Prologue

 

Thirty-Four Years Ago…

 

“Starlight, starbright… First star I see tonight…” 

Alyssa began the rhyme in her sweet, melodious voice, just like she did every night. Xander leaned against the rusty railing beside her, trying not to get a sliver of metal in his arm. Piece of crap balcony. 

A part of him wanted to tell her wishes don’t come true. That the people who are supposed to love and care for you the most end up leaving. And to survive in this world, it takes a whole lot more than hopes and dreams.

Something as juvenile as wishing on stars? A complete waste of time.

But what did he know? People were quick to remind him he was just a stupid kid who should keep his mouth shut. 

Besides, he didn’t want to make his little sister cry.

Together, they stared up at the dark sky, dreary and overcast, and he frowned. “I don’t know what star you’re wishing on, Lyss,” he grumbled. “All I see are clouds.”

She paused halfway through the rhyme and pointed to a specific spot. “Right there!”

Squinting, he finally spotted the celestial speck. It proved to be a special kind of challenge when you lived in downtown Chicago, surrounded by the city lights, but Alyssa had a talent for knowing right where to look. 

Three floors below, a pedestrian stepped off the curb as a car turned the corner. A honk split the air and the pedestrian jumped backward. After a colorful exchange of bad words and insulting gestures, the car squealed away, and the nearly-flattened pedestrian yelled a reverberating, “Fuck you!”

He’d like to think Alyssa was too wrapped up in pointing out the faded star to pay any attention to what was happening down below. The sad truth was they were used to the rough neighborhood and all it entailed. 

“Look straight above that sign.” She lifted her hand and pointed again with more determination. “Can’t you see it?”

“Barely.” When her small shoulders deflated, guilt pricked at him. “Oh, wait, now I see it better.” He slung his arm around her. “Keep going and make your wish.”

Xander might only be eight, but he was the man of the house, and part of his job was to watch over his baby sister. Protect and care for her. Because if he didn’t do it, no one would. Their mother wasn’t around much, tending to disappear for days on end doing God only knew what.

Like tonight. Once again it was just him and Alyssa, and their stargazing marked the end of the third day of their mom’s absence. Truth be told, he was getting anxious. Sure, he was worried about her the way a child with too much knowledge of the world worried. But more than that, this time around, their food supply was precariously low.

Alyssa finished the rhyme, then in a low voice, she added, “I wished for Mommy to come home soon.” 

Yeah, he wasn’t going to hold his breath. Typically, she left for a couple of days. Her longest disappearance had lasted one week. Whenever she returned, he never knew what to expect. Sometimes she had bruises. Other times she was smiling and pulled a fistful of money out of her purse.

When Alyssa’s stomach growled, Xander straightened up. Dammit. He’d rummaged through the cupboards earlier and the only things he’d found wouldn’t fill either of them up.

“C’mon,” he murmured, turning and tugging her back into the dimly-lit apartment. Since it was a warm summer evening, he left the balcony’s sliding glass door open. Not that there was a breeze. The stagnant city air never seemed to move much, and the circulation in their small apartment was practically nonexistent.

There wasn’t much to the place. A saggy plaid couch covered in stains he tried not to think about when he slept on it every night. It also reeked of cigarettes, the odor barely covering the sour scent of spilled milk and mildew. A fringed lamp next to it provided barely a hint of light, and most nights he was afraid to turn it on because it was probably a huge fire hazard. Ugly brown shag carpeting covered the cold floors, so thick he’d lost pennies in it. The TV usually worked, but you had to play with the rabbit ears to make the picture clear. And the single bedroom was devoid of furniture save an old mattress on the floor that Lyss and his mom shared.

“Is there anything to eat?” Alyssa asked, shrugging out from under his arm and laying her small hands against her rumbling tummy.

“I’ll always find you something to eat,” he promised her. Even if it meant he went to bed hungry. 

Because Lyss was only six. She couldn’t take care of herself. That was up to him. Well, technically, it should’ve been his mother’s responsibility, but she’d made it clear they couldn’t rely on her. More than once she’d told them kids strapped a person down, and she didn’t like that. Apparently, their dad thought the same thing because they’d never even met him.

Dragging a chair over to the cupboard, Xander climbed up on it, leaned against the yellowed linoleum counter, and opened it. He hated being so short and couldn’t wait for the day when he’d grow big and strong. Then it would be so much easier to get things done and take care of Lyss.

