The Girl With Stars in Her Eyes

Chapter One

“Get ready Anya. You’re on in a minute.” Mr Gully turned and gave me a thumbs up.

I was sweating and my hands were shaking. I had more than butterflies in my stomach. A whole flock of birds twisted and dived inside me.

In a minute I’d have to walk on stage, pretend to sell roses and sing.

SING!

In front of the whole of my year. What was I thinking? Doing it during rehearsals at lunchtime was OK. But this was a dress rehearsal before we did the real performances next week. And now, all of Year 8 were being made to sit and watch us doing Oliver!.

I felt sick.

From the side of the stage, I could see Henry. He was playing the main part and as he said the line, ‘I thought it was a dream’, Mr Gully waved his arm frantically and without looking at me, said, “Go.”

I stepped on the stage, carrying the basket of plastic roses in one hand and lifting the long skirt of my dress with the other. They’d said I should take the dress home to make it shorter but I liked it long. It felt like being in one of those old black and white films that Mum likes.

It didn’t seem a good idea right now though. I had to balance the basket and keep the skirt off the floor, and my legs were shaking so much it was hard to walk straight.

I opened my mouth to sing like we’d practiced, but my foot caught in the dress.

Everything went into slow motion. I tripped and fell forward, dropping the basket and flowers all over the stage and instead of saying, “Who will buy my sweet red roses?” I gargled and squealed and crashed into Charlie, making us both fall over.

There was silence. All I could hear was my heart beating. Then everyone went wild and the other kids started cheering and whistling and whooping.

I stood up as quick as I could. The noise boomed in my ears and my cheeks burned. The teachers were telling the kids to be quiet, but as I ran off stage, the chanting started.

“Tit-ty! Tit-ty!”

I covered my ears, but the chants pierced my hands, stinging my chest.

“Anya, wait,” Mr Gully called, but I ignored him and ran down the corridor to the loos. I couldn’t hold in the tears and the second I locked the cubicle door I started to cry. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to go and ruin it? Now they’d hate me even more.

There were voices. I held my breath. The door creaked.

“Are you in here, Anya?” Madison asked.

I tucked myself into a ball and held my breath.

“Nah, she’s not here. Let’s go and tell Sir she’s gone.” Ivy giggled. “Did you see her face-plant the stage? What an idiot. That’s her out of the play.”

“They should let you do it. You sing much better than her.”

The door closed and they were gone, but I didn’t move. That proved it. They all hated me. And it was all Mr Gully’s fault. And Seren’s. If I’d never found her none of this would’ve happened and I wouldn’t be sitting on the loo in this stupid dress, crying.

If only I hadn’t made that stupid wish. Mum always says ‘be careful what you wish for’, but it wasn’t a big wish, nothing like winning the lottery or flying to the moon. More the kind of wish you make when you’re really miserable.

Chapter Two

A few months ago, Dad found a house with a massive garden in a tiny village. My Dad loves watching the night sky with his telescope and said this house would be perfect for stargazing. When Mum saw it, she got really excited, saying fairies definitely lived there. And Auntie decided she would live in the treehouse at the bottom of the garden. I hadn’t even had a chance to test it out and told Mum that, but she just said it would be nice for Auntie Kathryn to have her own space.

And just like that, we all moved to the middle of nowhere, away from the home I’d always lived in, away from my friend Sim and away from my old school. To make it worse, I had to start Year 8 of the new school after term had started. And if that wasn’t bad enough, some of the teachers made a fuss of me, saying things like, “Class, this is Anya, please make her welcome,” and everyone would stare at me. Then something even worse than that happened.

Even though Mum had told them my name was Anya, Miss Summer, the Science teacher, read out my full name: Titania Small. As soon as she said it my throat closed over.

“It’s Anya,” I squeaked.

I kept my eyes on the desk, then she made it worse by going on.

“What a lovely name. Class, which planet has a moon called Titania?”

I could’ve died. I wasn’t even named after a moon, even though it’s the kind of thing my Dad would like, I suppose. It’s the name of a Fairy Queen and as you’ve probably guessed, my Mum’s seriously into fairies.

“Come on. You did this in Year 7 and you can’t have forgotten already. It’s Saturn,” Miss Summer went on.

Some boys started whispering. They were grinning and glancing at me. I’d had this at my old school so I knew what they were saying, but when the teacher silenced the class and started talking about photosynthesis, I thought maybe they’d forgotten about it. I even got talking to the girl next to me and wondered if this school might be better than my last.

When the bell rang, I walked out, trying to work out from my timetable where to go next. And I heard it.

“Tit-ty. Tit-ty,” chanted the boys, leaning against the wall of the corridor.

