Six days after Mariella turned seven, she met a falling star. She was playing in her sandbox, building and breaking with her buckets and shovels, when it burned a bright streak through the sky and landed at her feet. It flickered a few times before finally shutting off.
Mariella stared at it. She looked around her, at the house where her mother was probably passed out on the couch. She stepped out of the sandbox and crouched to the star’s level. It was a strange orb, nothing like the five-pointed shapes that her teachers made her practice along with triangles and octagons. It wasn’t much bigger than an apple, and it sat in the dry autumn grass. Mariella pulled off her cardigan and wrapped the star tightly inside it.
After putting away her sandbox toys in the bin next to the back door (There are rules in this house, Mariella, you know), she gathered her sweater and held it close to her stomach as she went inside. She went straight to her room, tiptoeing past her sleeping mother in front of the television’s blue light, and silently shut the door behind her.
There was no question in Mariella’s mind that this was it. On her birthday a few days before, she’d wished so desperately for something, anything, with her eyes scrunched tight and her fingers clasped together. When her mother sliced the cake and nothing happened, Mariella sunk into the dining room chair. She turned down a slice, and her father, enraged, threw the plate at the wall over her head and sent her to her room. Mariella hadn’t even cried.
Now, she placed the star on her dresser. She stared across her room at it as she sat on her bed. Having never met a star before, Mariella was unsure what to do. She couldn’t very well keep it in her bedroom. How do you even tend to a star? Did it need food, water, sunshine? Did it long for the blue velvet of the night sky? And would it ever give light again? She consulted her science textbook for answers but found nothing.
After another moment’s consideration, Mariella stood and walked over to her dresser. At her height, the star sat at eye level. She narrowed her eyes before unwrapping it and holding it in her palms. A dark swirl was running through it, sweeping from edge to edge and back again. She studied it and held it close to her eye. Suddenly it jumped. Mariella dropped the star to the carpet. It shuddered and gave off a shriek, low at first but gradually rumbling louder. Mariella picked it up and cradled it, trying to make peace. She shushed it, singing it a lullaby she’d heard in school, and the star quieted. And then, it lit.
The light was intense, and Mariella squeezed her eyes shut. She squinted at it, holding it as far from her face as she could reach, and she rolled it around in her hands. She’d never held a star before; is this what it was supposed to be like? She’d always pictured them to be bigger than this. She gingerly placed it on her bed and slid her cardigan back over her shoulders. Taking it carefully, she put the star in her pocket. The holes in the knitted sweater emanated light. She tugged it off and put on a hooded sweatshirt instead, moving the star to the sweatshirt’s pocket. Thinking fast, she eased her door open and snuck past her mother, who was still asleep in front of the television.
Mariella wrapped her fingers around the star. It was an angry light, pulsing violently in her pocket. She clasped it tight against her hip, hoping that nobody would notice what she was holding. Walking against the edge of the road, Mariella strode toward the park on her street.
The park had been built in an effort to keep the town’s children away from the sharp boulders that stretched in clumps along the back part of town, but mostly it stayed empty as the children preferred the danger of the rock fields. So Mariella used the park as her own place, her hideout, and she knew the best place to keep the star. The ground was still wet from last night’s rain, so Mariella and the star were alone.
She climbed the jungle gym. Maddie and Lex and Cecilia couldn’t know about this. Even though they were her best friends, the girls whose houses she spent time at when her mother needed to dump her somewhere, this star was hers and hers alone, and Mariella intended to keep it that way. Besides, the girls would probably blab to the boys or to their mothers, and then Mariella would have nothing. They’d take the star away from her and try to make it theirs. She wanted none of that. She was the one who found the star, and she would be the one to keep it.
One of the blue plastic planks of the jungle gym floor could be lifted up just enough for Mariella’s hand to slip beneath. She’d discovered it over the summer and since then had kept her most precious things in the spot—the A+ she got on her spelling test, a necklace she found in the grocery store, a five dollar bill in case of emergencies. All of it was zipped in a plastic bag. There was no better place for the star, at least for the time being while the weather got colder.
Mariella sat cross-legged with her back to the wind and placed the bag on her knees, opening it. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the star, looking it over once more. It illuminated the park as dusk settled around her.
She slipped the star into the plastic bag and sealed it. She was placing it below the plank when the star began to flicker again. She watched as its light grew and dimmed until all of the glow was drained from it once more. Mariella choked on air and her chest began to ache. The sky was fading faster now and it would be completely dark soon. But she couldn’t move.
Just as quickly as the star had stopped shining, the light reappeared. Breath rushed back into Mariella’s body, and she sat on the jungle gym with her chest heaving. A train whistle sounded in the distance. She looked around, noticed the sun had dropped below the mountains, and scrambled to grab the star from the bag. Before closing it, she decided to take the five dollar bill, too. She shoved the rest of her trove back under the plank and ran home as fast as she could, hand in pocket.
She reached her house faster than ever before. She walked in circles on her front lawn, panting. Her father pulled into the driveway only moments later. He slammed his truck door shut.
“What are you doing?” He stood staring at her, still circling.
