Chapters (33)
- Cover
- About the book/blurb
- Title Page
- Epigraph
- Dedication
- Also by Ondine Sherman
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- A Sneak Peek at Star
A young woman opens the door only to disappear, replaced by an older man. I can’t hear what my father says, but he smiles brightly, squeezes Jaxon close, and gives a longish speech. The neighbour’s face is impassive at first, but soon Adam’s words must be having an effect as the man takes the chocolates and says a few words, nodding. My father shakes his hand and when the door closes, smiles at Jaxon.
I make my way through the chip packet, licking my salty fingers, as the pattern repeats at more front doors, some still showing off their Christmas decorations. There are three houses on one side of the street, and two on the other. Each time my father seems to sweet-talk the neighbour, Jaxon standing solemnly by his side, head down, only nodding when needed. The encounters end with the giving of chocolates and a brief shaking of hands. A few people aren’t home, and Adam and Jaxon return with the leftover chocolate boxes.
‘That’s five people promising to call the station now to retract their complaints and vouch for your father’s usual good character,’ Adam says, looking at Jaxon in the rear-view mirror and starting the engine. ‘Let’s hope that will do the trick.’
My father does a U-turn and soon we’re back at the station. Again, I wait on the chairs as Adam and Jaxon speak to the officer. They return and we wait silently. Jaxon’s leg bounces, making a dull tapping sound on the concrete floor, and my father holds his chin in his hands, rubbing his beard. I’m not sure what’s happening but don’t want to pester them.
While we’re waiting, I have messages to reply to. Lucy updated me on Malcolm and how she ended up asking him to the movie—she says if he rejects her, it’s all on me. I want to write back and tell her how proud I am that she did it, but my head’s all over the place. I don’t feel like looking at everyone’s happy snaps of their summer holidays in Australia; seeing their beach selfies while I’m freezing in a police station. Instead, I try to zone out by reading a year’s worth of local papers, getting acquainted with mayoral candidates, scandals and new businesses.