Drowning in Stars Read online

  The motion set the plank off balance again. I could feel the edge dropping away from my window’s ledge. We were going down. It was over.

  Chapter 10

  Pixie Rae

  I SAW THE plank tipping and felt my axis tilting. I wrapped my arms around Gaze and leaned back as far as I could, tucking my legs up around him. We tumbled together backward into my room. My hip hit the floor first, absorbing both of our weight. The resounding clatter of the plank hitting the alley below echoed in the room.

  Gaze rolled off of me and lay on his back, too. Asshole was squawking and slamming into things. Gaze stood up and looked out of the window before closing it.

  “Well, that was something.” He offered me his hand and I used it to pull myself up. “This bird is crapping all over everything. We need to catch him if you want to fix his foot.”

  Gaze was better at recovering from almost dying than I was. I felt like my knees were still weak. My mother would’ve been so pissed if I was dead when she came home.

  But Gaze was already on the hunt for something to use to catch Asshole, so I shook it off and joined him. I closed my bedroom door so Asshole would at least stay in there.

  Gaze was coming at me with a strainer, a pot, and a kitchen towel. I turned and reopened my door, and we smooshed ourselves in so Asshole wouldn’t get out.

  He’d already pooped on three places, but luckily not my bed. He was currently perched on my windowsill, and I felt a little bad for him, despite the fact that he’d basically almost killed Gaze and me. Asshole was looking at us and then out the clear glass, almost wistfully. It made sense. Some freak had tied him up with a twist tie, so he wasn’t loving humans much. At least that was my guess.

  “He’s going to peck our eyes out. And our hands,” Gaze observed.

  “Let’s suit up then. Prepare for battle.” I went to my closet and began digging for my winter gear. I was able to come up with a pair of mittens and a pair of gloves. We both wrapped our heads with scarves that we could see through.

  Now, we really were ready. Gaze held the strainer and the pot. It took us about a half an hour of chasing the bird around before he was trapped in the kitchenware. His eyes were wild, and he did indeed try to peck me every time I attempted to touch him. Finally, Gaze lost his patience. He stripped his hands of the gloves and boldly grabbed Asshole’s body and beak.

  “Just see if you can get that thing off of him. Maybe you have scissors?” The strain of holding the bird was evident in Gaze’s neck tendons.

  I moved quickly to my small chest of drawers and dug through until I found scissors. I skidded low so I could get a better look at the bird’s undercarriage. There was a dirty white twist tie that was tangled. I located the loop that was holding it all together and snipped it carefully. The twist tie fell away from Asshole and it took just a bit more coaxing to get the rest free.

  “He’s done!”

  Gaze took Asshole over to the window and I opened it. Gaze let his fingers release one at a time, but saved the hand holding the beak for last.

  When Gaze let go completely, we both took a step back. Asshole let out a shrill squall, lifted his previously bound leg, and pooped once more before trying his foot out. It was good. He was mobile again. He yelled at us one more time, but then hopped out the window. Gaze and I ran over to the window and peered down. Just before Asshole hit the pavement, he took off flying, shooting us one last dirty look.

  After threading his hands behind his neck, Gaze let out a low whistle. “That bird almost killed us.”

  “To be fair, I think we were the ones that almost killed ourselves.” I shrugged and frowned at the broken plank. It wouldn’t work as a way to bounce the ball to each other anymore. “Now, I’ve got to clean the rest of this place up. But thanks for helping him.”

  “Yeah. No problem.” Gaze started helping me clean, which he didn’t have to do. I wondered what he was avoiding at home if he was here with me scrubbing bird poop off my floor. “Your mom’s going to go to the first day of school, right?”

  “She said she’d be here. I’ve got to get supplies, but I don’t want to think about it just yet. We have two and a half weeks left.” I threw the dirty paper towels into an old CVS bag.

  “For sure. You think the guys are playing basketball today?” Gaze looked out the window again in the direction of the park, but I knew he couldn’t see it from my window.

