I wondered why someone like Roxanne would come to Ida. Besides the plastics factory where Daddy works, there’s not much here. We have a few churches, a Laundromat, a drugstore that’s also the bus station, Murphy’s department store, a feed store, two grocery stores and a few other things, but you have to drive twenty miles just to get to a decent movie theater. Except for Mr. Arthur’s Wax Museum, there’s not much that’s fun to do.

People say the only reason to move to Ida is to hide from something. That’s what I figured about Roxanne. Why else would she move to just about the most boring place in the universe? New Year’s Day we were sitting on the floor in her living room painting Flaming Tomato polish on our toenails when I asked her.

“For meteor showers,” she said. “The sky in these parts is so clear. In the city you can sit out all night and never see one falling star.” She put the brush back into the bottle and stretched out her long legs, spreading her toes so the polish wouldn’t get messed up. “Tonight’s a big one. In Ida it’ll be easier to see.”

I could tell she didn’t want to say why she really came. “So you came all the way to Ida to work part-time at a truck stop and watch the stars?”

“And make wishes,” she said. “Without falling stars, how would your wishes come true?” She stood up and looked at me like she really expected an answer.

When I didn’t say anything, she said, “I’ve got to get ready for work. Ask your mother if you can come over when I get off and sleep out.”

I knew Mama wouldn’t like the idea. She wouldn’t want me hanging around Roxanne for a whole night.

“I’m not real crazy about that Roxanne,” she said later when I asked her. She was rolling out dough for biscuits and she pressed the rolling pin down real hard, stretching the dough out a lot thinner than it should have been.

“Mama, it’ll help in science. Plus, you told Daddy that Roxanne’s the best neighbor we’ve had in a long time,” I told her.

“Jesse,” she said, dumping the flour out hard enough to make a cloud in front of her face, “I said I was glad she picked up all that old scrap metal from the front yard when she moved in. The place looks a good bit neater than I’ve seen it in a while. But as a friend for you, I don’t know.”

“You just don’t like it that she has a tattoo,” I said, watching her stamp circles into the dough.

A couple of days after Roxanne came over to borrow the jumper cables, Mama and I were out back hanging clothes on the line. It was a warm day and Roxanne walked over wearing tight blue jeans and a sequined T-shirt that was cut real low in front.

“Can you believe this weather?” she’d said. “That’s what I like about this part of the country, it’s so unpredictable.” When she bent over to pick up a wet sock out of the basket to help, she caught Mama staring right at her tattoo.

“Y’all looking at my Liberty Bell?” she asked.

Mama’s face got red and she said something about how she was just looking for another pair of Daddy’s undershorts.

“It’s okay,” Roxanne said. “I got it right after my divorce was final.” She pulled the top of her T-shirt down farther and pointed to a line on the bell. “Used to say Robert, but I got the name changed into a crack. You know,” she said, grinning, “the crack in the Liberty Bell?”

Mama had clamped her teeth together just like she was doing now as she rolled out some more dough.

“You don’t like it she’s divorced?” I wasn’t going to give up. “What about Aunt June? She got a divorce and you like her, don’t you?” Aunt June is Mama’s younger sister and Mama doesn’t like anybody saying anything bad about her.

“I haven’t gotten to do one fun thing over the holidays, and they’re just about over,” I added. “And we’ll just be a few feet away from your bedroom window. Please?”

“Jess-see,” she said slowly, her voice sounding like a balloon that was losing air fast: “All right, you can go, but you have to take Doris Ray. And plenty of blankets,” she added.

Doris Ray stood at the kitchen table beating a little wad of dough with her fist. She had flour in her hair and on her face and she looked at me real smart-like, and started singing, “I get to sleep outside … I get to sleep outside … with Jesse,” she added for extra emphasis just to annoy me.

“And I’m gonna bring a star cup,” she sang out. “I’m gonna catch me a whole cup of stars!”

I told her she wouldn’t be doing that because she’d have to go to sleep before the stars even happened, but she said she was going to stay awake as long as I did.

“It’s not anything but a bunch of dumb falling stars,” I told her.

“I might catch one if I stay awake” she whined, twisting the curl at her ear like she always does.

“Your hair is going to fall out if you keep doing that,” I nagged. “Besides, if you’re outside with us, a meteor could crash down on you while you’re running around trying to catch things.”

“You’re teasing,” she said. You can’t scare Doris Ray from doing anything. I knew she’d stay awake for the whole meteor shower if it killed her.

Late that night after Roxanne got in from work, Doris Ray and I dragged a mattress into the backyard. Roxanne brought her beanbag chair to sleep on and she said she was glad Doris Ray could come.

“It is one beautiful night,” she said, twirling around in her fake fur. She called the coat her “moo-ton,” which sounded like a kind of Chinese food to me. Underneath she was still wearing her pink waitress dress and matching pink tennis shoes and she spread her arms out like a ballerina.

“Come on, Doris Ray, let’s do a pirouette.” She lifted Doris Ray and helped her stand on her toes, then twirled her around. They were giggling and carrying on and I figured someone would be out there hollering at us to get quiet pretty soon.

No one came, though, and Roxanne went in to change clothes. When she came out she looked like she was dressed for a party instead of sleeping out. She was wearing some crazy leopard-spotted leotards and a gold sparkly blouse, and, of course, that big coat of hers. She threw a paper sack toward Doris Ray, who was sitting on the ground wrapped in a blanket.

