The Lost Star : Book 1

Two ~ Intra sidera, intra mundum

"We can fly!" I smile as those same three children that made my childhood happy flapped around the chandelier in their nursery.

A knock on the door startles me, and I reach for the light, tapping the screen to pause it.

"Come in," I say, pushing myself farther into the pillow.

"Guess what day it is?" Mom whispers. I can hear the excitement in her voice.

I turn my head towards the clock and groan miserably. It read exactly 12:00.

"My projects due today." I slap my forehead angrily and begin to get up.

"No, no!" Mom gives me wide eyes. "Don't get up! Evelynn, it's your birthday!"

All of a sudden I feel a smile grace my lips. It was my birthday. My sweet 16.

"Now I'll let you get your beauty sleep." she says. "Good night!"

"'Night."

As soon as the door closes, I throw myself up and unlock the window. I took a deep breath.

Every birthday I open my window and let the cold in. I know. It's kind of random. But it's like a ritual. I take down the screen and climb out onto the roof and lay on my back to see the real stars. Sometimes I speak out loud. And I swear the night air replies.

It all started when I was five. Even before that I knew something was protecting me. Guarding me from some "great evil". I was drawing, when I heard a knock on my window. I opened it up. My girlish fantasies kept getting the better of me. I looked down at the picture I was coloring, and I called is name.

"Peter!" I smiled so wide. I was so young and foolish. 

Evelynn....

It probably was just the wind whistling through the trees, but I knew something was out there waiting for me. Snow began to sprinkle down onto the already covered street and I squealed, rushed from the room and demanded my mother to help me into my snowsuit. After she fit the hat on my head, I rushed down the stairs and swung open the door, nearly slipping on the steps that led out into the yard. 

Mom yelled at me to be careful before closing the door. I remember it so clearly; Mom sat at the living room window, where she had a clear view of me and her show, Frazier. And then I turned back towards the street. The sky.

I played in the snow for a few moments, but when the snow stopped falling, I fell and lay down in the soft blanket, staring up at the sky. The clouds were clearing. The stars shined bright that night. Two stood out to me more than any other ones. They weren't part of any constellation. They were singular. They seemed so beautiful and abnormal I laid there in wait. Somehow, I felt them calling me. 

I still do.

I knew someone was there with me, looking up at them too. I knew someone was watching over me.

I climb out onto the roof, making sure not to slip. I sit down and watch as those same two stars that shone just as bright as the others, started to burn against the canvas of black.

"Peter," I call, already feeling foolish. I'm 16! Why do I still believe--no; want--him to exist? "I'm turning 16." Those three words even hurt me, because now I'm not allowed to believe in fairy tales. Now I'm a woman. A lump in my throat began to push up against the base of my mouth, and as tears fell down my cheeks, as I stared up at those two stars blazing on a canvas of black, I felt them grow as sad as I am. But I also sensed a beginning of something.

I'm growing up.

Something told me someone didn't want me to. And not just my parents.

But the person who watched me all those 11 years ago. The person that still does. 

The boy who's existence I've denied all these years.

Peter Pan.