Starling, p.22
Starling, page 22
“I—I’m sorry.”
He wanted to tell her not to be sorry. He wanted to tell her so many things. But how could she understand that his hesitancy wasn’t about her, not really? It was about the situation. The uncompromising, lose-lose situation he’d somehow quite literally fallen into. He was not a human. While he was here, her father was not, and he knew deep down who she’d choose.
He could not stay.
He wanted to stay.
You’re more human than I am. He heard Delta’s voice saying those words in her language over and over again until they lost all meaning. You’re more human than I am. It wasn’t true, not in the least, but human minds were so small, so fragile. He knew Delta couldn’t truly wrap her mind around the sheer magnitude of what he was.
The universe in a boy’s body.
She just saw the boy.
It cannot work. It will never work. You cannot stay. You are not human. He repeated this to himself, the words running together. Can’t work—can’t stay—not human.
Delta’s mouth was set; she stood like stone and stared at the Wishing Well. There were tears in her eyes, tears that started to fall now in earnest.
Can’t work—can’t stay—not human.
But humans were selfish, and here he was, selfish as the worst of them.
He wanted to stay.
Starling felt his hearts begin to beat as one until his body was nothing but hearts. His own reminders faded into nothingness, until in his mind there was nothing but blissful darkness. Carefully, he unlaced his fingers from Delta’s, and splayed them out across her cheek instead. He’d half hoped the movement would dissuade himself, but the celestial markings wrapped around his hands—the reminder, the reminder!—immediately became meaningless as she turned her face toward him.
She was so… beautiful. Beautiful and fragile. She had a quiet voice, a sad mouth, and a yearning heart. Just like him, she had stars in her eyes. He could see it in Delta’s gaze, in the set line of her lips. No, whatever that girl was made of, it wasn’t just flesh and blood and bones. She was made of stardust and a heavy soul, just like him. Maybe it was true what he’d said—that somehow the fibers of the universe had conspired to get him here, to the strange town and strange house, containing one very strange girl.
He felt her breath hitch as he leaned forward, his mouth hovering millimeters above hers. He tasted her warmth when he finally pressed his lips to hers. She responded immediately, as though she’d been waiting, hoping. He felt her warmth radiating from her skin, the flutter of her lashes against his, felt her one heart beating frantically against his trembling three. At first he tried to keep his mouth closed, hiding his sharp teeth safely behind cold lips, but she was so soft that he soon relaxed with an outward breath, drawing her closer against him. Every part of this body of his was lit up, on fire. Her human tongue ran along his teeth, and he shivered against her. Everything about her was so small, and fragile, and human.
Although… Delta was seeming less and less human with every passing moment. She seemed so much more.
He broke away, finally, but stayed close. Very gently, he rested his forehead down upon hers. The tears that had been clinging to Delta’s lashes had been transferred to his, and he blinked them away.
His hearts continued to beat as one, finding rhythm together so that they pounded painfully inside his chest. It was something they only did when his body reacted to… well, feelings. Strange, passionate, wondrous human feelings. He closed his eyes; he could hear Delta breathing, he could feel the warmth of her breath as it hit his neck, but neither spoke.
What was there to say?
His warnings to himself flooded back in a giant rush of guilt: You cannot stay. You must leave. And now they pinpointed on Delta: You cannot stay with her. You must leave her. You must not get attached…
But he had. Somehow he had. The universe had seen the gleam of a human’s eye, and he couldn’t stop himself from staying close to her. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way; it shouldn’t happen that when he kissed Delta Wilding, his inhuman hearts beat as one with fear, with lust, with wanting.
He was not supposed to be experiencing human emotions. None of this should be happening.
Tell her.
Tell her it will never happen.
But he remembered tossing his burnished penny into the water with a plink. The wish he had made—to himself, to the air around him, to something more.
Let me find a way to stay.
25
THE SAME MOMENT that Starling pulled Delta into his arms and kissed her was the exact same moment Bee, almost two miles away, started to cry.
These things weren’t related, but they happened so simultaneously that they could’ve been.
Bee had been having a good time at the party, the type of good time when you manage to push away everything that hangs over you. Bee had been in full-on push-away mode: she wasn’t thinking of Delta or Starling or their empty, dad-less house. She wasn’t thinking of the conversation she’d had with Tag. She was just being.
But the feeling didn’t last for long. Real life always manages to push its way in.
She stood on the outskirts of a small group of girls from her year, hovering as they giggled drunkenly and arranged tequila shots on the porch railing of the guesthouse. Everything around Bee was twinkling with lights; the guesthouse looked magical, like a movie set. Had Tag done this all himself? She took a sip of beer; it was cold from the icebox and fizzed at the back of her throat. She knew she should be trying harder to insert herself into the group’s conversation, but she couldn’t quite seem to keep up with the gossip. Unlike Delta, who always stood off to the side at parties, either lost in her own thoughts or speaking solely to Tag or Anders, Bee usually found mingling so easy—inserting herself with smiles and gossip and flashing, bold eyes. But it wasn’t happening tonight.
