Seven Twisted Stars

Chapter 7: Seven Twisted Stars

~CS dimension~

"I got an email saying there was a fight at school today."

Stella rubbed her still-aching forehead as she dropped her backpack next to the door. "Yeah, these two lower classmen had some argument and it turned into a physical fight."

She glanced up to see a look of alarm on her mom's face. "Were they okay?"

"I'm not sure," Stella admitted. "The one who was getting beaten up ran off, and the other one went the other way..." And the next thing I knew, Morgan was shaking my shoulder and asking how many fingers they were holding up. She didn't feel the need to say that aloud, though; her mom always freaked out about the smallest things.

"That must have been stressful, huh?" Before Stella could answer, she continued, "Come on, I made you a snack."

"Aw, thanks!" Stella said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster in her exhausted state. She followed her mom into the kitchen and sat down at the table in front of a plate of cheese, crackers, and raspberries.

After a minute or two of silence, her mom pulled out her phone. Stella rolled her eyes, knowing what was coming.

"I had a couple things on my to-do list to remind you about."

Here she went again, being organized and put-together. Stella's mom was like a superhero. She even had the alliteration in her name — Heather Harris. She was selfless, passionate, and always knew what she had to do to move further in life.

Technically, Stella knew what she had to do as well. It was doing it that was the problem.

"Did you get that drawing project done?"

Stella swallowed a raspberry along with the guilt in her throat. "Not yet. I've been meaning to, but..."

Heather sighed. "Your counselor did say that class would be difficult. I'm happy that you're pursuing something you're interested in, but you do have to actually do the work."

Stella knew that. She understood that. "I'll get it done tonight," she muttered. Then she remembered her other commitments and added, "Before the saxophone section party at seven."

Her mom nodded. "Just a couple other things. I saw that your environmental science grade is a C minus..."

Please, not now, Stella thought.

Heather saw the look on her face and took a deep breath. "Just focus on your drawing," she said finally. "Maybe I can help with the other stuff later."

"Okay. Thanks," Stella agreed, even though she still didn't want to do any of it.

Once she'd finished her snack, Stella went back to the entryway and retrieved her sketchbook and pencils from her backpack. She glanced down the hall toward the kitchen table, but it didn't exactly fill her with inspiration.

She peeked out the window and saw that it was still sunny out. Winter was starting to make an appearance, but this seemed to be one of the few warm days that snuck later into the year. After a minute of deliberation, she called, "Mom?"

"Yep?" Heather's voice called back. A few second later, she appeared at the top of the stairs.

"I'm gonna go to the park and see if I get any drawing ideas."

Her mom smiled. "That's a great idea. Just make sure you get back in time to get ready for your party."

"Will do. Love you," Stella said, opening the door.

"Love you too!"

Sketchbook in hand, Stella made her way down the street at a stroll, letting the gentle wind fluff her brown hair. At the end of the block, she crossed the street and walked down a sidewalk between two houses, which deposited her in the neighborhood park. Most of the benches were by the play structure, which was currently swarming with toddlers, but there was a single picnic table and bench further away near an old tree. She sat there, setting her sketchbook on the table and glancing around at the scenery. Alright. Ideas for a drawing. Ideas for a drawing.

An hour later though, she still had no ideas, other than that she should have brought a jacket. She didn't want to walk all the way to her house and back though, so she settled for crossing her arms and shivering.

"Excuse me," a voice said. Stella jumped, turning to see a man behind her. He looked to be in his thirties, with hair and eyes both a coppery color. "May I sit down?"

Stella glanced at the other benches, which were starting to clear, but weren't empty of kids yet. She nodded, scooting over and pulling her sketchbook with her. The man glanced at her drawing, then sat down next to her, dropping a large orange backpack on the ground beside him. He opened the largest compartment and dug past a few things — two of which looked like the torn halves of a very old book — and pulled a scroll out, unrolling it on the picnic table. It was covered with rows of five-pointed stars. Some looked to be drawn hastily, some meticulous.

As she watched curiously, he took out a pen and a ruler. Lining up two points of the first star, he drew a straight line between them. The original star wasn't perfect, and its original line curved away from the new straight one before rejoining it at the next point. He continued, tracing over the star with straight lines until the whole thing was drawn in double.

After watching him cover an entire row this way, Stella spoke up. "What are you doing?"

The man smiled, pausing his work. "This scroll and many others contain representations of the hearts of stars, rescued from an ancient library before it caught fire," he said, pointing up at the darkening sky. "There's a legend that says you can find the true soul of a star by tracing over its heart in perfect symmetrical lines. I work with a group of people that trace the stars."

"What can you do with a star's soul?" Stella asked, not bothering to wonder why defacing these ancient artifacts was apparently common practice for an entire group of people — if this guy was even telling the truth.

"Nothing, on its own," he admitted. "But there's another legend about seven special stars...stars with twisted souls. Their power brought the downfall of the very civilization that once drew stars' hearts. And it is said..." he continued in a lower tone, "that these Seven Twisted Stars will cause every civilization to collapse, over and over, until we find and destroy them. So we trace the stars to find their souls in the hopes that we may extinguish the twisted ones."

Stella furrowed her brow. The story was hard to take at face value, but she supposed it was still entertaining. "What makes those Stars so twisted?"

"They are perfect," he said simply. "When traced, the lines are already perfectly straight, perfectly symmetrical. And perfection is the worst form of monstrosity. To find their souls, one must make the tracing itself twisted."

He paused, then slid the scroll over to her. "Here, why don't you try tracing a star? After some practice, of course. May I?" He gestured to her sketch pad.

She shrugged, handing him the pad and her pencil. He scrawled a quick star on it, then handed it back to her. "Try it without the ruler first; we'll see if you have a knack for it."

Stella took her pencil back, then carefully drew a star on top of the man's, but with straight lines. She couldn't help feeling proud of how good her tracing looked, even without a ruler.

The man stared at the tracing, then lined up his ruler with her marks, noting the length of each line. "Perfectly straight," he muttered quietly. "Perfectly symmetrical."

His copper eyes turned to her face. "Perfect."