Stars for Sale

Chapter Three: The Girl on the Inside

Ella, 16

I close my worn leather notebook hastily as Becca bursts into my room.

"El, my shelf fell down again. Fix it before five, Hadley's coming over and I want my room to be clean before she's here."

I stand and shove my notebook underneath the small bed I have pressed tightly against the wall. Brushing my hands on my oversized jeans, I walk out into the foyer. Ever since I got that fan hooked up to the water heater, I've been using the excess energy to power the fan, which also doubles as a vaccuum to suck the hot air out of the stuffy room. Not that I have many things to put in there anyway, what with my stepsisters insisting on taking everything I have of any worth whatsoever.

I'm not bitter at all.

I trudge upstairs to Becca's room, making sure I pause to walk over every one of her clothes laying on the floor. I survey the damage, then look at the clock. I have thirty minutes. I can make it, I think to myself, and get to work. The shelf isn't all that bad. The way Becca whined about it, I had assumed the whole wall had fallen off. At least the brackets were still there, so it was an easy fix. And I could probably put some additional brackets on the wall, to keep it from falling off the wall... again. I nod at my idea, make some measurements, and get to work.

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I open up the front door, and Hadley steps throughs and hands me her jacket roughly. The cool October air hits my face for a brief moment before Becca grabs the doorhandle and slams the door.

"You're going to let all of the warm air out of the house, Ella." Becca rolls her eyes, and walks toward the kitchen with Hadley, who whispers something to her, and they both laugh.

I turn away, trying to conceal the hurt playing in my eyes, and walk into my bedroom. I get to drawing in my notebook again. It always calms me down. Mum always said that she loved to draw in her spare time, and I suppose designing blueprints isn't all that different.

At nine o'clock, I get into my old pajamas and settle down for the night. My stepsisters don't understand; they usually surf the internet and prowl social media sites into the wee hours of the morning, but I find it replenishing to go to sleep earlier than everyone else. It leaves me refreshed when I wake up.

I say a quick prayer, then turn out the lights, except for my black light nightlight, which glows steadily into the darkness, illuminating only the tiny words written all over the walls. I close my eyes and drift to sleep.