Wishing Stars

The darkness crept along the rooftop, broken only by the glimmering lights of the town. I leaned against the railings of the building, watching the stars in the warm, spring, Arizona night. The door to the roof creaked open a few feet behind me, and I heard the footsteps approaching. I rolled my eyes; he really thought I needed checking up on. Even with his obvious lack of faith, I felt my vulnerability seeping through as I quickly blotted the tears away.

“I’m failing,” I whispered, not bothering to turn around. I didn’t have to; I knew who it was.
Kennedy wrapped his arm around me, his leather jacket cool against my bare arms. He rested his chin on the top of my head, his eyes zooming in on his house somewhere in the Tempe skyline.

“Shay, you are the opposite of a failure,” he assured me, his honey eyes examining me carefully.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head a bit. I didn’t want his sympathy; he didn’t get it. My grasp tightened on the old metal rails, chipping paint scratching at the palm of my hand. Part of me felt like opening my arms and welcoming the free fall. I gnawed a bit on my bottom lip, trying to shake that feeling.

“You’re wrong, Kenny. I’m messing everything up,” I mumbled, my voice wavering as it became thick with tears that threatened to spill over.

Kennedy turned me to face him, his hands grasping my shoulders. His eyes searching into mine, trying to read into my soul. He could always tell when I was really upset. I had known Kennedy Brock just as long as I had known myself; we went through the snack times, recesses, fieldtrips, lab explosions, and graduation together. His concerned face was blurring as the moisture filled my vision.

“What’s going on? The guys and I haven’t seen you in months. Why did you leave the party?” he inquired gently, smoothing my hair behind my ears, tangling it with my silver hoop earrings. I focused on releasing my soft auburn waves from the tangle instead of his gaze.
It was so much easier than having to explain to him why I was ditching out on our best friends who just got home from touring. They didn’t deserve it, honestly, and I missed them like hell. I just couldn’t face him without losing it.

“I’m sick of pretending.”

They were the first honest words I had spoken in awhile, to myself, to Kennedy, to anyone. I could feel my throat tightening, trying to drag the words back in, but it was too late.

“What are you talking about?”

Kennedy’s tawny eyebrows furrowed together, wrinkles wrecking his forehead. I laughed bitterly, finding the cruel irony in everything. The world really seemed to hate me.

“I’m sick of pretending that I’m okay… I’m sick of pretending that it doesn’t bother me that John’s down there at his surprise party, which Rosalie threw him,” I spat, her name coming from my mouth like venom.

Kennedy’s eyes warmed with understanding, and he pulled me close. I tried to fight against him. I didn’t want to be comforted. All of the words I’d been swallowing back, trying not to say, were bubbling in my throat, ready to fly into the open.

“Quite frankly, I don’t even know how I got invited! She hates me, Kennedy. She’s always hated me! She’s the reason I didn’t even know you guys were going to be back until you called me yesterday. She’s the reason I haven’t heard a word from John since last fall!” I shouted, throwing my hands up to the star lit sky. Like wishing on any of them would help me now.

“Shay, John missed you like crazy. He wanted to call you, and he was ecstatic to see you here tonight,” Kennedy defended.

“Yeah, whatever. Then he should’ve fucking called me. He should’ve fucking told me he was coming back today,” I hissed, turning my back on him.

I pulled my cardigan a bit closer around me, returning my eyes to the far away stars. They seemed so impossibly far away, but at the same time, gave me peace. It was more than Kennedy or anyone in that overzealous bash a few floors down could do for me.

“Shay, he wanted to,” Kennedy pleaded.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes in their sockets. “Yeah, but Rosalie wouldn’t let him. Of course you’re taking his side, bros before hoes, right? Why don’t you save your excuses for someone who cares? Or better yet, convince your friend to list them to me himself.”

“Shay—“

“What? He can’t even explain to me why he’s been pretending I don’t exist? If you’re so content with being his little messenger, tell him I say to grow the fuck up.”

Kennedy’s eyes glinted with a hardness I’d only seen reserved for John when he’d drunk himself to oblivion and was being a serious ass. I couldn’t blame him for looking at me like that; he didn’t deserve to be the target of my precisely aimed words. I couldn’t help myself though.

I was going down either way, and just like every other time, I had to take everyone else down with me. I hated myself for it.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” I screamed, the heated tears flowing freely down my cheeks, taking the charcoal eye makeup with them. “Rosalie was supposed to be just another drunken hookup for him! It wasn’t supposed to last for two days, let alone nine months, and she sure as hell wasn’t supposed to steal my best friend away from me!”

“Are you mad because she stole your best friend, or mad because she has what you want? Admit it, Shay, you’re jealous because John loves her and not you,” Kennedy fired back, crossing his arms.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, my eyes narrowing into slits.

“Go to hell,” I snarled, turning back to the railing.

His footsteps disappeared behind me, and the door to the roof slammed shut, echoing through the silent night. My body convulsed with sobs, and I collapsed to the cool concrete of the roof. Wrapping my arms around my legs, I bawled.

