Blaine Anderson got home a little after sun set. He had pulled the tractor into the side barn just as the golden sun was just barely peeking over the horizon. He could hear the cicadas loud call in the trees just yards from the barn, right outside the wooden fence he and his dad put together when he was twelve. When he was fourteen, his dad finally trusted him with the tractor, after riding along with him for years, he was allowed to take it out on his own. Along with this gift was the responsibility to take care of the back field. He understood his dad was getting a little old and needed more and more help. That's why three days a week, Blaine was out on the tractor, plowing and tilling the fields from dusk until dawn.

Sunday was off limits. No one worked those days, just went to church and then ate for hours, laughing and enjoying the neighbors company. Three other days of the week he was in school, but he could barely pay attention. He didn't think math was important unless you were counting the number of chickens in the coop to make sure the foxes didn't steal any in the night. He thought history was boring. It already happened, what is the use of memorizing every man who ever did anything for the country? He thought the only science you needed to know was exactly how much water and sun tobacco needed, what kind of soil tomato seeds are planted in.

He spent most of that time staring out the window at the large grassy field that lay outside his small school building. The school was old and not in a good state, the government didn't care much for their part of the county. But the dented lockers and musty smell of the hallways was all Blaine ever knew. Not many kids even attended most of the time because they were keeping up with the family crops. Blaine wouldn't have been there if it weren't for his parents telling him that an education is important and we want bigger and better things for you, Blaine. There's more to life than the farm.

Blaine didn't want life outside of the farm. He planned on staying on the farm and taking it over when his dad got too old. Which looked like it was going to be soon. Every day his dad's eyes looked more tired, his back a little more bent, his fingers a little less nimble than before. It was Blaine's responsibility to take it over, just like it was his responsibility to look over the fields and animals three days a week now. He ended up lending a hand when he got home from school anyway. He didn't do his homework, of which there wasn't much in the first place. Teachers didn't care much around here.

Blaine didn't think about much when he stared out the window during school. He had never read a book that wasn't the tattered textbooks left scattered around the school. His house didn't have cable, most of the time he and his family sat around talking and playing music, old church hymns or outdated country songs that Mr. Anderson had listened to in his youth. He didn't even have access to the radio. Most of the time he sung to himself on the tractor to chase away the boredom that hours of tilling could bring. He could sing, his choir director told him so, and he got almost all of the solos in church. Plus, he kind of enjoyed it.

Amidst a cloud of dusk, each speck reflecting the golden light through cracks in the old structure, he pulled the tractor into the barn. He locked up the immense, creaky doors. Hopping over the fence, he raced the quickly setting sun home. He could already see the lightening bugs littering the darkening sky. The air had that familiar fragrance of recently cut grass and his mom's home cooking as he neared his house.

He opened the door and filled his lungs with the smell of supper. He rounded the corner and saw his mother hard at work in the kitchen.

"Mama, you made collard greens again, my favorite," Blaine said, his voice low with a strong country twang that he didn't notice because anyone he had ever met had this twang too. He had never met anyone that wasn't from his town. He never even gave the outside world a thought. It didn't interest him what people did in cities, running around all day drinking lattés. He was happy in his little bubble where life was slow and comfortable.

"'S right, honey. Just for you," his mom said with a wink, turning back to put the food on the table. "Also fried up some chicken for you, just like you like." Her voice reflected the same twang as Blaine's, maybe even a little stronger. She was a bigger lady, cheeks always round and red and a constant gleam in her eye, dark brown hair with just a glint of red when the sun shone on it.

Mr. Anderson walked into the room, head almost scraping the top of the doorway. He was a large man as well, but you could tell his weight was muscle, formed from hours working in the fields. His hair was peppered gray from years of worry. Sometimes Blaine wondered why he looked the way he did. He was a little shorter than the boys in school, curly brown hair, small build. But he had strong arms from lifting hay barrels and all of the other various activities he had to power through every day to keep up the farm. He was seventeen, he had time to fill out like his dad. He hoped.

"Is it my birthday or somethin'?" Blaine joked, washing his hands after his mother gave him that familiar look when he tried to sit down without doing it. He sat down, joined soon by his father and his mother.

