She's Mine

Luna

“Luna, come on!”

Sterling’s voice slips through the willow trees before he disappears into the thick brush near the river.

I hurry after him, pushing past elderberry shrubs, cattails, and milkweed. Twigs scratch my arms. The damp grass soaks the bottoms of my shoes. Somewhere behind the trees, the river moves slow and dark, whispering over the rocks like it knows a secret.

Sometimes Sterling and I fish here.

Sometimes we catch nothing and call it an adventure anyway. But tonight doesn’t feel like one of our adventures. Tonight, his voice sounds wrong.

“Sterling, wait,” I whisper-yell, glancing over my shoulder.

No one follows us.

Not my father. Not his. Not our mothers in their pretty dresses. Not any of the adults laughing too loudly back at my house, where the lights glow through the windows and music spills into the yard.

We’ve been warned a thousand times not to come near the river after dusk. We’re only ten, which apparently means adults think everything outside after sunset wants to kill us. Usually, our fathers catch us before we make it this far.

But tonight is different.

Tonight, my parents are hosting a party.

Not their usual Saturday card game with Sterling’s parents. Not the kind where they shuffle cards, eat too much food, and tell us to entertain ourselves. This party is bigger. Louder. Strangers have been walking through our house all evening, smiling at me like they know something I don’t.

I don’t like it.

And Sterling likes it even less.

I find him by the riverbank, crouched near the water with a fistful of stones. His blond hair is messy from running through the trees, and his nice shirt has a streak of dirt down one sleeve. He tosses a rock across the river. It skips three times before sinking beneath the dark surface.

“We’re going to be in so much trouble if they find us,” I mutter.

Sterling doesn’t look at me. “They’re too busy.”

He throws another stone.

This one skips four times.

He should be proud. Usually, he’d grin at me and brag until I shoved him. But tonight his jaw is tight, his shoulders stiff, his eyes fixed on the water like he wants to fight it.

I take the stones he hands me, but I don’t throw them right away.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

His mouth twitches, but it isn’t a smile. Not really.

I throw one of the stones. It drops into the river with one sad plunk.

Sterling watches the ripples spread. Then he says, so quietly I almost miss it, “Marry me.”

My hand freezes around the next stone. For one strange second, the whole river seems to stop moving. Then I laugh because that’s the only thing that makes sense. Sterling is my best friend. My favorite person. My partner in every bad idea. But he’s also ten, and ten-year-olds do not get married.

“We can’t get married,” I say. “We’re kids.”

His face falls.

The laugh dies in my throat.

“I know,” he says, staring at his shoes. “But if we got married, no one could separate us.”

A cold feeling curls beneath my ribs.

“Why would someone separate us?”

Sterling drags his shoe through the mud. “Promise me something.”

I don’t like his voice. I don’t like how small it sounds.

“Promise what?”

He steps closer and takes both my hands, holding them against his chest like he needs me to feel his heart beating. It’s going fast. Too fast.

“Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll always be my best friend.”

My throat tightens.

Sterling and I have promised that before. A hundred times. Maybe more. We have been best friends forever, which is what our mothers always say because they have been best friends forever too. We live beside each other. We ride bikes together. We chase fireflies until our mothers call us in. We know every hiding spot between our houses.

Nothing is supposed to change.

But his eyes are full of something I have never seen there before.

Fear.

“Sterling,” I whisper. “You’re scaring me.”

His fingers tighten around mine. “Just promise.”

“I promise,” I say quickly. “Obviously, I promise. You’re my best friend in the whole world.”

His eyes shine, and for one terrifying second, I think he might cry.

Sterling never cries.

Not when he falls out of trees. Not when he gets stung by bees. Not even when he split his chin open on the dock and had to get stitches.

“Tell me what happened,” I say.

He looks toward the glowing house, then back at me. “I heard our moms talking.”

My stomach dips.

“What did they say?”

His voice breaks. “You’re moving to London.”

The words hit me wrong.

They don’t make sense.

I shake my head. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No.” My voice gets sharper. “My parents would’ve told me.”

Sterling swallows. “Your mom got a job at a music school there. Some important one. Your dad already has work set up too.”

“No.”

“Luna—”

“No!” I press my hands over my ears even though I can still hear him. “You heard wrong.”

His face twists. “I didn’t.”

The party music drifts through the trees, soft and far away. Laughter follows. A burst of clapping. Glasses clinking.

A goodbye party.

That thought creeps into my mind, and once it gets there, I can’t push it out.

All those strangers. My mother’s too-bright smile. My father watching me too closely, and the way everyone kept hugging me, saying things like, “You’re going to love it there, sweetheart,” and “What an adventure.”

My heart starts to pound.

“They can’t take me away from you,” I whisper.

Sterling’s face crumples.

That hurts worse than the words.

“They can,” he says. “They are.”

Tears burn my eyes. “Why didn’t they tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I don’t know.” His voice gets desperate. “That’s why we have to leave.”

I blink at him. “Leave?”

“Tonight.”

The river suddenly sounds louder.

“We can’t run away,” I say, but my voice isn’t as strong as I want it to be. “We need money. Food. A car. We can’t even drive.”

“I have money.” Sterling grabs my hand like the answer is simple. Like he has solved the whole world. “I’ve been saving it. I have more in my bank account. A lot more. I can get it later.”

“You can’t even reach the bank counter.”

“That’s not the point.”

“It kind of is.”

“Luna.” His voice cracks again, and the tiny argument disappears between us. “Please. I can’t lose you.”

My chest caves in.

I don’t want London. I don’t want a music school. I don’t want a house without Sterling next door. I don’t want to wake up and not see him waiting by the fence with some terrible plan already forming in his head.