I couldn’t take any of it. Kennedy was right; every single word he said. I just couldn’t hear it. I was in love with John Cornelius O’Callaghan V, no matter how much I denied it. If I was being truthful with myself, this wasn’t new information. I had loved him from the day Kenny introduced us in grade eleven.

The worst part by far was that the love would always be unrequited. John was never the relationship guy. What he had was more a string of beneficial friends. That was hard, sure, but at least then I could hope and wait for him to settle down eventually. Only the latest cruel twist life threw my way made everything more unbearable.

Its name was Rosalie Darrell.

She and John met at some bar, and I thought she was just like the others. But man, I was so wrong.

Where I was short, her legs went on for miles. Where my hair was a mess of tangled auburn, hers was cascading curls of gold. Where my eyes were a murky brown, hers were crystal blue. Where I was soft-spoken and swore like a sailor, she went to debutante balls and wasn’t afraid to give you her harshest opinion.

What’s more than that is she had John.

She was everything I wasn’t, and she hated my guts, maybe more than I hated hers. John didn’t see that though; he never saw anything. She started to insist he spent time with her instead of me, and little by little, she cut the cord on our contact. She and The Maine went on tour. I was left in Tempe, staring at the stars, pondering how fast I could fall from the damn roof.

“Shay?” a timid voice asked, and I jumped half a foot.

I hadn’t even heard the creaky metal door swing open. I turned with a sheepish grin, greeting the redhead stepping carefully to my side.

“I’m sorry Jared, I’m just a little…”

“I know,” he quickly filled in, a semi-guilty grin on his lips. “I talked to Kennedy.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage.

He nodded, ruffling my hair as he sat against the ledge. I grimaced and fixed my hair, quickly sliding down to join him on the cool concrete, my head resting against his shoulder. Neither of us said anything for awhile, but I didn’t mind. Jared’s presence always calmed me just a bit, getting me to think a more rationally.

“So, you wanna tell me why Kennedy nearly broke my face when I asked where you were?” he asked lightly, but there was a worried undercurrent in his smooth voice.

I sighed, looking up at him. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Kennedy’s a girl?” Jared gasped, his eyes widening and his mouth forming an ‘o’ perfectly.

I rolled my eyes, shoving him playfully. He laughed, wrapping an arm lazily around me and pulling me close.

“You know who I’m talking about,” I grumbled, trying to hide the smile he had forced out of me.

“You know, Shay, this is John we’re talking about. Rosalie may have his attention span for now, but you’ve seen how this plays out. Besides,” he paused, eyes sparkling mischievously. “She’s a bitch.”

“I don’t talk like that!” I protested through giggles, feeling my face turn the color of, well, his hair.

“Sure, sure,” he quipped, pulling us both to our feet.

“Jared…” I warned, not very effectively though, because I couldn’t keep a straight face.

“Now, are you done throwing this pity party? Because there are actual people down at the real party who haven’t seen you in forever and miss your pathetic ass.”

I took a deep breath, wrapping my arm around his. “Even John has to realize how evil the creature is sooner or later, right?”

He nodded as I looked at him for assurance. “Even John can’t stay drunk enough to overlook it forever.”

“Then let’s go.”

Jared’s stories barely made it past my subconscious as we strolled down the stairs. I could hear the people talking and laughing, and the bitter stench of alcohol was undeniable. My heartbeat became louder in my chest as the bass from the speakers reverberated throughout my body. All I could think about was seeing John, talking to him again after what seemed like an eternity.

As we walked through the glass doors to the banquet hall, my eyes zeroed in on the tall, lanky, frame topped with a mess of mousy hair. My lips curled into a smile, opening to say something, but I froze as soon as I realized what was going on.

I couldn’t make out a single word he was saying, but I didn’t need to. As if in slow motion, I watched as John bent down to one knee, holding a black velvet box delicately in his fingers. In the box was a beautiful silver ring, with a diamond I could see gleaming from my own personal hell across the room.

He didn’t see me standing there, my heart cracking into a million pieces. But Rosalie did.

Her icy, mascara-coated eyes flickered to mine, and with a triumphant smile on her lips she leaned over to kiss John, practically shoving her tongue down his throat. When they came up for air, I watched as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

As quickly the world had slowed down, it sped up. People were catcalling and cheering. Beside me, Jared stiffened. I heard his muffled profanities starting, but never deciphered any of the sentences.

I ran.

The tears crashed freely down my cheeks as I dashed through the posh hallways of the hotel. I don’t know who I pushed out of the way or what I tripped over, but I couldn’t stop. I was trying to run from the bullet aimed right at my heart, but I would never be fast enough.

As I escaped the suffocating air of the stuffy hotel, I still didn’t stop. My blurry vision was focused on the far away glittering stars. Even they couldn’t comfort me now. I didn’t know where I was running to, how much I had just lost, or if the crippling pain coming in waves through my tiny body would ever subside. There was one thing I was completely sure of though, as sure as the stupid ring on Rosalie’s finger.

I could never go back.