Bee stuck her hand into the pocket of her jeans and felt the thin links of the chain she’d found—it was still warm, even in the drizzly rain that had begun to fall. As if the heat had flowed from the chain up her fingers and into her bones, she abruptly felt a hot rush of anger, followed by the sudden urge to burst into tears. She gripped the links tightly, wanting to throw it, wanting to break it, wanting anything that had to do with Starling Rust far, far away from her. She knew this was how he could leave—but she saw the way he looked at Delta. How they danced in the living room together, so close. How Delta’s eyes lit up at the very mention of him.
He wasn’t going to leave.
He wasn’t going to leave. She clenched her fingers around the chain, trying to force back the sheen of tears that came to her eyes. If she gave it to him now, he would use it to stay forever. It would no longer be Delta and Bee. Never again. It would always be Delta and Bee and Starling, and Bee knew without a doubt that the third wheel would soon be shed and Delta and Starling would speed away into the sunset forever, never looking back.
Leaving her behind.
She looked around, eyes drifting from her laughing classmates to a freshman throwing up in the bushes to Anders, dancing closely with his boyfriend, Colson Hawk, who’d graduated from Darling Academy the year before. She backed away, taking up position on one of the stairs leading up to the guesthouse, where she could oversee everyone. No surprises. It was only a moment before, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tag coming again over the crest of the hill, in the direction she’d been coming from when he’d first stopped to talk to her. His head was down, his hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, and he was staring at his steps with a tense expression full of frustration.
What was Tag doing coming down from the parking lot? He’d said he was going up to the house… and yet…
And yet now he was coming back with such a strange look on his face…. Bee’s stomach dropped as if she’d just missed a step.
Had he seen Starling?
Would that be a good thing or a bad thing? She didn’t know. If he had, it would be a little bit her fault; after all, she’d been the one who told him Delta was still here. What if he’d gone to find her? The reckless, angry part of her didn’t even care. So what if he saw the alien? It would serve Delta right for being so secretive. For being so obsessed. For forgetting about her own sister.
The angry part of her wanted to scream, just to let out some of the feeling that was bursting out of her skin. Every inch of her felt hot and itchy.
She stood up, needing to move, and headed over to intercept Tag.
“Hey,” she said loudly. Her fingers trembled around the slick beer can.
Tag’s head jerked up, and he slowed to a halt. “Hey,” he replied, his voice low.
“What were you doing up there? I thought you were leaving the party.” She tried to keep her tone light.
“I did leave,” he said. “Now I’m back.” Each word clipped.
“Oh. Okay. You okay…?” She could tell something was wrong, she just didn’t know what.
“I talked to Delta.” His words were weighted, but she just couldn’t suss out their true meaning.
Did he know?
“About what?”
“Us.” His mouth twisted. “About how she doesn’t trust me.”
“She does.” It was a lie.
“She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you, Tag,” Bee said quietly. No one knew Delta like Bee—that’s what she liked to think, at least—and she could see the hurt and confusion when Delta talked about Tag. The things that looked a lot like dislike, but weren’t, not really.
“Okay,” he replied, still with that twisted, bitter smile. “She does, but it’s whatever.”
It clearly wasn’t whatever. Bee wanted to point this out, but swallowed it back. “Is that… all you guys talked about?”
At this, Tag’s expression sharpened. His blue eyes snapped to hers, narrowed and shrewd. She could almost see the wheels working in his brain, turning and moving and putting things together. But when he spoke, his voice was measured and calm. Each word seemed deliberate, like he was a politician on a stand, delivering an address. “Is there something we should have talked about, Bee?”
The way he said her name had her wanting to reveal everything. He was such a mix of charm and calculation. Bee had the feeling that she could say anything and Tag would be able to twist his response to fit. Everything about him was deliberate, every response carefully chosen. Bee couldn’t tell if it was a facade or not. Maybe this was why Delta felt so confused about her feelings for Tag—could she even tell which parts of him were real?
“Um—no?”
“Are you sure?” His eyes were very intense, like ice chips.
“I…”
“Because I saw the boy.”
She felt winded at his words. I saw the boy. It had to be Starling—but he hadn’t said alien. Did he still not know? Or had he seen Starling and simply couldn’t wrap his mind around the truth of what he’d seen, never mind say the words out loud?
“What did you see?” Her voice was tiny, small, barely there. I won’t tell him if he’s wrong, but if he’s right… Either way, Delta would be furious if she told.
Bee couldn’t decide if she cared anymore. Because furious would be better than nothing. If Delta was yelling at her, at least they would be doing something together; they could argue and scream and do all the things that sisters did. It would be better than Delta holed away in Starling’s room, sitting on his bed, each time shifting closer and closer….
Anything would be better than her sister slowly forgetting she was there.
“I don’t know what I saw,” Tag said finally. “Someone—someone in the truck. Delta said it’s a family friend of yours.” It was a statement, but she could hear the question within it. Is this someone really a family friend? Who is it? Who is he?
A family friend. Delta had called Starling a family friend. Bee clenched her hands around the links of the chain once more. Starling was no friend of hers—he was taking her sister away from her, little by little. And he’d promised her that he wouldn’t. She’d thought it was enough then; she’d thought the only danger was in this boy from the stars physically taking Delta from Darling. But somehow Starling had taken her sister without her ever leaving the house.
