of smooth clouds with stars behind them. Star light, star bright, Sara thought. Hadn’t she and Julia recited that as girls? She closed her eyes and rested into her memory.
“ Look at those stars,” Julia said. ”The sky is full of them.”
“ They’re amazing,” Sara whispered. She had been spending a lot of time at Julia’s since her mom had been sick. Her 12 th birthday had been the day before and the charm bracelet Julia had given her dangled loosely around her wrist.
Julia and Sara lay on their backs in the soft grass of summertime, studying the universe from Julia’s backyard. A square patch of light reflected from the kitchen window. The only other light came from the moon.
“ There are probably two girls in Paris looking at the stars just like us,” Julia said.
Sara sighed, the image pleasing her. Julia’s view of the world was always bigger than hers.
“ Hey, let’s make a wish,” Julia said.
Julia took Sara’s hand, their fingers interlocking to make the magic more powerful. They said in unison, “Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”
They made their wishes in silence, their hands squeezed tightly, as if this were required to thrust their intentions into the universe. With a final squeeze, Julia released Sara’s hand. Then she rolled over and looked at Sara, resting an arm under her head. “What did you wish for?” she asked.
“ You’re not supposed to tell, or it won’t come true,” Sara said. She missed the warmth of Julia’s hand.
“ Come on, Sara, tell me,” she insisted. “A wish among friends is sacred. Nothing can keep it from coming true.”
“ I don’t want to jinx it.”
“ Tell me,” she said again.
Sara hesitated. “I wished . . . that my mother wasn’t sick anymore.”
Julia reached over and squeezed Sara’s hand again. Then leaned on one elbow and caressed her hair. “It’ll be all right, Sweetie.”
Sara’s tears blurred the stars. She didn’t know what she’d do without Julia. She was more like family than her own family was these days. She wiped away the tears. “What did you wish for?” Sara asked.
“ I’m not telling,” Julia said. “It may not come true.” Her giggle escaped into the darkness.
“ You bum!” Sara rolled over and tickled Julia who squealed her protest. “What was it?” Sara asked again.
“ I’ll never tell,” Julia giggled. Their laughter dissolved into the summer breeze. Sara was captivated. Not only by the vast, starry night, but by the vastness of their friendship.
Sara opened her eyes. Her smile reflected in the window and for a fleeting moment she saw the girl she used to be. The jet engines hummed steadily. Sara tugged at her hair, willing it to grow. This length looked almost fashionable. At least she had the face for it.
She wished now that she had called Julia before she left. Sara and Julia were seventeen the last time they had seen each other. Now they were in their 40s. Would Julia even recognize her?
Sara reached inside her purse for the loose photograph she had brought from home. She redirected the overhead light to study the image. It was the summer before their senior year at Beacon. Grady must have taken the photograph with the camera she and Julia had bought him for his birthday that year. He still used that old 35 mm. Sara had not, until then, attached a sentimental motive to his unwillingness to buy a newer model.
Sara returned the photograph to her purse and remembered the game she and Julia had invented in order to survive another boring summer in their small town. Julia would spin the globe on the desk in her bedroom, its blue world about the size of a basketball, attached to a rickety metal stand. The plastic earth rotated with dizzying speed and made waffling sounds as it turned, threatening to come off its man made axis and bounce across the room.
Meanwhile, Sara would stand poised, eyes closed,
“ Look at those stars,” Julia said. ”The sky is full of them.”
“ They’re amazing,” Sara whispered. She had been spending a lot of time at Julia’s since her mom had been sick. Her 12 th birthday had been the day before and the charm bracelet Julia had given her dangled loosely around her wrist.
Julia and Sara lay on their backs in the soft grass of summertime, studying the universe from Julia’s backyard. A square patch of light reflected from the kitchen window. The only other light came from the moon.
“ There are probably two girls in Paris looking at the stars just like us,” Julia said.
Sara sighed, the image pleasing her. Julia’s view of the world was always bigger than hers.
“ Hey, let’s make a wish,” Julia said.
Julia took Sara’s hand, their fingers interlocking to make the magic more powerful. They said in unison, “Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”
They made their wishes in silence, their hands squeezed tightly, as if this were required to thrust their intentions into the universe. With a final squeeze, Julia released Sara’s hand. Then she rolled over and looked at Sara, resting an arm under her head. “What did you wish for?” she asked.
“ You’re not supposed to tell, or it won’t come true,” Sara said. She missed the warmth of Julia’s hand.
“ Come on, Sara, tell me,” she insisted. “A wish among friends is sacred. Nothing can keep it from coming true.”
“ I don’t want to jinx it.”
“ Tell me,” she said again.
Sara hesitated. “I wished . . . that my mother wasn’t sick anymore.”
Julia reached over and squeezed Sara’s hand again. Then leaned on one elbow and caressed her hair. “It’ll be all right, Sweetie.”
Sara’s tears blurred the stars. She didn’t know what she’d do without Julia. She was more like family than her own family was these days. She wiped away the tears. “What did you wish for?” Sara asked.
“ I’m not telling,” Julia said. “It may not come true.” Her giggle escaped into the darkness.
“ You bum!” Sara rolled over and tickled Julia who squealed her protest. “What was it?” Sara asked again.
“ I’ll never tell,” Julia giggled. Their laughter dissolved into the summer breeze. Sara was captivated. Not only by the vast, starry night, but by the vastness of their friendship.
Sara opened her eyes. Her smile reflected in the window and for a fleeting moment she saw the girl she used to be. The jet engines hummed steadily. Sara tugged at her hair, willing it to grow. This length looked almost fashionable. At least she had the face for it.
She wished now that she had called Julia before she left. Sara and Julia were seventeen the last time they had seen each other. Now they were in their 40s. Would Julia even recognize her?
Sara reached inside her purse for the loose photograph she had brought from home. She redirected the overhead light to study the image. It was the summer before their senior year at Beacon. Grady must have taken the photograph with the camera she and Julia had bought him for his birthday that year. He still used that old 35 mm. Sara had not, until then, attached a sentimental motive to his unwillingness to buy a newer model.
Sara returned the photograph to her purse and remembered the game she and Julia had invented in order to survive another boring summer in their small town. Julia would spin the globe on the desk in her bedroom, its blue world about the size of a basketball, attached to a rickety metal stand. The plastic earth rotated with dizzying speed and made waffling sounds as it turned, threatening to come off its man made axis and bounce across the room.
Meanwhile, Sara would stand poised, eyes closed,
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