Excerpt: Catching Stars

It was almost a shock to be met with the sight of the enormous maple tree. Greg hadn't gotten around to cutting back the leaves yet, and so it still stretched massive and great, dominating the yard and pretty much obstructing her whole view of the street. Sasha's steps slowed as she reached the front of the house until she stopped. What was it about the tree that was so mesmerizing?

Sure, it had red leaves even though it was only July, but she didn't understand why she was so fascinated by it. More than once, she'd been caught staring at it, and no matter how much she asked, no one else seemed to see the red leaves. Her mother, her father, Allyson and Greg - all of them insisted that the leaves were green. It just didn't make any sense.

"Maybe I'm colorblind," she thought out loud. "Although I've never had a problem distinguishing them before. It's just... weird."

Shaking her head, she straightened the hem of her tank top and started towards the flowerbeds. It was chillier out front and she shivered a little; the maple tree kept a lot of the sunlight from reaching the ground. Sasha knelt on the ground and reached for a weed that was growing in one of the flowerbeds that ran along the fence to the right of the house. As her fingers curled around the weed and tugged, testing its strength, a strong breeze began ruffle her hair and top. Instinctively, she grabbed onto her hat to keep it from flying off and looked up at the sky.

The leaves on the tree were rustling, practically jumping, as the branches shook and trembled. One snapped off and, caught by the wind, spiralled through the air. Sasha stood up, hardly aware that she was moving. Her eyes were locked on the spinning arc of red, like a meteorite that was plummeting towards the earth. Unconsciously, she slipped her gloves off, letting them fall to the ground, and held her hands up. The leaf scored a direct hit, landing as gently and perfectly in her hands as though someone had placed it there. She had enough time to draw in half a breath of air, to register that the leaf felt as dry and cracked as one that had been off the tree for weeks, before her vision went completely white and the ground disappeared from beneath her.