Body of Stars Laura Walter (chrome ebook reader .txt) 📖

man was skinny all over, with ropy tendons visible in his arms and neck. He told us how his use of bloodflower over the years made him disassociate from reality. How he went from living an average, productive life to living one built on fantasy and delusion. He lost weight, lost friends, lost his job. All he wanted was to swallow those red pills, to float himself onto another plane of existence. And for returned girls, bloodflower had an additional effect: it could help recover memories from the abduction.

Deirdre set one of the bloodflower pills on her bedside table. She swallowed the other one dry. I wanted to protest, to point out that the drug would make Deirdre hallucinate or lose herself in a dreamworld or break into an uncontrollable sweat. To remember what might best be lost forever.

I was so young then. I had no idea what people did to carry on.

When Deirdre raised her eyes again, she focused on me.

“You haven’t changed yet.” She said it like an accusation. “Who else has, since I’ve been gone?”

“A few girls in your interpretation class,” I said. “Khalia and Yvonne. Their parents are keeping them at home. And my friend Cassandra.”

Deirdre considered this information. “Is Cassandra stuck at home, too?”

“No. She’s going to school, spending time with friends. Like everything is the same.”

“It’s not the same.” Deirdre pulled at a loose thread in her comforter. “But listen. I’m not going to tell you to stay locked in your room when your time comes. You can’t let what happens in the worst cases prevent you from living your life. Do you understand?”

I nodded, but Deirdre was already looking over my shoulder, into the distance.

“This was meant to happen to me,” she said. “That means it has to be okay.”

I didn’t know what to say, or whether I believed a girl’s fate could truly be that bleak. In so many ways, Deirdre was trapped, her future cut off before it began.

I let my gaze wander around the room until it landed on the bureau. A brochure lay there, its cover displaying pine trees and horses. I went over to it and picked it up.

“Is this for the Mountain School?”

“One of my aunts sent me that,” Deirdre said. “As if there’s any way my family could ever afford that place.”

The brochure was glossy, thick. Full-color photos of classrooms, a science lab, stables, tennis courts. Teenage girls flung their arms over one another and beamed. Those girls had to be the richest of the rich. No one else could pay for such a reprieve from the real world.

“It was from the aunt I always suspected secretly hated me. She must have sent it as a form of torture.” Deirdre paused, putting a hand to her forehead. Her eyes were unfocused. “Wow. I can really feel it kick in.”

“It will help you relax,” Miles said.

Deirdre gathered up the comforter and rolled onto her side. “I have to face it anyway,” she said. “Might as well start now.”

Miles and I waited, as if Deirdre might pop up in bed at any moment and return to her old self. Instead, she closed her eyes against us and lay silently, without moving.

After a long moment, Miles and I shared a wary look and got up to leave.

*   *   *

During the walk home, I asked Miles again where he’d gotten the bloodflower, and how, and whether he ever took it himself. He told me not to worry about it. He said this without breaking stride, his eyes not meeting mine. This only confirmed he was capable of keeping more secrets than I’d imagined.

We arrived home to find our parents sitting at the kitchen table. My father was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, definitely not work attire, and he was drinking a beer.

“God forbid someone takes a creative risk.” He looked right at us while saying this, as if we’d been following their conversation. “These people can’t even articulate why they’re so angry. Some say it’s because it’s a lewd image, others because the woman in the drawing has no markings.” He shook his head. “What a crime, to ask people to use their imaginations.”

“So Mom was right.” Miles reached behind me to slam the door shut. I’d left it hanging open, like I’d forgotten we needed to keep the inside separate from the outside. “You got fired.”

“No.” Our father took a swig of beer. “Suspended. And removed from three of my best accounts.”

“A demotion,” our mother explained.

“It’s not a demotion, Paulette.”

She shrugged. Her hands were empty, but I saw her fingers twitch. I wondered if she was thinking about cigarettes, the papery drag against her skin.

“Kids,” she said. “Give us a few minutes, will you?”

Miles pulled me from the kitchen and led me upstairs to his room. He closed the door and turned to me.

“This is serious. We were already only scraping by, did you know that?”

“Yes,” I said, but maybe I didn’t. I looked more closely at my brother. His expression was tight, frightened. “Hey.” I put a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. He didn’t get fired. He’ll get those accounts back before long.”

He nodded. “You’re probably right. I’m overreacting.” He started to move toward the door but stopped. “I can’t shake it.”

“Shake what?”

“The thought that something terrible is going to happen.” His eyes searched my own. “I think about it all the time. Sometimes I can’t even sleep because of it.”

I stared back at him. Much later I’d remember his words as a clue, a prophecy unto themselves, but in the moment I only felt compassion. My older brother was afraid. He was weak and uncertain. He was human.

From downstairs, we heard our parents’ voices rise and grow louder.

Miles looked at me. “Not a word,” he mouthed. He waited until there was a break in the argument downstairs, until a heavy silence settled over the house, and only then did he push open the door.

*   *   *

On the day of Cassandra’s party, my father put on