Star-Crossed

Chapter One: 'Cause you're a sky full of stars

No one has breathed a word to Ava, though. She's a baby. Even though they aren't fond of me, I know they are still good people and they all love Ava.

At the moment, she is making a serious expression, staring up at me with serious brown eyes, her lips are puckered seriously in thought.

"Okay," she finally says. "But I expect you to eat a bunch when you get back." Her little face holds no room for argument.

"You got it, kid," I lie, ruffling her dark curls affectionately.

Making my way upstairs, the first thing I do when I am in the bathroom connected to my room is hit the showers.

Sometimes, I like to pretend that the hot water is washing all my problems down the drain along with the water. I like to imagine a world where I don't feel like there's something wrong with me. A world in a palace in the Cosmos.

As the water runs down my body, I close my eyes. Millions of stars and an endless sky filled with an array of purples and pinks and blues form in my mind's eye. A strong back, a boyish smile, and strange but beautiful eyes come into view.

But when I open my eyes again, I'm met with the sight of glass-covered in steam from the heat of my shower-and reality.

Sighing, I turn off the water. I have resigned myself to my fate. I am lonely and will be lonely for the rest of my life. I have Clarissa and Tyson and Ava and when she shows up, despite her aloofness Miss. June is oddly comforting herself-something about her silence makes you feel alright oddly enough. But despite the fact that I am adored by many and loved by my younger foster siblings, I'm feared.

There's a heaviness that comes with people looking at you in fear. A heaviness that comes with the whispers and with people avoiding your eyes.

It seems unreal. Like, most people would think it's complete and utter bullshit to believe in something as stupid as being cursed. Especially when you live in a place like Los Angeles. But for whatever reason, Tori, Luke and Fatima's whispering has reached a lot of ears. Despite the fact that many of my so-called friends still communicate with me, I can see the truth behind their eyes.

They think I'm a freak. A freak who's parents called her cursed, shoved her into an unsuspecting cops arms and never looked back.

Sometimes, I think they're right.

When I make my way downstairs, I'm pleased to see that the once occupied kitchen is empty. Tyson and Clarissa are taking Ava to see the latest Disney film. They'd asked me to tag along, but I told them I needed to go to the library and that was the truth. I had checked out three books two weeks ago and had already read them all. I promised to meet up with them at Adalene's, a small French café located in one of the quietest parts of Los Angeles.

Well, as quiet as you can get in Los Angeles.

Reaching up into the cabinets, I reach for the familiar blue box with "Pop Tarts" written in silly bubble letters. I take out one of the silver wrapped packets, put the box back where I found it and head out the door.

The library isn't that far of a walk from the four story suburban home I grew up in. I'd say it's about ten minutes, twelve tops. And walks in cities like Los Angeles feel a lot shorter. Mainly because there is so much scenery, so much movement.

Once, Miss. June had tried to take us on vacation. It was when I was really young, six or seven to be specific. We ended up in a very rural part of North Carolina. There was nothing but trees and grass for miles. There was a Food Lion just up the road and something had happened to the car Miss. June had rented and we ended up having to walk to Food Lion to ask for help. The walk itself couldn't have been more than five to eight minutes, but I remember feeling like it would go on forever. I remember feeling like we were going around in circles and I could have sworn I'd seen the same tree a million times before.