Night was the best time of day. Or day was the worst time of night. The intensity of dark scares many. But to me it was a cover. Anything was possible in the dusk of night. I could get away with anything. I was a dark, shadowy figure, able to be anyone.

I banished myself to the open and dozed. It isn't the most comfortable thing sleeping on the roof. I lay on my blanket in the night, drinking in the surroundings.

I slowly drifted asleep to the sound of crickets singing.

"Perry."

I heard that voice say my name before. It was familiar, yet I couldn't recognize it. I couldn't tell if it was real or if I had imagined it. Still half asleep, I dismissed the noise as a figment of my imagination.

"Hi, Perry."

My eyes opened this time. I looked around. I was barely awake. I saw a dark figure.

"Who's that?" I barely croaked. No answer came. I lay back down onto the blanket, closing my eyes. My imagination got the best of me sometimes.

"I'm the girl you spat at," came the reply. I sat up. Then I saw her. Her. I couldn't help but laugh. She was standing there, her shadow sifted onto the roof. I remembered she had wide green eyes, and thought I couldn't see them, I knew they were staring at me, just like when she followed me home. The goodie-goodie came all the way here to lecture me?

I lay back down, carelessly, purposely ignoring her. Treating her like she had treated me—like a worthless piece of trash. I could tell it was making her uncomfortable. I wanted to see what she would do. Several minutes passed, dragging on like hours. She didn't leave. "What do you want?" I gave up and asked.

"Dootsie said you sleep on the roof on hot nights."

So does that mean you have to come up here and bug me?

"You didn't answer the question," I smirked.

"I—I don't really know what I want," her voice was shaky, "I woke up. I was hot. I remembered what Dootsie said. And here I am."

Was my roof really that great of an attraction? Or did she want something else. I was trying to be as nasty as possible. I wanted to sleep. "You don't have your own roof?"

"Sure I do but its not flat like this one. Besides you're not on my roof. You're on this one." I could feel her blush.

"You want to sleep here?" This was getting amusing.

"No, no I don't mean that," she stammered.

"What do you mean?"

hesitated. I heard her uneven breathing. I made her nervous. I had to grin at that.

"I don't know. I do things without thinking," she stood up. "I'll go. I'm sorry I woke you up."

I wasn't letting her go that easy. I hadn't had my fun. I waved my hand at her, signaling for her to stop. "It's okay, I'm awake now." She sat down obediently, too quickly, "You got a name?"

"Stargirl," she said as if unsure of her own name.

"What?" I opened my eyes in surprise.

"Stargirl."

"What?"

"Stargirl." My eyes boggled. She was waiting for me to say something.

"Okay," I said closing my eyes yet again. The night was silent once more.

"So…how can you stand to suck on lemons?" he voice came again. She wasn't giving up. She wanted me to notice her. I deliberately didn't.

"Juice is juice."

"Are you going to the Blobfest?"

"Don't know."

"I'm going with Dootsie."

"Good for you."

"You sneak into the pool a lot?" I couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement.

"When I feel like it."

"You're braver than me. I've never gone off a high dive."

"No big deal."

"It is if you're afraid to do it."

"So you're a coward." My remark was cruel but I was getting annoyed. Had she honestly expected me to welcome her after everything she's said to me?

"Perry, I really am sorry. I—," she sounded hurt and scared, like a lost puppy.

I sat up suddenly. I couldn't take that tone. She had nothing to be sad about. "You came over to my house and climbed onto my roof and woke me up. And now I'm awake. Is that what you wanted, to wake me up?"

She stared at me with her deer-like eyes. "No," came the reply.

"Then, what do you want? You wanted to watch me sleep?"

"No."

"You wanted to talk?"

Stargirl was slightly shaking. "I think so."

"So talk. You did enough talking before. You follow me around and call me a thief. You lecture me in the library. Who do you think you are so chief nun or something?" For the first time, I voiced my thoughts. She looked down at me, on the verge of tears. Suddenly I felt guilty for driving her to such a state. I closed my eyes and waiting for her to leave.

