Fallen Star (part 30)

Jodi looked from the six-sided star tattoo on the back of the lady’s hand to her plump, rosy-cheeked face. “I want to know what happened,” she said. The tattooed lady frowned sympathetically. “You know what happened.” “I know mom was killed—” Jodi stopped, her throat constricting with emotion. She closed her eyes, willing herself to

Fallen Star (part 25)

No one had told her and Stacy what had happened to their mother, other than she was dead. Their father and step-mother had kept media out of the house, no television or radios had been turned on without them being present, they’d stopped their subscription to the newspaper, and had enrolled Stacy and Jodi in

Fallen Star (part 20)

“There wasn’t any lady,” Stacy announced. Her feet swung inches above the carpet. Jodi swiveled her entire body until she gaped at her sister. “Yes, there was.” Stacy shook her head, the tips of her blonde pony tail hitting the sides of her cheeks. “Uh uh.” Jodi let go of Stacy’s hand and turned to

Fallen Star (part 19)

“I remember all of it,” Stacy volunteered. Since that day, Stacy had abandoned her idea that by not talking about things, you could keep them from being real. She told the story to anyone who listened, and she told Dr. Mitchell everything—from getting up that morning, to taking the bus downtown, to wondering where their

Fallen Star (part 18)

They were asked to tell him everything about the day of the street fair that they could remember. “Why do you need to know that?” Stacy asked. Dr. Mitchell steepled his long fingers under his goateed chin. “Do you remember that day?” “Yes,” Stacy answered. “And you?” he nodded at Jodi. “Some,” Jodi said. “Which