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Relation by Bria Mcclary

Flavor of a Star

by Peyton Pitts

Splayed on the bench, I kept listening for any dropped words like crumbs. The breeze was lonely, brushing past us like an anxious cat, but still quiet for us to hear the stars crunch together. I pulled my phone from my back pocket and attempted to zoom in on my camera, capturing a shy photo of these stars. They were chunky, blistering stars. A pale color, not at all like the yellow you’d see in those cartoons, but a flesh white, almost tainted blue from the surrounding nothingness. I sat there and pointed to the brightest one, looking over at Will and asking what he thought its story was. He looked puzzled with that furrowed brow and smirk combo as he asked me what sort of question had just leaked from my mind. I felt a rumble as Max laughed beneath me. I had been lying on his chest, feeling a strong heart beat to the rhythm of the wind as I spoke to Will, just a few feet over on the bench. Mira had been lying on top my own chest, though I’m sure she didn’t hear as such a heavy melody. Cody was still off in his own mind, describing the constellation to the west as “Cassie,” his apparent favorite. I didn’t look at Will, I stayed facing the star and paged my curious mind not for answers, but for questions that begged to be.

“Genuinely, what do you think its story is? Why does it have to shine so bright and why is it far away from the other; do you think they had a fight?” He was looking at me now, eyebrows raised with the smirk, he knew I was being serious. Mira took his place in the conversation as she tickled my nose with a bud of lavender.

“I think they broke up,” her finger erupted into view as it accused my bright star, “and that star is budging up next to that one because she wants to make her ex jealous. They’re lesbians, of course.” I felt Max’s breathing shudder as he prepared himself to provide his own input like an old classic, rusty machine turning its wheels for the first time.

“Well, if we’re going on this hypothetical route, they may have been lovers, they may have been friends torn by the seed of jealousy. That star was too bright, and so its friend didn’t want to be out shined and moved away. Shit happens.”

The orb seemed even brighter to me now, like I was getting closer to the truth. I felt like it could hear us, of all the small little things the star saw us. I heard Mira arguing with Max on whether or not this star was a lesbian, and the star just listened to all our little theories on what story it could tell.


About the Writer...

Peyton Pitts is a writer in her third year at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts. She attended Alpha Workshop for Young Writers and has been previously published Elan. She mainly writes in long-form prose, specifically in the genre of horror. This piece is written about a night from her days at Alpha Workshop.

About the Artist...

Bria McClary is a 12th Grader at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts. At the school, Bria is an arts major who dedicates their life to her artistry. They create art, generally in paints, and many kinds of mixed medias like cloths, collage, embroidery, inks, and charcoal because of the looseness the materials give and create with freedom in creating such pieces. Bria also has been a part of NAHS—National Arts Honors Society, and DA Black Arts Club throughout her junior and Senior year at Douglas Anderson. Entering and winning multiple silver keys and a scholarship from Scholastic Art and Writing Awards is also an accomplishment she is most happy about!

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