Starling, p.23
Starling, page 23
Bee clenched her teeth, her fingers going stiff.
Yeah, maybe it was that.
“This thing belongs to him.”
“Why do you have it?” Tag’s voice was faraway, his face still drained of color. He wasn’t even looking at her; he was staring at the lights of the party. She could see the Christmas lights reflected in his blue eyes. What was he thinking about?
“I found it,” Bee said. “And I kept it. I just want him gone. I don’t want to give him anything he wants.” The chain was so warm in her hand, she could almost imagine it was alive. She shook herself—that’s stupid, Bee, don’t be ridiculous, it’s a chain—and continued, “This chain will give him more power. Power he can use to leave or stay.”
“Leave?” Tag said.
“He won’t do it,” Bee said with certainty. “He doesn’t want to leave. We can’t give it to him until we’re sure he’ll use it for the right reason.”
The chain was hot with energy—she could feel it coursing through her fingertips. All at once the heavy feel of this otherworldly, magical thing in her hand repulsed her. “I don’t even want it anymore,” she whispered, and then, even louder, “I don’t want this!” She clenched her fist around the chain and then threw it as hard as she could. They both stared at where it had fallen amongst the neat rows of grapevines that pushed up against the Rockford guesthouse: even from a distance, they could see it dully glowing in the dirt.
“Good riddance,” she said. The anger drained from Bee, turning quickly into a sour sort of worry. It was the type of worry that burrows deep and keeps burrowing until it cannot hear any excuses or soothing statements.
“Is Delta safe from this… this…?” Tag trailed off, unable to say the word. He was still staring at the lights as if he’d gotten lost in them.
And Bee made a choice. She wasn’t aware it was such a turning point; no one realizes something is a catalyst until it’s much, much too late. “No,” she breathed. “I don’t think she’s safe with him.” It was only when she said it out loud that Bee realized she truly believed it. Her sister wasn’t safe. Delta was so starry-eyed in the face of anything otherworldly; only Bee could see through Starling’s mystique to the danger he was. If Delta left with Starling, she would never return. Or worse—she wouldn’t survive. And if he stayed, they would always be hunted. They’d have to go on the run—and would Bee be included in those plans?
Starling had danger written all over him, and even if Delta didn’t realize it, Bee did.
She had to look after Delta now, as Delta had always looked after her.
“Then…” Tag finally tore his gaze away from whatever thoughts he’d been delving deep into. His expression was fire; it was conviction. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help.”
Bee felt her shoulders lighten. Together they would find a way. With Tag’s help, they could make Starling leave. She would do what was best for Delta, even if Delta didn’t know it yet.
That’s what sisters are for, after all.
“Let’s start now,” Bee said immediately. She could see it now in her mind’s eye: Starling leaving by tomorrow morning, Delta falling into her arms, happy and realizing it was the right thing to do, and that Bee had saved her.
She ignored the squirm of guilt. This was all for the best.
Tag’s expression softened, taking on a wry look. “Now? We should probably talk more when it’s not three a.m. and we’re not surrounded by other people.”
“I guess,” Bee allowed.
“I think I better get you home.”
“I don’t want to get home.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on.” Exhaustion flowed off him in waves.
“I’ll catch a ride with Delta later.” She remembered her response when Delta had asked if she was coming home; her short, sharp no. Still—she knew Delta would still be in the parking lot, waiting for her. Annoyingly diligent. The hovering big sister, like always.
Tag paused. “Delta left already, Bee. She left with…” He swallowed hard. “With him.”
For a moment, Bee didn’t breathe, and she could feel her face growing hot, too hot, as if she was burning up. All the times Delta had waited for her in the car flickered through her mind, one after the next. Delta knew that Bee’s no meant not yet, not not ever. And yet Delta had left without her. Left to go home with Starling to do who knows what, all alone. Unless they didn’t go home… What if Bee arrived to an empty house, devoid of sisters or aliens or fathers or anything?
“Okay,” she said woodenly. “Let’s go.”
Tag cocked his head toward the parking lot, and Bee followed him back up the slope. She knew she was doing the right thing, but worry was overriding everything. She swallowed the sick feeling back down, hoping that once she was in Tag’s Porsche, away from the raucous laughter and strings of bright lights and the smell of spilled shots, she’d feel better.
* * *
As Tag drove gracefully out of the Rockford gates, easily guiding the ostentatious purple car onto Main Street, it became clear to Bee that the quiet and the dark wouldn’t help her one bit.
Because worry, if anything, expands in the darkness.
Main Street was completely shut down, a street of dark buildings and puddle-speckled asphalt. Most places are dark at both the impossibly late and impossibly early hour of three thirty, but there was something ghostly about Darling’s darkness, as if when the lights were out, the town might slide away into nothingness. It was the type of darkness that lets thoughts burst free, unbidden and flowing, into the air.
Bee’s thoughts were a maelstrom.
Tag shifted into fifth gear as Main Street turned into the two-lane highway. He coasted along, focused on the endless straight road passing beneath the tires. Bee watched him from the corner of her eye.
Why can’t she just be with Tag and be happy? Bee thought.
