Of Starlight by Dan Rix

hurting everywhere.
    From inside the bedroom, Emory’s startled face stared out at me. “Did you hear that?” said his muffled voice.
    Someone else must be in the room with him.
    He ambled over to the sliding glass doors and peered out into the night, blocking my view. He rested his palm on the glass. So close I could see the weariness in his eyes.
    I put my palm on top of his.
    “Just the wind,” he said, retreating back into the bedroom, and then I spotted her—Ashley—standing in his doorway, leaning her head against the doorframe and playing with her long blonde hair. Her eyes followed him across the room, and only when he looked back at her did she glance down. Was that weird?
    “Why don’t you trust me?” she said softly—I pressed my ear to the pane to catch her muted voice.
    “Ash, of course I trust you,” he said, his voice pained. “Of course I trust you. More than anyone. That’s never going to change.”
    “With your life?” she said.
    “With my life,” he said.
    She rubbed her head against the doorframe like a cat. “Then how come you didn’t listen to me? I saw you walking with her, even after I told you about her.”
    “You were at school?” he said.
    “I was curious,” she said, looking down.
    He stepped up to her and tilted her chin up with his finger so he could look her in the eye. “You came back . . . you came back, Ashley. You can’t imagine how grateful I am knowing my little sister’s watching my back again.”
    “You’re not taking me seriously,” she said. “There’s something really wrong with her. I don’t want you hanging out with her.”
    “Okay, you want her to be gone, she’s gone.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ll ditch that bitch just like that, if that’s what’ll make you happy. I don’t care about her, I care about you .”
    “Liar.”
    “Where’d you go, Ash?” he said.
    “I’m right here,” she said.
    “No, where’d you go. What happened to my sister? This isn’t like you . . . Are you going to tell me what happened?”
    “Stop . . . stop , Emory! ” She turned away. “You know I can’t.”
    I swiveled from the window, shaking. I’d heard enough.
    A tear slid down my cheek.

Chapter 8
    “Salamander’s been acting weird,” said Megan, peering into her terrarium after school the next day.
    “Your snake? ” I tossed down my backpack and collapsed on her bed, wishing I could die. Sure enough, Emory had avoided me all day, and it really hurt. Ashley had turned him against me.
    “Who else do we know named Salamander?” Megan asked.
    “Not in the mood,” I moaned into her pillow.
    “She’s not eating.”
    “It’s probably still stuffed from all the poor mice it ambushed in my front yard.”
    “Whoa, come look at this.”
    Sighing my exasperation, I dragged myself off her bed and plopped down in front of the cage. Wood chips and bark flittered around at the bottom of the terrarium, as if the snake was aggravated. Crickets hopped nearby, oblivious to the menace. Poor things.
    “He’s invisible,” I said.
    “It’s a she ,” she corrected.
    “Whatever. I can’t see anything.”
    “No, look .” She pointed at something beyond the glass.
    Then I saw it too. A tiny green patch of skin floated in the air, out of which flicked a pink tongue. The patch widened before our eyes, growing into a disembodied head.
    “Is it shedding its skin?” I said.
    “Yeah, and it’s shedding the dark matter too.”
    “Or dark matter’s shedding it,” I said.
    The head expanded into a body, which appeared to be slithering out of a hole in the air. And then the snake was completely visible from head to tail. It continued to zigzag around the cage, clearly agitated.
    It struck at the glass, making a hollow thud.
    “Whoa, easy Salamander.”
    It struck again, harder. Then again, leaving a tiny smear on the terrarium wall.
    “What’s that for?” I asked.
    “I don’t know, she’s never done that.”
    The snake gave up and