  “Yeah, Tocks mentioned to me that they were having a tournament tonight. He wanted to know if you wanted to be a sub. They’re allowed to have one.”

  His face lit up as his eyes went wide with pride. “Hell yeah! That’s amazing. They really must like me.”

  I nodded and left out the part where Tocks told me one of his regulars had a broken ankle and the other had a new girlfriend who was pregnant. But Gaze was good at basketball. I’d watched enough games from under my tree to know he had skills. He was keeping up with guys much older and taller than him. And it probably was why he was able to walk across a plank five stories up to save a bird.

  We finished cleaning and then washed our hands in the kitchen sink. That turned into a bubble fight when Gaze realized he could make little bubble “snowballs” out of the sudsy water. I double-timed it back to my room and grabbed my bubble gun. We screamed and laughed as we went to war in my apartment. Eventually, we sprawled out on the carpet in the living room/dining room area.

  “You know we kissed, right?” He turned his head and his hair fell away from his cocoa-colored eyes.

  I squinted. “You mean when we were trying not to die and the only way we managed that was being lip to lip?”

  “Sure. Call it what you have to, but it was what it was. First kiss. For me anyway. Not sure how many guys you’ve been swapping spit with.” He pursed his lips.

  “That’s gross. And we didn’t swap spit. It was literally the driest, we’re-almost-going-to-die press of anyone’s life. It doesn’t count. When I get a real kiss…” I trailed off. I didn’t want to be talking about kissing with Gaze. It was just...wrong somehow.

  “It’ll what? Not five stories up with the floor giving out?” He winked at me then, letting me off the hook. I fake punched him, not really whacking him.

  “Seriously, I’m going to have a bruise from here to here.” I pointed from my shoulder to my hip. “Pulling you in from the dying.”

  Gaze sat up. “You know that move was some Avengers crap, right? I was very impressed.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Me, too. Not sure where that came from.” I sat up, too.

  “Black Widow.” He stood the rest of the way, again holding out his hand for me. “Let’s get pizza. I bet you don’t want to cook here tonight.”

  “No way. We’ve already cleaned more than I want to. Let’s have pizza then.” I got my keys and Gaze closed the window, reporting back that Fat Asshole was looking fine and was back in his regular perch.

  “He’s ready to jack our next snack right out of our hands again, isn’t he?” I held open my front door and waited for Gaze to flick off the light switch, saving electricity.

  “That’s his plan, I’m betting.”

  Chapter 11

  Gaze

  WE WALKED DOWN the stairwell that seemed a lot like the one in my apartment building. I knew it was the same designer that did over half the next three streets’ worth of buildings. The sun was going down, but we had plenty of time to take our time. I loved when summer was a lazy toe-dragging procrastinator. I’d worked up a hunger, and I didn’t want to face Dad again. He’d switched to the next phase: drinking at home. I was usually dragging him home from bars or ignoring him as he went out all night.

  He couldn’t claim it was social anymore. Pixie pulled on my arm and toward her. I was in my head and forgot to watch where I was going. The sidewalk’s metal cellar doors were flung open by Brisco’s Plumbing.

  “Dude. Things happen in threes. You better chew your pizza really good, you might choke or something. Today is your damn day.”


  I opened the door to Pete’s Pizza and snorted. “Every day is my damn day.”

  Pixie walked through and got in line to order. She had money in her sock. It was where she kept it. We’d keep track and I’d pay her back for my food. We both liked our pizza plain, with extra cold cheese sprinkled on top. We ordered two slices and a Coke, which we’d split. I grabbed two straws while Pixie juggled two paper plates dotted with orange grease. The smell of hot pizza made me want to cry a little. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.

  “You want to eat outside? It’s way too hot.” Pixie stepped through the door as two older men waited for us to scurry through. We thanked them for holding the door, but they ignored us.

  It was a little late to go out of the neighborhood, but when Pixie suggested eating down by the river, I headed in that direction.

  The sunset was stupid pretty. We ate while we walked past the playground/park and made a left to get to the waterfront. There was no beach or anything. The metal benches had a homeless person sleeping on one, but the other was free.

