James Mandarin

Stars

"Do you think the stars determine our fate?" Chloe asks as we gaze the stars together.

I shrug my shoulders. "Maybe."

"There's something beautiful and painful about stars. They shine so bright, yet, they burn and fall to the ground...just like us." She gives me a small smile.

"Hmmm."

"How was school?"

"Same old," I hit her on the arm, playfully. "Where were you today?"

"Home, sick." Chloe replies, playing with her hair.

"You're a bad liar."

"Ok, fine. I was working on some poetry."

My heart skips a beat. "What did you write about?"

"It's a secret," She says sheepishly. That's the thing about Chloe. She doesn't talk much about her poetry. She's insecure about it. She calls it her writer's curse: the fear her work will never be good enough. I want to pull her close, run my fingers through her hair and kiss her porcelain skin. I want to tell her she'll become one of the talented poets she dreams of becoming. I want to tell her how much I soak up her words, like a sponge when she speaks of her poetry. I want to tell her my deepest desire to see what lies between the hardback covers of her journal.

Instead, I stare at the sky, watching the stars burn.

"Have you ever been in love?" She asks.

My throat constricts and eyes burn.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. What is love?"

Chloe's shoulders slump. "Don't worry about it."

* * *

My parents are fighting again. Mum believes dad's having an affair with the doctor's secretary, because she's prettier and thinner than her. I hide in my room, under the table. I block my ears and close my eyes. The lights are off and I'm cold. I should have brought my blanket with me.

I think of mathematics, of polygons and simultaneous equations. I think of paint, canvases and burning stars. I think of Chloe and her journal.

The room door flies open. I slowly open my eyes. Mum stands by the doorway with tears streaming down her face. "He doesn't love me does he?" She says, when she notices me under the table. "He doesn't love me!" She hollers as she hurries towards me and grabs one of my things from the table and throws it at the window, breaking it into a million fragments.

Dad laughs in the background. "Stupid shit," He says. "Check yourself into a mental hospital. Madness runs in the family."

Am I mad?