A Sea of Stars by Kate Maryon Page B

‘sorry’?” she shouts, “It’s boring, Maya. You’re boring. Boring! Boring! Boring! All of you are. I don’t even care what you think. I don’t care about anything.”
    â€œCalm down, Cat,” says Dad, “and come here! You can’t just run off like that.”
    But Cat runs on and on and on.
    â€œI do what I want!” she screams. “No one tells me.”
    She looks so little, her beetle-black hair straggly and tangly in the wind. She doesn’t even know where she’s running to; she doesn’t even know where anything is. Fear flicks through my chest, a moth with razor sharp wings. I’m scared something bad will happen to her. I’m scared it’ll be my fault. She might get run over by a car. She might run and run and run and get lost and then the adoption agency and the social workers will be really cross with me. It’ll all be my fault! Cat’ll probably tell everyone that she hates us and never wants to come back. Then they won’t let us adopt again becausewe’re really bad people. And then Mum’ll be so sad and she’ll go to bed for a month, like she did after Alfie. She might even move us back to London and away from the sea.
    I can’t let Cat go. She has to like us. She has to want to stay.
    â€œCat!” I call. “Please! Please come back! I do want you! I chose you when I was just a tiny star; I’ve wanted you forever. Everything will be all right, I promise!”
    I run harder than ever, my mixed-up feelings flapping around inside me like Mum’s flip-flops, which are slapping the ground hard with fear of losing Cat, fear of her soft, sad heart breaking in two again. Mum catches me up and grabs hold of my hand. She clings on tight, as if we might fall off the planet if we slip. Tears are running down her cheeks and I’m sure she’s not doing it on purpose, but her nails keep digging into my skin.
    â€œI can’t believe what you said to her, Maya!” she says, yanking my arm up and down. “She’s traumatised enough already without you adding to it!”
    I wriggle free from her clutch. I need to get to Cat.
    â€œI’m sorry!” I say. Sharp silver tears pinch the back of my eyes. “I’m really, really sorry! I didn’t mean it!”
    I have to stop Cat running. I have to make her believe it will be OK.
    Dad’s eyes stay focused on the road.
    â€œCat!” he keeps calling, in a strong deep voice. “Cat, please stop this! We’re not going to send you back. We want you! You’re part of this family now!”
    When we finally catch up with Cat, she’s all snot and tears on her cheeks. She’s standing on the grass verge by the edge of the big main road where the caravans and campervans come thundering down. She’s rubbing her bloodshot eyes on her sleeve as if the summer hedgerows are making her itch. And she’s standing there so sad and lost – more lonely than the last girl left on earth.
    â€œYou don’t have to keep me,” she cries, blinking her big emerald eyes. “I can go back, if you think I’m too weird.”
    â€œWe don’t want you to go back, Cat,” I say. “I was just upset about the banner. I was trying to welcome you home and… I want you to stay. We all want you to stay. I won’t touch you again without asking. I promise.”
    Cat crumples up like a sticky sweet wrapper. She clutches her ‘Life Story Book’ tight and sobs back her choking tears. A sharp stick jabs my throat, prodding me deeper and deeper into a huge dark puddle of shame. Mum opens her arms wide and I really wish they were for me because I need a hug so badly. I’m so shaky my teeth are clattering in my head. But Mum’s arms are for Cat.
    â€œI am sorry,” I whisper. “I wish you’d believe me.”
    Cat sighs. She shrugs her shoulders as if she doesn’t care about