Like a star, p.1
Like a Star, page 1
LIKE A
Star
A STAR NOVEL
OCEAN D. N
AuthorHouse™
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Bloomington, IN 47403
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Phone: 833-262-8899
© 2022 Ocean D. N. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published by AuthorHouse 07/22/2022
ISBN: 978-1-6655-5568-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-5876-1 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-5571-5 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022905732
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in
this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views
expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the
views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by: GERMANCREATIVE
Edited by: Emily Marquart and Ebony Casagrande
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
PART I: STARLESS
ACT 1
ACT 2
ACT 3
ACT 4
ACT 5
ACT 6
ACT 7
PART II: STAR WAY
ACT 8
ACT 9
ACT 10
ACT 11
ACT 12
ACT 13
ACT 14
PART III: RISING STAR
ACT 15
ACT 16
ACT 17
ACT 18
ACT 19
ACT 20
ACT 21
ACT 22
ACT 23
ACT 24
PART IV: LIKE A STAR
ACT 25
ACT 26
ACT 27
ACT 28
ACT 29
ACT 30
ACT 31
ACT 32
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
“The reason birds can fly and we can’t is simply because they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings.” - J.M. Barrie, The Little White Bird
For Joel, Suray, Natalia, Luciana and Celeste.
Especially Celeste, for giving me the last
push and making me a big sister.
I love you all.
PROLOGUE
Peter Pan, Tinker Bell and The Lost Boys
It was a cold gray day at the Chicago train station. Winter had finally arrived and the frosty air was welcoming the first snow of the year. For most kids, this was the prelude of Christmas time, the favorite time of year for almost any child, but for Summer Lee Taylor—it was a different story.
She was sitting alone outside the station, waiting for a train she knew would never come and craving for someone she knew had left her forever. Although her mother told her to wait, that she would be back soon to take the train to the airport where they were supposed to fly home to Colorado, Summer knew it was just a pretext to keep her from following. Mary had left her alone in the Windy City.
It hadn’t surprised her much. To be honest, she kind of expected it from her mother. She’d feared this day all of her life. No matter how hard she’d worked and tried to please her—Mary never loved her. Not as a mother should love her daughter. Summer grew up knowing she was an unloved child; if she didn’t behave the way Mary wanted, she wouldn’t mind throwing her away. Now was no different. But why? Summer was sure she hadn’t done anything wrong.
She was a good girl.
But waiting in the cold air for six hours as she watched families take the train, daughters being held and guarded by their mothers, knowing she was all alone and forsaken, hurt her more than she ever could’ve imagined. Suppressed tears were rolling down her cheeks, and by nightfall she understood—this time, for real—she was alone in the world.
Her hands were numb and red, her body partly frozen, and her only wish was to disappear as her mother wanted.
Still, she didn’t hate her. Summer loved Mary even now, and she hated herself for not being able to make her mother love her back. As time passed, she fell deeper and deeper into a loop of self-pity. The cold weather and the first snow weren’t a warm welcome to a homeless eight-year-old girl.
What a horrible sky, she thought. No stars in the moonless night, no lively view to cheer her up. The train station was almost empty now. The last train had already departed, and it was getting colder by the minute. A snowflake fell on her bare hand, and she didn’t feel anything at all.
“Here—” a young voice broke into her silence.
It was a boy. A good-looking boy no more than eleven years old was standing in front of her, holding a cup of hot cocoa from the vending machine.
“Drink it or you’ll die,” the boy said bluntly.
It hurt her hand to touch something hot, but it was a good pain. It reminded her she was alive. The boy sat next to her, his presence breaking into her loneliness. Interrupting the lowest moment of her life. Making it obvious he wasn’t going to leave anytime soon.
“I saw you earlier when I was working,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “It’s very late and you haven’t moved.”
She remained quiet. If she spoke to the boy, her mom would definitely not come back. Moving on would mean she had acknowledged her mother had forsaken her, and she wasn’t ready to face the truth yet. Not yet, she couldn’t give up on hope yet. To know something and to accept it were two different things.
Nevertheless, his words made Summer notice he couldn’t possibly be an ordinary boy. He knew what had happened to her, could it have happened to him as well?. He didn’t say much to her, he was kind of nervous, maybe he wasn’t used to talking to girls. The more he tried to cheer her up, the sadder she became.
That is, until he sang.
He was blushing while singing to her, but he had a wonderful voice. He sang like an angel taking away all her sorrow, worries and regrets.
The boy took out his hat and put it on her head to keep her warm. He was afraid she would die because of the cold. He knew what it felt like to be freezing. He was a street kid, a son of the darkest part of Chicago, hiding a lot of suffering in the gleam of his eyes. But it was that hidden gleam that made Summer feel safe next to him.
