Sammy Got a Star (Chapter 1)

He got a star. He got a star. It was his, and whenever he looked up in the middle of the night, he could see his star even though it was a trillion light years away, he could see it. It hung there in the inky blackness, higher than any of the other stars and, while it was not as bright, it held a reddish tint which twinkled and winked, exposing more of its powerful redness. He was so proud of that star the he’d conduct sleepovers at night, just so he could point out his star to his friends. They’d scoff and say that he didn’t own it until he landed on it. He knew better. There was nothing anyone could say to take his star away from him.

 It was his birthday, and he stayed up all night – well past his bedtime – to stare at his new home, the place where he would reside in upcoming dreams and fantasies. He sat by his window, his mind drifting from its corporeal seat, floating out of the sill into the limitless horizons of that black vista of the beyond. Sammy’s mind never liked to sit upon that seat, always staring over the crenellations of his brain, peering into unknowable nooks. It was no different on his birthday. While the other kids slept, as part of the annual birthday ritual of the friend group, Sammy kept up, eyes twinkling with admiration. He wasn’t going to sleep. Not when there was a whole world that he hadn’t explored yet.

 He sat upon the window seat, neck craned, teeth bared in ecstatic grin, hand upon the open sill, fingers tapping a rhythmic ditty upon the wood. He reached out towards the star, wishing that his hand was long enough so he could grab it and pull himself to the glimmering giant, but to no avail. He smiled, content with his attempts, though discontented that he still hadn’t learned how to fly. He looked around, seeing the tiny bodies of his friends resting soundly on his floor in their puffy sleeping bags – Sven curled up with his horse doll, Roger, as he always did – and he wondered if the residents of his star slept in sleeping bags.

 His eyes rose once again. They remained on the star, glazing and shimmering with the desire for sleep, lids receiving the effects of gravity. They’d close, causing the star’s light to expand and brighten, and he’d open them again, the star returning to its normal luster. Again, they repeated their slow droop, lumbering towards the delectable embrace of sleep, and he fell into the deep recesses of his mind, letting it topple over the great ramparts to the freedom into the ether of the unconscious.

 He dreamt he was sitting upon his star – a humble red dwarf. His butt was warm, and he giggled at the sensation. He looked up and saw a tall crown upon his head, inlaid with rubies and gems of all sorts. He looked down to see the flaming seat, its soft tendrils of flame reaching up towards him, too small and airy to affect him, especially since he was in a dream. He looked out from his royal throne, the seat of pride showing how he was finally a king, and not just the kind that he played in the imaginary games he and his friends played. It was a good seat for him, a humble seat. He didn’t need one of those white-hot ones, or the big blue ones. This one fit him perfectly. He looked out over his court. There were attendants out there, waiting upon his call to perform his bidding – three of them to be precise. They were round, small little orbs barely standing out in that sprawling, empty mass aside from the slight red tint that reflected off their surfaces. Sammy leaned in to get a closer look at them and saw that one of them glinted with a blue surface. It was so pretty mixed with the red light, shimmering like an oasis in the middle of the desert.

 Sammy stood upon the star and bowed, hoping to get a better look, but nearly stumbled from his position, snapping back to an upright posture and looking down into the incomprehensible abyss below. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he fell into it. Though the klutz that he was, he spread his arms wide, like the wings of a plane, and stepped out with his left foot, stretching his stride until one of his feet was planted upon the little world, it only a marble underneath, but enough for him to stand upon. He shook a bit, his hips gyrating to the left and right before gaining a steady balance. He moved his right foot, returning to instability upon one foot, like a flamingo, before setting his foot upon a slightly larger marble, and taking a few more moments to return to homeostasis. He flapped his arms and wagged his rump – his knees shook a little before he tidied up. He stood astride two planets and, looking down, he was above space. He was upon the satellites of his star, in the middle of space. He was satisfied and could ask for no more. Looking down into the never-ending crevice, careening down ad infinitum, he jumped forward, both feet leaving their holds – and he dropped, down and down, deeper and deeper, taken by the darkness. He looked up, the smoldering crimson fires above, dwindling to dimness, then joining the rest of the universe in the blackout that it consisted of.

 Sammy jolted from his sleep. He was on the ground. He had fallen from the sill and was staring at the sleeping face of Mark, his old pal. Sammy stood up and brushed himself off. He turned to look out the window, into the blinding light of the sun he had lived his whole life with, and he felt incomplete, dissatisfied. He stepped over the bodies of his slumbering comrades and stared at the poster above his dresser – “Sammy’s Star” is what it said, written in a fancy calligraphy. Beneath that was a picture of the space where his star resided and all of the stars and clusters around it. He knew his star from all the others because it was the one that had the reddish hue. Beneath the picture was a long paragraph certifying the ownership of the star and its location in the sky. Sammy reached out to the poster and stretched to place his finger upon the glass of the frame covering it. He recoiled and left his friends to their dreams, hoping they were visiting distant stars as well.

 Downstairs, Sammy’s father was making pancakes for all of his friends. Sammy sat at the table, kicking his legs under his chair and staring at his dad with a great beaming smile plastered across his face.

 “I went to my star last night,” Sammy said, interlacing his fingers and staring at his dad.

 “Oh, did you now? And how was it?” Dan, Sammy’s dad, grinned at the prospect of his son going into space and flying around the star that he bought for the boy for not a small price.

 “Daddy, it was the best. It felt warm and was so nice to sit on. I can’t wait to go back.”

 “Can I come with you next time?” He flipped one of the particularly well-done pancakes, its underside a burnt sponginess exposing its cooked nature.