The earth was silent; so silent, I could almost hear the dull shine of the moon reflecting against the tin roof. Then I heard her steps. They were coming closer to me. I felt her shadow far over me. Then she sat down on the roof, not five feet from me. I looked at her sitting cross-legged on the thin surface as frail as her. She threw her sandals away, signaling that she wasn't going, and stared straight at me—through me. What compelled her to stay?

"I dreamed about you one night."

"Yeah?" I was irrevocably surprised. She said it so straightforward like announcing the weather. My astonished reply seemed to be all the answer she needed.

"Well, sort of. You were swimming in the canal," Figures. My dirty deeds come back to haunt me in other people's dreams, "Dootsie said you do that—"

"Once I did," I felt the need to clear that up.

"—and I was watching you under the water. You were a dark, shadowy figure, but I knew it was you—and then it wasn't you, it was Ondine, and then you again, then Ondine. Back and forth…"

"Ondine," I said plainly.

"The book you were reading in the library that day." Of course—the day I received her lecture. How stupid did she think I was? I glared at her.

"I got my own copy and read it in one sitting. I loved it. Don't you love it?"

"No," I said.

"Really? Why not?"

"She's stupid." She was taken back by my answer.

"How so?" she sounded really curious.

"She thinks everything is wonderful. Everybody's beautiful."

"Don't you?"

I grunted in reply. Stargirl was talking to the wrong person. "She's always singing. She's too happy."

"Too happy?" she raised her eyebrows, "How can you be too happy? Happy is happy, isn't it? Is it possible to be too happy?"

Could she really be that oblivious? "When you're living in a fairy tale. When the world you're living in is bogus."

"But it's not all peaches and cream for Ondine," she continued, "She gets sad."

"Not sad enough. She's stupid. She's not real." If only I could have her problems, her sadness. Nothing about it was deep.

"Perry," she asked, leaning closer, "You never finished reading it, did you?" Her voice was full of bewilderment.

"It sucked," I replied, slightly embarrassed.

"Did you?"

"No."

That set her off. "Well, I have some news for you," she said, "In the end Ondine's beloved knight—Hans, remember?—he dies." Her eyes were glowing with enthusiasm, like she was telling me a never-before heard secret.

"Good."

"And Ondine forgets everything about her time on earth with people and returns to the water." Whoopee.

"Good," I said it so nonchalantly; I could tell it bothered her a bit, made her uncomfortable.

"So, why did you read any of it?"

"It was right in front of my noise." I grab anything in front of my noise.

"You know, this is the second time this week that I've been up all night talking to someone."

"That so?"

"That's so. And you're dying for me to tell you about the other time, aren't you?"

I rolled my eyes and tried to sound bored. "Can't wait."

She paused for a second to make sure I was listening. When I didn't say anything more, she launched into a story about a flower. I didn't know why but I couldn't stop staring at her. How could her world be so perfect?

I was only listening half way when I heard her mention someone named Alvina.

"Who?"

"Alvina Klecko. The girl that chased you. Who poured the bucket of water on you at the pool."

The image of Alvina's snarling, attack-oriented face popped into my head. "The girl with the fingernail," I said.

"That's the one," she confirmed, "She says you go into Margie's." I couldn't tell if that was a question. I kind of hoped it was.

"Once in awhile."

"To steal donuts?" Of course, the first thing everyone assumes.

"She gives them to me," I said setting the record straight.

"I think she has a crush on you," she stated, like it was as obvious as the stars in the sky.

"Sure."

"Really," she looked straight into my eyes. My breath caught.

"She's a little kid."

"She's a growing kid."

"She's a tomboy," I insisted.

"She's a tomboy becoming a girl," Stargirl was relentless. "Look—she gives you donuts. She chased you half way across town. That, my dear Perry, is love," she proclaimed, touching me with her foot.

Before I could protest, she cut me off and started talking again. "Alvina told me about boot camp. Is it okay for me to know?"

Do you need my permission for everything? I thought. "Everyone else does." The moon sparkled behind her as she moved closer—a barely noticeable distance, but I felt her presence more solidly.

"I don't know what else to ask," she admitted, smiling slightly, gazing at the sky. Her smile was almost magical, entrancing me bit by bit.

"Try: why did they send you there?"

