Body of Stars by Laura Walter (free ebook reader for iphone TXT) 📕

Once we pulled back, my mother touched my cheek. I thought she might cry.

“I don’t know why I’m so emotional. I knew this would happen soon enough.” She forced a smile and sank into the desk chair. Her nightgown, patterned with tiny bluebirds, bunched around her hips.

I got into bed and pulled my knees against my chest.

“I’m supposed to look now,” she told me, but neither of us moved.

“What would happen,” I said, “if I didn’t show you?”

She laughed gently. “I suppose the longer I wait, the longer you’re still a little girl.”

“I mean, what if I didn’t show anyone at all.” I paused. “Ever.”

She didn’t laugh this time. “That’s not possible.”

“I don’t see why not. They’re my markings.”

“They are, but they aren’t.” She sounded weary. “It’s odd—I don’t even wonder what your markings say about me. It seems unnatural, to not be curious. Maybe I’ve lived too long with the weight of a future I ultimately can’t control. Not as a woman, anyway.” She paused, as if startled by her own words, and I seized my chance.

“It’s possible for you to not know. Just don’t look.”

“But there’s Miles, and your father. And the government check. You’ll only have a week or so before they get to your changeling inspection.”

I sat up a little straighter. “I’m sure Miles and Dad will accept it eventually. And I can sign the conscientious objector paperwork at school.”

“You’d only damage your own future. You won’t get into university without transcripts.”

She was right. If I decided to hide myself forever, I would amount to nothing. Still, I refused to give in.

“Maybe I can at least keep things private here at home.”

She shook her head. “I might be willing to go without knowing, but not your father or Miles. Men are different, you know that. They’re greedy for it. It’s biological.”

I was close to tears. My body had changed overnight, my senses were prickling, and I had no control over what was to come. “I want to keep my future to myself.”

She peered at me. “Are you hiding something, Celeste?”

“I just want privacy. It’s exhausting, being on display all the time.”

My mother met my eyes. She not only believed me, but she agreed with me, too—I could read it right there in the worried set of her mouth, the tiny wrinkles sprouting near her eyes. With a sigh, she moved to the edge of my bed and put her hand on the back of my neck.

“I’ll do my best with your father and brother.” Her voice was low. Everything we did from that moment on was secret. “But we will fail in the end. We’ll try, but we’ll fail.”

She drew me closer and kissed my temple.

“We should get you the birth control shot,” she added. “Just in case.”

“I can’t believe it’s time for that already.”

“Me, either. But we’re fortunate to have access to birth control, and we need to take advantage of it.” I knew she was right, that unrestricted access to the shot was a luxury that women in rural areas didn’t have.

I waited for my mother to say more, to reassure me or express hope for the future. Anything. But her face remained impassive. I felt I was watching my mother at a funeral, or in the aftermath of some spectacular accident. The light of the tragedy casting shadows across her face.

*   *   *

I stayed home from school that first day. Miles woke up late, as usual, our mother pressing him to hurry. I could hear their conversation from behind my closed bedroom door, just as I could hear Miles rustling the covers, stumbling out of bed, and getting dressed. His motions were heavy, as though part of him was still asleep. I imagined all the ways he might die: Car crash. Leukemia. An accidental fall from a great height. Undiagnosed heart defect. Aneurysm. Random act of violence.

Any option was too terrible to contemplate, so I wondered instead how Miles would react if he learned the truth. To know your life would be cut short before the age of twenty-one—it was too much. I knew all about fate, how it could not be changed or escaped, and how we exercised free will as a thin layer atop a larger destiny. All I could do was wait for his future to unfurl. If I kept the prediction from Miles, at least he wouldn’t have to bear the weight, too.

By the time Miles headed down the stairs, he was too rushed to notice I was still in my room, that I had transformed overnight. He must have assumed I’d already left. When I heard the front door close behind him, I let out a breath and nestled deeper in bed.

I’d forgotten about my father. It was his first week back at work following the suspension, but he hadn’t left for the office yet. When he passed my room in the hall a few minutes later, he paused. I sensed him standing there, breathing, before he knocked.

“Yes?” I worked to keep my voice steady.

My father eased the door open. He was ready for work: dress shirt, striped tie, his hair damp and combed back. I smelled a jab of aftershave.

“Celeste?” he asked, a note of surprise in his voice.

“Hi, Dad. I’m sick.”

Then I burst into tears.

He came over to my bed and sat down, reaching out to stroke my hair. He’d barely made contact when he pulled back sharply, like I was electric.

My mother appeared in the doorway, and he turned to face her. “What do they say?” he asked.

She didn’t answer him.

“Paulette?” He looked bewildered. “All right. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine. I need to look for myself anyway.”

“Not now.” My mother came inside and took his arm, gently pulling him toward the door. “Give Celeste some space.”

My father glanced over his shoulder at me. Flustered, flailing. I reminded myself that he had no sisters. This was new to him, too. When he met my mother in university, the story went, she