A Handful of Stars

The tide was already starting to recede. The water level gently descended with each slosh of a new wave, the change barely noticeable until after a long passage of time, discreet as night descending onto the day. It revealed a smooth, wet expanse of sand, leaving no trace of the footprints from a woman picking seashells just a few hours before. I've spent a good portion of the afternoon sitting here at the bay. In fact, I've sat here almost long enough to witness a full tidal cycle. The water had slowly crept up the shore, covering the scattered rocks and over the heads of tiny crabs scuttling across the sand. It had almost reached where I was sitting, on an old log some distance away from the shoreline, my toes tingling in anticipation of the feeling of cold ocean water washing over my feet. But the tide stopped a few inches away, and my toes continued to dig into crisp, dry sand as I stared out into the blue distance.

I often spent my afternoons here, soaking in the blue waters surrounding Malta, the distant, grey forms of rock and the bright expanse of sky lit by an abundance of sunshine. On some days an occasional boat would row by, but no ships came to this bay as it was surrounded by a rocky terrain, and quite a ways from the city.

And so my ears have become accustomed to the sound of waves, the cry of birds and the rustling of grass rather than the habitual sounds of the metropolis, where most other children grew up and lived. If someone were to ask me which I preferred, I wouldn't know how to answer. I don't know the feeling of living in the metropolis and probably never will, although that doesn't bother me much.

"Kouri!"

I turned at the sound of my name. Emilee, my younger sister who recently turned eleven, came running down the hill towards me, her usual summer dress fluttering with every quick step. She reached where I was sitting and stopped, bent over slightly with her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

Straightening up, she brushed her blond hair out of her eyes and said, "You're still here! What're you doing?"

I gave a tiny wave and shrugged. "You know I like sitting here."

"Yeah, but you've been here for hours!"

I chuckled. "Pretty much half the day, actually. The tide was low when I came in the morning."

"It's high tide already?"

"Today's Lunar Day, so there's going to be two high tides and two low tides."

"Ohhh," Emilee said, her eyes round and intrigued. "I read in a book last week that waves have something to do with the moon." She gave me a curious look. "How come you know all this, Kor?"

"Because I pay attention in geography class. By the way, the lady with the seashells came by again earlier," I told her. "I think I saw her pick up at least two of those pink shells you were looking for on Sunday."

"Really?!" she exclaimed, her lit expression revealing her excitement. "Where did she find them?"

"Somewhere near that clump of rocks," I said, pointing it out to her. "You can probably just ask her next time, maybe she'll give one of them to you. Don't we see her sometimes at the bakeries?"

"That's true," Emilee said thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll ask her next time." She smiled happily at the thought.

"So what made you come here? Weren't you painting with Arden on that new canvas Mrs. Applewood brought back yesterday?"

"Oh!" Emilee said, as if remembering something. "Yes I was, but then Mrs. Applewood asked me to come get you. I think she needs some help with carrying more firewood from the shack."

"We're out of wood already?"

"Well…" She bit her lip in hesitation. "I think Bryan was trying to put together some sort of obstacle course yesterday during free time. He accidentally rolled a couple of logs into the bog." Flustered, she leaned in closer, her small hands reaching up to cup my ear. She whispered, "I'm not supposed to know, I just happened to see it when I went to get more milk from Bess. Don't tell Bryan, okay?" She leaned back and looked at me urgently.

"I won't," I assured her.

Immediately, Emilee looked relieved. It was always easy to read Emilee's feelings. My sister had the kind of honest innocence that allowed others to tell what she was thinking just from the expression on her face. I can't imagine why anyone would want to abandon her. We're discouraged from thinking about that, though.

We started walking back up the hill towards the house, which was about a fifteen minute walk from the bay. Emilee hummed a tune from the morning radio, skipping a few paces ahead of me. I prefer walking at a steady pace and taking my time; after all, there's no rush to do anything around here as long as things get done sometime. We've been raised to follow schedules well though, and we all get things done together.

All of us get up in the morning at about eight'o'clock, a while after the sun rises. I usually get woken up by the boys sleeping around me as they groan and clumsily stumble out of bed when the morning bell rings. I have no idea how the girls can file so neatly into the dining hall like they do, it's always a battlefield of scattered bedsheets and cumbersome bodies in our room. When we finally manage to get out of the bedroom, plates of toast, eggs, ham and orange juice await us on the long table in the dining hall. Sometimes we get apple juice, and on Sundays, we have milk fresh from Bess, the cow we help take care of. Teachers usually have coffee on Sundays, and they sometimes allow some of us older ones to have a taste.