She wanted to cry again. She usually quite liked a cry, because she liked to be hugged and soothed with her family’s loving hands. But there was no one here now to console her, and she certainly didn’t want to burst into tears in front of Tag. So she just stared hard at the dark grass rushing by outside the window, her whirlpool of worry and grief and stress eddying in her stomach.
She wanted her sister to stay. She had to make her sister stay, and find a way that didn’t result in Starling staying with them. He had to leave, and leave without Delta. Bee was terrified of change, and if that made her selfish, so be it. She told herself again and again: This is for Delta’s own good. Because if Delta left, where would she go? Would Bee ever see her again?
I can’t lose another part of my family.
If their father was still here, it wouldn’t be like this….
Bee gave a great, gulping sob. If their father was still here. That was her secret. That was her shame. That was what she had been keeping from Delta for almost three months now.
It was her fault that their father was gone.
Of course, it wasn’t really, but Bee couldn’t see past the events leading to his disappearance. To her, they were inextricably linked, and it was all because of her.
She had come home from the Diner all those months ago, where she’d been having a nice, normal gossipy lunch with girls from school, to find her father in his study waist-deep in papers and maps. His glasses had been perched on the bridge of his nose, and he’d been frantically scribbling coordinates. A radio on his desk was tuned to a station with a “witness” detailing the most recent UFO crash, and he’d turned to Bee with the light in his eyes and practically yelled, “It’s happening, my girl!” before launching into what was supposed to be an explanation. To Bee it had just been a long string of garbled catchwords: “Now’s the time!” and “Energy!” and “Thin space!” and “Portal!” He kept smashing his hands together, as if to illustrate something.
It probably had something to do with the fact that Bee had just returned from a lunch with completely normal, rational, average girls who also happened to be very popular; it probably also had something to do with the fact that they’d made snide comments about Bee’s odd family: whatever the reason, Bee snapped. The words coming out of her mouth had surprised even her, but she hadn’t seemed to be able to stop.
“What is wrong with you? Why can’t you just be normal?” she’d screamed. “Why can’t we just be a normal family who doesn’t believe in fake, stupid things?” She’d kicked at a pile of papers on the floor; they’d launched themselves into the air and become satisfyingly ruined. Her anger propelled her: she continued to yell at her father, who stood looking shocked at this unexpected outburst.
“Bee, Bee!” he’d finally exclaimed, waving his hands around to catch her attention.
All she could remember was the tight feeling in her chest, the feeling of embarrassment. Truly, she believed all her father did. But she didn’t want to believe it. She wanted to be normal. She wanted to fit in.
“Bee, my girl, everyone has doubts sometimes, but—”
“You’ve wasted your life, Dad!” she’d screamed. “You’ve wasted it looking for something that just isn’t there!”
“It’s all true!” he’d replied, excitement replacing the confusion that had settled during her tantrum. “Look, I’ll show you!”
He’d sprinted from the study, his coat flapping around his heels, and run downstairs to the closet in the hall. She’d been standing at the top of the staircase when he’d poked his head out of the closet, hair standing on end, fire in his eyes.
“I’ll prove it to you, my girl!” he’d said, a smile identical to Delta’s lighting up his face. “There’s so much more out there, and I’ve figured it all out, I’ve found a way through! You’ll see!”
And he’d snapped the door shut. By the time she’d hurried down the stairs and thrown open the closet door, there was nothing there but rows of shoes lining the floor and rows of coats on hangers.
He’d gone into that closet to prove to Bee he was right. So she wouldn’t be embarrassed by her father, by her family. And he had been right about whatever strange things he’d been talking about—the portal and the thin space and that now was the time—because he’d never come back out.
All her fault.
“Are you okay, Bee?” Tag asked softly.
She hadn’t realized she was crying now; salty tears streamed down her face, running over her chin and making the collar of her shirt damp. All her fault.
What would Delta say if she knew her own sister was the catalyst of their father’s disappearance?
“I’m fine, thanks,” she gulped. Tag had parked near the front door, and the Wild West was dark; no lights shone from the windows. She tried to summon up one of her classic Bee smiles, but nothing would come.
“Is Delta inside?”
“Yeah,” Bee sniffled.
“Can I come in and talk to her? I want to make sure she’s okay, especially if—if he’s there.”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Bee,” Tag said, his voice verging into a beg. “I just want to make sure Delta is safe. Please.”
Bee finally nodded, and together they hurried to the back door. The ground had turned to mud under the rain’s constant attention, and Bee and Tag splashed through it. She pulled off her shoes at the door and fumbled with the lock. Her head was pounding; a reminder of both the party and her driving thoughts. Each word was like a kick to the head: All your fault. All your fault.
Delta. She had to see Delta. Tag followed her closely; was he feeling the same?
She hurried up the steps in her wet socks, dripping water in a trail along the hardwood. Delta’s bedroom door was propped open, and Bee wedged herself inside.
There was no one there. Delta’s bed was empty. Bee’s stomach was in her throat as she ran across the hallway to Starling’s room. No one. She hurried to his window and looked out over the woods and the backyard. Nothing. There was no one at all.