“Here, honey. It’s confetti for when the stars come pouring down.” Doris Ray jumped up and down acting real stupid. I couldn’t believe she’d get so excited over a little bag of cut up comics from the Sunday paper.

Finally, she settled down and we all sat in the dark waiting for something to happen.

“Is that the warmest coat you have?” Roxanne asked me, looking at my thin jacket.

“It’ll do,” I said, and I pulled it tighter around me I was thinking it sure wasn’t cold enough for the rug she wore.

“Y’all have your wishes thought up?” Roxanne changed the subject.

“I do. I do,” Doris Ray shrieked. “I’m gonna wish that—”

“Don’t tell, baby,” Roxanne interrupted. “It’s gotta be a secret.”

“Oh,” Doris Ray whispered.

“You got some wishes planned, Jesse? You can make as many as you want tonight,” Roxanne said.

“Nope. Not me. I don’t believe in that stuff. I just want to see the stars. That’s enough. We’ve read about these things in science.”

Roxanne said, “Well, I’ve got only one wish. And I’m going to use it for every star that falls. It’ll have to come true.”

“Are all the stars going to fall down?” Doris Ray asked. She can ask the dumbest questions.

“No, sweetheart,” Roxanne answered. “There’ll still be millions and millions of them. When one falls down, it leaves seeds behind for about a dozen more.” I figured I’d have to get Doris Ray straightened out later, but I let Roxanne go on about her crazy ideas.

“Someone once said that when falling stars hit the ocean, they harden and become starfish,” she added.

Doris Ray moved over to Roxanne’s chair and Roxanne put her arm around her. “Just watch, sweetie pie, you’ll see.”

It was real early in the morning when Roxanne woke us up, me on the mattress and Doris Ray on her lap.

“Did we miss it?” I asked.

“No, look,” she said. “Open your eyes.”

When I did, the first thing I noticed was the quiet. It was like the whole trailer park had moved inside another world, one without any sound. I felt like I was inside one of those glass balls that you shake and watch the snow fall down, except the snowflakes were stars. Dozens, maybe hundreds, poured down on us. I forgot all about Doris Ray and Roxanne and everything else. It was just me and the stars, a thousand sparkly white threads pushing out of the night, and each one shooting straight at me.

Finally, I felt Doris Ray breathing beside me. She can’t stand to be still for very long. Giggling, she hopped up and grabbed Roxanne’s sack of confetti.

“Shhh” Roxanne said, putting her finger to her mouth. “Be real quiet so the magic can happen.” Doris Ray pressed her lips together and, without a sound, skipped around the yard tossing fistfuls of confetti into the air.

Roxanne couldn’t stand it. She laughed and got a handful, too, and pretty soon I was covered in the stuff, but I stayed on my back on the ground and didn’t even care.

“Make a wish, make a hundred wishes,” Roxanne said, stretching her arms up to the sky. Doris Ray picked up her cup and held it as high as she could.

“Come on, star, just one, fall into my cup,” she whispered to the air.

I sat up. “I read that a star is about a million miles in diameter, about the size of the sun. They just look little because they’re so far away,” I said.

“A star wouldn’t fit in a cup, then, would it?” Doris Ray said, setting her cup in the dirt by the clothesline.

Roxanne answered. “No, sugar, not a whole star, but you might catch some Stardust.”

“Well, not exactly,” I told both of them. “Meteor showers usually come from comets. The comet comes around our part of the earth every so often and when it does, it leaves a trail of stuff, kind of like what you see floating around in the light that comes through the window. It’s pretty and all, but it’s just that floaty stuff we’re seeing, not stars.”

“Is she right?” Doris Ray asked Roxanne.

Before she had a chance to answer, I added, “So there’s no such thing as Stardust, at least not the kind you could catch.”

Roxanne lay down on the ground with her hands under her head. “Weil, maybe Stardust is invisible. But I think when it lands on people it makes their hearts sparkle, and their eyes and voices, too.”

“We saw a picture at school of a gigantic hole left by a meteor,” I said. “Sometimes meteorites don’t vaporize and come crashing to earth.”

Doris Ray had turned on the flashlight and was examining the inside of her empty cup. I saw her lip tremble in the light.

“Jesse, do you really think one will come crashing down here?” She held her light to the sky and searched. I figured I could get her to crying if I wanted to.

“No, that won’t happen,” I said.

“I love you, Jesse,” Doris Ray’s voice sounded small and sweet like a tiny Christmas bell.

“Yeah,” I said. “I love you too, kid.”

“Just think,” Roxanne said, still lying on her back and gazing at the sky. “Those words will float in space forever. I heard that everything you say your whole life is floating around in space.”

I doubted Roxanne was right, but if she was, I wondered if Mama’s words telling me to pray for William III were out there. My half-finished prayer would be limping through space after them, with the part about William III missing forever and ever.

Finally, the meteor shower slowed to only one or two streaks and the wind picked up, making eerie flapping noises in the trees. When I was Doris Ray’s age and heard that sound at night, I thought some birds had their wings caught in the branches and couldn’t get away. It scared me real bad. Past the row of poplars way over the fence, somebody’s cats were fighting. I told Roxanne and my sister good night and closed my eyes and went to sleep.