Mariella froze. “Memorizing my spelling words.”
He nodded, accepting this. If anything made her father happy, it was her success in school. “Good. Go help your mother get dinner ready.” He wrapped his dirtcaked fingers around her arm too tightly and pulled her inside. Her mother was finally up, stirring a pot on the stove, and she looked when she heard the door close.
“Where were you?” she questioned Mariella.
“In the yard,” Mariella responded.
“I didn’t see you.”
Mariella stayed quiet. Staying quiet was one of her mother’s favorite things.
“Kid was memorizing her spelling list,” her father said. Her mother nodded, just as he had. She liked the A+ tests just as much as he did.
“Set the table and wash your hands. Food’s almost ready.” Her father pushed her towards the dining room, and Mariella did as she was told.
Sitting at the table with the hot food steaming her face, Mariella remained quiet. Her parents rarely talked at dinner and they preferred Mariella to do the same. Tonight, that was easy. She kept one hand on the star. She felt its heat below her fingertips as she ran them over it again and again. If only her parents knew what she had in her pocket.
She shoveled forkfuls of ham and green beans into her mouth. The quicker she ate, the more time alone she would get to have with the star before bed. She speared a few beans and was pulling the fork towards her mouth when it happened again. The star went cold in her pocket, as did Mariella in her seat. Her hand stopped in midair just in front of her face. Her eyes blurred, and the beans slid off the tines into her lap. She sat, slack jawed. The star throbbed to the beat of her heart.
Her father noticed almost immediately. His back tensed and his face got tight. Mariella sensed what was happening, but she couldn’t feel the full weight of it. She dropped her hand to the table and placed the fork on her plate. She turned and faced her father, stared him straight in the eyes.
“Eat your meal,” he said. His face was red. Everything seemed so far away to Mariella, but she couldn’t stop looking at him.
“Finish your damn green beans, or get the hell out of my dining room!” her father boomed. And all at once, just as before, the star warmed again and Mariella knew its light was back. She didn’t even have to look in her pocket. Her vision cleared. She couldn’t catch her breath, but she had to keep eating. She mumbled an apology, but her father shoved his chair back and stood.
“Clean the dishes. We’re done eating.” He walked to the living room and put the television on. Mariella’s mother looked at her, shook her head, and followed him. She refilled her glass of whiskey and went back to her spot on the couch.
Mariella cleared the table and washed the dishes. She scrubbed them hard, lost in thought about the star. Once all of the silverware and glasses were clean in the drying rack, she started for the door. She mumbled something to her parents about meeting Maddie at the park, but it didn’t matter. Her mom was out cold, hair matted to her face, and her father was reading the newspaper in his armchair.
She walked until she’d made it all the way down the street to the 7-Eleven, tripping over a water bottle that sat in the grass by the entrance. She regained her balance and rounded the corner before stopping behind the building. With only the slightest bit of hesitation, Mariella threw the star into the trash. It crashed to the bottom of the dumpster and hit something hard, shattering glass. Mariella sighed and went around to the front of the convenience store.
The bell above the door chimed when she pushed through it. She strolled down the middle aisle to the back of the store and plucked a bag of chips off the shelf, then went to the refrigerators that lined the back wall. She had just decided on chocolate milk when the fluorescent lights blinked and the store got cold. Breath left Mariella once more.
She was standing in front of the open refrigerator, its door unfogging. Her heart hurt and all she saw was black. Then, she felt nothing. Her sight came back, but everything was sharper, angrier. She took a chocolate milk in her hand and went to the register. She put down the five dollar bill and left without taking her change. Pushing her way out the door again, she went back to the dumpster. She climbed up its side and found the star, her fingers magnets to its pull. As soon as she touched it, her fingers were hot. The star blazed, and her mind cleared.
She had to get rid of the star. But it didn’t seem to want to get rid of her. The swirl inside of it moved more rapidly each time it relit, bitter and scorching. The only thing Mariella could think to do was go to the park and bury it. She jumped out of the dumpster and ran, didn’t even try to hide the star in her pocket. She dropped to her knees at the far corner of the park and put the star down. She dug at the dirt, clawing with her nails deeper and deeper. In a matter of minutes, there was a hole a foot deep, but Mariella kept digging. She didn’t stop until her fingers were cut and started to bleed.
Mariella picked the star up and rose to her feet. For a second, her heart welled up with grief. It seemed so sad and lonely. Mariella pictured herself lost in orbit, stuck in the universe. But then, the star ignited, searing her hand. She pulled back her arm and released, aiming at the bottom of the hole. But her fingers wouldn’t uncurl. The star was attached to her now. She couldn’t let it go. She screamed out and the star stopped. It went dark. The swirl even stopped, no longer swimming through the orb.
Mariella gasped. Her lungs collapsed beneath her rib cage, and her back arched. She fell to the ground beside the hole. Her eyes glazed over and turned black in their sockets. Her arms were outstretched, her lifeless body in the grass. Her right hand rolled open on the ground, limply letting go of the star. It sat in her blistered palm, burnt out.
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