The Trouble with Shooting Stars by Meg Cannistra

Author:Meg Cannistra
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

Chapter 14

Alessandro abandons the wheel and runs to help me jump down from my tree platform. Salt crunches under my boots.

“Should keep the snow from piling up,” Alessandro says.

A sharp gust of wind kicks up around us, and flurries of snow pelt our faces. Chiara hands me a pair of mittens and a heavy knit hat. Though it’s not as cold as it could be because of the zeppelin’s magic, it’s still much colder than last night.

“Storm’s getting worse.” Alessandro hurries back to his station. “We need to get past the snow clouds fast. Start helping Chiara store the buckets and brooms in the closet.”

There’s no time to chat as Chiara and I rush to secure equipment for takeoff. Alessandro spins the wheel slowly and carefully to ensure we don’t get stuck between the two houses.

“Get ready. We’re leaving,” Alessandro calls out.

The zeppelin wobbles in the air like a top just about to fall. The lanterns flicker. The Stella Cadente stalls.

My stomach drops. “What’s going on?”

“Hold on!” Alessandro yells.

The ship could crash to the ground and leave smoldering wreckage.

I swallow hard. Like the car accident.

“We need more power,” Chiara says.

She continues to float between our houses, unmoving.

Alessandro pulls a lever by the wheel. A mechanical noise booms over the storm. Chiara tugs at my arm and leads me to the back of the ship. A large brass propeller slides out from underneath and hooks itself to the back, replacing a smaller propeller. It kicks up and cuts through the air like knives, its whir low and fast. A consistent hum competes with the whistling, twisting wind.

“It’s the only way we’ll push through the storm clouds.” Chiara holds tight to the railing. “Grab on to something. It’s going to be bumpy for a while.”

I grip the railing and hold my breath to keep from vomiting over the side of the Stella Cadente.

Chiara grabs my hand. “Don’t worry,” she says. “Alessandro’s one of the best captains around. He’ll get us out of this safely. Do you have your cornicello?”

I nod.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about. I promise.” She squeezes my hand.

The ship dips again. I clamp my eyes shut. That terrible Wednesday before Labor Day fills the darkness. Dad slamming on the brakes, his arm flung across my chest. The huge SUV ramming into us from the side. Our car flipping through the air like a tin can. The airbag colliding with my face and shards of glass cutting up my arms. Fire. Pain. Blackness.

The burns on my face start to throb. My hands and head start feeling cramped and sweaty in the wool hat and mittens.

I take deep, shaking breaths, trying to steady myself.

“What’s wrong?” Chiara asks, wrapping her other arm around my shoulders. “You look sick. What’s the matter?”

“I’m scared of falling out of the sky.” My voice quivers and sounds so small, so far away. Unlike my real voice at all. “I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Chiara says. “This is normal during a storm.” She pats me on the back.

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