Stardust: Planets Collide

Jake Gallagher

"Yo, dude, she won't stop starin' at him. It's creepin' me out, dude."

If Ethan Marshall continued to talk like that, I would surely be using the same slang as him by the end of the month. I already slipped up when I called principle Bermudez "dude" last week, and the longer I was around Ethan, the more I was itching to buy a pair of skinny jeans, a t-shirt with some emotive rock band's logo on it, and a beanie tight enough to constrict my skull, and get my hair dyed black and cut into that new punk style that hung in front of your eyes so much that it looked like they didn't have any. But I was still sane enough to distance myself from my locker partner to ensure that none of that actually happened. Then again, if it was only one month into the school year, and Ethan already had me so influenced, I was afraid that all of those horrendous trends might trickle on to me and I'd become a hideous clone of Ethan Marshall... I just cringed, by the way.

"Look at her, dude! She's fuckin' creepin' on him!"

Unbeknownst to myself, I slammed my locker shut so hard that the sound actually rung over all of the hall's commotion between third and fourth period. Even my subconscious could not suppress how irritating Ethan's presence could be.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, throwing my hands up, staring at the tufts of hair that covered his eyes.

Ethan did that annoying hair flip that made me want to detach his head from his body, and he pointed behind me.

Completely uncharacteristic of her, Brennyn was as quiet as a church mouse. If it weren't for Ethan and his infuriating use of "dude" to catch my attention, she would have gone unnoticed, and Brennyn Tetro never went unnoticed if she had anything to say about it. She leaned against the locker at the end of our block, and her eyes were transfixed at a sight down the hall. With all of the bustling students, I didn't know what constant thing she could have been staring at, but whatever it was demanded her undivided attention.

Ethan lightly shoved me forward. My brows were drawn to a hard furrow when I looked back at him, but as innocent as he could be, he opened our locker and pretended to be interested in my textbooks. I underestimated how annoying he could be, but I tip-toed to Brennyn as not to disturb her. And that was when I caught a glimpse at what she was staring at.

It was none other than Skylar Glass.

Down the hall on the opposite side as us, Skylar was sifting through his locker for I-don't-know-what, but my observations of him over this passed month concluded that whatever he was looking for was probably illegal and had no business being in his locker. Even then, I couldn't help but notice that he looked really good. I mean, he wore nothing special, just a black t-shirt with a portrait of Kurt Cobain and some purposely tattered jeans. His clothes said that he was just a guy, but I've always been weird and overanalyzed and my analysis thought he looked really good.

I tapped on the shoulder before me, afraid that if I applied anymore pressure, Brennyn's thin skeleton would shatter.

"You should talk to him," I said.

From what I recalled of our conversations over the passed month, Brennyn and Skylar had been inseparable for two years, so one argument shouldn't ruin that. Then again, I didn't know what the argument was about, so I couldn't really be the judge of that. The only reason why I even knew there was an argument was because Matt told me there was. Even if he hadn't, I would have quickly noticed that Skylar was voiding Brennyn's existence from his life. Matt updated me last night, and Skylar hasn't talked to Brennyn in an entire month. They haven't been in contact since Skylar nearly got suspended for throwing a dodge ball at Billy Abel's nose in Brennyn's defense. Whatever they were arguing about must have been serious.

As if she snapped out of her weird staring fixation (which, I must agree with Ethan, was pretty creepy), Brennyn turned to me. "C'mon," she ushered me forward with a flick of her bony wrist.

"Excuse me?" I said incredulously.

She rolled her eyes as if her gesture was painstakingly obvious.

"You're coming with me," she said.

"No, I'm not," I nearly shouted, but it was more like a strangled yelp, like how a dog would sound if you stepped on it. Ethan glanced at me to make sure I hadn't died. It probably sounded like I did.

"Yeah, you are," she snapped. Her skinny fingers wrapped around my arm, and gave me a yank much more forceful than I originally thought she could muster. Saying she was stronger than she looked would be the understatement of the year.