Coffee is a luxury especially in the outskirts where we live. I hear that coffee used to be more common, but coffee beans are hard to cultivate and we definitely can't grow them here. They're only available in certain parts of the world, but even there they're limited in quantity, thus making the price for a cup of coffee extremely high. This is what Miss Jeanie told me when I asked why they only have coffee on Sundays. I think Miss Jeanie also has a friend living in Brazil who ships a pack of coffee beans to us every year; otherwise, coffee is sold at an even more unbelievable price in the metropolis.

But people in the metropolis can afford it. Last time I went into town, I saw a girl of about my age, sixteen, drinking from a large cup of coffee with whom I assumed to be her parents. They were in a shop with large windows. Maybe parents can afford these kinds of things if they only have a few children, I don't know. It definitely wouldn't be possible for a place like ours, where we have twenty-six kids in addition to three teachers, a cook and a housekeeper.

Emilee and I arrive back at the house, a two-storey building with windows in every room and big, front doors that are usually left open during the day and only closed after we finish dinner. The building is made of bricks alternating between red and brown, and a black, shingled roof covered the top with a big sign that read "Riddelwing Industrial School". Like any other weekday, we had school this morning from nine-thirty to about noon, where we receive basic education like they do in the metropolis. We would have lunch, and then we have special classes that differ depending on which industry we want to go into after we turn eighteen. These classes are everyday for one hour long, and they're made to train us in particular fields so we can start working in our chosen industry by the time we're old enough to leave Riddelwing.

Meanwhile, during our time at Riddelwing, we are given lots of free time in the afternoons. After our one hour of training, we're free to do anything we want until dinnertime at six, and then we help around the house with chores. Or sometimes we play games, until we feel tired and slip out to bed one by one.

I usually like to go to bed at about half past eleven, then I lie in bed for a good hour thinking about everything, or sometimes nothing at all. The other boys fall asleep pretty fast; some of them crawl into their own beds long after I do but still manage to fall asleep before me, snoring without a care in the world. Not that the snoring bothers me, I suppose we're all used to this kind of lifestyle.

Most of us grew up here at Riddelwing from an early age. I was brought here when I was five and Emilee was just born. Some of the other kids came here at earlier ages, some later. None of us think too much about our previous families though. One's memory of their parents usually fade after a few years at Riddelwing, and none of us really mind since everyone is kind to us and we're happy living here.

There are a few other industrial schools around the country--all on the outskirts, of course. According to what Miss Jeanie taught us in history classes, there used to be a "middle" class of citizens who were neither categorized as "rich" or "poor". Nowadays, it's different. Most people have developed economically one way or another and have moved to what we call the "metropolis"--dense, urban cities--and all the world's attention is now focused on such places.

Thus the countryside, or the "outskirts", are neglected and left for us to live in. Most parentless children like us are placed at orphanages, now technically called "industrial schools", in the countryside so we can be raised to work in industries in order to meet the needs of those living in the metropolis. Lumber, coal, electricity, food manufacturing… there are many industries and we're free to choose which field we want to enter into when we grow up. We've been told that the number of people willing to do these kinds of practical jobs has been decreasing in the past century, so they count on orphans and children with no social status to grow up and fill up these sorts of positions. It's a win-win situation, really. I don't mind being here, since life here at Riddelwing is all I've come to know anyway.

Otherwise, our earth doesn't seem too different from the earth a few hundred years ago as described in textbooks. People are still dependent on technology, working indoor jobs facing computer screens and dealing with abstract matters like numbers and marketing. That's how money is made, and how money is kept within the metropolis. Daily neccessities are silently provided by those outside the metropolis by people who don't know such tricks of the trade. But it seems like life has always been like this, just that the standard of life has risen since.

"I'm going to go see if Mrs. Applewood is still in the classroom," Emilee said to me, and ran towards the house. Just then, Mrs. Applewood came out through the doors herself, wiping her hands on the apron tied over her dress. She broke out into a huge smile when she saw Emilee, and opened her arms to catch Emilee into a hug. She spotted me in the distance and waved. I walked towards the two of them.

"I told Emilee you'd be by the bay," she said.

"I knew that myself," Emilee protested, a small crease appearing on her forehead. "I know everything about Kouri!"

Mrs. Applewood laughed. "I'm sure you do, you two are like two peas in a pod." She winked at me. "So you think you can help me carry some wood back to the kitchen, Kouri?"

