When Stars Come Out (When Stars Come Out 1)

I turn back to Thane.

“Making him jealous would mean he has to care.”

“Oh, he cares. Maybe not about you in particular, but he cares about what you are.” Those words hit me hard, like Thane jabbed me in the side with an icepick.

He looks down at me again before pushing past me. “See you at three.”

I sit in the back of the auditorium with Lennon during Lily's memorial, not wanting to take seats from people who actually knew her well. The memorial consists of a slideshow of pictures, featuring familiar faces—Shy, Natalie, Jacobi, even Thane. There are others, too, people I've seen in the hallway between classes or at Shy's lunch table.

Lily's favorite music filters through the sound system, setting a surprisingly upbeat tone. It conflicts horribly with the symphony of sniffles and sobs present during decrescendo or transitions between songs.

The last half of the memorial, people stand up and share stories about Lily. Jacobi, Natalie, and then Shy.

He stands under the spotlight and it washes the color from his face, save his bright blue eyes.

He clears his throat before stepping up to the microphone. “This is the hardest thing I've ever done,” Shy pauses and swallows. He keeps his hands in the pockets of his slacks and looks down at his feet. When he lifts his gaze again, he searches the crowd. I get the feeling he's looking for me. “Lily believed everyone was worth her time. I don't think she understood how much it meant to people. Maybe that's my fault. I never told her. I guess hindsight is twenty-twenty. I'll spend the rest of my life remembering how lucky I was to have had so much of her time—that she chose to share her smile, her laugh, her love, with us. When you leave here today, consider what you will miss most in the people you love—memorize it—and remember how lucky you are to love and to be loved.”

His challenge is morbid, but I understand. I press my hand against my chest where my poppa's coin rests...feeling the familiar pressure is comforting. I close my eyes and inhale, imagining I smell him—mint from the cream he rubbed on his hands, tobacco from the pouch he kept in his pocket for his pipe. I loved him so much, but it hadn’t been enough to keep him here.

My eyes water, and when I open them, Shy's moving off the stage. He pauses to hug Lily's father, and then sits.

There's a final prayer—a strange one that doesn't mention God or heaven—and then it’s over and everyone files out of the auditorium. I’m hoping to make a quick exit when Lennon stops me.

“Hey, since all the homecoming events are cancelled, would you want to hang out sometime this week? Maybe Thursday?”

“Uh, sure,” I say. “I’ll ask Mom.”

Lennon smiles. “I’ll text you.”

I slip out of the auditorium and cross campus, heading to wait at Emerson Hall for Mom. I also want to check out the scene where Lily attacked me. I don't know what I think I might find there, but I have to look. Thane's words echo in my head: This will keep happening...

That's the last thing I want, so I have to do everything in my power to find the person who did this to Lily.

As I come around the side of Emerson, I stop, finding someone already there.

Shy.

He stands, staring up at the place over the doors where Lily hanged herself, and where Vera had hanged before that. Now there is nothing—not even the phantom noose. His hands are in his pockets, and while he appears casual, I sense his aggression.

I start to back up, hoping he hasn't seen me when I hear my name. I hesitate, too late to pretend I didn't hear him. I have to get better at this, but it is the way he says my name: breathlessly.

“What are you doing here?”

I pause and turn, explaining, “I wait for my mom here.”

“Then why were you leaving?”

“I thought you might want to be alone,” I say.

He shakes his head. “That's the opposite of what I want.”

“Then why come out here? Don’t you know all those people back at the auditorium?”

“I don’t necessarily want to hear how sorry everyone is,” he says. “Apologies don’t bring people back to life.” He looks back up at the building. “I thought I might find something here. Anything.”

“Any luck?” I ask.

“No.”