Moonstar by David Gerrold

room for Olin in it. Olin sensed she could not fit in Kaspe’s new circle and went looking for a circle of her own. As for me—I was happy with my dolls still. Perhaps I was afraid of blush, so afraid I tried to pretend it wasn’t there, hiding in the curtain of tomorrow. As I grew closer to that time, I withdrew more and more into the world of my doll-friends, as if trying to retreat back into the safety of my infancy. I’m sure the family worried, but none of them spoke of it to me; they must have hoped that when the time came and all my juices started flowing properly, biology would take care of the matter that psychology wouldn’t.
    â€œSola was the one who gently broke the pattern that was forming—she was smart enough to know how to put some doors and windows into them. Sola visited our island as often as she could—we were one of the few places she felt welcome; she was always careful not to come too often, though; she knew the discomfort that her presence caused to certain members of the circle, and she did not want to put a strain on her relationship—even though Grandpere Suko and Grandmere Thoma had both said quite firmly and quite loudly that as long as they were the heads of this family, Sola would always be welcome at our table—and that as long as this family existed to honor their memories then that long also would Sola be welcome on our island—and that as long as any who heard these words still lived, then the obligation still was on them to honor them as holy trusts. All of which was pretty binding, even in a family as unorthodox as ours—we were radical in what we thought and old-fashioned in the way we lived. Those few who had been grumbling loudly muted their grumbling down to a mutter, or at least an occasional look of distaste, and the subject was never discussed again—and never in the presence of the grandperes. Grandpere Kuvig had been far terser. She said if there was someone in the circle who did not like our Sola, she could always marry out. And that was that—it made me proud to know how strong our family ties could be. Besides, I loved Aunt Sola very much. “I guess she was my favorite aunt. She used to tell me stories of sea goblins, flying dragons, wild winds and distant mountain castles. There were always two brave friends who went to seek them, sometimes they had to battle, other times they used their wits, but always in their struggles side by side they’d discover how much they loved each other—mostly as friends, but sometimes as lovers; in the latter cases they would choose for Reethe and Dakka and live happily golden atolls in the sky. Those were favorite kinds of stories and I wished for a friend like that, just one, who’d share my dreams, and then we’d make our Choices and be lovers after that. I’d beg Sola for her stories every time she came.
    â€œShe often told them with my dolls as characters, dressing them appropriately—a kind of impromptu puppet show, it was a private game for just the two of us. She had a graceful way of doing it; so gentle was her manner that she was the one adult whom I’d allow to hold Gahoostawik. She would pretend to talk to each doll—with sincerity and deep respect, not patronizing as another adult might do, but as if she recognized the life within each one. I guess she knew that life had come from me and to mock it would be to mock the one who’d given it. Sola was the only one who recognized my dolls as friends and treated them as such; which was why we shared so much, we shared the secrets of my dolls—she asked each one if she had any stories to tell today. I remember, once, I’d giggled and said, ‘Of course not—they don’t go anywhere without me.’ And Sola had looked at me sternly and said, ‘How do you know what they do at night, after you’re asleep?’ And I thought about it for a while, unable to think of an