3

The vans were loaded, the house was empty, the sun was setting.  Both Loxley and Robin had been trying to stay out of people’s way, because the house was very full.  There had been so many people in and out of the house for the past weeks, and today had been no exception.  Over half a dozen people were there to help pack up the last few things, and one family was even staying the night to help bring everything and everyone to the airport in the morning.  Robin’s friend and her friend’s mom had just left and Robin stood on the front porch watching their taillights grow closer and closer together as their car drove further and further away until the two red lights merged into one and at long last disappeared.  Robin felt something brush against her leg and she looked down to see Loxley standing there.

“Oh, Loxley,” Robin sighed, “why me?  It’s as if everything I ever cared about I’m leaving behind.  My plans for college, my hopes for a career, poof! all gone with one blow.  And my home, Loxley—I was meant to live in a place like this!  The dirt of…of the country, you know, it runs in my veins!  I know the paths the coyotes take every winter, and I can call to them in their own language.  I know exactly when the farmers are about to break out their combines every fall.  I could probably even tell you what each field around us is due to have planted next year!  And all my friends are staying except you.  What am I going to do?  You know I turn into a hermit when I don’t have any of my friends.”

“Though even as it’s been until now, you didn’t really see any of them that often,” Loxley commented.  “It’s not as big of a change as you think.”

“It is, though!  It’s hard enough for me to socialize with anyone, even my own friends!  What’s going to happen when I don’t know anybody?”

“Let’s go out into the back yard,” Loxley said.  “Looking at the road always makes you melancholy.  Besides, you want to drink in the view of the stars as long as you can.  You won’t be seeing them in the city, you know.”

“I know,” Robin said gloomily.  They went past the house, going a bit out of their way to be sure the light from the windows didn’t reach them so they wouldn’t attract attention from those inside.  When they got to the back yard, they stood with the house behind them and the church graveyard on their left and they looked up.

Across the white-flecked sea of black velvet stretched the band of faint silver that was the Milky Way.  The stars flickered and winked, and a little to their right a small dot crept along, alternating green and red blinks: it was an airplane, flying so high up that Robin and Loxley on the ground couldn’t hear the sound of the engines.

“You know,” Loxley said distractedly, “you could try making new friends.”

“I could try.  But what are the chances that that’s going to happen?  30 percent maybe, 40 if I change my personality.”

“Or,” Loxley added as an afterthought, “you could try the hermit thing.  It’s going to be a trick in a city that big, though.”

“I’m up to the challenge,” Robin said.

“Maybe,” Loxley said.  “I’m not entirely opposed to the idea myself.”

“I know.”  Robin tipped her head to the side a little.  “There’s the Big Dipper,” she said, pointing.  “Hello, big guy!  I’m going to miss you.  Now just a moment…”  She closed one eye and began measuring her view of the sky with her hands.  “Yes!  Look, Loxley!  My star is out!  Golly, I haven’t seen him in a while!”  She bit her lip in a happy expression as she greeted the little speck of light that slowly changed from pink to green to blue to white.

“Eärendil,” Loxley commented.  Robin nodded.

“Named after the star in Middle Earth,” she said softly. “I know that Venus is supposed to be Eärendil, but I thought I’d give the name to a star, too, since Venus is a planet.”  Robin and Loxley watched the colors of the star oscillate for a while.  But slowly Robin’s smile faded.  “What am I going to do without the stars, Loxley?” she asked.  “And what am I going to do without the world to myself anymore?  I won’t be able to go outside and sing whenever I’m feeling lonely.  There will be people everywhere when I’m living in the city.”

“You’ll have your own room,” Loxley said, “for the first time in your life!”

“Yeah, and that’s great.  But I’d trade having my own room to having my own star any day.  Best of all would be if I could have both.”

“Well, you can’t have both.”

“I know.  But I wish I could all the same.”

“Of course.”

Then there was a long silence, which Robin broke at last by saying, “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to have one last go at singing at the top of my lungs, since I’m guessing it will be a while before I have another chance to do that.”

“Go ahead.”

So Robin started to sing, and after going through three or four songs, she looked out towards the horizon where the golden lights of their neighbor’s farmhouse twinkled warmly.

“I’m going to miss this place so much!” Robin whispered.

“As am I,” Loxley agreed.

“We’d better go back inside or I’ll be out here all night.”  Robin gave the sky one last long look and then tore her gaze away and started back to the house.  The grass was already wet with dew, and though it was still late summer her bare feet were very cold.  “I wonder if I’ll be able to go barefoot outside there?” she wondered out loud.  “Probably not.”

They crossed the ditch, not using the old wood-planks bridge that Robin’s father had put there years before and was now worn smooth with weather and use, but by jumping over the ditch, because it was not as deep or wide as it once had been.  They had to pass by the old swing set on their way to the house, the very old one that had been there when Robin’s family had moved in.  Robin gave one of the swings a half-hearted push.  “I’m going to miss all of this!” she exclaimed.  “What am I going to do with myself every day?”  Loxley didn’t answer and Robin shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans.  “I’m sure stuff will come up that I’d rather not do, of course.”

“And maybe,” Loxley offered, “stuff will come up that is far more interesting than you could ever have imagined.”

Robin shrugged.  “Maybe.”