"Sure," I replied. "How much do you want?"

"Maybe enough to last the next week or so, I just don't want to bother the little ones in case we run out during the week. We ran out of wood this morning and I had to ask Gordon and Brianna to bring back a log each so we could finish cooking lunch."

I nodded. "I'll be right back."

"Thanks dear," she said gratefully, patting me on the shoulder. She looked at Emilee. "Shall we help out with dinner?"

"Okay!" Emilee said brightly. She took Mrs. Applewood's hand and they started heading back in the house. "See you later!" she called to me over her shoulder.

Rolling up my sleeves, I started to head towards the big shack where all the firewood is stored. I wonder what we're having for dinner tonight. Brocolli cream of mushroom soup sounds good. If I finish eating earlier than usual, maybe I could hike up the hill and take a look at the moon.

===========

"What's the date today, class?" Miss Jeanie asked as everyone took their seats in the classroom. Her hand held a piece of chalk and hovered readily over the blackboard.

"Wednesday!" said Pippy, a girl sitting in the first row.

"That's the day of the week," Harold, the boy sitting at the same table, told her.

"It's the 18th today, Miss Jeanie," offered Marilyn, who sat in the second row closest to the window.

"Thank you, Marilyn," said Miss Jeanie, and she scribbled July 18, 2282 at the top right corner of the big blackboard at the front of the classroom.

The classroom was located on the first floor, its window overlooking the front lawn. Large wooden desks lined up horizontally in rows of three, seating three students on each desk. This made it easier to do group work, or share paints during art classes when we still had those. Only the younger children have art classes. Yesterday, Emilee had her first art class where she was allowed to use clay, and she had told me all about it when we were sprawled in the sitting room after dinner.

Classes are separated into three levels for three different age groups, but we all have classes at the same time in three different rooms. Each teacher is responsible for one level: Mrs. Applewood teaches level one which is for kids aged ten and under, Mr. Morrey oversees level two for kids eleven to fifteen, and Miss Jeanie is responsible for the last level.

Today, we were on the topic of "modern developments" and we spent a good part of the class looking at projections of old spacecrafts. As a picture of the Vostok 1 capsule flickered back onto the screen for the millionth time, I suppressed the sudden urge to smirk. The longer I looked at it, the more ridiculous it seemed to me that people would actually climb into that orb and fly into space like a goldfish in a bowl. Besides, I thought to myself as I flipped through my own textbook, who knows where you'd end up after being thrown into space in that hamster ball.

It's so much easier to travel into space now, although I wouldn't even dream of going up there in my life. You can buy tickets at the station in the metropolis but they're still much too expensive for people like us to even think about. What would be the point anyway? Outer space can stay in textbooks and movies for all I care.

Shianta, a girl sitting in the back row, put up her hand. "Miss Jeanie, have you ever gone on a cable ship before?" she asked.

"I have not," Miss Jeanie answered. Then she paused, and said, "Although it'd certainly be nice if ever such an opportunity arises."

"Aww, I want to go for a ride on the cable ship too," another boy, Greg, said wistfully. There were other excited murmurs of agreement around the classroom, and the din of varied conversations grew. Since there were only a few more minutes of class time left, Miss Jeanie sighed and let everyone chatter their excitement away until the bell sounded again, and we all packed our bags and filed out of the classroom.

"Hey Kor," Luke called out as I walked out the classroom door, and roughly put his elbow on my shoulder. Luke was an old friend of mine here at the school. "Chris and Greg were saying how we should all try and sneak some drinks from the pub near the Met tonight. You wanna come?"

I frowned. "I don't have any pocket money left. I spent my last dollar last week on popcorn for the movies… besides, the Met's far."

"D'aw, don't worry about it," Luke said, giving me a slap on the back. "It'll be my treat. I've got a few bucks saved up."

I glanced over at Chris and Greg who were hovering on the other side of the hall. They saw me look over and gave me a thumbs up. I signaled back to them and said to Luke, "Yeah sure, why not. I'll come with you guys."

"Awesome!" Luke said cheerfully. "Hey, make that a group of four!" The other boys gave a whoop and came over.

"You know," Chris said, "Greg was betting on how you'd rather spend your time reading one of your books instead of coming with us."

"I was not!" Greg protested. "Well, not betting…"

"Kouri, a.k.a. the studious type," Chris translated. He slapped me on the back and added good-naturedly, "I'm envious of that, can't survive without brains, you know. Even with my killer sense of humour."