I don’t want a world where he’s far away.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” I whisper.

He pulls me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.

For a moment, I hold on just as hard.

He smells like grass, river water, and the soap his mother makes him use before parties.

Then he pulls back, wiping his face quickly like he doesn’t want me to see the tear that escaped.

“We’ll meet at my house,” he says. “Pack fast. Don’t tell anyone. We have to leave before they notice.”

“This is crazy.”

“I know.”

“Running away is easier than getting married,” I whisper, trying to make it sound like a joke.

Sterling doesn’t laugh. “That’s why we’re doing it.”

I nod even though my knees feel weak.

Then I run.

The house is too bright when I get back. Too loud. Too warm. Adults crowd the living room with glasses in their hands and smiles on their faces. My mother stands near the piano, talking to a man I don’t recognize.

He wears a dark suit even though everyone else looks more relaxed. He doesn’t laugh with the others. He only watches.

Not like grown-ups usually watched children, with distracted smiles and half-listening eyes. He watched like he was waiting for me to become something.

For a second, his eyes land on me. Something cold moves through my stomach. Then my mother notices me and smiles.

It isn’t her real smile.

Sterling was right.

I’m leaving, and everyone knows except me.

I go upstairs before anyone can stop me.

My room looks the same as always—messy bed, stuffed animals, sheet music stacked where my mother left it, the little dog figurine Sterling won for me at the fair sitting on my dresser.

I stare at all of it and feel like I’m already a ghost.

I can’t find my suitcase, so I shove clothes into bags. Socks. Shirts. A sweater. My favorite book. The flashlight Sterling and I use for firefly hunting. I don’t pack my piano books.

I don’t want London.

I don’t want music if music is the reason I have to leave him.

My hands shake as I push open the window and remove the screen. The night air bites my face when I lean out and drop the bags onto the grass below. They land with soft thuds.

I put the screen back as carefully as I can.

Then I creep downstairs.

Almost there.

Almost free.

I’m crossing the kitchen when a voice stops me.

“Luna?”

I freeze.

Sterling’s mother stands near the sink with a glass of water in her hand. Amanda’s eyes are soft, but there’s worry in them too.

“Where’s Sterling?”

My heart slams against my ribs.

“He’s hiding,” I blurt. “We’re playing hide and seek. I came to get drinks.”

Amanda glances toward the hallway, then back at me. For a second, I think she knows I’m lying. Then she smiles, but it looks tired. Sad.

“Well, remind him it’s getting late, okay?”

I swallow. “Can he sleep over? Since everyone’s here and stuff?”

She hesitates.

My palms sweat.

Finally, she nods. “All right. But no staying up all night. He’s impossible when he doesn’t sleep.”

“I know,” I say.

And I do. I know everything about Sterling. That’s why I have to go.

I slip outside, grab my bags from under the window, and drag them across the lawn. The party sounds fade behind me with every step.

“Luna!”

Sterling’s whisper cuts through the dark.

I turn and see him near the driveway. Then I see the car.

His father’s car.

My stomach drops.

“No,” I breathe.

Sterling rushes toward me. “Come on.”

“You can’t drive.”

“I can.”

“You’re ten.”

“I’ve driven on my grandpa’s farm.”

“That doesn’t count!”

He grabs my hand. His fingers are cold. “It counts enough.”

I stare at the car. It looks enormous in the dark, all black metal and windows reflecting the porch lights. Sterling’s bag is already inside. Mine feels suddenly too heavy in my hand.

“We’re going to get caught,” I whisper.

“We won’t.”

“You can barely see over the wheel.”

“I fixed it.”

That’s when I notice the wooden blocks tied to the pedals.

For a moment, I forget to breathe.

This is a terrible plan, a dangerous plan.

A Sterling plan.

He looks at me with those frightened, determined eyes. “Trust me, Luna. Have I ever let you down?”

The answer comes from a place deeper than fear.

“No,” I whisper. “Never.”

He helps me put the bags in the back. I climb into the passenger seat, my hands shaking so hard I can barely pull the seat belt across my chest. Sterling gets behind the wheel and sits tall, trying to look older than he is.

He doesn’t.

He looks like a scared little boy trying to save the only person he loves.

My throat burns.

“It’ll be okay,” he says.

I nod because I want to believe him.

The car jerks when he presses the gas.

My body snaps forward, and I grab the seat.

Sterling winces. “Sorry.”

We roll down the driveway with the headlights off at first, moving slow enough that I can hear my own breathing. Then he turns them on at the road, and the night opens ahead of us.

The houses pass in dark shapes.

The party disappears behind us.

For a few minutes, I let myself imagine we might make it.

Maybe we’ll find a place where no one knows us. Maybe we’ll eat sandwiches and sleep in the car and laugh about how scared we were. Maybe our parents will realize they were wrong and beg us to come home and promise not to send me away.

Maybe Sterling and I will always be together.

Then he reaches into his jacket and pulls out an envelope. “This is for you.”

I look at it, confused. My name is written across the front in his messy handwriting. “What is it?”

“A letter,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road. “Don’t read it yet.”

“Why not?”

His mouth trembles. “Just in case.”

Those three words make the car feel colder.

Just in case we get caught.

Just in case I still have to leave.

Just in case forever isn’t something two ten-year-olds can promise and keep.

I clutch the envelope to my chest.

“Sterling—”

Light floods the car. Too bright.

Too fast.

Sterling turns his head.

I hear him gasp my name. The world slows into pieces. His hand reaches for mine. The envelope crumples in my fist.

Headlights fill the windshield.

Then everything breaks.