Under The Stars Read online

  Under The Stars

  Danielle Norman

  Copyright © 2019 by Danielle Norman

  and F Squared, LLP

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission from either the author and or the above named publisher of this book with the exception for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction.

  The name Danielle Norman® is a registered Trademark

  Contents

  Under the Stars

  1. George

  2. Christine

  3. George

  4. George

  5. Christine

  6. George

  7. George

  8. Christine

  9. George

  10. George

  11. Christine

  12. George

  13. Christine

  14. George

  Epilogue

  Another Epilogue

  Meet Danielle

  Lets Socialize

  Also by Danielle Norman

  Enough

  Stetson

  Getting Even

  Acknowledgments

  To all the parents that told my mother in the sweetest confidence that I was going to grow up and be trouble, fuck you.

  You were and probably still are idiots. You know why I was out at 2:00am? Because I was getting your kid’s sorry ass home because they called my house drunk. Yeah, I had to leave home since I had a car.

  You want to know why you caught me sneaking out Joey’s window, because I helped him sneak in about ten minutes earlier. And BELIEVE me, a drunk teenager can’t do much in ten minutes (he’s still in puppy training).

  Here’s to my mom that knew the real me back then. And here’s to the real me that is finally living up to some of those rumors.

  “We are all flawed and creatures of our times.”

  Carl Sagan

  Under the Stars

  Danielle Norman

  George

  We’d all had them, those mini heart attacks that happened when your foot slipped on a stair, when the teacher intercepted a note being passed to you, or when you’d been dropped off at your house after having snuck out and all the lights were on.

  “What is up with your digs, man, is it some holiday in your country?”

  I turned to look at Skeeter. Yes, his name really was Skeeter, as in, that was what was on his driver’s license. “My country? I was born in Tarpon Springs, Florida. You mean because we’re Greek?”

  “Yeah, you know what I mean, your family is just so . . . I don’t know . . . not like mine.”

  “So . . .” Rebecca, Skeeter’s latest girlfriend, popped her head up from the back seat and asked, “Man, does a lot of your family live in that house? Like one family per room?”

  “No. My mother was expecting her sisters from Greece, they must have arrived sooner than we thought.” I quickly worked through all my escape and reentry routes in my head, trying to figure out which one would work best and have the least risk of exposure. “You can let me out here. Thanks, man. Bye.” I got out of the car and took one last drag off my cigarette before tossing it out and making my way around the house. When I got to the bay window, I crouched behind the shrubs, watching the shadows that moved just inside the room beyond.

  When the coast was clear, I headed to the right side of the house, keeping my momentum going as I lunged to grab hold of the trellis that had gardenias woven through the latticework. I’d done this a million times, let alone it was my third time this week.

  You know that cartoon with Wile E. Coyote where he chased the Roadrunner through the canyons? He always almost got him and then missed. He usually ended up dangling off a high cliff, looking down just before the rocks broke and he fell. Yeah, well, I knew at that precise moment how he felt. I heard the creak, the groan, and then the pop. Not like the pop of a balloon, either. No, this was the pop of a trellis being pulled from the side of a damn house.

  I looked behind me to calculate my fall and try to see if there was anything that I could do so I didn’t kill myself, because everything else was out of my control.

  The wood snapped and fell to the pavement.

  The top part of the arch caved in, and I jumped, trying to land on my feet, but had to roll instead.

  Bright lights broke the night sky and all the voices in the house went from normal talking level to screaming as people came running out.

  “George, George, are you okay?” My aunt Calliope threw one hand over her chest.

  “What are you doing down there, boy?” my uncle asked.

  Family members knelt beside me, examining me and making sure that I was all right. When my eyes landed on my parents—who were the only ones still standing—and their scowls, I knew that tonight was not going to be good.

  “Are you hurt?” Mama asked.

  “Just my pride.”

  “Come, Dionysia.” Mama took my younger sister by the hand and headed back inside, my aunts and their husbands following.

  I rolled over and got on all fours, aching as I pulled myself up. Turning around, I met the angry gaze of my father. “Get up to your room. Do not leave, I mean it, George, do not try me on this. I’ve had it with your behavior recently.”

  I walked off, god, I needed a smoke. Patting my back pocket, I realized that I must have dropped them in the fall. Looking back, I saw Pops picking up my almost brand-new pack and shaking his head. Yeah, I wasn’t going to ask for those back. I had more upstairs anyway.

  * * *

  “What?” I barked at whoever was knocking at my door. Digging the palms of my hands into my eyes, I waited a few seconds and then tried to clear away the sleep. Truthfully, I was hoping whoever was at the door would go away.

  The banging continued.

  “What?”

  “Open this damn door. Now!” my father bellowed.

  “I’m sleeping.” I threw a pillow over my head to try to muffle the noise. It didn’t help.