I grinned back. "What can I say, I'm up for free drinks anytime. Hang on, just gonna drop these off." I dashed upstairs to the bedroom, threw all my books on my bed, grabbed the jacket stuffed under my bed and hurried back downstairs. They were already waiting near the front door, and we all headed out together.

We hitched a ride off a cart loaded with fresh wheat that was headed towards a bakery near the pub. We pushed aside the stacks of wheat and made space to huddle in the corner. We ended up spending the entire ride listening to the old man driving the cart talk about how he used to secretly hitch rides himself when he was our age, by leaping onto hay stacks from the roof of his house as the hay was transported to another town. When we reached the bakery, we jumped off the cart and thanked him, before racing towards the pub just a few houses away.

It was already 4'o'clock in the afternoon so we were probably going to miss dinner, but none of us cared. Plus, the late afternoon is when we get the leftover snacks, on the house, before the pub starts serving the dinner menu. We entered the pub and received a hearty welcome from the owner, also the bartender, who immediately brought us our usual fizzy drinks in tall glasses, with a large, complimentary plate of fries. The four of us borrowed a pack of cards that the owner took out from behind the counter, and we played cards and laughed away while sipping on our drinks for a good two and a half hours.

A few of us boys used to come and hang out often. But since entering into our level three classes, we've been unusually exhausted after our special training, so this was a good outing for the first time in a while.

Nearing 7'o'clock, we decided it was about time to head back. As promised, Luke paid for our drinks while the rest of us tried to contribute with the few ten cents that we had left in our pockets. We decided to walk back since no carts were in sight at this time in the evening, and we got back to Riddelwing at about half past eight.

"Thanks Luke," Chris said. "That was some good melon fizz."

"Yeah, thanks man," Greg said.

"Next time will be on me," I promised. I'll have to remember to put aside a few dollars the next time we receive our monthly pocket money.

"No problem, sure thing," Luke said. "You guys gonna hang out in the sitting room?"

Greg yawned. "Actually, I think I'm going to retire early tonight, I got up at six this morning 'cause Sarah wanted to watch the sunrise."

"What's this, so you've been hanging out with a girl behind our backs!" Chris teased as he put his arm around Greg. "You guys gettin' along well?"

"Sort of…" Greg ducked his head, looking guilty while giving a lopsided grin, and Chris and Greg sauntered into the house still talking amongst themselves.

Luke made a start to follow them, but not before turning towards me. "You gonna head inside, Kor?"

"I think I'm gonna stay out here for a bit."

"All right, suit yourself. I'm going to see if I can get some hot cocoa from the kitchen," Luke said. "Later!"

"See you," I replied as Luke turned and disappeared inside the house. I took a deep breath and started walking across the field on the right side of the house, towards the hill. Reaching the top of the slope, if you walk on the plateau for a good fifteen minutes or so, the plateau ends before the ground dips into a trench, forming a rocky mountainside. This was a place I often come to when I'm not at the bay.

I sucked in the fresh, open air and sat down on a small patch of grass next to the cliffside. I crossed my legs and leaned back with my arms behind me, looking beyond the trench. Patches of weeds and other dry grass grew on the other side, and amongst that, I spotted the sparse specks of Star of Bethlehem flowers blooming discreetly.

I flopped back onto the grass and closed my eyes, feeling the breeze brush against my face. Just as I was beginning to doze off, I heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps, softly padding across the grass before stopping. I opened my eyes. A face peered back at me, its features soft and delicate with a curtain of chesnut hair framing it. My eyes trailed from the chin to the delicate bridge of the nose, finally meeting the hazel, almond-shaped eyes that stared back. She reminded me of a basketful of fresh peaches.

"Hello," she said.

The corners of my mouth curved upwards automatically. "Yuliya."

Yuliya walked around and plopped down next to me on the grass. "Kouri."

"Yes?"

"Nothing. Hello."

"Hello to you, too."

She gave a satisfied smile. "I didn't see you at dinner, so I wasn't sure if you'd be here tonight. But I'm glad you are." She stretched out her legs, reaching out her to touch the tips of her toes. Her hair blew softly with the breeze. "Did you guys go somewhere?"

"Yeah, the guys were going for some drinks."

"That must be nice," she said. She looked at me reproachfully. "You never ask if I want to come along."

"Well… it was kind of a guy thing." I sat up and looked back anxiously at her. "Did you want to go?"

"Maybe. I've never gone before, but Sally keeps telling me how good the raspberry fizz is, and I have some money saved up." She stared at me expressionless for a while, then broke into a giggle. "I'm just teasing, Kouri. You guys should go have a good time once in a while."

