All the Little Lights

  With all of them so invested in preventing my departure, I had to wonder what they had planned for me.

  I cracked my book open, fishing a pen out of the front zipper pocket of my bag. Mrs. Faust wanted a five-hundred-word literary analysis of Grendel. That wouldn't be so difficult if I didn't also have the paper on muscle atrophy, two worksheets for Mr. Mason, and geometry homework. The good news was that none of it was due until Monday. I was too exhausted to concentrate, so the new plan was to take a nap before diving into Grendel's supernatural powers and how his bitterness for the Danes led to his demise.

  Someone knocked on my door, and I blinked, my head feeling almost too heavy to move.

  "Who is it?" I asked.

  "It's me," Mama said.

  I sat up. "The suitcase in the hallway . . ."

  "There are some girls for you at the door."

  "Girls?" I asked, putting emphasis on the plural.

  "Yes, girls. Now don't be rude and keep them waiting."

  "Are they inside?"

  "No, silly. On the porch swing."

  My curiosity helped me leave my bed and make my way downstairs to the porch. It shouldn't have surprised me that Presley and her clones were there as Mama had said.

  "What do you want?" I asked.

  Presley pushed off with her foot, swaying back and forth on my swing, the same one where I felt so safe with Elliott. It made me angry that she was tainting that memory.

  "Why so angry, Kit-Cat? We're just here to talk." I waited, knowing she'd tell me whether I prompted her or not. "We hear you're going to the game on Friday. True?"

  "None of your business," I said.

  Presley giggled, and her clones mimicked her. Anna Sue, Tara, Tatum, and Brie were all bundled in coats, puffs of white air wafting from their mouths as they laughed. I realized I was cold, standing only in a long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans.

  Anna Sue stood up and circled around me, standing between me and the lattice. I kept my back to the door, unsure of what they were planning.

  Anna Sue pulled at one of her platinum curls. "You and Elliott are so cute. Tell us . . . how did that happen?"

  I frowned.

  "Was it his idea for you to go to Yukon? Or Madison and Sam's?" Presley asked. When she realized I was going with the silent treatment, she took it up a notch. "You know Elliott missed one hell of a party last weekend. Tatum asked him to go, but he refused to go without poor Princess Catherine."

  "Don't call me that," I snapped.

  Presley's smug grin burned a hole through my patience. "Has he said why he dotes on you? He's told the football team. He's explained to his friends when they tease him."

  "It's sad, really," Tatum said. She was staring past me, her focus somewhere else. She genuinely felt sorry for Elliott.

  "What do you want?" I asked again.

  "We just came to warn you," Presley said, standing. "That Madison is apparently excited that Creepy Catherine is riding with her to the game tomorrow night, because she tells whoever asks. It was the hot topic after school. I know you don't have a phone, but you were all over the group chat, and it's just you and Madison. All alone." Presley stepped toward me. "And she called me a whore."

  "Get to the point, Presley. I have things to do," I snarled.

  "My point," she said, accentuating the T, "is that you have a special surprise waiting for you in Yukon."

  "Very special," Tatum said with a smile.

  "Looking forward to seeing you there," Tara said, turning to follow a smiling Presley to the gate.

  "So don't miss it," Anna Sue said before following her friends.

  "Seriously?" I asked.

  All five girls turned.

  I was tired, behind on homework and housework, and they had come to my home to issue threats.

  "You're threatening me? Are we talking a brawl or a Carrie situation?" I asked.

  Presley crossed her arms. "You'll find out."

  I stepped down one stair and then another, feeling the Juniper at my back. "You don't scare me, Presley. You never have. I'm going to the game."

  "Good," she said with a smile. "It would be a shame if you didn't."

  They left through the gate, and it clanged behind them. The clones piled into Presley's Mini Cooper, and then they drove off, chattering and laughing like they'd just left an amusement park.

  I turned on my heel, pushed through the door, and ran up the stairs, falling onto my bed face-first. No tears came; instead, a rage welled up inside me that I hadn't felt since I thought Elliott had left without saying goodbye.

