Title: Uncross the Stars by Janell Rhiannon
Synopsis: Fiona Lavender is the new girl at school. She has a chip on her shoulder and a penchant for poetry. Dario Martinez is the star quarterback, and the most unattainable guy on campus. Their stars cross when they are paired to study Romeo and Juliet for a senior English project. Their attraction is fragile and undeniable. But, Dario is afraid of what love will do; and Fiona is waiting for love to claim her.Will they uncross the stars and find the love they both need to heal their pasts?
UNCROSS THE STARS
At midnight, Fiona and her mother finally pulled into the driveway of their new
rental. Her mom cut the engine, but not the parking lights.
“Looks like we made it, Fee.”
“Barely. I thought you were going to kill us a few times weaving all over the road
like you were,” Fiona said.
“It’s not easy driving and towing a U-haul trailer. It’s heavy,” her mom replied
and began rummaging through her purse.
Fiona ignored her mother and squinted through the dust and bug splats on the
windshield at the dark house. She noticed the crooked light fixture on the left side of the
garage, and the rain gutter hanging askew.
“Looks like we’re the haunted house on the block,” Fiona said.
Her mom hit the high beams spotlighting the garage door like a stage.
“Not so helpful, Mom.” Fiona got out of the car and stretched her neck and back.
She inhaled the cool fall air. Peering through the darkness, she noticed the bushes lining
the dead grass yard needed trimming, the thinly branched tree in the front stood naked of
leaves, and mounds of dried up flowers filled the flower bed under the front window.
Shadows darkened the walkway to the front door. A pair of windows stared out at the
street like rectangular evil eyes.
“Looks sturdy and dirty. And creepy. I can hardly wait to go inside, Mom.”
Fiona peered inside the car. Under the dim dome light, her mom had dumped the
entire contents of her purse on the passenger side seat.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
“I think I left the key back in Watsonville.”
“Great,” Fiona said. She glanced back at the windows. They remained staring
blankly into the night. Fiona looked down the street in both directions. Every single
house had a lit porch, except theirs.
“Ahhh-ha! I found it. It was in the ash tray. I forgot I put it in there for safe
“Hurry up, Mom. It’s dark outside.”
“Fine. I’m coming. Have some patience, Fee,” her mom said, as she got out of the
They walked the dark pathway to the front door. A powdery dust covered
everything. Fiona’s mom tried to fit the key in the lock and open the door. She jiggled
and twisted the knob, syncing the internal mechanisms with difficulty, until the door
finally creaked open into a darkness blacker than night.
“Where’s the light switch?” her mom asked, as she ran her hand over the wall
next to the door frame. “Ah!”
Fiona heard the light switch click. She heard her mom toggle it up and down
several times in rapid succession, but nothing happened.
“Ummm,” her mom mumbled.
“There aren’t any lights on outside either. Don’t tell me we don’t have any
electricity,” Fiona said.
“Well, either that or we need several dozen light bulbs,” her mother answered.
“Figures.” Fiona heard her mother rummaging through her purse again. “What are
“Wait. I think I’ve got it.”
Fiona heard jangling keys, a soft snap and a beam of blue light appeared from her
mother’s hand. “There we go.” Her mom walked into the house waving the thin light in
front of her. When she found the kitchen, she searched through random drawers. “There
we go,” she said again.
“There we go what?” Fiona asked completely annoyed.
“Candles. Now, all I need is some fire.”
Fiona flipped a pack of paper matches at her mom.
“Where’d you get these? You aren’t smoking again, are you?”
“From the counter, Mom! Jeez. I smoke one time three years ago and you act like
I’m going to die of lung cancer or some crap. Light the dumb candle already.” As her
mom lit the candles, it occurred to Fiona, “Did you call ahead to get the power turned
“What?” Her mom asked.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Maybe I can get my old job back.” Fiona’s mom rerouted the conversation.
“What job?” Fiona asked, rolling her eyes.
“The one at Red Lobster. Ah. There we go. Light.” Fiona’s mom smiled
triumphantly, holding up a lit candle.
Fiona stared at her mother through the candlelight. “Are you serious? That was
ten years ago.”
“I was good at that job. The manager, oh, what was her name? Mandy?”
“Who cares what her name was. It was ten years ago. No one’s going to
Undeterred by Fiona’s negativity, her mother continued, “I think it was Valerie.
Yes, I’m pretty sure it was Valerie. Maybe she’s still there.”
“Ten years ago, Mom. And nice try.” Fiona said.
“Nice try what?” Her mom paused. “I noticed you didn’t use the F-word. I’m
proud of you sticking to your promise.”
“Nice try not answering my question. The power company. You didn’t call ahead,
“I was so busy getting the U-haul loaded—”
“I’ll take that as a no,” Fiona said flatly.
“I’m sorry, Fee. I’ll get on it first thing in the morning.”
“Can we just unload some things, so I can go to bed, preferably not on the floor?”
After an hour of wrestling the flimsy mattresses to their rooms, moving boxes,
and ignoring her mom the whole time, Fiona finally had the solitude she craved. She
found the box she’d packed Mr. Lion-Bear in for the trip from Watsonville to Sierra Crest.
She opened it and pulled him out and hugged him to her chest, like she did when she was
a little girl.
Ten years ago, when her mother decided in her typical impulsive fashion to get
married to Dominic, some guy she barely knew, two important things happened. Her
mom had a huge yard sale and lion-bear became her best friend. Fiona hated the yard sale
because she watched bits and pieces of her life walk away, like her little Star Wars
figurines, her too small ballet shoes, and her favorite Beauty and the Beast comforter. She
had cried so hard that her mom bought her a new stuffed animal. The instant she saw him
she’d loved him because he promised with his fuzzy black nose to her neck that he’d
never leave her. She named him lion-bear because he was a lion, but soft like a teddy
bear. She had whispered all her secrets into his fuzzy ears.
