Unwanted Stars
Authors: Melissa Brown
Copyright © 2014 by Melissa Brown
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Edited by Kara Malinczak, Great Imaginations Book Reviews and Editing Services
Cover design by Regina Wamba, Mae I Design
Formatting by Tami Norman, Integrity Formatting
Excerpt: Sorority of Three - A New Adult series from Melissa Brown
In memory of my uncle, Mike May, who never shied away from an adventure. He always pushed me to follow my dreams no matter what.
I never did take that job in Europe, Mike. But now Auden has. And through her, I’m pursuing one of the biggest dreams of my life.
"The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
From “
Funeral Blues
”
by W. H. Auden
Hello, my name is Auden Kelly and I'm
dramatic. Isn't that nice? Dramatic.
I seriously
despise
that word; it's always been the thorn in my side. Always.
Everyone in the Kelly family is
artistic
. Everyone but me, that is. My brother Jason writes novels, my mom is a master with poetry, my dad paints, and my older sister Maya sews ridiculously cute dresses for my niece. But me? I'm 'dramatic.' No, I'm not an actress in the traditional sense. People just think I overreact...to everything. I've been called a brat, self-centered, melodramatic, as well as a slew of other shit. It makes no sense to me. If someone does something stupid...I'm going to tell them. If someone screws up, I'm going to tell them. And if someone pisses me off...I'm sure as hell going to put them in their place.
Case in point: The day four months ago when I told my parents I was leaving to be a tour guide in Europe for a year. My mom scowled, my dad huffed, and I got angry...like, really angry.
"I'm twenty-three goddamn years old. When do I get to make decisions for myself?"
"We haven't said a word." Mom's eyes widened in fake surprise. And she says I'm the dramatic one.
"I can read you like a book, Mom. You don't want me to go."
"I didn't say that," she said with a disapproving shake of her head. "I just want to make sure you've thought this through."
"Well, I have. I've thought about it for months."
"How many months?" My analytical father asked, looking at me above his wire-rimmed glasses.
"I don't know! How on earth am I supposed to remember exactly how many months I've been planning this? What, would you like to know the exact date on the calendar? Here, let me grab it from the den."
"Enough, Auden!"
That's how a lot of conversations end in the Kelly home. Those two words:
enough, Auden
. I hate it. What my parents don't get is that I'm just being myself. I shouldn't have to pare my personality down just to fit in with our perfect little artistic family. I shouldn't have to change anything about who I am.
Sure, okay, I do get dramatic sometimes. Sometimes I
do
stomp up to my bedroom and slam the door behind me when someone pisses me off. My father may or may not have it timed down to the second, knowing exactly how long it will be until he hears the harsh slam of the door. But that doesn't make my feelings insignificant. Sometimes I have a right to be pissed off.
I have two older siblings. My older (and newly divorced) sister, Maya, has had a chip on her shoulder since I was born. I have a feeling she's always resented me for being a girl...like she wanted to be the only girl in this family. She's made me pay for my gender my entire life. We've gotten to the point where we just ignore each other unless we have something important to say.
My brother Jason is okay. Sometimes he treats me like I'm still the fourteen-year-old brat who told him to stay away from my best friend. It's like he's had this grudge and he's been carrying it around like a weight, dragging it behind him. My best friend is his fiancè, and you would think that would change things. But it doesn't. There's a gap between us...one I can't quite figure out. At least he was happy for me when I gave him my news. Thank God for that. He's the only member of the family who was.
He's the one who bought me this journal. The one who encouraged me to keep a detailed account of the next year—the countries I visit, the people I meet. My brother, the writer, wants me to document it all. He probably wants to steal ideas for his novels. Such a shit.
Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I made my way from baggage claim and prepared to catch a bus to my hotel, dragging my hot pink suitcase behind me. A woman with a thick British accent made an announcement over the loudspeaker. I took in a deep breath, enjoying the intelligent sound of her voice. What is it about British accents? I swear, everyone in Great Britain sounds so ridiculously smart. I'm prepared for quite a lot of ridicule from my co-workers. The Chi-cah-go accent of mine will grate on many people's nerves. I'll do my best not to get too defensive, but it might be hard. For the last two months, I'd been watching the news a lot, trying to get that non-regional accent down. So far, it seemed to be working. But, for whatever reason, I couldn’t control my
A
s. I guess I'd just have to avoid words like happy, dammit, and asshole. Hmmm, I might need to rethink that.