"Why?!" I panicked. With good, justified right to panic. I couldn't just walk up to Skylar. That was like walking through the President's squad of body guards and asking the executive chief of the United States 'What's up?' You just don't do that! You just don't walk up to Skylar Glass. I mean, he wasn't the President of anything, but he was still physically powerful and palpably intimidating. Just thinking about that made me feel like I might implode into a billion fragments of nothingness. I'm a pile of jelly and he's intimidating, and I'm a do-gooder and he's a rule-breaker, and I'm a troll and he's attractive. People like he and I were never meant to interact.

"I don't wanna go by myself," she angrily whispered like her reputation of being such a hard-ass would be ruined if anyone heard. To solidify that theory, Ethan had begun to whistle a tune and found himself something interesting to play with in our locker as if he hadn't heard a thing.

"Take Shannyn," I said. "Or Ethan!"

Ethan's head snapped up for a split second with a look of alarm, but then he quickly buried his beanie-covered head in our locker. He looked like an Ostrich with its head shoved in the sand. I contemplated kicking him in the ass.

"You're the one who suggested I talk to him, so I'm taking you. Deal with it, Jake," she hissed.

I always hated that. I hated being told to "deal with it." What if I didn't want to "deal with it?" It wasn't my problem, so I shouldn't have had to "deal with it!" But, it wasn't like I would say that to Brennyn; I valued my life. So, instead, I tightened my lips and let her drag me through the tight throngs of bustling students.

Her manicured claws dug into my forearm, and I was sure there would be small, bruised, crescent-shaped indentations where her nails almost broke the skin. I was compelled to start screaming "RAPE!" just to see if someone would help me, but when I looked back, Ethan was long gone, not that he would help me anyway. So, I didn't yell "RAPE!" like my searing arm wanted me to. I just continued to let her awkwardly drag me behind her with my legs feeling like stilts.

The closer we got to Skylar, the more erratic my pulse got and the more sweat my hands produced. If he was angered enough to ignore Brennyn's existence for an entire month, I was afraid he might end up hitting one of us... probably me because I had no right to be in his business anyway, which was why I refused to accompany Brennyn. I couldn't help but to think he was going to kill me and pay one of his drug addict friends to hide my body.

It went without saying that I had a negative streak. Every situation I had ever approached was immediately weighed against every con that I could possibly think of: Owen and Levi weren't arguing today... they've finally teamed up to kill me. Dad said he's coming to see me this week... a storm will hit and his flight will get cancelled. A cute guy just looked at me... he was checking out the girl behind me. Skylar was sitting next to me in astronomy class... he wished he could sit somewhere else. Well, I wasn't too sure about that last one because I was too afraid to even say "hello" when I sat next to him last week, and the only reason why I did was because there were no other seats left. The whole time I was next to him, I had a miniature heart attack every time he moved, and, at one point, I literally forgot how to breathe.

Brennyn must have felt my hands dripping with the essence of absolute terror because she tossed a glance over her shoulder.  "Are you alright?" she carelessly asked.

That's when I decided, even through my many comebacks from kinship embarrassment and other pitfalls of my existence, that no, in that moment, I was not alright.

Brennyn stopped suddenly, and I nearly ran her over. She elbowed me in the stomach with a hard scowl, and it felt like my organs were being rearranged. Then, I almost puked because Skylar was right there in front of us, but he hadn't turned around yet. Thankfully he hadn't; my complexion was probably vomit green.

"Um, Sky," Brennyn called in a distant voice.

Skylar was turning around. It was almost in slow motion, like you see in the movies right before someone died. And then I started to think, "Oh, God, what if he has a gun in his locker?! What if he shoots us?!" The whole situation was making me spastic. I felt like throwing myself on the floor and faking convulsions just so someone could whisk me away to the nurse's office. But if I attempted to do that, Brennyn would kick me in the face, and then I'd be forever embarrassed because Skylar witnessed it.

