Between the Stars and Sky

By David James

Between the Stars and Sky is a vivid contemporary novel from Young Adult author David James.

In the small, lakeside town of Huntington, the Firelight Festival marks the end of summer. A time to laugh, to live, to love. And for Jackson Grant, it is a chance to begin again.

But there is a darker side to the Firelight Festival, a deadly tradition known as the Firelight Fall. A secret game. A legendary lie. A test of bravery. Those who fall risk everything, and Jackson is on the edge. Until he meets a girl who pushes him over.

For Jackson, falling for Sarah Blake might be as dangerous as jumping in the Firelight Fall. As summer burns away, Jackson and Sarah ignite an unstoppable love game. For her, his heart is on fire. And soon, Sarah shows him life, saves him from loss, and opens his heart to an infinite and wild love found between the stars and sky.

Lyrical and deeply romantic, Between the Stars and Sky is a poetic and heart-stopping read for fans of Lauren Oliver, Gayle Forman, and E. Lockhart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David James
• Release date: Sep 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310480584

David James

David James writes books about stars and kisses and curses. He is the author of the YA novel, LIGHT OF THE MOON, the first book in the Legend of the Dreamer duet, as well as the companion novellas, THE WITCH'S CURSE and THE WARRIOR’S CODE. A Legend of the Dreamer anthology, SHADES OF THE STARS, was released July 2013, and includes the exclusive novella, THE ENCHANTER'S FIRE. The final book in the duet, SHADOW OF THE SUN, will be released in 2015. BETWEEN THE STARS AND SKY is his first contemporary novel for young adults. Living in Michigan, he is addicted to coffee, gummy things, and sarcastic comments. David enjoys bad movies, goofy moments, and shivery nights. Be sure to visit David’s blog at djamesauthor.blogspot.com and facebook at facebook.com/djamesauthor to learn more about his various addictions and novels.

Book preview

Chapter One

I FEAR-

myself.

But fear is a silly thing, and I can do nothing to stop the way it looks or holds. Against fear, we are powerless if we cannot look it in the eye. Helpless, if we cannot step past the bitter lies of our nightmares into the sweet reckonings of our truths.

I want to face my fear.

But I can’t.

Fear is everything-

I am-

not. Because right where I should be, I am lost. They tell me this is normal: to lose a life and fall back into the past as if it were the future you always wanted. It is okay to suffer when you have lost. They tell me these feeling are temporary, fleeting. Soon, these feelings will be as lost as I am now.

It’s fine, Dad says. He smiles but his eyes can’t seem to find mine. Sometimes we all need a year to restart. Sometimes we need more. Get lost and find yourself again. You are so strong.

Dull words and contradictions. Empty promises, false hopes that have never met an action. And I can’t help but feel that my dad has no idea what it means to be lost to a world that cannot find a place for him, desperately wanting to be a part of it.

It will be fine, he says again.

He doesn’t tell me I’ll love again.

He doesn’t tell me to forget.

I smile. I lie. I know. I just need some time to think.

Dad puts a hand on my shoulder, his arm falls around me. Even though he is twice my age, my arms are twice his size; I could break him like this. You’re always inside your head, Jackson. Just like her. Ever since you were a boy, you’ve lived inside yourself instead of really living at all. Think about that, son.

Everyone thinks, I tell him.

Not like you. You let your thoughts consume you, Jackson, he says, and even though he smiles, it is tilted sad at the sides. As his eyes search mine, I realize this: I could never break him, but with the right words he could break me. He could shatter me. Apply for jobs while you’re up north. Something in the city, maybe. It’s been over a year since you graduated high school; you don’t want to lose any more time.

I don’t know what I want.

But I will not change the way I think. Mom thought the same as me, and in that small token I want to keep this part of her just for myself.

You are poetry, Jackson, she said to me.

You are the life you choose.

And make yours poetry.

I’ll apply for jobs, I tell him, as though the thought had not occurred to me every night since I lost-

everything.

Suddenly, I am furious.

I am sad.

And I realize I cannot tell the difference between the two. That maybe I’m even more lost than I thought.

I cannot hear the poetry anymore.

You’ll be helping Miles with the store?

Yes, Dad. I lie. I haven’t talked with Miles in years, not since we left that tiny town, and I don’t know how to start now. He said I’d be helping with the inventory, mostly.

Good, good. He squeezes my arm. That will be good for you, I think. Enough for now. Teach you real work before you can find that new job. Employers like a man who knows what it’s like to work.

I know. There is guilt laced deep within my words, like it’s my fault this happened. My fault that I don’t care about everything my Dad does. My fault I am young and broken, and want more than anything to fit back together but don’t know how.

I don’t know.

Too quiet, like a stumble of words falling out before they were meant to, he whispers, I’m proud of you. And maybe he is, maybe he thinks I’m everything he’s ever wanted in a son because he has never seen me. But even so, there is a wall between us that cannot be taken down, a forever hymn of love and loss that began with Mom and grows stronger each day.

