Second Star on Right

Chapter P: The Beginning of It All

I laughed with him. He's eyes were bright blue, shining in the fall sun. "Did you see his face?" He snorted.

"How could I not?" I clutched my stomach. I sighed, finally bringing my laughter to a stop. "God, I'm going to be in so much trouble."

"You're going to get in trouble? Your parents don't pay attention to you! Mine do!"

"Shut up, Aane." I pushed him away and he pulled me to his lips. I pulled back after a few seconds. "Aane, what would I do without you?"

"Cry."

"Let's get home."

We walked out of the park and got in my '67 Impala. I drove with all the windows down, letting my hair fly around my head. I laughed, blasting Classic Rock. I pushed my foot down on the gas, feeling the Impala speed up under me. "Slow down, Sky! You'll kill us before our parents!"

"Never!" I yelled out the window. I'm young. There's nothing in my way to stop my fun. Nothing.

. . .

It'd take a few hours for the news of Aane and my prank to reach the ears of my parents. Then I still wouldn't be in trouble until they got home and ate dinner. If I was lucky, they'd be half drunk once they were home and they'd drink at dinner until they were fully drunk. If that was the case, I wouldn't be in trouble tonight.

My parents have been drunk and/or completely wasted for at least on half of my life. I have very few memories of a drink being absent in their hands. Even if both my parents were sick, they'd still find a way to slug out of bed and pour a glass of wine or whiskey or whatever they were into at that time.

Many people might hear about my drunk parents' part in my childhood and think, Oh poor little girl, poor little Skyler. But that's not the case. I had a very happy childhood. My parents gave me anything I asked for, were active in my school life, and didn't abuse me-whether that was beat me physically or emotionally, or giving me too many sips of their drinks.

One thing that was always missing from my childhood was other family. I never met any grandparents, cousins, aunts, or uncles. I have met friends of my mother or father who claimed to be my uncle or aunt, but I wasn't a stupid child, I knew they weren't my family.

I think that my parents' foggy brains from the alcohol was passed to me. Not by genes, just by being around my parents. I think this for a few reasons: I've been known to space out as a kid; I have very few memories from when I was little, only fake memories from stories and my own mind wanting to remember; and the fact that the memories I have are very, well, foggy.

But I do remember this: when I was young, I remember thinking that the sun followed me. I remember looking out car windows, gazing at the sun, trying to figure out if it was following me or if it was just my own imagination. It was logical to think the sun was following me: it was never out of my sight other than night. Later in my youth, I learned that the sky is so big that it's normal to constantly see the sun and see it move with me. I'd have to travel many miles in a matter of seconds to believe that the sun didn't follow me.

I was thinking about the sun's stalking as I drove home. The windows were still rolled down but Aane was gone. I dropped him off at his house awhile ago. Now I was driving down my favorite road-not for what was on the road, just for what the road was.

Gravel. Long and straight. That's not what I liked about the road. I like the road because on both sides were trees, dozens, each plated a few feet apart. In the fall, the leaves would turn orange and red and fall, covering the road. It's beautiful.

I've always imagined myself getting married on this road. Blocking off both the sides, building a big white barn, walking down the leaves to an arch. After wards, we'd have a party in the white barn. But the barn would be clean, new, a place where no animals had lived.