This Star Won't Go Out

Dr. Janie put her hand on Carly’s bed, a weak smile feebly on her face. By this, Carly could feel the tension in the room, hear the thick silence in the five, quiet seconds no one spoke.

“Carly.” Dr. Janie said, her French accent playing along, “We ’ave to tell you some’sing important, some’sing ‘ard to say. You ‘ave ‘ad trouble bree’sing for a while, and we learn ’sat is because you ‘ad fluide in your lungs. Well, we ’sink it is because of pneumonia, but we learn it is because you ’ave tumor in your neck. And so on ’sursday we will send you to ’ospital in Aix en Provence because it is special in child cancer. We will talk to the doctors in Aix about your case, and ’sey are very nice, and ’sey will take good care of you. D’accord? On parles plus demain, mais je dois vais à un autre place. You are very special, Carly. Et on touts t’aime! Plus tarde!”


[Exact date unknown]


My dearest Sophie Amelia Bush,

How are you, precious? Does Suxburry find you agreeable? I dearly wish I could visit you, but we are just moved in to Delham cottage, and I cannot imagine being settled for at least 3 weeks, and by that time you shalt be gone. Love and kisses!


I am yours,

Esther G. Earl. etc. etc.




[Exact date unknown]


Dear Jane,

I sit here, at my desk, wishing dearly you were here, for it is pointless and boring each day. I practice my French each day, and Madame Dupont says if I continue at this excelling rate, I shall be in France, with you soon! Oh! I dearly wish to visit you soon! How is Patrique?— well, I hope?

We all miss you, especially mama! Jane, she runs around wishing you were here to ‘see her get old’!

Ha, I laugh heartily when I think of that story you told about the mama getting old.

I have to help with supper. Des, bisous!


Love

Catherine Lilly Maffy

Your sister




[Exact date unknown]


Maria, Ma belle,

La France, c’est magnifique, je elit, c’est parfait.

Patrique continu à faire toret son traivaille, at je suis à la maison, sans rien a fay –Et ba! Catherine à m’euire hier, et ce dit que vous sont en ai ennui. Pluff! Moi, j’ai beaucoup d’ennir aussi.

Dit à mama que je t’aime, et je reviens depuis un moment!


Sincerement,


Jane Louise Maffy’, la soeur


[Exact date unknown]


Dear Diary, June 16, 1662


Today I sat thinking. What would I do if I lived in a later time? Well, first of all there’d be machines that had their own brains, and they’d do whatever I asked them to. Second of all, I’d clear out the poor populations, and people wouldn’t die, unless they were wanting to. Then, I don’t know, for I am too tired to think.


Yours,

Marie Therise Muffiline


[Winter 2007 -Exact date unknown]


A RING FROM THE BELL on the desk made my heart jump, and I quickly ran to help the next person. My eyes focused on the girl at the counter, her eyebrows arched to the top of her forehead, an annoyed pout on her face. She looked me directly in the eyes, and exhaled impatiently.

“Aren’t you going to ask how you can help me, or are you just going to stand there ogling me?”

I opened my mouth to ask “how to help” her, but all I managed to get out was a cleared throat. My mind was processing the fact that the prettiest girl seemed the most rude, which would result in me uncontrollably asking her why that was unless I kept my words inside my throat.

“Dude, what’s wrong! Is there even service here?” the girl basically screamed, her hands, ironically, on her hips.

“Umm, why do the prettiest girls always seem to be the most . . .” I stopped myself, grabbed a piece of gum from my pocket and quickly stuffed it in my mouth. “Mmm, gum! Want a piece . . . ?”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she noticeably grimaced, “Can I see your manager?” she asked quickly.

“Oh . . . actually I’m—I’m the manager . . .” I mumbled, trying to remove my eyes from her twitching, hair nostrils protruding. I found myself having the urge to reach into the work locker of Mandy—my co-worker—and take her tweezers, then leap across the counter and rip all the hairs out of the girl’s nose. Though I stopped myself, realizing that Mandy had taken her locker keys home, and that might also seem strange. My thoughts were kicked out my nose, however, as I sneezed loudly, causing Brat to stop midsentence.

“You,” Brat started again, since it seemed she’d been speaking earlier, “are the manager of Vidvine?”

Feeling hurt at her tone of impossibleness, I nodded and began to ask, kindly, what she wanted. But, hahaha, she interrupted me.

“You cannot be the manager. You are probably as old as me—maybe younger. So, I need . . .”

“Umm,” I said, dramatically placing my hands on my hips, moving my head quickly.

“I’m seventeen, I’m graduated from high school, and my dad owns this store—so I’m co-manager.”