  A light knock on the door preceded a long, drawn-out creaking noise as whoever it was pushed it open.

  "Sugar?" Althea said in her slow, rich voice. "Are those girls bothering you?"

  "No," I said into my comforter.

  Althea put her warm hand on my back. "Goodness, you're ice-cold, child. What were you thinking, standing outside without a coat?"

  "I don't know. I couldn't feel it," I said. I wanted to be alone, but Althea had always been good to me. I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

  She rubbed my back for a minute and then spoke again. "What did they say to you?"

  "That if I went to the game, they were going to do something to me."

  "They threatened you? They came here, to our house, and threatened my Catherine? Oh no. Surely not."

  I sat up, feeling my eyebrows pull together. "They did."

  "And what did you do? You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm going to march right up to their mamas and . . ." She caught a glimpse of my expression and took a breath, smiling as she touched my hair. "You're right. I know you're right. You can handle it just fine on your own."

  "Althea?"

  "Yes, baby?"

  "Mama said you had a meeting the other night with the other guests. She said you were talking about me."

  Althea pressed her palms against her skirt, looking uncomfortable. "She did, did she? I wish she hadn't."

  "Why were you having a meeting about me?"

  Althea touched my cheek with her warm palm and smiled with maternal affection. "You don't worry about anything, you hear me? We've got it all taken care of."

  "What? You've got what taken care of?"

  "How to keep this place going. There aren't a lot of us, but we depend on the Juniper. We're working together."

  "But why were you talking about me?"

  "Because you're part of it, baby."

  "But . . . Mama said you didn't think I should stay."

  "I don't," she said, fidgeting with her dress again. "But I was outvoted. Now it's my job to make sure you're happy here."

  I smiled at her. "Isn't that my job?"

  Althea's eyes filled with happy tears, and she kissed my cheek. "My goodness. Look what you've gone and done." She dug into her pocket and pulled out a tissue. She leaned in, touching my knee. "You go to that game, and you show those girls they can't run you off. Elliott's a good boy. He'll take care of you."

  "He says he loves me."

  "Loves you?" She blew out a breath through her lips. "Well, what's not to love?"

  I sat on the bed, watching Althea gather herself. She walked over to my dresser and picked up the music box, giving it a few turns before waving to me and closing the door behind her. I lay back, looking up at the ceiling, letting my eyes grow heavy to the familiar chime.

  Chapter Twenty

  Catherine

  Madison had only been driving forty-five minutes before the sun began to set. Sleet had been forecast for the way home, but fifteen minutes from Oklahoma City, tiny balls of white began to plink against the windshield.

  "Don't worry," Madison said. "My dad made me pack an entire arsenal of winter survival gear in the back."

  "Is this really your first time driving to a game out of town?" I asked.

  "Yes," she said sheepishly. "I usually drive with my parents, but now that I have you to come with me . . ."

  I smiled. It felt nice to be wanted.

  "
Thanks for inviting me. I didn't know I wanted to go."

  She shrugged, keeping her eyes on the road. "You work a lot. You have more responsibilities than most of us. I'll just remind you now and then. I mean, if that's okay. I don't know, you might not even like me."

  I chuckled. "I like you."

  "Good." She smiled. "That's good. I don't have many friends. Most people think I'm . . . quirky."

  "Me too."

  Madison was a breath of fresh air. She reminded me of the way Elliott made me feel: relaxed and normal. He was right about introducing me to her, and I wondered if he knew me better than I knew myself.

  Madison gasped and reached for the radio. She turned up the volume and bobbed her head. "Gah, I love this song."

  I smiled and sat back, closing my eyes. The music flowed through the speakers and into me. Madison's buoyant mood was contagious, filling the car and making the corners of my mouth turn up. She began to giggle for no reason, so much that I did, too. Our giggling turned into a barrage of laughter, wheezing, and failed attempts to stop. Madison wiped away tears, her fingers and the windshield wipers working extra hard to help her see.

