Rewrite the Stars
“Of being a McAllister.”
Evan sits up, her face twisting with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Our family is…jinxed. Wherever we go, death and destruction seem to follow.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“We’re cursed, Evan.” I finally spell it out for her. “None of the men in our family live to see twenty-five.” And the women who survive are left with the fallout.
Her face falls. “Cursed,” she repeats, skepticism in her tone. “Like, a witchy, gypsy type of curse? Is that what you’re telling me? You don’t really believe that.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “No, Evan, not that kind of curse. Haven’t you ever heard of the Kennedy curse? You can call it coincidence, but the end result is the same.”
“Are you telling me you have three years to live?”
I clench my jaw, not meeting her eyes. “History would suggest so.”
“This is ins
ane,” she says dismissively, shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t accept that.”
“It doesn’t matter if you accept it. I’ve lived it, Evan. I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t.” It sounds crazy saying it out loud. I realize that. But it doesn’t change the facts.
She goes silent, digesting the information. Just when I think she’s going to get up and leave, she lies back down with her back to my front, pulling my arm around her.
“I don’t think we ended up here just for you to die,” she whispers.
“What if it’s already in the stars? You can’t change fate.”
“Then we’ll rewrite the stars.”
THE AIR IS COOL, REMINDING me that the summer’s over. I’ve lost track of how many cities we’ve visited. I don’t even know which state we’re currently in, if I’m being honest, but I’m not ready for it to end. That coupled with the bomb Sebastian dropped on me last night has me in a somber mood. Do I believe in curses? Hell no. But the evidence is enough to freak me out. And now, sitting at the dinner table listening to his grandmother, Valeen, and mother, Krista, speak about it only cements that fear.
“When did it start?” I ask the question that’s been burning a hole in my tongue. “How does something like this happen?”
“We don’t know for sure, but it is said to have originated over a hundred years ago,” Valeen starts, ignoring warning glares from Sebastian. “When I was just a girl, I overheard my mother and her sister speaking about it. From what they said, a McAllister man bedded a woman who wasn’t his wife and got her pregnant. When the baby was stillborn, it was said to be an abomination. Said it was part beast, part fish, part human. When Thomas McAllister found out about the child, he accused the woman, Alexandra, of being a witch, then forced her to bury the child in secrecy. He then went and turned her in to the authorities for doing so. Of course, we know now that its demonic description was exaggerated to justify his actions.”
“What happened to her?” I ask, leaning my forearms against the table, my dinner long forgotten.
“She was hanged.”
“What?” I gasp. “Why?”
“McAllister and his brothers weren’t satisfied with her punishment and took the law into their own hands. They dragged her out of her home in the middle of the night and strung her up, most likely so Thomas’ wife wouldn’t learn of his infidelity. All four brothers died that year, and ever since, a black cloud has loomed over the family.”
“I’d say it’s a little more than a black cloud, Valeen,” Krista mumbles bitterly into her glass of whiskey. She won’t even look at Sebastian, and I wonder to myself if it hurts too much. I also wonder why she stuck around if it was too much to bear.
“Well, this was fun,” Sebastian says dryly, tossing his crumpled-up napkin down onto his plate. I follow suit.
“Thank you for dinner,” I tell Valeen, looking down at my plate of chicken, corn, and mashed potatoes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a home-cooked meal.”
She smiles at me and reaches for Sebastian’s hand as he passes her. I see her give him three intentional squeezes, then he gives her four in return.
“What was that?” I ask when we’re on our way back to the bunkhouse.
“What?” Sebastian asks.
“The hand thing with Valeen.”