Secret Star Read Free Page B

gotta believe
    there’s a secret star...
    Tess had not been in a cave, just home with no electricity, no radio—but she had heard kids in school talking about some secret star thing. Hadn’t paid any attention. Just another fad, like designer jeans or the latest fashion model. If they liked it, she wouldn’t.
    In a way she had been wrong. And in a way she had been right. The other kids liked it, but she had been struck by lightning, she was riding a golden eagle, she was falling into a great white light. She stood listening to the last few bars as if she were tuned in to angels on high, and the boy across the table from her stood watching her. He grinned. “All the girls are hot for the secret star.” Teasing.
    â€œHe don’t call himself that,” said the stockroom woman. “He don’t mean the song that way.” She was middle-aged and sad-eyed and she seemed to understand. “It’s the deejays call him that.”
    Sure enough, the deejay was yammering. “Waaal, paint me green and call me Gumby! Six weeks at number one and no concerts, no video, no pretty face, and that’s about as alternative as it comes—it’s not supposed to be able to be done, dudes! Hey, didja hear the latest rumor? This guy is supposed to be a captain in the Marines, that’s why he won’t come forward, he’s afraid they’ll think he’s gay. Ha-ha! Hey, do you believe that? I don’t believe that. I like the one where he’s supposed to be Jim Morrison’s ghost. Whoo—ee! Keep it right here, people. Coming up—”
    Tess stopped listening. She tuned out. Didn’t want anything to steal the sound of that song from her mind.
    â€œHe calls himself Crux,” the gentle-eyed woman said. Tess looked blank, so she said it again. “The secret star calls himself Crux.”
    â€œIt’s a gimmick,” said the boy, slapping paper tape around bunches of bananas. Tess knew who he was from school; everybody knew who he was. His name was Butch. He was an athlete, good-looking, with muscles and a cute grin. He was one of the popular boys. Tess had never spoken to him, because why would he want to talk to her? She wasn’t cute. No boy would ever like her. But here he was talking to her about “Secret Star.”
    He said, “It’s hype. Take a stupid song, make a big mystery out of it, and people go crazy, and somebody’s raking in a pile of money.”
    He didn’t understand. That was okay; Tess didn’t expect everybody to understand about “Secret Star.” How could they? It was a mystery song, a miracle song, a fusion of rap and rock and a throwback to folk at the same time, all melted together with a little bit of country and so much soul it made her want to dance naked in the rain, which was pretty radical considering that she didn’t know how to dance and she hated rain. Hype? No. What Tess heard was stone-bone real music, the kind only a real musician can deliver. Whatever was making this singer hide behind his song had nothing to do with making a pile of money. Tess didn’t know how to say this to Butch, but she knew it for a fact, like knowing the sky is high.
    Kamo knocked during supper. Tess looked up and saw who was standing outside and made her face freeze to show nothing. “Come in,” Daddy called without even looking up, but Kamo didn’t come in. He stood outside and spoke through the ripped plastic that was supposed to be covering the screen door, talking straight to Daddy.
    â€œYou got work I can do? For food?”
    Food was something the Mathis household actually had now, because Tess’s boss, Jonna, had sent her home loaded down with two-day-old bread, dented cans of beans, damaged freezer boxes of meat. “Kindness of strangers,” Daddy had said. “How did she know?” Though probably Jonna had seen the Mathises spend their food stamps at the IGA often