An almost empty jar of peanut butter and an open sleeve of crackers sat on the lowest shelf. A cockroach skittered back into the darkness, and he hoped the stupid thing hadn’t been eating their only food. So gross. But he wasn’t going to mention it to Lyss, who looked up at him with big blue eyes.

“Anything?” she asked, so hopeful. 

That was the thing he loved most about his little sister. No matter how crappy their situation, she always kept the faith that everything would be okay. Her smile was wide and carefree, and despite the endless days of nothing good, she possessed such a cheery outlook. The complete opposite of him.

Lyss, ever the idealist, lived up in the clouds with her treasured stars, while Xander kept his feet firmly planted on the ground. He was a realist, already adopting a very pragmatic view of the world.

Xander triumphantly lifted his meager finds then hopped down. His sister clapped her hands while he grabbed a couple of spoons, and they sat down at the small table by the window. But after unscrewing the lid, his heart sank. Welp, no PB for him tonight. 

After carefully scraping out what was left on the bottom, he handed the spoon to Lyss and reached for a stale cracker, trying not to inspect it too closely for little roach bites.

“What about you, Xan?” She licked away, eyeing the other spoon he’d set aside.

“It’s okay. I’m really not that hungry.” A lie, but she didn’t need to know. He wanted her to enjoy the spoonful of peanut butter, guilt-free. 

Situations like this one probably explained why he was so little, even smaller than some girls he knew. Too scrawny. His mother never cooked anything substantial for them. Sometimes, they’d get lucky and she’d return with happy meals from McDonalds. But only if she made some money while she was out doing whatever it was she did.

He might only be a kid, but he wasn’t stupid. Although his mother rarely brought anyone to the apartment, she had returned with strange men a couple of times. It had been late, and she’d thought Xander was asleep on the couch. Or she didn’t care if he wasn’t. Both times, she’d staggered out onto the balcony, pulling the man behind her, and closed the door. He’d still heard the grunts. The slap of flesh. Saw them going at it in the shadows. It had reminded him of the time he’d seen two dogs humping in the street.

Yeah, Darla Hawkings wasn’t much of a role model. But other than Alyssa, she was all he had. And he figured a bad mom was better than no mom.

“Thirsty?” Xander asked, and Alyssa nodded.

Getting up, he dragged his chair over to the sink. Once again, he climbed up so he could reach. After filling the two grimy glasses with tap water, he stepped back down and handed one to Lyss. Lukewarm. The water never got too cold in the summer or too hot in the winter. No matter how much he turned one handle or the other, it was always the same tepid temperature and slightly gritty taste.

“Thanks.” She took a long drink then sighed. Happy and content with so very little. On one hand he envied her. How she could go through life thinking everything was okay. On the other, his frustration at what she considered good grew each day.

Xander finished his whole glass. Filling his belly with water usually helped keep it from rumbling too much when he didn’t eat. “It’s getting late. You should go take your bath.”

“Okay!” She hopped off the chair, pigtails swaying and humming a tune as she went to wash up.

Since they’d stopped going to school, they spent their days in the apartment, but that didn’t mean they were dirty. Xander made sure they both washed up with the increasingly disappearing bar of soap on the tub’s ledge. Everything was disappearing. It seemed like each time their mother disappeared, she left them with less and less. If she didn’t return soon, he’d have to venture out and find food.

He didn’t have money, but necessity had made him sly and he knew where to look for whatever they needed. The dumpsters in the alley behind the corner grocery store proved to be a plentiful resource. Once food expired, they had to toss it, even though most of it was perfectly usable. The clerks usually took pity on him and let him paw through the scraps and discarded products. And he always made sure he was there waiting before it got thrown into the dumpster. He’d been too late a couple times early on in his supply scouting days and had to climb into the stinky, slimy dumpster. So gross.

Once Alyssa finished in the bathroom, he made sure she got her PJs on okay and tucked her into bed.

“Night, Xan.” She hugged a ratty-looking teddy bear in her arms. He’d found it in the nearby park two years ago, just laying on the ground. Probably fell out of a stroller. He’d scooped it up, brushed off the dirt, and given it to Alyssa on her birthday. She’d named it Waffles—her favorite food—and declared it was the best present she’d ever received. 

“Night, sis.” He turned the overhead light off and backed out. Trying to ignore the hunger pangs wreaking havoc on his stomach, he washed up in the bathroom, put his PJs on, and lay down on the couch. Turning onto his side, he stared out the open balcony door and wondered when they’d see their mother again.

As it turned out, the answer to that question was never.