Trailing Stars (Trailing Stars #1)

"What did you mean by 'shards scattering all around?'" Hannah asks.

I rinse the toothpaste out of my mouth and bend to spit in the sink, so Hannah doesn't see how tense my jaw is. She's been asking me questions about her poem all day. I'm glad she... likes isn't the right word. So maybe I'm not glad she's so invested in it that she wants to know my thought process. I don't even want to know my thought process behind the poem.

I wipe my mouth and turn to Hannah. "Does it really matter?"

She nods, folding the poem and pocketing it. "It really does."

I walk past her out of the bathroom and down the hall to my room. I walk backward to face her. "Well, Nathan—" Hannah frowns at the sound of his name. I try not to let my voice falter "—says that poems can be interpreted in any way the reader wants to interpret it."

Hannah narrows her eyes. "That's interesting. But I want to know what you mean."

I pause outside my room, pulling a page from Nathan's book. "What do you think I mean?"

If I ask this question to put off talking about the poem with my sister, then Nathan does the same with me... It's not the most pleasant revelation about him I've had, but I get why he does it now. There are just some thoughts you either don't want other people to know or you want them to figure out on their own if only to know that they really get you. I'm not sure which one I want from Hannah. And I don't know which one Nathan wants from me.

Hannah purses her lips. "I'll think on that...

She heads downstairs, passing Dad on the way. He looks after Hannah before arching an eyebrow at me. "Hannah still asking about her poem?"

I nod. "Are you gonna ask about your poem, too?"

Dad shakes his head. "It seemed pretty straightforward to me. I just didn't know you were writing poems to begin with."

I shrug. "I haven't been doing it for long, and I'm not really into it."

"Doesn't mean they're not good. I love my poem as much as my gift. And I like my gift a lot, especially since all the spaces are filled."

I struggled writing Morgan's name for something after all. "I'm glad you liked both of them."

Dad nods, studying me. His expression and voice are carefully neutral as he says, "So your birthday's next week." I nod slowly. "Have you thought of anything you want to do? Nathan and Clara could come over." He pauses, waiting for me to say something. When I don't, he adds, "Or we can go back home and celebrate with Kassie, Leah, and Jason."

Definitely not the latter. Not without Morgan around. Not even if Morgan was around. "I haven't thought of anything. But I'll let you know if I do."

It feels like Dad holds back a sigh, but he nods. "You have another week. Tell us well before midnight on New Year, okay?"

"I will."

Dad kisses the top of my head before he walks down the hallway to his room. I take a deep breath before I step into my own room and shut the door. I crawl into bed and turn on my phone, going straight for Morgan's Messages.

Morgan: Where are you? You said you'd meet us at the park.

Me: Busy.

Morgan: What do you mean?

Me: You're literate. Figure it out.

Morgan: What's wrong?

Me: I'm just busy.