Skylar turned around. He was fully facing us with a leer so indescribable in its wickedness, like a repository for life-depleting hatred, that I thought I might have shit my pants. Then again, I didn't think that was possible because I was literally scared shitless.

If I were in a competent state of mind, I'd be asking myself why I was thinking about fecal matter when I was about to be murdered by the attractive force of evil that haunted my dreams. But my thoughts were sporadic, and I wasn't in a right mind frame, and the insane part of my conscious would have been totally fine with Skylar killing me just because he's attractive... Something was wrong with me.

Skylar stared at Brennyn with that malicious glare that killed kittens, fed on the tears of small children, and sucked peoples' souls right out of their eye sockets.

"How are you?" Brennyn laughed without any humor at all.

"What the fuck do you want?" Skylar barked, and I swore I heard someone start to cry... Oh, wait, I think that was me.

Brennyn exhaled heavily, like she was trying to wish away a burden that just wouldn't budge. "I'm sorry, okay? But, I just thought that your mom-"

By the way Skylar's face changed and the conviction in his voice, you'd think that he just brought about the apocalypse and unleashed all the damned souls in Hell. He roared in a hall-silencing bellow, "If you mention my mother one more fuckin' time, I swear to God, I'll punch you so hard that your mother will feel it in her goddamn womb!"

A mass exodus occured as almost every student slowly and begrudgingly retreated to their designated classes at the sound of the bell.

After another second of staring illusory daggers into Brennyn's face, Skylar stormed off into the fleeting crowd of students that were in no hurry to get to their fourth period classes. I didn't even think he noticed that I had been standing there the entire time. He never once acknowledged me. Nonetheless, once he was gone and completely out of sight, it was like the life returned to my brain. I felt like I could think clearly again instead of making references to feces and movies, though, I couldn't say that Brennyn shared the same sentiments.

"He hates me," Brennyn choked and you could almost hear the tears welling at the brim of her bottom lashes.

I opened my mouth to say something. Nothing came out. I licked my lips and tried to utter something of an apology, but a sigh dried my lips. So, I just stood there with my hand awkwardly patting her shoulder.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that I had no compassion for the little gremlin who really just wanted to be doted on and validated, but I couldn't help but to think that it was her own fault. I learned over the years that everyone has certain issues that you just do not talk about, and Brennyn violated Skylar's. But my opinions were biased because it was painstakingly obvious that I was far more interested in Skylar than I should've been, so of course I would find a loophole to justify his ill-tempered behavior.

I hadn't noticed that I had been patting nothing but empty air for the past minute. It was only when I heard a sob and the door to the girls' bathroom slam shut that I noticed Brennyn was no longer beside me.

A part of me wanted to go after her, but the embarrassment of being caught in the girls' bathroom overrode any urge I had to comfort her. Plus, I was almost late for class, so I really should get going. At least I could make up a lie to our fourth hour literature teacher, Ms. Spinelli, that Brennyn was sick so she wouldn't get a detention for skipping class.

In order to retain the respect I garnered for a spotless school record, I made an effort to speed walk through the halls. I probably resembled one of those old ladies you see exercising at the mall in the early morning, but I liked to think that I looked a lot better than them.

On my trek, I happened to catch a glimpse of a head of familiar blonde. "Brennyn's crying in the bathroom! See you later!" I shouted to someone who appeared to be Shannyn. Thankfully, it was her, even though her features blurred by. I heard her growl in annoyance, and her little feet stomped away to attend to her sobbing twin.

I'd ask why Shannyn wasn't in class, but I would be answering that same question once I got myself to class. Then again, I didn't know why I was so worried about how I'd answer. Students like myself, who had never once received a detention nor a warning, deserved to have some lenience. But teachers looked down on us students and expected us to race to class as if the devil himself were on our heels, and then expected us to repent for our tardiness. Ha! Like I would ever actually express this opinion... I wouldn't. I believe I mentioned that I'm just a blob of gelatin. My spine might look stable, but I'm really just a jelly fish wearing a suit of human skin. If you poked me hard enough, I'd fall over and bounce around like a ball of jello.