"Actually, son, your mama and I gotta tell you something," his father said folding up a napkin, exchanging a nervous glance with Mrs. Anderson.

"Who died? Was it old Mr. Johnson? He's been lookin' a little off lately."

"No, no, sugar, it's nothin' like that," Mrs. Anderson cut in. "You're pa, well…" she looked over at Mr. Anderson again. "He got a job. In the city."

Blaine couldn't hear the rest of what his mom said. He heard the faint noise of her voice but all the blood had rushed out of his head and he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He couldn't move, he sat frozen, wide-eyed at the table.

"…Ain't that just so excit—"

Blaine cut his mom off. "You mean we're leavin' the farm? What's gonna happen to all of the animals? All of the crops? Dad," he turned to his father. "All of our work, we're just leavin'?"

His eyes plead. They couldn't leave, they just couldn't. This farm was his life. The fields were his home. They wanted him to go to the city? His dad's excited expression fell with the obvious distress his son was in.

"Your uncle Pete is gonna take over the farm. He's got Blake and Johnny to help him out, he'll manage. It's an important opportunity for me, Blaine," his father consoled. His voice dropped to a whisper and he reached out to take Blaine's hand. "I can't do this forever, son. I'm getting' old."

Blaine jerked his hand away from his father's, face reddening. "That's what I'm here for, Pa," he shouted, chair knocking back as he swiftly stood up. "I'm ready to take over, I've been preparing my whole life. I've watched you lay the grain, I know how to grow the crops. I know everything."

"Son, you can't do it by yourself. We need a stable source of income in this family, and that's what this job provides. I am truly lucky to have been offered it, and we're taking it."

"But—" Blaine cut in.

"No buts. We're moving in a week," his father, now stern, concluded.

Blaine looked helplessly back and forth from his mother and father, silently begging that this was some sick joke. They sat at the table looking back at him, neither one cracking a smile. He left the room with a huff and stalked up to his room, steps creaking loudly in his wake.

He slammed his door and threw himself onto his bed. Angry tears welled in his eyes. The city? He couldn't survive there. He didn't want to. He contemplated packing up a few things and running away. Austin would probably let him stay in his barn.

He sighed and pushed the thought out of his mind, flipping over onto his back. The full moon was starting to climb to its peak in the night sky. Thousands of thousands of stars scattered the space around it. Blaine had always loved the view from his room. Staring into the sky calmed him. He remembered staying up here through his parents fights, which when the drought hit town a few years back were plenty. He heard them screaming downstairs, but he focused so hard on the stars, thinking if he could concentrate hard enough on just how far away they were, he could escape the muffled sounds of his mom crying.

He couldn't live in a barn forever. Why couldn't he just live up in the stars? He wouldn't mind moving there. A place among the fiery balls of light, where everything was slow and silent like it was here.

No more nights rocking on the porch. No more barn parties with all the kids, coming from miles away to drink and dance to music Blaine had never heard, but thought was awfully loud and crass compared to his usual blue grass tunes. But he loved those nights anyways. No more huge bonfires or shooting competitions with Austin. No more Austin. No more riding the tractor at sunset, the smell of the fields staining his worn jeans long after he had run home. Tears burned a path down his cheeks. It wasn't fair. He could handle the farm by himself.

Okay, maybe he couldn't. They had acres upon acres of land. It would involve him working all day, and being only seventeen, he didn't know if he could handle that for very long. He would grow old quickly like his father had. But he could find some farm hands. Pa had a few for a couple of years until the money started running thin.

He didn't want to leave, but he couldn't think of a way out. He knew they were running out of money. He knew there was no changing his parent's minds. He had a week to say good bye to his friends and to the animals which had been better company than his friends most of the time. Blaine enjoyed the solitude of the farm. This was one of the many reasons he didn't think he would fit in with the city. All these people crowding around, running here and there, talking about stocks and foreign affairs. He shook his head, tried looking at the sky again.

But, that night, no matter how hard he focused on the light flicker of his favorite star, he couldn't push the nightmare of being run over by a taxi. He woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. This was not going to be good, he could tell already.