The anger reared its head again, and it mixed with the beer in Bee’s stomach into something hardened and uncaring. She wanted Delta mad. She wanted Delta here.
She couldn’t let Delta forget her.
“It’s not a family friend,” she said, her voice bitter. Her jaw was aching from being so tightly held. She pulled her hand from her pocket, the chain dangling between them, glinting in the glow from the strings of Christmas lights. “It’s an alien. It’s a star who fell into our backyard. Yeah, it’s true, we’re not alone in the world. We have an alien in our house and he’s going to take Delta away.”
She said this all very fast, and very loud, and her voice finally broke on the last word. She looked blazingly at Tag as if daring him to laugh in her face or disregard her sentence. But Tag’s face had gone utterly white. Pinched. Bee could see the whites of his eyes.
“What?” he whispered.
She felt suddenly bad for the way she’d sprung it on him. She and Delta had always been around this sort of strangeness; she forgot that the rest of Darling wasn’t as clued in to the mysteries of the universe.
“Um… yeah.” Now she was uncomfortable. It hit her then, the truth she’d blurted out.
“Are you messing with me?”
“No! I was… kidding.”
“Bee, what the hell?”
“Look, I was joking, okay?” She was babbling now, trying to backtrack. As soon as she’d said the truth, guilt had dragged her under. Not to mention what she’d be inviting by admitting everything—more whispers, more insults, more Those strange Wilding sisters. They aren’t normal.
All she wanted was to be normal, and this would shatter any hope she had of staying that way in a town that already distrusted them. “It was a joke.”
“A joke?”
“Yes! Yes, okay?”
Tag squinted at her, his fingers clenched. “You don’t look like it was.”
Bee felt on the verge of tears, all the secrets she’d been holding inside fighting loudly to get out. “I… What do you want me to say?” she cried.
“I want you to tell me the truth!” Tag answered, his voice emphatic.
“It’s a boy,” Bee said, the word tumbling out.
Tag recoiled, his mouth tightening, frowning. His eyes flashed at the word boy. “I knew it. I knew it! Do I know him? Is he from school? Is—”
She’d started, and now she felt like she couldn’t stop. The words were coming of their own accord. “No—I was telling the truth before. It’s not just a normal boy, it’s… something else. It’s the thing that landed near our house the night of the earthquake. I’m sorry I told you like that—I just felt you needed to know.” This was only a half-truth; she’d wanted to tell someone, and Tag had happened upon her at the worst possible time. “Did you see it, that night? The light falling from the sky?” She spoke desperately, quickly; she needed Tag to believe her on this.
Tag took a sharp breath in. His calm facade was quickly sloughing off, and he looked bewildered and not the smallest bit okay. He no longer looked like a Rockford who had everything figured out; he looked like he was concentrating on not falling apart.
He rubbed his forehead. “Is this some kind of trick?”
“No.”
“Did Delta put you up to this? To make me look stupid?”
“Tag—of course not.”
“Are you drunk?”
“No. Not really.” She held up her beer. “This is only my second.”
He squinted at her, as though trying to determine she was absolutely not lying. “So you’re telling me that that meteor was a person?”
“Yes. Person-ish. Starling looks—”
“Starling?”
“That’s his name. Starling Rust.”
Tag stared at her, lowering his voice as a couple left the party, sidestepping Bee and Tag in the middle of the path. “That’s impossible, though.”
Bee shrugged helplessly. “I know. But it happened.”
Tag shook his head. “No. This isn’t real.”
“It is,” Bee insisted. She felt guilt with each word, but also an overwhelming sense of relief. Secrets and lies had been bottled up inside her, and now they’d all tipped over and everything was spilling out.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Tag started pacing, his hands still shoved deep in his pockets. “No.”
“You said you saw the light falling. Did that seem normal to you?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“And you said you saw a boy in the truck. Did it look like a normal boy?”
Tag gave a half-hearted shrug, which Bee took to mean he definitely had seen something strange. “I didn’t get a good look,” he muttered finally. “But I think his skin was… glowing.” He rubbed his forehead, then ran a shaking hand through his hair. The gelled strands stood on end as if he’d been electrocuted. He looked utterly undone. “I thought it was the moonlight… or something.”
“Yeah,” Bee said. “Glowing. He does that.”
“Jesus. I don’t even know what to say.” He was shaking all over now, pacing back on forth across the thin path. Pebbles flew out from under the soles of his shoes each time he turned.
Bee held out the chain; it lay coiled on her palm like a snake. Tag certainly was staring at the links as if they were dangerous. And maybe they were—she knew nothing about what this thing was, except that she’d found it in the clearing covered in Starling’s light when they were looking for something lost. She knew it probably was the item he’d been searching for. She still didn’t understand why she didn’t reveal it. She still didn’t understand what it was.
Maybe it was the fact that Starling was dangerous, and Delta didn’t see it. Or maybe it was the fact that Starling was obviously trying to take her sister away. Or the fact that Delta obviously wanted it to happen.