I tried to ignore them and kept walking, but I felt sick. Really sick, like I was going to throw up right there in the corridor. I hurried to my next class and tried not to cry.

Why couldn’t my Mum have given me a normal name like hers and Dad’s - they were just Bella and Steve. Normal names like everyone else. I bet they never got picked on at school, so why give me a name that everyone laughs at. My day had been ruined.

Chapter Three

When I got home, Mum was in the kitchen, holding her muddy hands in the air the way doctors do before an operation.

“Hello, sweetie, did you have a nice day?”

“Kind of.” I made some juice and gulped it down, keeping my back to Mum so she didn’t ask any questions. Not that I should’ve worried, when I turned she’d gone. Typical. She cared more about her plants than about me. I made another drink and went outside.

Mum was kneeling on the grass, talking to the plants while she planted them. She always does that. She said they liked it. When I was little I talked to them as well. I told the daisies about school and the roses about days out. I don’t do that anymore, of course. I’m not like my Mum. Now, I talk to Justin. My cat.

I used to want a baby brother, but Mum and Dad got me a kitten instead. I think a cat’s better than a brother. Holly, who went to my primary school, had a little brother who was horrid and made her cry. Justin doesn’t do that. He lies on my bed and goes for walks with me and listens to everything I tell him. Everyone says Justin’s ugly, but I think he’s beautiful. He’s black and white with a wonky mouth and squishy nose and he miaows all the time like he’s talking to me.

Dad came through the gate and loosened his tie. “Hello, snowflake. How was school?”

“OK.” Justin rubbed against my legs. I picked him up and nuzzled my face in his fur.

“Made any friends?”

I kept my face against Justin, listening to him purr. Mum and Dad would be upset if I told them about the boys and would go see the headteacher. That would make it a trillion times worse, so I just said, “Not yet.”

Dad kissed the top of my head. “You will. And what are you up to?” he asked Mum.

“Planting lavender. I want to make lavender bags next summer, so I need lots more plants in the garden. Have you had a nice day?”

Dad rubbed his face. “Oh, you know, a normal day on the buses. I think I’m getting too old for all this driving.”

Mum sat back on her heels and used her little finger to hook a wavy brown hair out of her eye. “You’re not old, silly.”

Dad looked up at the sky and sighed. “Too old to be an astronaut.”

“And I’m too old to be a ballerina.” Mum got up and stretched like a cat. “But that’s not the same as being properly old. Maybe you should do something different. You could go back to college or something.”

I looked away when she got up and kissed him.

“What else could I do? I only know how to drive buses.”

“I don’t know, but keep your wishes open. You never know what’s around the corner.” Mum’s long skirt swished as she went inside.

“What do you think?” Dad asked me.

“I know what I think,” Auntie’s voice made me jump.

When I turned, she was standing behind me, blowing on her mint tea. Justin sniffed the air, then jumped down and weaved in and out of Auntie’s legs. She always looked weirded out when Justin did that. She moved away, but the smell of mint made him all loved up and he wouldn’t leave her alone.

She gently tapped his bum with her bare foot. “Leave me alone. You’re not having any.”

“And what do you think, Sis?” Dad asked slowly.

“You’d make a rubbish astronaut, that’s what I think. You’d never find your way to the moon. You get lost taking me to the supermarket.”

“I only did that once. I was tired.” Dad turned to me. “I went the way the bus goes. Your Auntie wasn’t happy.”

“Pah!” Auntie said. “Like I said. You’d make a rubbish astronaut.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I suppose you could do better.”

“Me? Goodness no. All that floating around in a tin can. Why would I want to do that? I’d rather be climbing mountains in the Andes, swimming with dolphins in the Amazon and dancing the rumba in Cuba.” Auntie gave Dad what he called her evil eye, then walked off.

Dad rolled his eyes at her and looked at his watch. “She’s off her trolley. Come on. We need to get the telescope ready.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. Dad was always on his telescope and I was not in the mood to look at the sky. And anyway, it was still daytime.

Dad must’ve seen me pulling a face. He smiled and put his arm around my shoulder. “It’s the Perseids tonight.”

“The what?”

“A meteor shower. Do you want to stay up and watch them with me?” He looked up at the blue sky. “It’s meant to be clear tonight and there’s no moon. Perfect.”

“Anya’s not staying up until midnight. She’s got school tomorrow.” Mum appeared from nowhere. “Come on. Let’s eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” Auntie climbed the three steps and disappeared into the treehouse.

Mum shrugged and whispered. “More for us then. Come on before it gets cold.”

