It was the fifth night since his mother’s disappearance, and Kit’s sense of guilt only grew with each moment. After yet another day of futile searching and asking around -how could nobody have seen her?- Kit found himself in his bed, worn down but sleepless. For what seemed like the billionth time, he wondered if his mom would still be with him if he had responded differently; if he had shown her the support she had wanted. Instead, he had stomped off like a child, too immature to think of anyone’s feelings but his own.
Tired of being angry, yet unable to do anything else, Kit got out of bed and trudged out of the apartment. Muddled in his thoughts, he soon found himself walking down the courtyard between Maitland East and West. It was disconcerting to be out there, in the middle of two very different pieces to a whole, rich and poor, and, for a moment, he forgot all about his mother. But, as always, the momentary peace gave way to deeper remorse: how could he think about anything other than his poor old mother?
Thinking over the details of the night his mother had disappeared, Kit felt deeply frustrated at his inability to uncover a single clue that would lead him a step closer to finding his mom. He reported the disappearance to the police but, due to lack of any proof of kidnapping -and more importantly, their obsession with the murder of Mr. Evans- they were of absolutely no help at all.
At this point, he wished he had someone -anyone- to help him, and in his misery, he banged the back of his head on the bench. That’s when he saw the star. A blazing hot speck shooting across the sky, and at first, he wished he wished his mother would come back, yet inadvertently, he added a second wish: he wished he had as good a sense of direction in life as that hurtling rock did.
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