I was still enraptured in the thoughts of how spineless I was even after I walked into class and every eye of every student was directed towards me. I was surprised I hadn't collapsed, yet. I was never equipped to handle that much attention at one time. At least Skylar wasn't in that class, or I would have been flailing around on the floor.

"Jacoby Gallagher," the velvet voice of young Ms. Spinelli called, "may I ask why you're late?"

I expected her to glare at me until I got on my knees, dumped her bottle of water over my head like it was holy water, and repented all my sins (though, there weren't very many). For some odd reason unexplainable even to me, the thought surfaced that she might sprout a pair of fangs, like those of a harpy from hell, and rip my head right off my shoulders to splatter my blood across the classroom as a warning to others who dared to be tardy. But, instead, she had the slightest hint of a smile on her lips and she spoke with the most polite tone I'd ever heard. I knew I picked Spinelli as my favorite teacher for a reason.

"Brennyn got sick, so I took h-her to the nurse's office," I stammered, but I didn't stammer out of nervousness; Ms. Spinelli had a very calming affect even if the entire class was waiting for me to trip so they could laugh and point. I stammered because I hated lying. They say "lying is the most fun you can have with your clothes on," but I highly disagreed. Lying is like a vicious web that keeps spinning until you get tangled in one of your own lies, and then a giant, eight-legged arachnid appears and eats you limb by limb, lie by devilish lie.

"Oh, is she alright?" Ms. Spinelli asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, she'll be fine," I coughed. But I wasn't too sure of that statement. Honestly, I hadn't seen her cry before, and Brennyn was the type of person that hardly cried.

Spinelli smiled, nodded, and motioned for me to take a seat. I pretty much ran to the back of the class and nabbed the desk in the corner.

Spinelli began the lesson. She was on the topic of some dead poet when I felt my leg vibrate. I fished around for my phone in the deep pockets of my jeans, and when I did get my heads on it, my screen read that I had two new text messages and one was from Shannyn:

Bree's not feeling 2 good. We r leaving. C u later.
Oh, Matt txted me & said his cat died. );
- Shay

I didn't think Brennyn was that upset, but I guess I was wrong. And, poor Matt. I met his cat, Archie, last week, and he was the sweetest feline. Matt's had him since he was a kid, so I couldn't imagine how heartbroken he was. Opening the next text, lo and behold, it was from Matt. Hesent it that morning while I was in homeroom, but I left my phone in my locker. I didn't get it until Ethan gave it to me an hour ago. I texted Matt my profuse apologies, and stowed my phone away before anyone noticed.

The hour of literature progressed very slowly and particularly boring. Ms. Spinelli was going on about how Chatterton killed himself and how Lord Byron was accused of incest. I had never been a fan of either; Poe owned my literary soul. As Spinelli was addressing some of Byron's work, I began to feel really bad. Bad in the sense that I felt like I should have gone after Brennyn myself. But I only felt that way for selfish reasons; I'd rather listen to Brennyn cry and possibly hit me to deflect the blame from herself instead of doodling a vile of arsenic in my notebook as homage to Chatterton. But it was far too late for my guilty conscience to kick in because the twins were already gone. Once I realized that Matt didn't come today, Ethan disappeared, Shannyn was off somewhere attending to a distraught Brennyn, and I was at school by myself, I really started to regret my decision to leave Brennyn. Now, who was I gonna eat lunch with?