When he took her hand to lead her on, she realized he had saved her soul from falling into hatred and disbelief. She could have pulled her hand away and stubbornly decided to keep waiting for her mother, but she knew as sure as morning was coming—that her mother meant to leave her behind.
So, she let him take her with him. She was surprised how strong his hand felt for someone his age, but it was also very warm. And kind. So kind she silently cried while following him back into the cold city.
“Welcome to Neverland,” the boy said when they entered an old, abandoned, once-great theater.
The place was magical, like all theaters are. Time had not extinguished its former glory. The silk on the curtains continued to shine with a deep red. There were three boys playing on the stage, young and cheerful, probably around the age of ten. Another one was sitting in the front seats, bossing around the others. Even so, he looked cheerful as well.
“Slightly, Tootles, Curly! Come here. You too, Nibs. I want you to meet someone.”
“Captain!” the boys yelled and obeyed very fast. They rushed to him with enthusiasm, but when they saw Summer, they stopped abruptly. The four boys looked at her incredulously. Summer felt the need to introduce herself.
“Hi, my name is…” she began.
“It’s okay,” the boy interrupted. “We live by codenames here, they protect us. You don’t have to tell us your real name.”
Summer ignored that they were children of the streets. Some of them didn’t have real names and most of them were trying to forget them.
“Where are One and Two?” the boy asked.
“They said they would bring pizza for dinner,” replied Nibs.
“Perfect.” The boy grinned. “One and Two are the twins of the gang,” he told Summer.
The boy introduced them as the Lost Boys, and they introduced him as Peter Pan. But he soon let her know he’d rather be called Captain. Summer was in awe. In the short period she shared with them, she truly believed she was in Neverland.
The Captain took care of her. He protected her as Peter would guard Wendy against Hook. And he gave her the code name: Tinker Bell. Summer didn’t know at that moment, but her code name saved her life. She would have become a gloomy girl with poor self-esteem if she’d stayed at the train station. Instead, she became Tinker Bell—a fairy.
“Tinker Bell is the reason Peter Pan can fly. Do you understand what that means, Tinker?” the Captain asked.
Summer nodded, but the Captain could tell she didn’t understand yet.
“It means you are our strength,” he added. And with those word
The Captain was a very reliable boy. He was strong and knew how to fight. He protected the Lost Boys from other gangs, even against bigger guys. When his small physique failed, his cleverness and agility were his allies. He was also handsome and neither poverty nor dirtiness could make him look less good looking. His playful smile kind of enchanted her, and it worked as a spell against most grown-ups.
He was talented in almost everything he did. He made money by singing in the parks with Tootles playing the guitar. He was also very charming, and he taught the Lost Boys to be charming and polite with the grown-ups, especially to restaurant owners and workers. And don’t forget the bakers—he believed all kids deserved a cake on their birthdays, for desserts are the joy of children.
His relationships with restaurant owners were so good that sometimes he was even invited to sing—especially in Italian restaurants—and in return they would give him all the pizzas they didn’t sell during the day.
But singing wasn’t his biggest talent.
No, the Captain had a more powerful gift. It is the reason he was called Peter Pan. You see, the boy was a storyteller. A natural one. Every night he would tell the gang bedtime stories and act out all the characters. There was magic in the tales he told them. His voice would awake their imaginations and enable the Lost Boys and Tinker Bell to believe everything he said. The result of that power was the salvation of the children’s souls and the reason they still had faith in a bright future.
Summer was sure he was the real Peter Pan, for she had read Peter Pan was the protector of deserted children. But the real reason she knew he was otherworldly was because sometimes when he was telling a story, she would see a big pair of beautiful wings on his back.
Though the wings vanished once the story was over, she had seen them enough times to believe her eyes. At the beginning she suspected he was an angel, but by the end of her stay she was sure he was the real one, for the only big difference between the Captain and Peter Pan was that the latter was a wingless boy who could fly, and the Captain was a winged boy yet to fly.
In the ten days they spent together, Summer learned to love him. She had many adventures with this boy. And memories, beautiful memories that would encourage her in the future. Memories about the stars and the promise to go see the sea, memories of chocolate and pizza, songs and bedtime stories. But her biggest treasure was his last words.
The last night they spent together, he gave her a star. She ignored what that star meant to him and the complex story it was hiding.
“Are you sure I can keep it?” she asked in wonder, unable to hide her awe. It was a golden star, perfect to fit on any necklace. It looked very expensive for a poor boy to own. So, he told her it was a real star—a star he stole from Neverland.
