Star Shack (14 page)

Born September 28: Libra

Rising Sign: Scorpio

You seek harmony and balance in your life and are willing to compromise to get it. Your quick thinking and charm bring people close to you. This is good because you are social by nature. This summer, things may get bad, and be prepared because it's entirely likely they will get worse before they get better. Don't give into your worst tendencies; they'll only lead to ruin.

Hey there, Birthday Girl!”

Vanessa is so bubbly I'd barely know it was her if my cell phone hadn't identified the caller. I almost didn't answer. I'm not really in the mood to talk. But I'm also not in the mood to be quiet or to get home and stare at the walls of my room all night. So I picked up.

“It's tomorrow,” I remind her, sidestepping a puddle on the boardwalk. It's not raining, but the air is heavy after a long afternoon shower. I also notice a real chill in the air. Fall won't be far behind.

“I know, silly,” Vanessa coos.

For a second I frown at my phone to affirm that this really is Vanessa talking to me. “Love has turned you into a cornball,” I tell her.

She laughs. “I know. Isn't it wonderful?”

“I guess that's one word for it.”

“Don't be bitter. Tomorrow you're turning seventeen, and it's your day.”

“My day to celebrate the complete suckiness of my life,” I reply.

“Are you kidding? You're going to be a senior and rule your nice suburban school where you can have your pick of cute younger guys!”

I shake my head, not believing this is Vanessa, or not wanting to believe it. “So you think my love life is so pathetic it's already time to go the cougar route?” I ask. “And mind you, younger guys in high school are not younger guys in real life.”

She laughs. “Okay…so maybe an
older
guy.”

“Yeah, I'm sure a gorgeous movie star is just waiting back in Albany to snatch me up,” I say. I sit down on a bench and look out over the water.

“So I take it Pete hasn't said anything about your birthday yet,” she says.

“He's completely forgotten. It's obvious,” I say hollowly. The water is a dark gray under the thick clouds, and the waves are choppy. It perfectly suits my mood.

“You don't believe that,” she says.

I take a deep breath. The thing is, I really didn't believe it. Sure, Pete and I are barely speaking, but he doesn't have Sarah keeping him busy anymore. I'm not an idiot. I know he's totally over me. But I admit I was harboring hope that he'd still want to celebrate my birthday with me. Or at the very least
remember
it. But all he can talk about are rising signs being more important than he'd realized, and what it means to be a mutable sign versus a fixed sign. And it's my fault, of course. He can see everyone's birthday but mine.

“Trust me, it's true,” I finally tell Vanessa.

“Maybe he'll remember tomorrow,” she says.

I shrug. I know she can't see it, but I'm sure she'll get the gist. I mean, yeah, it's slightly possible he'd remember—but considering he hasn't yet, why would he? And at this point, would it really help to have him remember so last second? What makes me ache is that it wasn't important enough to try to overcome our terrible summer and do something together.
I
wasn't important enough.

“I think he's just distracted by his breakup and all,” Vanessa says.

Suddenly
I'm
the bitter shrew. “Maybe, but he's better off without her,” I say. “Honestly, all he talks about is astrology. It's driving me crazy.”

“Wait…
what
?” she exclaims. “How can that drive you crazy?”

“I've decided I hate astrology with a passion,” I tell her, even though I know I'm lying.

“Um…got it,” Vanessa says. “No astrology for Annabelle.”

“At this point, just hearing the word makes me break out in hives.”

“I'll let you go,” she says, sounding slightly concerned.

“Metaphorical hives,” I clarify. “Which are actually worse than real ones.”

She laughs. “You should still do something special for your birthday.”

“Well, I'm pretty sure my parents are taking me out for breakfast,” I say dryly. “So that will be amazing.”

“Well, I bet they'll give you good presents.” Vanessa is grasping for straws now. “Oh, and I bet Gabe and Grandma Hillary sent you something really terrific! There was an article in the
New York Times
yesterday about silk produced in Central Asia. Maybe they'll bring you a dress or pajamas or something.”

I roll my eyes. At least Vanessa is still her true self, even though she's also gaga with new love. “Since they haven't even bothered emailing me for weeks, I doubt it,” I say. “They'll probably forget my birthday too.”

“Chin up, Little Bear,” Vanessa says.

“Um…Did you just call me
Little Bear
?”

“Yes. That is what John calls his little sister. Isn't it cute?”

