Paper Stars

This was my last short story submission to NYC Midnight in 2024: 2,000 words long, written in just four days. I had so much fun satirizing the cultural zeitgeist of Taylor Swift's "Eras Tour" and the wholesome phenomenon of Swiftie Dads in this piece (although I think this element was lost on the judges. Oh well.). The writing playlist for this story was by far THE BEST, and I like to think that these characters embody some of the best glitter-gel-pen AND fountain-pen characteristics.

My prompt for this challenge was Romantic Comedy (genre) / A Moral Compass (theme/concept) / A Single Parent (character).

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Paper Stars

"How's it going back there, sport?"

"I'm up to a hundred stars!"

"No way. Prove it." Dylan gaped in exaggerated shock as Harper proudly displayed her baggie of origami pieces. "Wow, kiddo! Your fingers must be tired."

"No, they're fine," Harper giggled.

"Well, stow your stuff -- this is our last pit stop before we get to the concert." The truck stop wasn't busy -- surprising, given that it was a mere sixty miles away from the arena that would host the world's biggest pop star in just a few hours. Harper visited the restroom while Dylan paid for gas and snacks. A TV behind the counter showed live footage from the stadium where thousands of fans waited anxiously to experience Ashley Brisk's "Constellations" tour. The father-daughter duo would soon join them to dance and sing until they were sore. Harper had had Ashley's albums on repeat for weeks, and Dylan was finally getting the hang of the chants they were supposed to recite throughout the performance. His coworkers teased him for becoming a "Briskee," but Harper was ecstatic that her dad was so invested in her favorite musician. "You're really gonna give all those stars away tonight?" he asked when she came back.

"Yeah, that's the whole point." Harper rolled her eyes and sang: "'One star to show we're best friends forever / Two stars means we'll be happy together / Can you see it? Just imagine / Ten-thousand stars in our constellation.' Everyone's going to trade stars to show how many people they met."

"How will you tell the new stars apart from the ones you made?"

"Um... I might need another bag. Can I go get one?"

"Sure, since these free bags right here aren't Ashley-grade," he teased as she scurried away. He caught the cashier's eye and grinned sheepishly. "Kids, huh?"

The bell over the door jangled as a flushed, sweaty woman rushed into the store. Dark strands of hair swarmed around her head, blown by a warm backdraft. "Gas cans?" she asked breathlessly. Dylan and the cashier simultaneously pointed to the stack of red plastic beside her. "Oh, good grief... Thank you."

"Everything okay, ma'am?" The sacred oath of gas station attendants required the cashier to maintain a blank expression at all times, even when faced with a distressed customer.

"Yes. I mean, no, but it will be." The petite brunette gestured at the TV. "I'm supposed to be there, but my car is stalled over here. So, if I can just go ahead and pay for this —” Something clicked for Dylan: he recognized her. The backdrop of convenience store shelves had thrown off his perception at first, but now he was certain that she was one of the office employees who worked upstairs at this machine shop.

"Sorry, I know you're in a rush," he interrupted, "but do you work at Swift Manufacturing?"

Her face became stony. "Why?"

"I work first shift on the floor. Hi, I'm Dylan."

"Oh!" Her posture relaxed, and she shook his hand. "Yeah, I think I've seen you around. I'm Allison. Sorry, it's been a hectic day."

"No worries, I get it. You're trying to get to Ashley Brisk, huh?"

"That was the plan," Allison replied with a tight smile. "Still the plan, if I can get my car situation figured out."

"Are you trading stars?" Harper's internal Briskee-detector had apparently pinged, drawing her back to the counter. "'Cuz—”

"Hold your horses, sport. She's in the middle of something," Dylan said. "I'll pay for that can and her gas along with this gift bag, please," he told the cashier, adding Harper's sparkly find to the pile.

The woman blinked at him, surprised. "Thanks, um... I do have money with me."

"I'd like to help. If that's okay with you."

"Okay, sure. I appreciate it."

To Harper, Dylan said, "Can you show this lady which pump we're at? I'll be out in a sec. Briskly, you could say."

Allison squinted at him. "Did you just..."

"Don't encourage him!" Harper groaned, rushing away with her items. Dylan snickered as he watched them walk out to the car — at least he had given them something to bond over. Sure enough, they were already thick as thieves when he joined them at the pump; Allison spoke to Harper like an equal, not talking down to her at all, and that had his daughter enthralled. "Hey, listen," Dylan said to his coworker, "you're welcome to ride with us to the concert. I'd hate for you to miss out because of your transportation issues."

He had stunned her again. "Oh, no, that's okay. I'm taking care of it."

"Did you get ahold of Triple A?"

"Not yet. Figured I would refill, start driving, and then call them if something else happens."

"See, that's just tempting fate," Dylan argued. "Come with us. I don't feel right about leaving you to fend for yourself."

She racked the nozzle on the pump and rounded on him, hands on her hips. "No offense, dude, but I'm not gonna jump in your car just because we happen to work at the same place. We basically just met; you could be the next Ed Kemper for all I know."

Dylan put up his hands defensively. "I get that. I do. But come on — haven't you heard the advice about locating a parent with a child to help you when you're alone?"

"That's a tip for little kids who get lost in grocery stores."