We don’t know how to be without her.

We talk.

We hug.

It will be okay, he says. I’ll try and visit but-

I get it, I tell him.

We lie.

Be... Be...

Safe? I try, because I know all the things he wants to say but can’t. All the things he doesn’t want to remember I was before, after, during.

Yes, he agrees. Be safe.

And as we say goodbye and the door closes behind me, I wonder which parts of the conversation were actually true. It doesn’t matter that I want desperately to find a place where I belong so I can start my life, or that I can’t stop thinking about all the days I have lost not knowing who I am or who I want to be.

Parents don’t listen or care about that stuff, not really. They smile. Love the best they can. And tell you your personal life can be sorted out in the meantime. In the future, with a job and a reason for existing, you’ll know exactly who you are.

Money matters; it is security.

A job matters; it has protection.

But no one tells you that money doesn’t last forever and no job is protected when no one needs it. No one tells you that when you lie to your parent about getting a summer job near the family lake house, they won’t know and it doesn’t matter. They won’t check because they don’t care enough to know. No one tells you that if you leave town, your broken heart stays broken. No one tells you that you’ll never forget love even if you want to, even if the memory of it kills you every single day and night.

And I refuse to believe my reason for existing is nothing more than a job that will eventually eat me from the inside out. I want a different reason. One that is painful and wonderful and exciting and forever. Before, I thought I had found that reason, but now even Natalie is gone and I am alone. And I am left with what thoughts my Dad presents me, pretending security is more important than love, protection more important than not being able to breathe from laughing too hard.

But everyone lies.

For some, ignorance is bliss.

And I am afraid my reason for living will leave me again. For me, the unknown is between wrong and right, between what is and what should be. And I fear life will always taste bitter, a place on the edge of freedom.

A half life.

Between a truth and a lie.

Chapter Two

MY HEARTBEAT IS FEAR.

It is unknowing.

But for the first time in as long as I can remember, I am pressed hard with a sense of freedom. Relief that is hidden deep underneath, barely there.

Life is silly like this: It changes-

us.

But we never know if life is for us or against us, changing as we do or running forward without us. Never know until we do, and then life changes again.

Life is our guide.

Our delusion.

Life is everything.

And it is nothing.

Night crawls ahead of me in dark shadows, unraveling like fragmented nightmares searching for day. I drive slowly; I want to savor this, have the journey last as long as possible. Want the end closer than it is, farther than it will be, easier than it must be. And because I know it’s not an easy path I’m about to follow, I want this peaceful, melancholy middle to last forever.

I want so many things.

I want to be someone. I want to have the victory of youth; to hold life in my hands and know that somewhere in that freedom, deep within that security of knowing, I am someone worth loving. Worth living outside of being alone.

But.

"Do you love me?" she asks.

"You know I do, Nat, I tell her. I need her to know I do, that I love her like no one else, because she is the only thing keeping me standing. Keeping me whole. And now, more than anything, I need I want I have to be whole. A pause. You don’t love me enough."

"I do. I can." I break.

"You can’t. Not like this."

I have to. How do you know?

"Because you’ll never be enough. I’m sorry. You’re too different, too broken now, Jackson. You’re not the guy I fell for. And I know it’s not your fault, but I can’t be the one to fix you."

My reflection looks back at me; when the light of the moon hits the windshield just right, I come alive in the glass through the droplets of rain hanging on. Only, I don’t feel alive. Like the person looking back at me, I feel barely there. I try to see what everyone else must see, but I am not me. My shoulders take up most of the glass and my hands cover the steering wheel. The night has turned my dark brown hair black, my green eyes a deeper shade of forest. I am larger than I am; already, my shoulders and arms stretch against my shirt, but in the glass they nearly break. I am darker than I should be; my skin looks like true night instead of a light, dusking sky. And even though I am a vast shadow of myself, I feel small.

Maybe Nat was right; I am not enough.

Still, I can’t think like that. I won’t let myself, not again. It’s amazing what a reflection shows and what it is capable of ignoring. I won’t let Dad be right about this: My thoughts consuming me like sun to dawn. And as a flash of light from a passing car rips me away, I breathe. Easier. Force my mind to forget, for a moment, why I left home, and focus on the freedom of this cool summer twilight.

I might not have been enough, but neither was Natalie. A girl who left when I needed her most. When my family was falling apart, she unraveled it further. Once, I close my eyes. Open. Quickly.

Blink away the past.

New.

I roll down the window and breathe the smell of rain and trees and dirt so deeply in I think I might die.

Or live.

* * *

The forest is so quiet it screams.

The air hits me cool, like a dream colliding with reality, and I realize this is the first time I’ve been outside in hours. The air smells different here, cleaner. Fresh and new and so, so dark. As though night has a scent, a desire. A life all its own. And maybe it does, because