Part 5

Stars Come Out



It was a busy weekend. We went out for a family dinner on Friday, then after volleyball on Saturday it was an art gallery. I suppose it was my fault. Mama and Papa had noticed me carrying those poetry books around, "and anyway honey, you do so love drawing." Don't get me wrong, it was okay, but classical art hasn't often managed to keep my attention. I draw things, I'm not an *artist*.

Then on Sunday, Grandmama Maxine came to visit. She was so tiny, and yet so loud, like a mouse speaking through a bullhorn. I can still hear her now, holding forth across the dinner table. When she heard that I'd been reading the sonnets, she didn't stop talking and congratulating and recommending for thirty minutes. I didn't time her, but the shadows outside were definitely longer by the time she'd finished. She promised to bring me more books.

I was so tired at the end of the day that I just collapsed on my bed with one of my sister's old Nancy Drews. Comfort food for a tired brain.

On Monday I didn't get back to Amy until just before bedtime. Studying, dinner, and TV will do that to you. And there was something really weird.



I read that message over and over a few times, as well.

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Message to: Tiberius

Don't you hope that by the 24th century, humans have evolved past the point where they need to solve every single problem with violence? That bald guy is a scholar and a diplomat. Wouldn't the world be a better place if we had more of those in the military?
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I sighed in exasperation, and then remembered that I hadn't written back to Emilia. It was hard, though.

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Message to: *Emilia

Um, sorry I didn't write back right away! Busy weekend, you know?

I'm not sure what you mean about self-identity, though. It's a bit cryptic? Like, what are you not certain of?
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I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I didn't switch Amy off, though.



I knew it was worth checking in again just before bedtime.



Yeah, whatever yourself. I put him out of my mind and opened the other message.



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Message to: *Emilia

Don't worry, I know complicated. And I know how difficult it is if you don't have anyone to talk to.

You can always talk to me, though. Isn't it odd? I don't even know what you look like, but I know what poets you like.

And I know I can trust you.
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I sent it. I should have gone to bed.



I didn't go to bed.



I thought about that for a while; eventually, all I could say was

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Message to: *Emilia

Thanks :-)

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Then I switched Amy off.



I was late for school the next day.