Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

get an overhand serve over the net, so I perfected the art of the underhand serve. It isn’t that lethal. It’s just disarming.”

“Interesting choice of words, Sadie. The same word applies to you.” The ice clinked in his glass as he glanced my way. The heat of embarrassment washed over me, and I was thankful for the darkness that still lingered even underneath the light of the porch lamp. Did he mean what I thought he meant? Theo must have sensed my discomfort, for he looked away and moved his legs out in front of him. The muscles of his thighs rippled in the moonlight, making me think it was completely understandable how well this guy jumped on the volleyball court; he had legs of pliant steel.

“I’m here to study I haven’t decided what yet. I thought economics would be a good idea, but that’s a major my parents thought would be good. I don’t say this to many people, but what I’d like to be is a writer.”

“Why don’t you say it?”

“Because most people would say I won’t be able to support myself. As if a writer is grouped into the starving artist category. Which I guess it is. But then, I have this penchant for science too. I might try to combine the two.” I shook my head. “I’m only nineteen. I have time, don’t I?”

“Yes, you do. I wish my dad had had the time.”

This guy was still hurting. What to do? Despite my inexperience with boys and a heartbeat that thumped as I moved my hand, I curled my fingers over his and squeezed gently. My gesture was meant to say the impossible. That even though I didn’t know this boy sitting next to me, I understood the pain of losing someone; I’d experienced the same with the passing of my beloved grandmother. Difficult, but with time, he’d achieve peace, although he’d never forget.

“I guess I should go.” I moved my hand away from his. “First, a nap and then I need to get myself over to work for a few hours. Thanks for everything. It was great to meet you.” I placed my glass on the small outdoor table.

“I can’t let you go by yourself. Let me get my bike, and I’ll ride home with you.”

On the way back to my apartment, the cool summer air rushed through my hair and against my flushed face. I felt light, happy, and cleansed. Despite my fatigue, an unusual energy thrummed throughout my body. Theo and I didn’t say anything until we pulled up next to each other in the driveway of my apartment.

“Thanks again, Theo. Be careful on your way back, okay?” The early birds had begun to tweet in the damp darkness. On other days, the noise annoyed me, but at that moment, their song gratified me.

“I will. You have a nice nap.”

A moment of silence stretched between us as we gazed at one another. I started to dismount my bike, but Theo leaned in, the delicious smell of summer and grass and sweat and boy preceding him. He placed a gentle and brief kiss across my surprised yet waiting lips.

“Sweet dreams, Sadie.”

.    .    .    .    .

The sound of Velcro startled me, and I turned my head toward Andrew, who knelt on the ground, fastening a new diaper onto Clara.

“Do you need help? Why didn’t you wake me?” I blinked away the sleepy grit that had accumulated underneath my eyelids and rolled my shoulder blades. My body had acclimated to the length of the couch, but its small size had affected me.

“Oh, take my word for it. If this had been a huge delivery, I would not have hesitated.” The corners of Andrew’s eyes crinkled unexpectedly. Was this man always so happy?

“Okay. Well, now that I’m up, what can I do?”

“Would you believe she took the whole bottle? Right after you fell asleep, she fussed for a minute, and I slipped the bottle in, just at the right moment, I guess. She drank the entire six ounces and, well, this happened.” He’d finished putting Clara’s clothes back together and held the dirty diaper in his hand. “Mind keeping an eye on her while I go wash up?”

“Not at all. How long did I sleep?” I crouched on the floor next to the baby.

“About an hour. How do you feel?”

What words would suffice? I dreamed about Theo, a former version of him, and my spirit had plummeted further than I thought possible. But Andrew didn’t need to know any of that. Andrew didn’t need to know anything.

Chapter 8: Theo

The morning after I found that love letter, I sat in the dining room with a proposal Andrew had asked me to look at. When Sadie shuffled into the kitchen through the door from the garage, I glanced up. The fatigued look on her face meant her night with the baby might have been on the long side. Her view didn’t include me: the angle of my chair in the dining room compared to where she stood in the kitchen kept me out of her gaze. On the periphery seemed to be my preference these days.

Charlie sat hunched at the breakfast bar. He held a book in one hand and a spoon in the other as he ate cereal. We’d skipped Saturday morning waffles for the first time in a long time: patience and I didn’t always make nice. A drop of milk spilled from the spoon and landed back in that favorite glass bowl of his as he flipped the pages of the book.

“Hey, Mom,” Charlie said, without looking up. “How’s Clara?”

“She’s good, honey. She’s good.” Sadie hung her sweater on the metal hook next to the door and pushed off her flip-flops. Had she eaten breakfast? Should I get up and help her? She hadn’t seen me yet but eavesdropping never led to anything good. Everyone knew that.

“She’s not a miserable vomitous mass?” A slight smirk crossed Charlie’s face and humor danced