  I’d sucked down my slice on the walk over, so Pixie sat on the bench while I picked up rocks to throw at the water. We were elevated, so it was really hard to skip a rock, but it didn’t stop me from trying.

  Soon, Pixie was next to me with a handful of rocks. “That sunset looks like a melting slice of pizza.”

  “It’s super orange tonight.” I ran out of sizable pebbles, so I let the rest of them drop from my hand. My fingers were dusty and gray now.

  Pixie tried her luck with tossing, but instead of skipping any rocks, the pebbles just had a pretty dramatic freefall.

  “Are you trying to fish? I’ve never seen anyone fail so hard at skipping rocks.” I was satisfied when she seemed to swallow a grin.

  “Yes. I’m trying to fish some of the three-eyed sunnies from this polluted river. Got to figure out how to get your Christmas present somehow.” She tossed another rock that hit the water with a plop. The homeless man on the bench farted.

  We both tried not to laugh. It was a hard life he was living, but farts were hilarious. We were saved by the bell when we heard the ice cream truck. The bell song that saturated the air started up something inside us, competitiveness and a need to win. Ice cream trucks were onto something.

  “Creamsicles?” Pixie took off running toward the sound before I had a chance to respond.

  Hell yeah, Creamsicles. I dashed to catch up. There were two other kids in line, but when I got up to the ice cream lady, there was still plenty of Pixie’s and my favorite treat.

  Pixie handed me more cash and I got on my toes to slide the money across the metal lip of the counter.

  “You two are going to turn into Creamsicles. Don’t you want to try something else?” She had long black hair that made a giant bun on the top of her head.

  “We totally want to turn into ice cream. Then we wouldn’t have to go back to school.” I took our change and handed it back to Pixie. The two dudes behind us in line stepped closer to us, so we shuffled out of the way. As I peeled back the white paper, even stuffed full of pizza, I wanted to drool a little.

  We tossed our wrappers out and then started our real race. Between us and the humidity, both wanted to devour the Creamsicles. My right hand was sticky and covered in gray dust and funny colored sugar drippings. Pixie lost the last bit of her ice cream in the dirt. We both stared at the fallen soldier for a few beats like it was a little tiny funeral.

  “Well, that’s it for that guy. Want to find a hydrant or head home?” I grabbed Pixie’s popsicle stick and stuck it to mine before tossing it into the trash.

  “I think Tocks and his friends said they were going to open one up by the park tonight.” She pointed in the direction of the impending water party.

  “It’s getting kind of late. Don’t you want to get home?” I tried to get my hair out of my eyes without actually getting the remnants of the Creamsicle in it.

  “I’d rather get drenched in the park and skip my shower.” She started in the direction she had pointed and I followed her.

  “Sounds good to me, as long as we don’t get our butts kicked.” I spread my fingers out so they couldn’t touch.

  “You’re with me. You’ll never get your butt kicked.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder by whipping her head, obviously struggling with the same sticky hands I was.

  She was right. Pixie Rae knew everyone in town. Even the scary looking guys with the bandanas around their wrists and neck tattoos.

  “All right.” We walked to the park, and sure enough, Tocks had cranked open the hydrant. We had to wait our turn to jump in. Hydrant games seemed very different at night. For one, there was music playing loudly. In the shadows, little glowing dots of orange hinted at the kids smoking cigarettes.

  But Tocks was good and kept the smokers away from the hydrant as Pixie and I jumped around. I used the powerful spray to clean my hands, and it did a hell of a job. Pixie even bent at the waist and soaked her hair. She flipped it quickly and the drops made a brief silver constellation above her head. Then she pushed her hair away from her face.

  It was actually too cold in the water to stay long. Tocks was like the king of the daytime playground, but at night he was like the mob boss. I got the very distinct feeling that he was holding more than the smokers away from Pixie and me. She gave him a big wet hug on her way out of the playground.

  He hugged her back and then shook out his hands. “Nice, Pixie. This is the thanks I get.”

