The Sound of Shooting Stars Read Online Free Page A
kitchen. Our housekeeper, Sasha is washing dishes in the sink. Her yellow dress covers her round figure with an apron expertly tied at rise of her hips. She turns as I come in.
“Hi Beckett, do you want dinner? I saved you a plate.”
I glance around to find that we’re alone.
“Um, yeah, that would be great.”
She takes a plate out of the oven and places it on the round table in the corner of the kitchen. I collapse into the chair and pull my legs up under me. When I pick up the fork, I look up to find her staring at me, the grey in her eyes is more pronounced, as if she’s worried. She smiles and looks away obviously uncomfortable about something. I eye her back curiously and ask, “Okay, Sasha, what is it you aren’t telling me?”
I stab a piece of chicken and raise it to my mouth. Sasha is kind of like a grandmother to me. She has been here for as long as I can remember and she’s here way more often than my actual grandmother who is usually off on some cruise or trip most of the year.
She turns and leans on the counter bracing her hands carefully on both sides of her plump frame.
“Did your parents tell you about Jamie?’
I frown as I chew another bite and nod my head. It seems as if relief washes over her face and she turns to continue washing the dishes. Her graying hair is rolled in a low bun at the nape of her neck colliding with the collar of her dress.
My interest is piqued though at the mention of his name, “Um, Sasha, they didn’t give me details. Is he, is he here yet?”
As she turns again the reluctant look on her face answers my question. What the hell? I slide out of the chair and question in fury, “Where?”
She points in the direction toward the back of the house. I head through the rear of the kitchen and cross the empty living room. When I get closer to the Florida room, my feet falter at the sound of voices. I listen intently for any voices I don’t recognize. My mom is saying something about school, my school. My heart falls, shit, shit, shit. This is not happening!
I pick up my pace and enter the room to find three pairs of eyes on me. My feet stop dead and my eyes meet the gaze of the sexiest guy I have ever seen. His dark hair is cut short, longer on top with a little wave in it, framing his face with a strong chiseled jaw. His piercing green eyes stare at me unblinking. I notice a shadow spread over his jaw line as if a bruise is there but it might just be the low lighting in the room. The space is silent for what seems like minutes but I know Marla would never let awkward silence resonate.
She gets up and exclaims while I continue staring like an idiot, “You finally woke up.”
She pulls me into the crook of her arm and introduces me, “Beckett, this is Jamie Grey and Michelle Ames, his case worker.”
I avert my gaze to the woman sitting a couple of feet down the couch from him. I didn’t even notice her sitting there. God Beckett, pull yourself together. He’s a foster kid, probably missing teeth or something.
Mrs. Ames says, “It’s nice to meet you Beckett. I’m so happy to finally put a face with the stories. Your mom and I went to college together and here we are finally able to reunite again.” She beams as if she really is glad to meet me.
Yeah, right, totally under false pretenses. I smile knowing it’s as fake as they get when the anger I felt earlier starts to resurface. This is my home and he’s now invading it. I turn in my mom’s arm and wince as she tightens her grip. She lowers her face to my ear and whispers, “Beckett, please try.”
I nod and meet his stare again. In my quietest voice I mutter, “It’s nice to meet you.”
He looks over at Mrs. Ames as if he’s annoyed. She nods at him and he stands. His face registers no emotion as he reaches to shake my hand and tells me, “Hi Beckett, nice to meet you.”
I pull my hand away as soon as his fingers catch mine and I glare at him. This is not going to be acceptable.
My mom
“Hi Beckett, do you want dinner? I saved you a plate.”
I glance around to find that we’re alone.
“Um, yeah, that would be great.”
She takes a plate out of the oven and places it on the round table in the corner of the kitchen. I collapse into the chair and pull my legs up under me. When I pick up the fork, I look up to find her staring at me, the grey in her eyes is more pronounced, as if she’s worried. She smiles and looks away obviously uncomfortable about something. I eye her back curiously and ask, “Okay, Sasha, what is it you aren’t telling me?”
I stab a piece of chicken and raise it to my mouth. Sasha is kind of like a grandmother to me. She has been here for as long as I can remember and she’s here way more often than my actual grandmother who is usually off on some cruise or trip most of the year.
She turns and leans on the counter bracing her hands carefully on both sides of her plump frame.
“Did your parents tell you about Jamie?’
I frown as I chew another bite and nod my head. It seems as if relief washes over her face and she turns to continue washing the dishes. Her graying hair is rolled in a low bun at the nape of her neck colliding with the collar of her dress.
My interest is piqued though at the mention of his name, “Um, Sasha, they didn’t give me details. Is he, is he here yet?”
As she turns again the reluctant look on her face answers my question. What the hell? I slide out of the chair and question in fury, “Where?”
She points in the direction toward the back of the house. I head through the rear of the kitchen and cross the empty living room. When I get closer to the Florida room, my feet falter at the sound of voices. I listen intently for any voices I don’t recognize. My mom is saying something about school, my school. My heart falls, shit, shit, shit. This is not happening!
I pick up my pace and enter the room to find three pairs of eyes on me. My feet stop dead and my eyes meet the gaze of the sexiest guy I have ever seen. His dark hair is cut short, longer on top with a little wave in it, framing his face with a strong chiseled jaw. His piercing green eyes stare at me unblinking. I notice a shadow spread over his jaw line as if a bruise is there but it might just be the low lighting in the room. The space is silent for what seems like minutes but I know Marla would never let awkward silence resonate.
She gets up and exclaims while I continue staring like an idiot, “You finally woke up.”
She pulls me into the crook of her arm and introduces me, “Beckett, this is Jamie Grey and Michelle Ames, his case worker.”
I avert my gaze to the woman sitting a couple of feet down the couch from him. I didn’t even notice her sitting there. God Beckett, pull yourself together. He’s a foster kid, probably missing teeth or something.
Mrs. Ames says, “It’s nice to meet you Beckett. I’m so happy to finally put a face with the stories. Your mom and I went to college together and here we are finally able to reunite again.” She beams as if she really is glad to meet me.
Yeah, right, totally under false pretenses. I smile knowing it’s as fake as they get when the anger I felt earlier starts to resurface. This is my home and he’s now invading it. I turn in my mom’s arm and wince as she tightens her grip. She lowers her face to my ear and whispers, “Beckett, please try.”
I nod and meet his stare again. In my quietest voice I mutter, “It’s nice to meet you.”
He looks over at Mrs. Ames as if he’s annoyed. She nods at him and he stands. His face registers no emotion as he reaches to shake my hand and tells me, “Hi Beckett, nice to meet you.”
I pull my hand away as soon as his fingers catch mine and I glare at him. This is not going to be acceptable.
My mom