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"Be careful!" I yelped at a maniac freshman who nearly knocked the lunch tray right out of my hands. The only damage done was that the top of my burger's bun slid off to the side and a loose french fry fell out of its pile. Now I saw why Brennyn hated the freshmen so much. In her words, "They're a bunch of psychotic little shits." I'm not sure if that made Brennyn and I hypocrites since we were freshmen just last year. Shannyn, on the contrary, loved them. She tutored a couple of freshmen, and every time she saw a stray nine-er, she rushed over to help. It was pretty amazing how polar opposite a pair of twins could be. Other than sharing a womb and general facial features, Brennyn and Shannyn had, like, zero commonalities... oh, except their mutual enjoyment of arguing with each other. They never tired of that.

It was really warm outside, mostly humidity, but I wasn't complaining too much. I'd rather be outside in the fresh air.

There were a lot of people outside swarming around the football field. Most of them were settling in the grass, which was good because they wouldn't bother me while I was eating at Matt, the twins and I's spot on the bleachers. It wasn't that I was antisocial, I just lost confidence in communication if I didn't have a friend with me. If one of the twins, Matt, or even Ethan were here right now, I'd be completely fine with talking to people outside of my circle of friends. But they're not here, so I was not secure enough to make any new social connections.

Nonetheless, I plopped myself on the bleachers and picked at my burger while I overheard passing conversations, like, "Did you hear about that totally huge fight that Brennyn and Skylar had before last period? Brennyn is totally jealous that Skylar is dating Leah again, so she totally called Leah a bitch. Then, Brennyn called Skylar a pothead, and he totally punched her in the face! Totally!" I choked on my burger from laughter. I didn't know why I found that funny; maybe because the air-headed tart who was spreading such a ridiculous rumor had cystic acne. You could play connect-the-dots on her face... Oh, no, that was really mean! I'd been spending too much time around Brennyn. My guilt started to kick in, and I almost apologized as she passed by, but then I remembered that she couldn't hear my thoughts... thank God.

"O-M-G, he's totally right there! I can't believe he hasn't been suspended yet!"

My head snapped up to where the walking pimple (oops) and her friend were pointing. Straight across the field, Skylar, Leah and a few of their delinquent friends had formed a circle beneath the shade of a large oak. I couldn't really tell what they were doing, but I saw Skylar make a sly transfer of something behind his back to one of his friends. I didn't think Leah noticed because she was too busy... Busy hanging all over Skylar like he was her lifeline and if she traveled farther than a ten foot radius away from him, she'd disintegrate into a pile of ash that the breeze would blow onto someone's sandwich... yuck. At the thought of that, I dropped my burger onto the tray and I was sure my face looked like I just bit into a worm-infested apple. I'd just eat the fries.

Leah was called away by some of her cheerleader friends and, contrary to my belief, she gave Skylar a peck on the cheek before successfully making it back into the school without dying and defiling someone's sandwich.

It was only after Leah left that the object Skylar passed to his friend became apparent, and, of course, it was a joint. The tallest stoner lit it up and passed it around to the others. Once the puff-puff-pass reached Skylar, he, surprisingly, declined with a shake of his head.

At least Skylar wouldn't smell like marijuana in our astronomy class.

Realizing that Brennyn's staring fixation was contagious, I re-focused my attention back on my lunch. There was a fly sitting on my burger. I wasn't eating it anyway, but I found it extremely rude that that that fly would just sit on my burger like it paid for it.  I swatted the pest away, and tossed the burger in the trash can next to the bleachers. When I did, I almost choked on my own saliva because, as I looked up to throw it away, I caught a glimpse of Skylar headed in this direction... in my direction... and he was looking right at me.

I made this weird, startled squawking noise that I'm sure wasn't human, and I was thankful that Skylar wasn't within range to hear it.

Commence the panic...

Why was he coming over here?! To sell me a joint? I didn't even smoke! I'd never done any drugs, and the only time I ever drank alcohol was when I mistook my dad's beer can for Pepsi when I was, like, seven!

Oh my god, what if there was something on my face? Somehow, maintaining my outer composure, I was able to wipe my mouth without seeming as though I was panicking... which I was.