“Darling,” I say. A little bit of misty rain is starting up. I know I'm being a total bummer, but I just can't bring myself to talk to Vanessa about her fabulous boyfriend who adores her and has sweet nicknames for his sister.

“Call me tomorrow,” she says. “And remember, there are other fish in the sea. I didn't believe you when you said that after Silas, and look at me now!”

“Right. Bye.” I close the phone and walk toward home with the rain falling softly on my face. It's true that Vanessa has found love with another guy, someone way better than Silas. But I know that will not happen to me.

Sure, there may be other guys at some point…guys who make my heart flutter and do nice things for me and maybe even have sweet nicknames for their siblings. But there is only one soul mate, one person I am meant for. And even now, when it's clear he doesn't want me, I know that will never change.

***

I can't sleep. After a long night of doing nothing, I figured sleep would be a relief, but apparently relief is not in “the stars.” I find myself hating astrology again, and that makes me feel even worse. I've been tossing and turning for an hour, and I'm more awake than ever. I open my eyes and look at the clock. 11:59. It's my last minute of being sixteen, a year that started with such promise. Sweet sixteen. Ha! What does that mean for the year ahead? Sour seventeen?

Of course I can't stop thinking about my birthday last year, that dinner with Pete holding my hand across the table, us laughing the whole night, the way he looked at me like I was something precious and rare. And then, of course, that kiss…

Ugh
. I get out of bed as the clock hits midnight. I'm seventeen. Wow, it feels just as bad as I thought it might. I'm going to go crazy staying here so I slip on my beat-up sneakers, throw a hoodie over my pj's, and let myself out of the house as quietly as I can.

At least I have the beach. I love the beach at night. It's so dark, especially with the clouds covering the stars, and the lapping of the waves is comforting in a way I don't even notice in the daylight. It's not raining, so the sand has the crisp gingerbread quality that gave the town its name. It crunches under my feet.

But it doesn't matter…no amount of nostalgia will help. My chest is hollow, and I feel a chill deep inside. I can't believe I'm turning seventeen without Pete by my side. I can't believe there is no Pete in my life, not in a way that means something. Five years of friendship and love gone, just like that. I'd never have believed it was possible, yet here I am.

A drizzle starts up and I didn't bring an umbrella, so I cut my walk short and head to the boardwalk. I'm not ready to go home, and there's an all-night diner where I can get some tea. But as I pass the Star Shack, I suddenly realize I don't want to be around people—even if it's just me and the waitress working the late shift. So I pull out my keys and open the door to our booth.

It looks the same, yet it feels different at night, maybe because it's never empty like this. There's always a line out front, customers bustling in and out, Pete in his chair next to me. At some point he just started sitting in the chair with the loose screw every day, so I think of that as his chair. I look at it as I sit down. It's empty, of course…but in some ways, the Pete memory is closer to me than the real Pete who sits here. I can't believe this all started as a joke…a stupid dare. I stand up, taking in the posters, the tapestries, the pile of astrology books I'd like to burn.

Before I even think it through, I'm taking it apart. The posters rip as I tug them down, but I don't care. They're destined for the garbage anyway, since the last thing I'm bringing home are reminders of this summer. I throw the tapestries into a pile on the floor. They're Gabe's from a hippie stage—so maybe he'll want them (who knows what stage he'll be in after this summer). I'll go ahead and take them home. But the books I pile up with the posters and take outside. It's satisfying to toss them in the wooden garbage shed. No more astrology, no more Star Shack.

Next are the forms, which flutter into the paper recycling and rest gently on top of the books and posters. The pens and clipboards I'll take home. Last are the signs. The paper ones are easy to rip down. The wooden sign—the one I painted first—is harder, but I manage to stand up on one of the folding chairs and tug it off its place above the door. It's too big to fit in the garbage, so I drag it around the back of the diner and toss it in the rusted blue dumpster. A fitting end for it.

I walk back to the booth. It's funny. I thought seeing it empty would make me feel better, but it's only made the cold place in me bigger. It's really over: the Star Shack, the summer, and Pete.

I walk down to the beach, not caring if I get soaked. I didn't know it was possible for anything to hurt this much. I sit on the sand, tears mingling with the rain, not knowing which is which.

Born January 2: Capricorn

Rising Sign: Cancer

Your genuine commitment to others wins you friends in unusual places. Your down-to-earth approach to your goals generally gets you what you want, though sometimes the solitude that comes with success is not what you seek. This summer, remember to keep trying: even if it seems that all is lost, hope still remains.