"You're not mad?"

"I won't be if you promise to take me there one of these days," she said, an amused gleam in her eyes.

I grinned at her. "Deal."

She smiled, and we both turned to look out across the trench. This was basically our routine every night.

Before we had established this routine, after dinner, I would go for walks by myself, thinking to cool off before bedtime. It was relaxing, and I would wander off to explore a different area each night, careful not to stray too far from the school. Some nights, I'd climb a tree or settle comfortably between some bushes to get some quiet time, but my favourite was star-gazing out in the open on nights when the skies are clear. And the best place to do that was near the cliff where there was a big, open but secluded place.

Or at least I thought it was secluded, until the third time I went there and had unexpectedly came across Yuliya. Giving a sidelong glance at her profile now, I reminiscenced about how we had encountered each other.

I had always known who Yuliya was; it wasn't as if our school had that many kids in it. She was never in my classes, so I just never had a chance--or a reason, really--to talk to her before I saw her here.

I had been walking across the field that one night when I spotted her, sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, silently gazing into the distance. Seeing her small figure slightly hidden in the grass had caught me by surprise, and she had turned to look at me just as I was about to discreetly walk back away. Not wanting to seem impolite and having no choice at the time, I had shuffled towards her, and awkwardly stood there until she said, "Do you want to sit down?"

So, at her suggestion, I had sat down, and after enduring a painful silence, eventually said, "Best view here, huh?"

"Yeah. Can't really catch a glimpse of the stars anywhere else."

I remember replying, "Well, depending on the weather, the beach near the bay isn't bad either."

She had looked at me, puzzled. "I didn't know there were any near there!"

"Er, well, I mean, stars can be seen anywhere really. But if you really want to see them clearly, you gotta--"

"Oh!" she had interrupted. "I was talking about those over there. Stars of Bethlehem." Then she had pointed to a bunch of white tips peeking out from behind patches of thick, wild grass growing on the opposite side of the trench. Straining my eyes, I could see that they were flowers, white in colour but rather subdued from the surrounding weeds.

"….Oh. Er…. sorry, I didn't realize, I thought you were talking about…" I hadn't even noticed the flowers before then. "Um, yeah."

We had awkwardly picked at the grass until she suddenly laughed, and it was strangely contagious enough that I started chuckling myself. Turns out she already knew my name, as I did hers. Things have gotten a lot less awkward since then--fortunately-- but, in any case, that was how everything started.

Since then, we've met at the same place every night, sometimes star-gazing and sometimes flower-gazing. Yuliya's pasttime was gardening. She had voluntarily taken over Mrs. Applewood's gardening duties and became incredibly knowledgeable about plants from being around them so much. Sometimes she'd come back from exploring the woods nearby with a new, unidentified plant, and replant it in the flowerbed at the front of the school so she can analyse it over time. Our school garden has grown quite extensively in recent months because of that.

And during the evenings we spend talking on the cliffside, she would tell me a lot about the flora that she came across everyday. So much that, eventually, I've come to be able to identify between bugbane and gooseneck loosestrife, though I'd never admit that to any of the guys. To be honest, I don't care that much about flowers or plants. But I like listening to Yuliya talk, and watching how her face just lights up when she talks about what she likes. It might even be comparable to star-gazing.

Yuliya's question brought me back to the present. "So what did you think of the pumpkin pie tonight?"

I groaned. "You mean, the pumpkin pie tonight, last night, the night before last night, and the night before that?"

She gasped in exaggerated horror. "I didn't realize we've had the same pumpkin pie for so many nights!"

"Pardon me, I forgot that it was pumpkin stew last night, not pumpkin pie."

Yuliya made a face. "Agh, that was terrible. It almost made me wish we had whined less about the pie, I think I'd prefer having the same pie again to having that pie-turned-into-stew mix."

"When is pumpkin season ending anyway, Ms. Expert-of-All-Growing-Things?"

"Bad news: not for a while!"

I groaned again and she laughed, playfully nudging me in the shoulder. "Oh come on, Kouri, don't complain so much. Riddelwing's not so bad, I've heard some horror stories about the other schools. Like how one school grows their own crops, it's part of their learning program or something. But all the kids actually managed to grow successfully were carrots, so guess what they had for dinner all summer?"

"Okay, pumpkin for two weeks isn't so bad then."

"Nope, it isn't."

And so our conversation continued until it was getting late and rather chilly, so we decided to head back to the school and to call it a night.


(To be continued)