Free Lost in Starlight (Starlight Saga) by Sherry Soule

someone like him. He’s so mysterious and beautiful. His lips full and inviting. But I have to stop thinking about him in that way. He’s just a story—nothing more. Shaking my head, I banish the fantasies.
    Fifteen agonizing minutes later, Mrs. Morris tells me that I can see the principal.
    My stomach twists. I shuffle through the door into Principal Allen’s beige office. I claim the leather chair directly in front of the large cluttered desk and warily place my stuff near my feet. The principal props her elbows on the desktop and frowns. She’s fortyish with short brown hair, brown eyes, and pink lips. Her suit is neatly pressed and the rayon fabric fits her slim figure like a glove.
    Is everyone around me as thin as a supermodel? Are they all drinking the same Kool Aid except me? No wonder I have body issues.
    “To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Masterson? I don’t think you’ve ever been in my office before.”
    “Mrs. Brooks thinks I was cheating on the calculus test, but I wasn’t.” I fold my arms over my flabby midsection. “I wouldn’t do that.”
    She leans back. “Don’t look so crestfallen. I know you have a splendid grade-point-average and you stay out of trouble, but looking at other people’s tests is not tolerated at this school.”
    “I know. And I swear I wasn’t cheating.”
    Principal Allen drummed her acrylic nails on the desk. “Mrs. Brooks’s note stated quite emphatically that you were leaning over and inspecting another student’s test. Care to explain?”
    This is a total freaking disaster.
    I slouch in my seat. “I didn’t cheat. It’s not who I am. I just got distracted.”
    “Well…I actually believe you.” She nods thoughtfully. “And I’ll smooth things over with Mrs. Brooks. You can spend the rest of the period in study hall and retake the test next week,” Principal Allen says kindly.
    Relief pours over me. I grab my things and stand. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
    “Just make sure your eyes don’t wander from your own paper again.”
    “Got it.”
    Out in the main office area, a commotion is going on. Two boys with bloody faces and dirty clothes are brought in by the Vice Principal, Mr. Snyder. And one of them is Zach.
    Guess one brother’s a bully and the other one’s all about anti-bullying. No wonder they don’t seem to get along.
    Principal Allen sighs. “Shoo. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
    “Gotcha.” I hurry through the room and past Zach, who’s leveling me with the evil eye. But instead of going to study hall as I was instructed, I speed-walk to the parking lot.

SEVEN
    Twenty minutes later, I park my VW Jetta near the arched entrance of Shadowland Memorial Cemetery. I leave my backpack and purse safely inside the trunk, and tuck my notebook and pen into one of my jacket pockets and my iPod into the other.
    The ornate gate issues a rusty moan as I push it open. When I pass through, a sense of peacefulness instantly whooshes over me. My gaze darts across the terrain. It’s a lovely spring day with bursts of daffodils poking their pretty heads out of the ground. The scent of freshly cut grass blends with the aroma of rotting roses. Granite tombstones reflect the sunlight and mausoleums stand proudly.
    The cemetery is quiet today, even with several people standing near a grave. Two older women and one man. Not crying, just looking somber while paying their respects.
    I stroll through rows of tombstones left and right while I search for a quiet place to hang. Some headstones are crumbled with the weathering of centuries, some are smooth marble with new engravings and adorned with floral tributes.
    I guess I’m a weirdo because I feel so at peace here. Sometimes I wander amongst the tombstones, reading the inscriptions. I like to link generations of families, and wonder what their lives had been like and contemplate both the meaning of life and the permanence of death. Occasionally, I come here with my friends if I’m having a