  “Don’t ever lock me out or ignore me again. This is my house.”

  Bam!

  I jumped up and looked toward the door, which was now hanging off the hinges.

  “Man . . .”

  “I’m not your man.”

  “You just broke the door!”

  “It’s my room. This is my house, and you’re my son. Until you’re eighteen and can make your own decisions and pay for your own house, you will do as I say, beginning with getting out of that bed and getting your ass downstairs now.” My father turned, but not before calling me a vlakas under his breath. He didn’t call me a jackass often, usually just when he was extremely mad.

  Groaning loudly, I threw on my jeans and a T-shirt and then ran downstairs to where Mama and Pops were sitting. In the center of the table was my pack of cigarettes from last night. What wasn’t in view were my sister, aunts, uncles, or cousins. Instantly, sweat trickled down my spine, this was bad . . . very, very bad. Most of Pops’ family had migrated to America, but Mama’s was still in Greece, so when they visited, they stayed with us, they didn’t have anywhere else to go, but they were scarce now.

  “Sit,” Pops demanded. “You’re the first one of us born in America, we wanted you to have everything that we didn’t. But, we failed.” I turned my attention to my mom, but she was wringing her hands, not looking at me. “Your mama
and I stayed up a long time last night and talked with your Pappous and Yia Yia Diamandis.” My mama’s parents.

  “So?”

  “Don’t be disrespectful, you’re lucky that you still have teeth. Your mama and I have given you too much freedom. We are sending you to Greece to stay with Pappous and Yia Yia for the summer. Your uncles are going to teach you how to dive, you can help them in the sponge business.”

  “I won’t go.”

  “You don’t have a choice. You’re a minor.” My father’s voice was adamant.

  “I’ve graduated high school, I’ll be eighteen at the end of July.”

  “The end of July you can buy your ticket back and move into your own home if you want, you’ll be an adult and you can make your own decisions. Until then, we are in charge.”

  “When is this supposed trip?” I seriously doubted that I’d go. I fully intended to talk with my mama, I was her little boy, she wouldn’t send me.

  “You leave on Saturday with your aunt Calliope.”

  I pushed my chair away from the table. “Saturday? That’s three days away.”

  “Correct, and three days later than I wanted. I will continue paying for your car while you’re gone, provided I hear only good things from Pappous and Yia Yia. If you so much as give them one ounce of trouble, I’m selling it.”

  “It’s mine.”

  “No, it’s mine. I bought the car. You only pay for the insurance and gas that you use with money that I give you from my company. George, you need to step back and look, you have no clue how good your life really is, but you’re about to.”

  Pops got up and left the table, I reached for the cigarettes to slide them into my pocket, but Mama was faster. She’d been quiet this entire time. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

  “You’re really going to get rid of me?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, George, it’s just for the summer. You’ll be with my family, and my brothers love you. Plus, you and your cousin, Corban, always have fun, and he’ll be one of the guys teaching you how to sponge dive.” She paused and let out a slow breath. “You’re used to getting whatever you want. I need you to learn to be a man, to work hard, find something that is so important to you that you’re willing to change for it.” My mama reached up and wiped away a single tear that ran down her cheek. “George, what do you care about, is there anything that makes you want to be a better person? A girl perhaps?”

  I shifted in my seat, because except for the occasional hook-up there weren’t any girls I cared about and definitely none worth bringing home.

  “I’m going to miss you. But I miss my sweet boy so much more.”

  “I’m not a boy anymore, Mama.”

  “I know, but you aren’t a man either. Men are not disrespectful, they do not go in late to work, sneak out windows, lie, and smoke.”

  “You really think going to Greece will make me a man? We go every year.”

  “No, moro mou, I think tough love will make you a man.”

  Christine

  Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I soaked in the sun that was beating down and warming me all the way through my cotton dress. I inhaled the smell of salt water that was always present since we were surrounded by the sea.

  Looking down toward the harbor, tall masts in shades of sun-bleached blue and white whipped in the wind.

  A loud bell chimed, signaling it was time for me to get back to my weekly chores. Scanning the parishioners sitting under the trees in our church’s courtyard, I walked around and handed out homemade baked loukoumades that were dripping in honey.

  Mitera and I had woken just before sunrise like we do every morning. Most days it was to prepare lunches for Papa and my brothers but on Sunday, it was to cook for the Ladies Philoptochos Society.

  “Efcharistó,” I said, thanking what had to be the twentieth person. Yep, I was thanking them, even though I was the one handing out the loukoumades.

  “You’re such a sweet girl, Christine.”

  “Efcharistó.” I thanked her for the compliment that time.

  “Your mama must be so proud.”

  “Efcharistó.” I thanked her for the kind words.