 “Only room enough for me.” Sammy smiled proudly.

 Dan laughed and brought a plate of pancakes. He cut a pat of butter and slapped it on top, following it up with syrup, poured over the top and rolling down the sides of the stack. Sammy’s eyes grew to the size of saucers at the flapjacks and held his fork in one hand and knife in the other ready to dig in. A cup of milk was poured for Sammy and he went to town on the stack. Dan poured himself some coffee. Upon the stove, a pot of oatmeal boiled. Dan poured it into a bowl and set it upon a tray, a few blueberries and raspberries on the side, joined by a teacup and teapot, already steeped. The tray had a small vase with a single rose in it. He gave Sammy a kiss on the head before taking the tray upstairs.

 Sammy finished his pancakes and was ready to take more from the rest of the ones his dad had made by the time his dad came back. “Mom’s tired.”

 “Mom’s always tired,” Sammy said, rolling his eyes and grabbing a jack.

 Dan sat down and sighed before taking a sip of coffee and staring out the window. Sammy poured syrup and thought about worlds beyond worlds. Mark came down first, rubbing his eyes – his wild brown hair askew. He sat down at the table, eyes still drooping, placing his head between his elbows as a makeshift pillow.

 “Morning soldier,” Dan said.

 “Morning Mr. Paskins,” Mark’s voice came croaking and tired.

 Dan readied a plate of pancakes. Sven came down soon after, jubilant and awake, ready to engulf a plate of warm pancakes. Nick came down then, same as Mark, tired and restless. He actually fell asleep on the table for a few moments before waking and absently eating the pancakes that everyone else ate with such attentiveness. Just the sounds of chewing emanated through that kitchen that morning. Dan went upstairs with his coffee when the boys finished their breakfasts.

 They got brushed up. None of them bothered showering. They could never be too dirty, but they could always be too clean. They changed out of their pajamas, into the other pairs of clothes their parents had packed them, and they ran outside, into Sammy’s front yard. They ran around for a while, kicking around a soccer ball, getting a game going. None of them were so coordinated as Messi or any of their other heroes, but they pretended they were pro athletes, trying to do tricks with the ball. Sven was the best out of them, which wasn’t much, but he could control the ball better than them. Sammy was on Sven’s team and they ended up winning.

 A car pulled up the drive way. Sven’s mom walked out, and he ran over and hugged her. She waved at Sammy and the other boys. “Happy birthday Sammy.”

 “Thanks Mrs. Kelski!”

 They drove off and the other three boys played for a while more before Nick’s parents showed up in their flashy car. Sammy always awed over the stuff that Nick had, but never envied him, just oohed and aahed. Nick and Mark ran to the car. They lived close together, so their parents would always carpool for school and playdates. Mr. and Mrs. Montisia called out a happy birthday from the confines of their car before peeling off, leaving Sammy with his ball and his mind.  

He looked down at the soccer ball. It became a flaming red sphere upon the ground. He picked it up and placed it in an indiscriminate spot that was better suited for its residence. He had a bag of marbles on the patio. He grabbed three of them and positioned them in their correct places. He circled around it a few times to make sure it was right, picking the perfect blue marble to match that shimmering blue orb. Then he took a seat upon the ball, reclaiming his throne, and he stared down at his subjects who were listening with such intent. Sammy stood up, using the ground, instead of falling out into the infinity of space. He attempted to stand upon the ball, doing as he did the night before, but his star just rolled out from under him and he stumbled back, catching himself before his legs kicked out and he went tumbling out into space again. He slapped his forehead and laughed. He collected his marbles and went back inside.

Sammy watched cartoons for the morning, eating some sugary snacks and drinking some sugary drinks. Dan sat with him. There were some wrapped presents his friends had brought him, but he forgot to open them because they were all swept up with games. Nick brought his Nintendo Switch, so they were all taking turns at beating levels in Super Mario Odyssey or racing each other in Mario Kart. They drank soda and ate snacks to their hearts content. Dan bought a cake and left it down there with the boys and they got full and fat on the sugary icing and the quickly staling cake. It sat upon the coffee table that morning for Sam to pick at while he tore open his presents. Mark had gotten him the newest Pokemon game, one that had been out for some time, but Sam didn’t have it. As much as he begged and pleaded, his dad never bought it for him. Sam knew some things had to be prioritized above games, but all of his friends had been playing that game for a while now. He was excited to pop that into his DS and start leveling up the new beasties. The package from Nick was a box. Sam ripped it open and it was an iPad. He turned it over and over, admiring his new gift, thinking about one of those constellation apps that he could find where his stare resided amongst the gods of yore. He tossed that aside to check out Sven’s gift. It was thin, malleable, a feeling of paper to it – a book. Sam loved books. He unfolded the packaging carefully because he didn’t want to cause any damage to the book’s integrity. He threw the paper on the ground for his dad to pick up later and turned the book over in his hands. Chariot of the Gods? Unsolved Mysteries of the Past by Erich von Däniken. He flipped through the ancient pages, yellowed by the advent of time, and saw that it was going to be a complicated one, but he was smart, and he’d give it a go.

He lay back on the couch and opened the book to a random page. “The time has come for us to admit our insignificance by making discoveries in the infinite unexplored cosmos. Only then shall we realize that we are nothing but ants in the vast state of the universe.” Sammy read that and found not only that he knew what it meant, but how applicable it was to his plight of being separated from his birthright – his namesake. He closed the book and threw it with the iPad and the game and tuned back into his cartoons.