beauty of nature from a kayak in the middle of a pristine lake.

We'll search for faint fuzzies—those distant deep sky objects—with a variety of telescopes and binoculars. And during the day we'll search for intelligent life on other planets, we'll walk a labyrinth, and contemplate the beauty of nature from a kayak in the middle of a pristine lake.

Then she says, "The only reason we can see an eclipse is because the moon and the sun happen to look the exact same size from earth. But really, the moon is 400 times smaller. It's just that coincidentally, the sun is 400 times as far away as the moon, so they look the same size to us. If the moon were even a few miles smaller across, it wouldn't hide the face of the sun when it passed in front of it."

"Thank you for that concise overview, uh—"

I smile weakly as everyone cranes their necks to look at me.

I thought Pink Sweat Suit Lady was sleeping, but she leans over and looks at my picture before I have time to jerk it away. "Remarkable likeness," she jokes.

Sometimes I'm not sure when people are joking. One of my many deficiencies.

I want to watch, but the smell of hamburgers wafts through the air, and my stomach growls in response. I'm no match for the pull of the burger.

After two brief breaks at rest stops, and endless miles of cornfields, we pull into a motel. It has two floors and is so nondescript that it blends into the gray twilight.

He assigns me the job of reading out the names and distributing the envelopes. Of course I mangle half the names, but eventually all the envelopes are gone except for Mr. Silver's and one marked ADAMS.

Skipping any pleasantries, he says, "You were sitting next to my mother, Stella? On the bus?"