Within days of the dreaded yard sale and the purchase of her beloved companion,
they had packed up the remaining pieces of wreckage from their life in Sierra Crest,
crammed them into the car, and drove two hundred miles northwest to Watsonville never
to look back.
At the time, Fiona’s mother reassured her that Dominic epitomized fun and happy,
and most important of all he had a job and promised to take care of them. They’d been
struggling for months, going without electricity or water more than once, because her
mom couldn’t keep a steady job. Her mom always made a game out of the darkness and
the droughts. She said it was good to find the silver lining in the rain clouds. Usually, that
meant her mom reading to her by candle light.
“Here we are again, Mr. Lion-Bear. Back where we started,” Fiona said to the
worn stuffed animal in her lap. “This time better be different. If my mom meets another
guy, I swear I’ll never talk to her again. I’m so absolutely sick of moving. Sick of
Moving to Watsonville was supposed to have been a fresh start for Fiona and her
mother, but once they got there the beautiful dream quickly eroded into a familiar disaster.
Dominic turned out to be as flaky as all the rest of the men her mom dated. Fiona
couldn’t believe anyone could be worse at holding down a regular job than her mother,
but Dominic proved otherwise. Dominic also turned out to be some kind of moody
jerkwad. Weeks before Fiona’s mom had decided to leave for good, he had been
diagnosed as bi-polar—which answered a lot of questions, but the damage had been done.
Her mom packed them up to move again. She promised Fiona life would be different this
time if they went back to Sierra Crest and recovered the life they dumped years ago.
“I hope Mom’s being honest with herself. I want to finish my senior year at the
same school. I don’t think I can take moving one more time.” She plopped Mr. Lion-Bear
on her bed. “We need some blankets, little friend.” She opened another box marked
FIONA’S ROOM and pulled out a well-worn quilt. “This’ll do.” Fiona smoothed it on
the top mattress, blew out the candle and lay down exhausted. “God, I hope she’s being
honest with herself.”
Thanks for being here!
- Why did you become an author?
I began writing plays and stories in elementary school. I guess it was a natural progression to becoming an author. After I finished college and my kids got older, I began writing again. I intend to keep writing until I’m dead.
- What is your favourite book and why?
My favorite book is probably the Iliad, because it tells about my favorite Greek hero, Achilles. I love Achilles complex nature and how he is a mystery on some levels. Did he love Patrokles, or LOVE Patrokles? He had to deal with the consequences of his decision to seek glory and fame. I think his character is a great view of what life is and how our choices define us.
- Please list three things your readers don’t know about you
I have secret messages in my writing...only the person they are meant for would know.
I have an unrequited love ☹
I love texting everyone in my phone random things pretty much all day. If you give me your number, I’ll text you ☺
- What does writing mean to you?
It means the world to me. I can’t imagine not thinking about writing or contemplating a story idea. Sometimes I just sit on my patio and stare into space thinking about things to write about, like people I know who would make interesting character foundations.
- If the world blew up, and you were the only person left, what would you do?
Oh wow! I would have a blast. I’d probably steal a car. Wait, is it stealing if no one else exists? Oh, wait again…the world blew up does that mean there’s rubble everywhere? And no electricity. I think I would probably get worried about zombies.
- Do you get writer’s block, and if so how do you deal with it?
I don’t usually get writer’s block (now I’m most likely going to jinx myself by saying that). But, I do go into non-writing phases where my brain is “cooking” ideas. Then all of a sudden I feel compelled to write. Once that happens I’m so zoned in everything around my world goes to crap. Dirty dishes. No food. Laundry piled up all over. Days on end of no shower. Up late. Up early. Coffee intravenously. It’s kind of embarrassing actually.
- Please tell the story of your writing journey- how you started, getting published.
Once I decided to write, I decided pretty quickly that I would be an indie girl. I love the freedom indie writers have with cover and content.
My first book was Invisible Wings. It truly was a work that came from my heart. It’s a framed story, not just a series of short stories, with a teenage angel as the constant character who threads the narrative together. Each story speaks to a wish a character has, and by wish I mean the REAL wish…the one that is the underlying truth. The stories are a bit dark, maybe you could say bittersweet, yet they are also full of hope. Each chapter introduces a new character with a different set of issues to work through from gang violence to a mother with cancer.
Then I wrote book one of the Livingstone Saga entitled Birth. It’s a planned trilogy about a gargoyle in Medieval Spain who survives to the modern world. I then moved on to Uncross the Stars. It’s time to get back to Celestino in Livingstone Saga book two.
I haven’t spent any time trying to traditionally publish. I spend a lot of time online meeting people in the indie writing world, as well as readers. I’ve met some pretty amazing people.
- What would your job be if writing wasn’t an option?
I’d be teaching of course. But if you mean a dream job other than writing? I’d love to do a traveling gig where I talk about the Hero’s Journey in film and literature.
- What do you do when you’re not writing?
I love to watch television shows like Game of Thrones and Sons of Anarchy. Gah! I still can’t believe the ending of that show. It threw me off an emotional cliff. I’m still climbing back up the canyon with that one. JAX!!!! I go to the gym a lot. Play with grandkids and my dogs. And of course, I text like crazy.
- Where do you find your inspiration for writing?
Music, life, a word, dreams…real stuff that happens that’s too weird or awful to actually be real. You know the times when you say, “I couldn’t make this up.”
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