"Why did they send you there?" she jumped at the opportunity to speak.

"Stealing," I said breezily.

She laughed, and I too, had to smile. It was impossible not to. "Well, they sure knocked that out of you, didn't they?"

"They tried."

"Was it hard?"

"What?"

"Boot camp. Was it hard on you?"

"Yeah, I guess. Up at four o'clock. Run five miles. Yes, sir. No, sir. Socks on the washline. Classes, Marching. Stand at attention."

"How long? One year?" her face was a mix of amazement and deep concern. I hated sympathy. From anyone.

"Yeah," I said through gritted teeth.

"And still you steal," her remark was daring, yet her eyes soft. It made me feel strange, when she looked at me like that. For some reason, I didn't want her to see me like the rest of the world saw me. Useless waste. But I couldn't control my actions.

I spat. "Yeah."

"So, what, it's like at the library? It it's in front of your nose, you grab it, right?" Touché. "Book? Donut? Caramel apple? Lemon? Whatever?" her eyes were glazing over with wonder.

"Nobody gives it to you."

"Aren't you afraid you'll get caught again? Sent back?" she was on a roll now.

"Nah," I replied. My temper was rising. I couldn't tell who it was, making me annoyed: her or my own wrongdoings.

"Maybe you should get a job. Make some money. Then you could—" she gave a dramatic gasp, "—God forbid—pay for things."

"I got plenty of money. I'd rather steal."

She seemed to realize I was getting irritated. She thought for a while before asking again. Clearly, she didn't want me to be uncomfortable. "So, are you going to the Blobfest?"

"You asked me that."

She talked about the Blobfest, an event that was old news to me, having lived here my whole life. She seemed to be in her own world. In the beginning, I despised her because she had managed to do what I wanted to do most: to escape reality. But now when I looked at her, listened to her, I could feel myself leaving too.

Her questions and statements never ceased, ranging in subjects. Neither did her laughter, which filled the silence of the night.

"I meditate," she said.

"I don't," I said.

"Didn't think so. You're not exactly the self-reflective type, are you?"

"Nope."

"Afraid to be alone with yourself?"

"Terrified." I didn't need to meditate to be alone.

Her next statement stunned me. She said it so unexpectedly. "You seem so sure of everything. Got it all figured out, huh?"

"Yep," I replied. I was sure of one thing now.

"Tired of all my questions?"

"Not really."

"Do I talk too much?"

"Not for me." My words were true.

"Really?" she looked surprised to hear this from me.

"I like people who talk a lot. Since I don't." That wasn't exactly true. She was the first.

Stargirl smiled at me. She liked my answer. She threw up her arms. "Well then, I'm your girl!" she threw her head back.

I opened my eyes. I was even more shocked then before. Why would she say that?

I could tell she was embarrassed by her own remark. Never would have thought that was possible for her. She didn't think twice before leaping. If she had, she wouldn't be up here.

"Ask me something," she said.

"Huh?"

"I've been doing all the asking. Now you ask me a question."

There was something I had wanted to ask. "Who dumped you?" I said, closing my eyes and laying back.

She was shocked. "Dumped me?" her voice was weak.

"Yeah. Who?"

"Where did you hear that?"

"Your friend Pootsie."

"Dootsie."

"Dootsie," I repeated, "That day."

"I thought you were talking about lemonade. I didn't know you were gossiping about me."

"That's all she told me. That your boyfriend dumped you."

She looked sad for a second, remembering something. "I wouldn't put it that way," she said.

"How would you put it?" It was my turn to be relentless.

"Nobody ever said 'I dump thee. Thou art dumped.' He was under a lot of pressure. It didn't work out," she answered reluctantly.

"Sorry?" I said.

"Maybe. Sometimes. I don't know," she didn't look sure of her own answer. I held back a smile.

"What was his name?"

"It wasn't anything. It is."

"Is."

"Leo."

She said it in such a way, I felt a tinge of jealousy. Her tone was gentle and caring—nobody had said my name that way. Leo must have been lucky.

"Where?" I felt compelled to ask.

"Arizona. I moved away."

The next words flew out of my mouth before I could stop to think. "You loved him." Was I too, becoming like her?

