Chapter Nine — The Night We Touched the Sky
Lyra's POV
If Saint Valley High had a favorite tradition, it wasn't prom, or football, or homecoming — it was Soraya's annual sleepover.
It started freshman year with four girls, a pile of junk food, and a single borrowed projector. Now, four years later, it had evolved into something that felt almost sacred — like a quiet promise to pause the world for one night.
This time, the list gave it a purpose.
Lay under the stars.
Have a trampoline sleepover.
Movie marathon.
Night swim.
All in one night.
"Efficiency, ladies and gentlemen," Soraya declared, waving the list like a CEO presenting her master plan. "We're doing all of them tonight."
Cassian saluted her with a soda can. "You're insane. I like it."
Soraya's backyard was practically glowing by sunset.
The pool shimmered turquoise, fairy lights hung from the fences, and the trampoline was covered in blankets and pillows. Aveline and Saphira had set up the projector on the garage wall while Evan was in charge of snacks.
I was sketching the sky while waiting for the movie to load — streaks of orange fading into violet, the kind of horizon that made your chest ache a little.
"You're going to be the only architect who paints her own blueprints," Mom had said once. Maybe she was right.
Evan sat down beside me, holding out a slice of pizza. "You're not allowed to starve yourself for art, Sol."
"I'm not starving," I said, taking it anyway. "Just documenting history."
He smiled, leaning back on his elbows. "Make sure you draw my good side."
"You don't have one."
"That's harsh."
"Truthful."
He laughed, low and easy. The kind of sound that melted into the hum of cicadas and the rustle of summer leaves.
The first movie started just as the sky turned dark.
We sprawled across the trampoline, a messy pile of limbs and laughter. Cassian kept quoting random lines. Soraya threw popcorn at him. Aveline fell asleep halfway through, head on his shoulder.
"Every year," Saphira whispered, shaking her head. "She never makes it past the first movie."
"Some things never change," Evan said quietly.
I turned to look at him. The glow from the screen made his eyes look softer somehow.
"Do you ever wish we could freeze nights like this?" I asked.
"Every single one," he said.
I smiled, my fingers brushing against the star at my throat.
By midnight, the movie marathon had shifted into chaos.
Someone suggested a "backyard concert," which turned into Soraya belting throwback songs into a hairbrush while Cassian tried (and failed) to play the guitar.
Saphira was dancing on the trampoline, yelling, "THIS IS OUR ERA!"
Evan joined her, pulling me up by the hand.
The trampoline bounced beneath us, sending laughter into the night air. My hair flew everywhere, my cheeks ached from smiling, and for once, my chest didn't feel heavy.
"Look up!" Soraya shouted suddenly.
We did.
Above us, the sky was endless — a quiet, shimmering ocean of stars.
For a second, no one said anything. We just lay there, breathless, the world hushed except for our own heartbeats.
Cassian broke the silence. "Alright," he said softly. "That's another one off the list."
"Lay down under the stars," Saphira whispered. "Check."
When the night swim began, the air had turned cool and damp.
We dove into the water one by one — clothes, laughter, and all. The pool lights turned everything electric blue. I floated on my back, the world upside down, the stars reflected in ripples around me.
Evan swam up beside me, brushing my hand beneath the surface. "You're quiet," he said.
"I'm happy," I answered.
He smiled. "Good. You deserve that."
Water glimmered on his lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead. For a heartbeat, I thought about how far we'd come — from two broken kids at a freshman dance to this: light, alive, unafraid.
Soraya's voice echoed across the water. "Alright, group photo before we prune!"
We climbed out, dripping and laughing, gathering beneath the string lights. Saphira's phone timer blinked red as we huddled close, arms tangled, faces glowing.
"Say 'last seniors!'" she yelled.
"Last seniors!"
The camera clicked.
None of us knew it then, but that picture would be the last time we all smiled without hesitation.
Later, as the others drifted to sleep in a tangle of blankets, I stayed awake. The air smelled like chlorine and caramel popcorn.
Nova, the bear Evan helped me make, sat on my bag nearby — soft, still, perfectly content.
I whispered, half to myself, "If I could bottle this night, I would."
The stars didn't answer, but maybe they didn't have to.