  Pixie grinned at him and then pulled my now clean hand hard. It was time to go home for real. I had a bout of sadness at the thought of our broken plank. I really liked playing ball with Pixie. It was a great way to pass the summertime. Endless time. Laugh with her.

  I walked her to her building’s door. Everything seemed safe, so I held open the door. “Thanks for my first kiss.”

  Pixie rolled her eyes. “Thanks for risking your life for Fat Asshole.”

  “See you upstairs!” I let the door close behind her and headed back to my building. It was nighttime now. Late even. I was glad I didn’t have to shower or think about school.

  Everything in me slid into my feet when I saw my father waiting for me on the stoop outside.

  _______________

  “Where the hell were you?” My father threw down his lit cigarette and then stomped on it, more out of anger than from wanting to disappear the fire risk.

  “I was...out?” It was phrased as a question. Why he cared, I wasn’t sure.

  “Spending our money?” He pulled the door open, and as I went through it, he slapped the back of my head. Money. Of course. He was probably out. His paychecks were lasting for shorter periods of time. Partly because he was earning less because he was not making the sales he needed, but also because he was spending it faster. Hanging with Pixie made me more budget-conscious. She was always keeping track of her weekly allotment. Paying bills by popping the envelopes her mother had pre-addressed into the mailbox at certain times.

  “No. Just in the park.” I huffed it up the stairs, easily keeping ahead of him. But he was behind me, and there was no changing that. His mood was dangerous. There was a way he tilted his head when he needed something. A drink. A hit of something. He had that tilt tonight. My stomach churned with the treat I’d had with Pixie.

  “In the park? Getting into shit late at night?”

  I opened our door—it wasn’t locked—and headed for my room. Sometimes, if I closed the door, he forgot to give me the business. I knew I had too much of an edge when I responded, “Just splashing in the hydrant.”

  He caught me and put his wide hand on my bedroom door, preventing it from closing. I wished I could close my window. I didn’t want Pixie hearing the evil that would come out of his mouth next.

  “Oh, you’re a real city boy now? Can’t make time for Pops? What happened to playing catch in the park?” Dad’s forearm flexed, the veins popping out.

  I heard the answer in my head, “You’re never here.
You never care anymore unless it’s drinking,” but that’s where it stayed.

  “I was here for you tonight, waiting to spend some time with my boy.” He attempted to smile, and it seemed more like he was waiting for an x-ray at the dentist.

  My next step was risky. Either it would shut him up or make him angrier. I went over to my dresser and opened it. In a set of tube socks I had a twenty dollar bill that I’d saved when Dad had been overly generous with my allowance—not that I was getting that anymore either, it seemed. Good parenting tricks fell by the wayside when he was like this.

  “Here. It’s all I got. Go get your whiskey.” I was dead in the center of my room, and my father advanced. I had taken the wrong bet as I held out the money.

  Chapter 12

  Pixie Rae

  I WAS WAITING for Gaze. I’d cranked open my window to check on the bird. He was gone, so I felt like it was a good sign for him.

  I heard the sharpness in Gaze’s father’s words. I couldn’t even make out what the man had said, but the poison in the intentions poured out of the window like smoke.

  Gaze was holding out money, I could see him now. Then I heard him taunt his father with the word whiskey.

  “Oh no.” My mom had wine on occasion, but it really wasn’t in the budget for her. I knew from the neighborhood those that couldn’t stop drinking had to be dealt with differently. Some needed distance. Some were overly friendly. And some—some looked just like Gaze’s dad and you stayed far away from them.

  The smack happened so fast, I didn’t see it coming. Gaze fell out of view and the cash he had been holding fluttered in the air like a single piece of confetti.

  I leaned out of the window. If the plank was still there, I would’ve gone across it. Anger filled me.

  “Hey!” My word felt as sharp as the hit had looked. “Keep your hands to yourself!”

  Gaze’s father turned his head and stared at me. His face was bright red and the veins were raised on his neck. He looked terrifying.