She had made bread to go with the lasagne and it was still warm. The smell filled the kitchen as we ate, reminding me of when I was little, of standing on a chair and watching the dough rise.

When Dad finished his dinner, he lined up his knife and fork on the plate and leaned forward. “It’s not that late.”

“What isn’t?” Mum asked.

“The meteor shower. And it’s only one night. We were never able to see them properly at our old house, but here, we’ll see lots of shooting stars. Too many to wish on,” he joked.

Mum was piling up the dirty plates and had a dreamy look on her face. “You can never have too many wishes.”

I passed her my plate. “You always tell me I can only have one when it’s my birthday.”

“Birthdays are different, sweetie” She had on her thinking face. “I suppose you’re right. You shouldn’t be too greedy. We’ll all have to think of one special wish for tonight.”

“Does that mean you’re both going to watch them with me?” Dad’s green eyes sparkled when he was extra happy. “I can’t think of anything better than spending the evening with my two favourite women.”

“What about me?” Auntie appeared at the door.

“And having my favourite sister with us would be the cherry on the icing.”

“Hmmph. Your only sister.” She went over to the kettle and tipped mint leaves in her cup. “And if you think I’m going to stand in the cold watching bits of comet debris burning up in the earth's atmosphere, you’ve got another think coming. Wishes my foot.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Dad teased.

“If I wanted adventure, I’d kayak down the Nile, not stand in a freezing garden watching falling rock. And make sure you keep the noise down,” she said over her shoulder as she went back out.

Dad nudged me and winked. “We’d better skip the tribal music.”

“Be nice you two. She’s a troubled soul.” Mum got up and put the plates in the sink. “She could do with some magic in her life.”

Chapter Four

Mum made me go to bed early. She said they’d wake me at eleven, but I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know what to wish for. To go back to my old school, my old house and have my old friends back?

Win the lottery. That’s what I could wish for, then we could all go on safari. I’ve always wanted to do that. Go to Africa and sleep in one of those camps you see on the telly and get up early to spot lions and elephants. And if I won the lottery, Dad could stop being a bus-driver and we could go on holiday all the time. Except I was too young to buy a ticket and Mum and Dad didn’t do things like that.

Or I could wish for brown hair. Not my strange hair that’s so white I look bald. I could be a time-traveller and skip my teens and be a famous singer. But if I was going to do that I’d better wish for dancing feet, because all singers can dance and I’m rubbish. I mean really rubbish, like trip people up and fall over type of rubbish.

I must’ve fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, Dad was shaking my shoulder.

“They’ve started. Come on.”

I’d kept my clothes on so all I had to do was get out of bed and go outside. Mum was waiting for me in the garden and wrapped a fleecy blanket around my shoulders. It was so cold and quiet. No cars, no voices, no nothing. It was so quiet that I nearly jumped out of my slippers when an owl hooted.

“Go down there with your Dad and I’ll get you some hot chocolate.”

Dad was easy to spot with his torch. It looked like he had a tiny red lighthouse on his forehead. When I got to him, he turned it off and pointed at the sky. “You don’t need a telescope, you can see them easily,” he whispered. “Look over there.”

I sat in one of the deckchairs Dad had put out and wrapped a blanket tight so only my eyes were showing. When I looked up, all I could see were stars and the constellations - The Plough and Cassiopeia and Ursa Major. I knew the names because I had one of those planet lamps when I was little. I would lie next to Dad in the dark while he told me stories about the different patterns shining on my ceiling. I thought they were magical, but now they just looked like patterns of light in the sky. Or as Auntie would say, “Just balls of gas held together by gravity.”

The tiny silver bells on Mum’s purple slippers tinkled as she walked down the garden.

“Sshh. You’ll wake Kathryn,” Dad said.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Here’s your drinks.”

Mum sat in the deckchair next to me and sipped her hot chocolate. “Have you got your wish ready?”

“What are you wishing for, Mum?”

She turned her head, but kept looking at the sky. “It won’t come true if I tell you.”

“Look. Over there!” Dad said.

“There’s nothing there.” I blew on my drink, staring at the sky and feeling disappointed. If I didn’t see one, I’d never get to make a wish. But as my eyes blurred and I wondered if I should just go back to bed, there was a silver streak across the dark sky. The hot chocolate slopped as my hand shot up, my finger pointing. “Over there, Dad. And there.”

The minute I saw one shooting star I could see them everywhere. Dad was right; it was amazing.

“Choose your shooting star and make a wish,” Mum whispered.

“Look at that one, Dad,” I said as loud as I could without waking Auntie. It was loads brighter and bigger than the others and was soaring across the sky. As I watched it, I whispered, “I wish I had a friend.”