Alma and her parents and James talked all throughout that day. Alma told them about her new friends. She told them about Dr. Parry. She told them about the book and the elements. She even took them into the backyard once the sun set and showed them the spheres of quintessence inside the stars through the quintescope, after her father had retrieved it from its hiding place.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” James admitted, gazing through the eyepiece.
“That was your astronomy project, Alma Llama Ding Dong?” her mother asked.
Alma nodded. “It was,” she said.
The only thing she didn’t tell them about was the Starling. It was too painful for her to even think about how she had failed the star-child. She had tried to create fire and instead, she had set herself on fire.
While spending time with her family, their love made her feel temporarily bright. But by late evening, slumped back on the couch in the shadow-filled living room, her hands felt like they were aflame again and the rest of her was heavy with the ache of defeat. She had failed to create quintessence, and her own quintessence, her Alma-ness, had never felt so dark.
Then there was a knock on the door.
Her father came into the living room, and behind him were Shirin and Hugo.
“Alma!” Shirin cried. She ran across the room, then tried to slow down when she saw Alma’s bandaged hands and careened backward. Luckily, one of the armchairs broke her fall.
“You can talk in this room for five minutes,” her father said. “I will set a timer.” Alma’s mother, rising from her seat next to Alma, raised her eyebrows at him. “Okay, I won’t set a timer, but I will come and get you.”
“Okeydoke, Alma Llama Ding Dong?” Alma’s mother asked.
“Okeydoke,” Alma agreed, surprised that she was allowed to talk to her friends for any minutes.
Her parents left the room, and Shirin and Hugo came to sit on either side of her, Shirin moving at an almost comically slow pace.
“My parents have been totally freaking out,” Shirin began. “I’m grounded for life. Even Farah was lecturing me!”
“Then how are you here?” Alma asked. “You didn’t—you didn’t sneak out, did you?”
“Oh my goodness, no!” Shirin cried. “I don’t have a death wish. My parents are actually waiting out front. They drove us because I told them I wanted to check on you and apologize for making everyone go to the creek that first night. They’re very into, like, admitting wrongs and all that.” Shirin rolled her eyes, then grinned. “Plus, they were kind of impressed when I told them about the supernova and the elements and quintessence and everything I’ve learned. And Farah wants to go stargazing with us! Everyone said they’ve never seen me so focused on, well, anything.”
“I’m here because Shirin called me,” Hugo said. “On the phone. I don’t think my mother would have let me go, but no one’s ever called me on the phone before.” He gave a little shrug. “Also things with Marcus have gotten—well, they’re a little better than they were.”
Alma smiled back at her friends. It seemed like she wasn’t the only one who’d had a Discussion today. Then her smile faded away as she thought of the fourth member of their group.
“Have either of you talked to Dustin?” she asked.
Hugo shook his head, his curls following along. “Did you know I yelled at him?” he said. “I’ve never done that.”
“I was really mad at him too,” Shirin admitted. “But he didn’t mean for Alma to get hurt.”
“I know,” Hugo replied, pushing his glasses up and down. “That’s not the only reason I yelled, I suppose. I’ve been angry at him for quite some time.” He shrugged. “Although I know I haven’t always been the best friend to him either.”
“Yeah, you two definitely need to talk,” Shirin agreed. “And probably me and Dustin do too. That wasn’t why I didn’t want to do the bonfire, though. Dustin’s way just never seemed right. Fire is your element, Alma, not his.”
Sitting with her friends had been having the same effect as sitting with her family had. But now last night was all she could think about again.
“I thought it was,” she said. She stared down at her bandaged hands, the white wrappings crisscrossing like an endless maze, like a bleached-out bird’s nest. “But I was wrong. I don’t have an element. And I ruined everything.”
Her words were met by silence. When Alma finally looked up, she found Hugo was squinting at her through his visor-glasses, and Shirin had a braid pulled out to each side, her nose scrunched.
“You should stop telling yourself things like that,” Hugo said. “Because they aren’t true.”
“No, they’re not!” Shirin cried. “I know fire is your element. You believed in the Starling, and you made us believe in her too. You’re the one who’s kept us going!”
Alma held up her hands. “Then why wasn’t I able to get the fire?” she said. “That was our last chance, and now there’s nothing we can do!”
“Maybe,” Shirin said. “But maybe not. I’m not ready to give up.”
“Me neither,” Hugo said. “I don’t think you are either, Alma. You wouldn’t give up on the Starling now. Not you.”
Alma was still holding out her hands, still struggling to form words, when her father came back into the room. “Time’s up,” he said.