No, no, no, no, no…
“Where is she?” Tag asked, his voice low. Bee heard a current of panic run through it. “Is she okay? Has he kidnapped her?”
Had he? Bee’s thoughts roiled, jumping into overdrive. This couldn’t be happening. Where was her sister? Had she left? Had she run away with the alien, with the star, without even telling Bee? Had Starling grabbed Delta and run, disappearing into the sky? Half of Bee wanted to scream and half of her wanted to stand stone-still as her mind flew through every worst possibility. Everything was wrong; the world was imploding around her.
Delta was gone.
Bee was cold and wet and shaking and crying, so much so that she almost missed seeing the movement down at the tree line.
“Oh!” she said, a tiny sliver of sheer relief running through her.
Tag strode to the window and stood next to her, peering out the foggy panes at the woods below.
Delta and Starling, walking together. Their fingertips brushed up against each other’s as they walked. The were still in shadow and the rain obscured their expressions, but Bee watched as they stopped and the smaller figure looked up at the taller, then went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
Bee’s jaw was so tightly clenched that she almost choked on her heart as it rattled around erratically. She turned from the window and left Starling’s room, taking the steps one at a time. Slow, measured footsteps. Any split-second relief she’d had upon seeing Delta come out of the woods had disappeared in a flash, and now everything was so much worse. She had never felt so hollow, so alone.
Tag swore, his words harsh and loud and dripping with bitterness, then turned to her and ruffled her hair like she was five years old. “Well. See you later, Bee.” He swallowed, and she saw his fingers clench, unclench, then clench again as if a beating heart ran through his fingertips, as if they just couldn’t help themselves. “Tell Delta I said hi.” Each word was like a shot.
He left then, as if he couldn’t bear to stand there another second.
But Bee couldn’t help but watch, entranced, horrified. Down below, she heard the back door open, and she hurried upstairs to her own room, locking the door behind her. She had just crawled into bed when her phone buzzed in quick succession, startling her.
we know
keep your eyes open, Wilding
we’re coming
Bee stared at the text, her jaw clamping down tightly, fearing she might be sick. Someone knew. Someone was watching. For a moment Bee considered waiting for Delta and Starling downstairs, but although the idea of a confrontation had seemed righteous and necessary at the party, with her anger and Tag’s anxious disbelief fueling her, now… now she was just tired. Bone-tired, and guilt-ridden, and scared.
She just wanted Delta, but Delta was too wrapped up in Starling. Too wrapped up in anything besides living here with Bee.
She threw herself down onto her bed and pulled the blanket up over her head, creating a dark cave deep under the covers, where there was nothing but her own damp breaths and her own heartbeat and her own fingers holding tightly to themselves.
Bee cried quietly in the darkness, but no one came, because no one was listening.
26
TAG DROVE, HIS FOOT pressed down on the gas, his hands gripping the wheel at ten and two. The night pressed in around him, the stars like glittering diamonds cast onto a dark cloth. The stars mocked him, hanging heavy in the sky and crushing down, the brightness blinding him. They rocked in their places, taunting him.
And one had fallen from its place in the sky to take his place. To take everything from him.
It was impossible. Impossible.
But he couldn’t stop his brain from replaying what he’d seen with his own two eyes. Delta and a boy—a strange, tall, faintly glowing boy. Starling. He would almost think he’d imagined it, except that Bee had been right there beside him, and he had seen them—seen them…
She doesn’t want you.
The words came loudly as he remembered how she’d stood on her tiptoes to stretch up and kiss the inhuman figure at the edge of the woods. She doesn’t want you—he knew it all too well now, and no matter how much a part of his brain shouted the impossibility of it, he knew what he’d seen.
One of those bright pinpricks above was currently in Darling, with Delta. Making Delta smile, and laugh, and everything Tag couldn’t seem to do no matter how hard he tried. Darling lay behind him now, a tiny collection of darkened houses, but Tag didn’t look back. He didn’t want to imagine Delta and the star inside the dark and gloomy Wild West.
Instead, he kept his eyes on the lane divider, the glowing white lines flashing by as he accelerated. What would happen if he just drove? Just drove and drove and never stopped? If he urged his Porsche down this straight dusty road and then through the winding mountain pass and beyond, out of reach of Darling’s eccentricities and the impossibilities it held within its houses?
What if he left everything and everyone behind? A part of him wanted to do it, just to see if anyone would miss him. Tag’s foot pressed down harder, and the Porsche responded under him, purring along so fast, the winking stars above blurred into a swash of gleaming white.
Or maybe that was because of his tears.
No one would miss you.
You’re a Rockford.
They’d rejoice.
His stomach turned, his knuckles going white against the leather steering wheel as his fingers tightened. It was just all so unfair. No matter what he did, he could never be what this Starling Rust was—something more, something otherworldly. Rockford or not, Tag would always just be the boy from Darling.
The boy Delta would never want.
A strangled shout was building in his lungs and he gritted his teeth against the release, lifting a hand to furiously brush his traitorous tears away. It would do no good to scream, or cry. This was something his father had taught him—one of the lessons that had truly sunk in. The only important thing was to take action. All he had to think of was the next step.
What was the next step now?