  It was always the same thing, sweet Christine, good girl. I wondered if anyone ever saw me as something or someone other than Maria Petrakis’s good daughter, her mini-me. I felt guilty for thinking that as I stood on church soil; I should be on my best behavior here, but just once, I wanted someone to see me. Unfortunately, that would never happen unless I went somewhere exotic. Maybe my parents would let me go to America and visit family, because while some people would think where we lived was exotic, it wasn’t. The village of Pothia on the small island of Kalymnos was just a tiny town where everyone knew everyone.

  Yanked from my daydreams of a future where someday I’d be someone else, I peered down into the greedy eyes of children just leaving Sunday school. They were fighting to be first in line for a treat. “Patience, take turns, I have enough for all of you.”

  “Christine.”

  “Christine.”

  “Christine.” I was called in several directions, but it was the last one that caught my attention. “Christine.” I smiled at Monika and Zoe, my two best friends, who stood at the edge of our church courtyard waving to me. Come on, Monika mouthed as she pointed down to her watch.

  “What?” I had no clue what the heck she was talking about, but if Monika decided something was important, then generally that meant it would be adventurous. Adventure was something that I didn’t get much of, so I jumped at any chance I got.

  Then I was handing my mother my basket with the remaining pastries even before I asked. “Mitera, may I go with Monika and Zoe?”

  “Of course. Stay safe.”

  “Always, Mitera.” I kissed my mother’s cheek then ran and kissed Papa’s.

  “She’s going off with that Monika Spanos, that girl is boy crazy,” one of the old biddies from church complained. “Your daughter, Zoe, is going with them as well. Aren’t you concerned?” The woman then chided Mrs. Papadopolous.

  “Christine is with them,” Mrs. Papadopolous announced.

  I should be happy with this trust, right? Wrong. I hated being the goody-two-shoes.

  Racing toward the gate of the courtyard, I grabbed Monika as I passed her and tugged her along. “What was so important?”

  “Mrs. Diamandis told my mother that her grandson from America is arriving today, anytime in fact.”

  I came to an abrupt halt and turned to her. “Did you say America?”

  “Yeah, yeah, but that isn’t the best part, the best part is . . .” She hung her sentence for effect.

  “What?” I asked with exaggerated excitement.

  “He is our age and will be here all summer.” It was Monika’s turn to drag me along, and after a slight hesitation, I followed. “Supposedly, he’s being sent here because he’s driving his parents crazy. Mrs. Diamandis says that he is a good-looking boy but makes bad decisions. Sounds like my kind of man, know what I mean?” Monika wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Holy cow, Monika, slow down before you rip my arm out of the socket.” I yanked free from her hold. “All of this over some boy who’s just visiting?”

  “Fresh meat.”

  “You’re so vulgar.” I laughed.

  “And you love it. Admit it, you are secretly thinking everything that I say.”

  I turned to Zoe for some reinforcement, but Zoe just shook her head. I should have known that she’d be of no use. By the time we got down to the city center and over to the docks, we were panting. “We’re still in our church clothes, it’s going to be kind of obvious that we’ve come to spy, won’t it?”

  “Follow my lead. Act cool.” I guffawed at Monika’s statement, because one thing we weren’t was cool, or at least I wasn’t.

  Most guys didn’t want to stand on tiptoes to kiss a girl, not that I’d know anything about kissing, since I’d yet to meet a guy who was brave enough to try to kiss me. One of my brothers would follow m
e to any party that I went to and whisper to one guy. Before I knew it, whatever had been said had spread through the crowd like the Red Tide, killing off all my hopes and prospects for a kiss.

  “Hurry, hurry, the ferry is coming.” Monika danced around from one foot to the other.

  “Act cool, isn’t that what you said?” I raised one eyebrow and questioned her.

  “Christine, listen very carefully. I love you, and I know you want something other than a life with Julian.” Ugh, why did she have to mention him? The only person who actually liked Julian was Julian. “If he’s taller than you, then this is your chance, and Zoe and I’ll play interference and keep your brothers away. If he’s shorter, then he’s mine. Do we have a deal?”

  My heart raced at her words but before I had a chance to speak, Monika was talking again. “Look, that’s him, isn’t it?” She pointed toward a boy—no, he was more a man, getting off the ferry. “Meh, look at his hair. Mrs. Diamandis is going to cut that immediately. That’s denim, who wears pants like that? What’s his shirt say? What is Woodstock?”

  Yep, Monika was talking, but nothing she said was actually penetrating because there was something about him. Something that reached out and took my breath away. Bending over, I grabbed ahold of my knees and took several deep breaths as I tried to regain control. What had come over me? As he moved closer, I straightened so I could watch him.

  “Could you imagine Julian wearing clothes like that?” Monika whispered. I fought the urge to laugh at that image.