Skylar did that nod, ya' know, that thing that guys do as like a silent, "What's up?" I managed a small smile, but it was more like a lip twitch. I could feel my whole face going into a spasm because I didn't know how I was supposed to look. Skylar looked calm and completely unaffected (and attractive), and I looked like I just had a stroke... I probably did.

"Hey," Skylar lazily drawled in that deep voice of his as he plopped himself next to me. He snatched a fry from my tray, looking completely comfortable.

"Hi," I said. I thought I would've either fainted or squeaked, but I actually sounded normal. My conscience threw a party: "Great job, Jake! Congratulations, you don't sound like a prepubescent Snow White!"

I cleared my throat and somehow mustered the courage to form a competent sentence. "What're you doing over here?"

He shrugged. "You're Matt's friend, and he'd kick me in the nuts if he knew that I let you eat lunch by yourself like a loser."

Did he just call me a loser? Well, at least he was talking to me.

"Oh, thanks," I lowly said.

He shrugged again in complete nonchalance.

You know those awkward silences that make you want to gouge out your own eyeballs? Yeah, well I'd say anything to prevent that from happening with Skylar. "Uh," I stammered, "you have a lot of tattoos." Then, I felt like slamming my face into the bleachers. I could have said something so much cooler, like... like.. damn it! I'm such a loser!

He snatched another fry. "Yeah, I'm practice skin," he murmured.

"What?" I balked.

"A couple of my friends are aspiring tattoo artists. I let them use me for practice."

"Your friends are really good," I smiled, and, for a reason unexplainable, I started to actually feel almost at ease. This was going better than I ever thought it would. I was sure that if I ever talked to Skylar, I'd say something really stupid, like mentioning him getting arrested for having drugs on school grounds last year, or I thought I'd faint before the conversation even started, so this was a milestone for me right now.

He turned to me, and his brown eyes were so transfixing that I felt like they were piercing into my soul. Then, he licked his lips and smirked. "You want one?"

"No!" I shrieked. "My dad would kill me if he found out I got a tattoo... Plus, doesn't it hurt?"

"It's a good kind of pain," he smiled.

I think that's the first time I've ever seen him smile. He should do it more often. It really suited him.

"You'll have a tattoo before the end of this year," he asserted. "You'll want one, and if you try to back out, I'll hold you down myself."

"What makes you so sure I want one?" I rebuffed.

"You wouldn't keep staring at my arms if you didn't."

He was a lot more observational than I thought he was. But not as much as me. "Actually, I was looking at that string hanging from you sleeve." Surprising even myself, I reached over and pulled it from his shirt. My conscience celebrated once more: "Yes, Jake! Good job, you finally realized that he's not a vicious dragon who'll bit your damn head off if you get too close!"

Skylar threw his head back with a hearty laugh, and I swore my heart melted and oozed out of the pores of my chest. This huge, goofy grin overwhelmed me at the sound of his laughter. It was sweet to the ears, like candy was to the tongue.

"Do you have a favorite?" I asked.

"Yeah," he nodded and pointed to his right arm, "this one."

I didn't notice it before because the bright colors of the Pac-Man ghosts above overshadowed it, but, running from his right wrist up to his inner elbow, were small, beautiful letters in cursive. "What's it say?" I asked, craning my neck at an awkward angle to read it.

"His head is made of stars, but not yet arranged into constellations," Skylar read. "It's from Elias Canetti."

"I have no idea who that is," I divulged, to which he chuckled, "but that sounds very poetic. You seem to really like things astronomy related."

The bells wailed to signal that class was back in session, and the teachers were coming out to usher students back inside.

Skylar lazily climbed to his feet. Taking one last french fry, which had surely gotten cold by then, he smiled. "In the words of Jack London, 'I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet'... See ya' in sixth hour."

Then he walked away like he hadn't just left me completely stupified trying to decipher the meaning of his tattoo and the quote about meteors and planets. Miserably failing at trying to sound as astrologically poetic as Skylar, I think my planet may have collided with his.

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