"I reckon it'll be pretty cool," Austin shrugs as he plays with a strand of wheat, chewing on the end.

On his last night in town, Blaine laid out a blanket in the middle of the field with his best friend and they stared into the cold night sky, shivering a little, scooting closer to get each other's warmth even it was just in one arm. Blaine looked over at Austin, appreciating his blue eyes for what may have been the last time. He had golden hair the color of hay and piercing eyes that Blaine often stared into just because he could.

"There might be some pretty ladies there, too," Austin added, looking away from Blaine.

Blaine had never had a girlfriend. He had never wanted one. Sometimes he wondered why he never admired girls' breasts the way he admired Austin's taut arms when they mucked stalls together. He never thought about kissing a girl, but sometimes when he and Austin walked together down to the pond, he had the overwhelming urge to latch onto Austin's hand and never let it go. This had never really bothered Blaine. It was the way it was, and Austin never said anything.

"Yeah, maybe," Blaine agreed softly. They both knew Blaine wasn't interested in girls, that Austin was just trying to keep the conversation bright. They had grown up together, they hadn't gone more than a few days without seeing each other almost since birth, except that time Austin went to camp far away for two weeks when they were nine. He called Blaine crying after one week. After that, they made sure to see each other as often as possible.

The older they got, the more responsibilities they earned, the harder it got to see each other as often, but they still made it work. They did chores together. Austin helped him with the horses if he helped Austin feed the hogs.

Austin was the one Blaine would miss the most. They both knew it was going to be hard. They tried not to talk about it, instead switching the topic to the night sky. This was one of their favorite things to discuss.

When they were younger, they liked to ask big questions. On Sundays, they would sit in the back of a pick-up truck, and talk about everything.

"Blaine," Austin started, staring at the sunny skies, wind blowing his sun-bleached hair in and out of his eyes. "Do you think the sky goes on forever?"

They were just nine. Blaine didn't even know what forever was. Austin said he thought that it stopped after a little bit, just beyond where they could see, and that's where God and all the angels lived.

Blaine countered with another. "You think there's another planet out there with another you and another me, sittin' in the back of a truck, askin' these same questions?"

"That's dumb, Blaine. There ain't no other life out there. It's just you and me, that's all it'll ever be."

It's just you and me. Blaine liked these words. They comforted him. Sometimes when he stared into the sky, he tried to see where it stopped. It was too much to think it kept going on and on, and somewhere aliens were plotting to take over the planet and make humans their slaves. He saw that story in a magazine in the back of a corner store once. He had nightmares for weeks. He strained his eyes but for all his might he couldn't see where God lived. He could just see a wide expanse of blue.

Now, eight years later, they were doing the same thing.

"You think all those stars are close to us and really small or far away and super big," Austin questioned, shivering as a cold gust of wind rustled the wheat around them, a comforting lullaby Blaine would grow to miss.

"I got no clue, Austin," Blaine admitted. "I've been lookin' at these stars all my life and I barely know more about them now than I did when we were nine in the back of your dad's truck."

Austin nodded solemnly. He turned on his side and faced Blaine. "I know it sucks with you leavin' and all, but listen: I've got a phone. I reckon your house in the city will have one, too. It's you and me, Blaine."

If Blaine had ever wanted to kiss anyone more than at that moment, he sure couldn't remember. He didn't quite understand why. But he knew Austin like the back of his hand, and he knew that Austin's love was a different kind of love than that. He had seen Austin around with girls from school, he did his best to convince himself that the burning in his chest was jealousy that Austin could get girls. And maybe Blaine was just extra sad about leaving, and reading his own emotions wrong. In their town, boys marry girls and girls marry boys, and that's all. Two boys can't make children, and if you have no children, you can't run a farm.

"It's you and me," Blaine agreed, smiling a little, using all of his strength to hold back his tears. Boys didn't cry. Not in front of people. That's what mama always told him.

The boys went back to looking up, into the ominous night, seeing nothing but millions of burning lights for miles, trying to think about anything but what would happen tomorrow.