She didn't respond.

"Well?" I pressed.

"Well what? You just made a statement," she glimpsed at me with innocent eyes.

"You loved him? Question mark."

"Of course."

"Love him?" I said, "Present tense."

She looked away. Looked over the side of the roof for a second. Then she turned back to me and poked me with her toe.

"I said ask me a question, not twenty questions. Plus you're too nosy—"

"And you're not?" I cut her off.

"—and I'm not about to tell you every detail of my life on …"

"On our first night," I finished. Her eyes were blank. I knew she didn't expect me to answer like that. She didn't say it directly, but her face read, There's going to be more than one night?

"Plus, you're having too much fun. From now on, I'll direct the conversation," she tried to get her stride back.

I chuckled. "Typical girl."

"Speaking of girls, what about the girl at the pool? The one you were lying on the towel with."

"What about her?" Was she jealous?

"What's her name?

"Stephanie." She processed that for a moment.

"Okay, how about Ike? The bike and lawn mower repairman. Is that your dad?"

"Yeah. What about Stephanie?" I felt the need to know why she asked. Was it the same reason I asked her about Leo?

"What does Ike do in the winter? No lawns to mow."

"Snow blowers. What about Stephanie?"

"What about her?"

"Don't you want to know more about her?"

"Not really," she shrugged.

"Is she my girlfriend? Do I like her? Do I love her? Are we getting married? How many kids are we going to have?" I said. She didn't budge. It amazed me how she changed her pace every minute. I wanted her to notice me. She didn't.

"Funny, I have a better idea. Let's talk about my calendar. Bet you didn't know I'm making a calendar."

"Congratulations."

"It's not what you're thinking?"

"What am I thinking?"

"The paper kind. You hang it on a wall."

"You read my mind. How'd you get so smart?" I resorted to sarcasm.

She caught on quick. "I'm ignoring your sarcasm. My calendar is from before there was such a thing as paper. Ever heard of a solstice?"

I sighed. Why did she have to think I was ignorant to the world? "Winter or summer?"

"Winter."

"When the sun is over the Tropic of Capricorn. Shortest day of the year," I recited.

I waited her to reply. She didn't for the longest time.

"Am I boring you?" she finally said.

"Nope."

She didn't sound too convinced, but she told me about her calendar anyways and the Solstice she was planning to celebrate. "I want to give it a name? Got any ideas?"

My breathing stopped for a few seconds. "Solstar."

"Huh?"

"Solstar. Star-girl. Sol-stice. Reversed."

She looked legitimately stunned. "I like it. Thank you."

"You're welcome," I replied. She wasn't as indifferent to me, not put off by my attitude, as I thought. She was different.

She described how she was going to view the first rays of light. She paused for a second to see if I was listening. I wanted her to continue, so I said nothing. She told me that she wanted to write a poem. Or play her ukulele. Or dance, which she proceeded to do, right there on the roof, twirling to the very corner of the very edge. She had said I was brave for going off the high dive. Yet, I have never met anyone as brave as her.

She was elusive. She was the sun. She was the stars. She was the faintest glimpse of the sunrise, the flitting shadow of a mermaid. I realized I didn't know what to make of her. Didn't know how to lump her with the rest of the universe. Didn't know if I wanted to.

"So," she said, sitting back down, "Maybe you could come with me some morning when I go to plant a new marker."

My heart wavered. "Maybe."

"Or meet me there. I go on Thursdays."

"Maybe." I wonder if I sounded as breathless as I felt. We looked into each other's eyes. I felt like she could see through me.

"Well…" she got up after what seemed like hours, "'Night." She went to the edge of the roof.

No.

"'Night," I called after her, laying back down.

She climbed down. I wished she didn't have to leave. I wished she could take me to the perfect world of hers.

"And I am not a typical girl," she called from the ground.

As the night settled back into silence, I finally noticed the emptiness. It seemed like a piece of me was missing. It seemed Stargirl had peeled off part of me—my uncaring, harsh exterior—and thrown it out to the stars. The moonlight beat down on my exposed soul.

Dreams floated over me like mermaids in the dark of seas.