Once upon a time, a promising beginning to any piece of writing from an essay on covalent bonding between atoms to one of those really huge heavy books that goes on for page after page after page after page after page of after page nonsense after page about after page old people after page whose after page lives after page you after page really after page couldn’t after page care after page less after page about.

Well, once upon a time there was a girl who had shiny black hair like me and straight white teeth like me and hazel eyes like me and a nice tanned skin color from a couple months in the sun (like me).  That girl happened to be me.

My name is Stella Ross Marie (White).  My real last name is Marie, but my dad hated his family name since his childhood and swore that when he became an adult and got married, he would adopt a manly, sensible name.  He never really made it official, though, because my mom said he was being a baby and Marie was perfectly manly, so she made him stick to it.  She loves Marie as a last name, very different from her old last name (Smith).  So I am Stella Ross Marie (White).  My nickname is Star Marie, because apparently friends create nicknames based on the first two letters of your first name, the last letter of your first name, the first letter of your middle name, and your last name that your dad really hates (go figure).

As I lay here thinking, Caleb rolls over in his sleep so that he’s now snoring gently into my ear.  Every time he exhales, he sends a puff of air into my ear.  I smile, before I remember.

I’m out Caleb’s door in a hurry, resisting the magnetic forces that radiate from him.  He’s supposed to be gone from my life for forever and a week, but I can’t bring myself to leave him alone.

The nighttime air is thin; when I breathe, the sharp cold stings the inside of my nose going into my body, and creates a gray cloud leaving my body.  My arms pull my coat tighter around me, resisting the force of the cold and the force of Caleb at the same time.

All the buildings are gray at this hour, and the alleyways are even grayer.  I was never good with remembering street names, and even less proficient at it when my mom quizzes me, saying that I need to learn the names before I start driving.  If I don’t learn the street names before I start driving, I will be a confused mess and at the very most kill someone, at the very least have a long horrible death in which I will sorely regret never knowing the name of the street that runs parallel to our house.

Blowing on my fingers, I make my way up a walkway paved with little stones to an old front door that looks like it’s just barely resisting the wind.  The entirety of the large dwelling looks like it will collapse with the next breath of wind, creaking and groaning and grinding onto the lawn.

“Stella Ross Marie!  How nice to see you again so soon, even at this hour!”  Nick’s fifteen-year-old older sister greets me with a pat on the back.  Nick said she’s training to be a grown woman like their mother, being ecstatic and slightly crazy with the “intoxicating elixir of womanhood.” (Nick As An Annoying Brother, page 14).

“Um, yeah, thanks, nice to see you again, too,” I edge my way around Emily.  “Hey, is your mom awake by any chance?”

“No, do you want me to go wake her up?”

“No, no, it’s perfect just the way it is.  Don’t wake her up.  Please.  Just...resume duties.  Carry on.”

Emily nods and closes the door as I shake my worn-out running shoes off and pad my way down their oaken-floored hallway in pink socks that don’t match my blue sweats and green-turquoise-ish sweatshirt. 

Walking down the hallway, I pass their dining room to the right, then their living room to the left, then their parents’ bedroom to the right, then their kitchen to the left.  Nick’s mom (and now Emily) always complain about how far they have to walk with the food to get from the kitchen to the dining room and back.  Nick and his father don’t care as long as the food makes it to their plates.

At the end of the hall there is a staircase to the right, which goes up and turns ninety degrees and goes up and turns ninety degrees and goes up before a carpeted hallway is reached, the doorway to the hallway being right over their parents’ bedroom.  Over the living room is Emily’s bedroom, over the kitchen is a living room, and then somehow an extra room is added onto the end, which is Nick’s bedroom.

I tiptoe to Nick’s bedroom door and knock softly.  When there is no response, I knock a little louder.  The soft carpet warms my feet from the bitter chill of outside, and I roll up the sleeves of my sweatshirt.

“Hey,” Nick, dressed in basketball shorts and a gray t-shirt, says sleepily when he finally opens his door.

“Hey yourself,” I reply, walking into his casually clean music-themed bedroom.  He plays cello in the town’s adult orchestra, trumpet in our high school’s concert band, trombone in our high school’s marching band, and sings at his Church or something like that, not to mention acting in a local theater group that meets like twice a month when they’re not rehearsing for a show.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Nick motions towards his bed and yawns loudly.  “I’m going back to bed.”

I nod as Nick crawls into his bed, the lights still on.  I turn the lights off with a switch next to his door and close the door softly, waiting to hear the lock click into place.

Nick rolls over to make room for me as I climb into his bed and gives a sleepy grunt.  The sheets still feel rough, even though I should be used to them by now. 

Nick talks to me in a tired whisper.   “Star, we shouldn’t be doing this.  Look, it goes against my religion.”

“Not about your stupid Catholicism again.”

“It’s not stupid, it’s what I believe in.  And,  Star...this is against the Ten Commandments.”

“I don’t believe in any ‘Ten Commandments.’  I say if it feels right, it’s true.”

“You don’t have to believe it, too, but I’m telling you it makes sense, and it feels right, too, and it tells me that this is bad.  Really bad.”  Next to me, I fell Nick shiver. 

“But I love you.”

An unprecedented wave of cold awakens me.  I blink my eyes open to see none other than Caleb standing above me.  He has clearly just pulled my blanket off and his arms are folded, a scowl making his face ten, twenty years older.

My gaze shifts to where Nick was all night, but he is gone.  I find him again when I look past Caleb; Nick is standing in the corner of his room behind Caleb, staring at his feet sheepishly.

“What is this?” Caleb whispers.  I wince, having been expecting a shout--but this is much more deadly.

“Nothing.”  I pull the blanket back over myself.

Caleb sits down on the foot of Nick’s bed and sighs, running the palms of his hands over his forehead, through his hair.  His fingers lace behind his head and his elbows rest on his knees.  While Caleb sits in his own universe of singular pain, Nick starts to explain from the corner.

“Emily let him in last night, she said about three hours after she let you in.  I guess he came up here and sat down for a couple hours, then threw on the lights, nearly blinded me, pulled my blanket off, viciously shoved me into this dumb corner, and proceeded to add insult to injury by throwing my clothes at me like some wicked game of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey.  Is that correct, Caleb, my ex-friend?”

We both turn our heads to look at Caleb, but he remains frozen.  “What is this?”  Caleb whispers again, his lips moving slowly but minutely, like he’s drunk and going into a coma.

“What is what?” I ask politely, scanning the floor for my clothes while I huddle under Nick’s blanket.

“What is this world?”  Caleb whispers, finally poking his head up to stare at the wall ahead of him.

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand the question.”  Nick speaks this time.

“Never mind.”  Caleb stands up quickly and leaves Nick’s room without another word.