“It’s very dear to me. It has guided me and protected me in many adventures,” the Captain told her.
Summer took his words to heart. But she was unsure if she should keep it; she knew the Captain was going to feel lonely without his star. She had seen him looking at it every now and then, and understood it was very valuable.
“I want to entrust it to you, Tinker Bell. I believe you suit her magic best. Take good care of it, ’kay?”
Summer promised to treasure the star and name it Pan in honor of him.
The next day, he took her to the police station, where her uncle and childhood friend Matt were waiting for her. Summer was surprised to see them. She didn’t expect them to find her, and actually, they didn’t. The Captain had seen her wanted picture and learned they were looking for her. It was a hard decision, but he chose to let her go because he didn’t want her to grow up in the cold streets of Chicago. She was too innocent and pure for the cruelty of his world.
Summer didn’t want to leave him either, but her uncle wasn’t blood-related and she didn’t have the confidence to ask him for anything. Besides, Matt was with him. That was big news! Spoiled, bratty Matt had come to look for her because he was worried. Summer adored Matt. He was her only friend; in her eyes, no one was better than Matt, at least until she met the Captain.
“Am I going to see you again?”
He nodded. “Pan will tell me anything you want me to know. Its magic will tie us together and it will protect you.” He smiled at a tearful Summer. “So you don’t have to be scared anymore.”
“But what will happen to you?” she asked. “You won’t have the star…”
“Stars are Peter Pan’s loyal friends. I can always go back to Neverland and catch another,” he assured her.
“Sun, say goodbye to your friend,” said her uncle.
The tears that hadn’t fallen when her mother abandoned her were now all over her face.
The Captain cleaned her tears and with a smile, he quoted his favorite book: “Never say goodbye, because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”
“I will never forget you, Captain,” promised Summer.
“Neither will I, Tinker Bell,” he swore, “because you are like a star.”
Those last words, along with the star, would always be Summer’s greatest treasures. Time passed by, but the star and the memory of Peter Pan, Tinker Bell, and The Lost Boys stayed in her heart.
PART I
Starless
ACT 1
I see him…
He is standing alone,
shining on the stage like an angel of sound.
His very own music dancing with the lights,
And I see myself among his millions of fans.
I see his wings covering the whole stage as it brings the dawn of a new age.
My star,
My Matt…
“Wake up! Wake up!! Wake up! Wake up!!!” the alarm woke her up from fantasyland. It was already 5:45 a.m. Great! It had been a long time since she’d last slept more than three hours. Fifteen minutes more, to be exact.
“Ahhh!” Her usual scream woke her up completely. She was late.
Summer had the habit of sleeping in her day clothes. No time to waste dressing up each morning. When you were eighteen-year-old Summer Lee Taylor living by yourself in the big city of New Los Angeles, you learned to save time for everything, even when you didn’t have time at all. And Summer was especially gifted in that craft—you could even say she manipulated time. For she always found a way to complete every task.
Clever girl.
Usually, she woke up at 5:30 to make it to the coffee shop where she worked from 6:00 a.m. to midday. Thankfully, the Cafeteria was close to her building. Still, at midday she left immediately to go to a vintage store in Greenwich Village, where she worked from one to five; and had to be in Times Square at 6:00 pm, because she also worked in a movie theater until 10:00 pm. But hold on! It’s not over yet.
Welcome to Queens, where she worked from 10:30 p.m. Yes, 10:30 p.m. So, she practically teleported every night to a diner where she worked as a waitress until 3 a.m.! When did she sleep then? Easy, she didn’t.
Actually, she napped when she was on the subway, running from job to job. And that was only her Monday to Friday routine. You can just imagine how such a workaholic, barely eighteen, spends her weekend then.
No time to rest.
Sure.
But why, you may wonder, why is she working so desperately? Yes, of course, she lied about her age and she mostly worked for cash. But no, she wasn’t saving for college. She gave up her life when she refused a full scholarship at Stanford University!
Insane. I know.
She was a brilliant student, though. Shame she was not even the shadow of what she could have been. Poor Summer, wearing the same old clothes every day, with zero knowledge about makeup and fashion in a city like New LA. What a waste of beauty, adults thought when they saw her pretty, long, wavy, milky-chocolate hair and her big, brown eyes that intensified her long dark lashes and thick eyebrows.
But how could she survive? Well, I was serious when I said she gave up on herself. Summer didn’t have a life. She lived for someone else, the reason she smiled. He lit up her childhood, and when he asked her to come with him to follow his musical dreams, she was so happy she cried. Because, probably for the first time in her life, she felt needed.