"Well, it seems applicable to you as a stranded adult right now." He slapped the roof of his car and said, "This bad boy can fit so much Briskee enthusiasm in it. Well...at least one more person's enthusiasm. I don't think it can handle the equivalent of three Harpers." Allison sighed and looked off toward where her car was presumably waiting beside the freeway. She was clearly weighing the possible risks of hitchhiking against the logic of waiting for roadside assistance.

"Yeah, okay," she conceded. "I think my group would feel more comfortable knowing I'm not stuck on my own. If we can just drop this can off at my car, I'll deal with it when the concert's over."

"Copy, Gold Leader." Allison side-eyed him as she stepped away to make a phone call, but it seemed like a look of amusement, not disgust. Then again, Dylan did notice that she was taking pictures of his license plate.

"Um, Dad...why is she doing that?" Harper asked.

"To report me to the joke police," he answered. he could almost feel another eye-roll from the backseat, so he explained, "She's just being careful, honey. It's like how I make you text me when you get to school. She's letting people know she's okay." Allison was still texting as she slid into the passenger seat. "Your date know that you're on your way with us?" Dylan asked.

"Yeah. My sister says drive safe and remember you're carrying precious cargo." Jerking a thumb toward the backseat, she added, "Which obviously includes, Harper, too."

Dylan smirked. "Okay, Briskees. First stop: Allison's car."

The stranded sedan was just a mile and a half out of their way, so they lost minimal time dropping off the can and rerouting to the highway. It was revealed that Allison had not planned to trade stars at the concert, which Harper deemed unacceptable; soon, she was teaching Allison how to turn colorful paper strips into her own lucky stars. The woman was very patient with the eleven-year-old's chatter, and she seemed much more at ease after a few minutes of arts and crafts.

"Some of the machinists on the floor are pretty handy with cars," Dylan eventually said. "You could ask them to take a look at yours."

"That piece of junk has been on its last legs for a while," said Allison. "I was hoping it would hold on for a few more months, but this might be the last straw."

"You need something more reliable to help you avoid taking rides from potential serial killers."

Allison winced. "Sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded earlier," she said guiltily. "It's just, y'know, women can't be too careful when..."

"No offense taken," Dylan replied. "I would want Harper to be just as cautious if she was in your position." Allison sighed in relief and settled back to fold another paper star. As the car radio fell silent, Dylan passed her the CD wallet. "Passenger is in charge of the music."

"Whoa, what year is it — 2006?"

"Hey, physical media is still cool! Those are vintage now."

"Amen to that." Allison made a show of brushing off imaginary dust before consulting Harper. "Which era are we in now, Harper?"

"'Daydreamers!'"

"Good choice, sport," Dylan agreed.

"Sappy love songs it is." Allison switched discs, adding, "That describes most of Ashley Brisk's catalog."

"Harsh!" Dylan dramatically clutched his chest, chiding, "I thought you were a fan!"

"I like her newer stuff. 'Daydreamers' is a little too cheesy for me." She was watching him curiously now. "You didn't strike me as such a die-hard Briskee."

"Well, she is the voice of a generation."

"Don't get me wrong, I think it's really cool that you two are doing this together! I just assumed this concert was more of a mother-daughter destination. I mean, my brother-in-law would've come if my nieces begged, but I don't think he'd necessarily enjoy it, y'know?"

Dylan shrugged. "I've been in the 'solo girl dad' bubble for so long that I forget this isn't how all families operate. But Harper's my best friend — of course I'm gonna see Ashley Btisk with her!"

"That's really sweet," Allison said, eyes softening. She twisted around and said, "You're one lucky girl, Harper."

"Yeah, I guess," the preteen responded, fully engrossed in folding more origami stars.

Traffic was significantly heavier once they rolled into the city. Allison's sister had shared a location a few blocks from the stadium, so they had to navigate one-way streets and roundabouts to find temporary parking near the park. A woman and two little girls who shared Allison's dark hair waved from a bench as she exited the car. "Seriously, Dylan, thanks for everything," Allison said. "I owe you one." She leaned through the open window and said, "Bye, Harper! Good luck with your stars!"

Dylan felt a small twinge of regret as he watched her leave with her family. This short road trip had sparked something forgotten in him. Car rides — hell, even dates — with his ex had never felt this comfortable. The 'solo girl dad' and 'blue-collar worker' bubbles had defined him for so long that he had forgotten just how nice it could be to joke around with a smart, attractive adult woman. Maybe this was a sign that it was time to put himself back out there; maybe this was a connection he needed to pursue. "Harper, I need your art supplies."

A minute later, Dylan threw on the hazard lights and jumped out of the car. "Allison, wait up!" He jogged over and pressed three papers into her hand. "Hit me up if you wanna carpool while your car's in the shop. Maybe we can get breakfast or something before work." Allison's eyes lit up when she saw his phone number scrawled on a strip of craft paper, accompanied by two origami stars.

"This is gonna be a really weird signature if you do decide to start a life of crime," she said.

Dylan grimaced. "Not exactly what I hoped you'd take from that."

"Don't worry, I got the reference. And...year. I'd like that." She flashed a dazzling smile at him. "Maybe I'll see you two in there?"

"If we move briskly enough, I'm sure you will," Dylan replied. Allison groaned, but he saw her slip the papers into her purse as she rejoined her family. Two paper stars to attract happiness... Maybe Ashley Brisk, voice of a generation, was onto something.