  "What was that?" I asked, still chuckling.

  "I don't know," she said. She held her breath, and a laugh escaped again, then we started all over.

  After five minutes of uncontrollable laughter, Oklahoma City traffic converged, and Madison wiped her cheeks, concentrating on the road.

  "I haven't done that in a long time. Since I was little. It felt good but weird," I said.

  "Like you laughed so hard you felt like crying?"

  I nodded.

  "Oh my God! I thought that was just me. I feel exhausted after. Depressed almost."

  "Yep, I'm there," I said.

  Madison's bottom lip quivered. "Will you still be my friend if I cry?"

  I nodded, and tears streamed down her face. She choked out a cry, and I felt my eyes start to water. I hadn't really cried in years, and here I was with Madison, practically a stranger, allowing myself some vulnerability.

  She glanced at me. "It's nice to be weird with someone else."

  I breathed out a laugh. "It kind of is."

  "You live with a lot of people. You must not ever feel lonely."

  "I do, actually."

  Madison stared forward, her lip trembling again. "Me too. I don't tell anyone. Please don't tell Sam. It would make him sad."

  "Why?"

  "Because up until now, he's been my only friend. He worries that's why I keep him around."

  "Is it?"

  "No." She shook her head and turned to me, smiling with wet eyes. "I love him. Since we were eleven." She paused. "You know what? I think Elliott loves you also."

  I nodded, looking down at my hands clasped in my lap. "He says so."

  "He does?" she asked, her voice an octave higher. "Did you say it back?"

  "Yeah," I said with a smile, waiting for judgment. There was none.

  "Then I can finally tell you . . . he talks about you constantly." She rolled her eyes. "In geography. And lit. Before you finally forgave him, it was worse."

  "Oh, he told you about that?"

  She shook her head. "Only that he was trying to say sorry and you wouldn't forgive him. I asked, but he wouldn't tell me. You can, though, if you want."

  She was only half teasing, but it was nice to talk to someone else. This was something I could talk about without consequences. "I met him the summer after my freshman year."

  She grinned. "He told me that part."

  "We spent pretty much every day together after that. I knew he would go back at some point, but then my dad died. Elliott had to leave. He wasn't allowed to say goodbye, but I didn't know that at the time."

  "Oh God. You thought he just saw that your dad died and bailed?"

  I nodded.

  "He felt wretched. He came here for you, I know that."

  "Did . . ." I trailed off, not sure how open I should be. Madison waited patiently, and it made me feel comfortable continuing. "Did he ever say why?"

  Madison blurted out a laugh and covered her mouth. "For you, silly."

  "No, I know. But why me?"

  "You don't know?" I shook my head. "Oh. Uh-uh. I'm not going to be the one. You're going to have to ask him."

  "I have. He won't tell me."

  Madison's expression turned to sympathy. "Aw! I can't believe he hasn't told you. It's so sweet!"

  I tried not to smile while I imagined sweet reasons Elliott was so devoted to me.

  "Well, now that we've been through every emotion possible, here we are," Madison said, pulling in the drive to the school. She drove slowly through the parking lot, trying to find a spot. It took longer than Madison expected, but we found an open parking space in a dark corner of the lot.

  I stepped out, feeling the coldness permeate every part of me. I began to shiver after just a few seconds. "This is a perfect place for Presley's surprise. I'm thinking pig's blood. Hopefully it's warm."

  Madison zipped her coat and narrowed her eyes. "I dare her."

  "I don't," I said.

  Madison giggled. "Don't worry. What could she possibly do?"

  "I don't know, and I think that makes me more worried than anything."

  Madison put on a hat and black mittens and then opened the back gate of her 4Runner, pulling out two thick blankets. She handed a fleece-backed quilt to me, and then hooked her free arm around mine. "Come on. We're going to watch our boys kick some Yukon Millers a--"

  "Hey, Maddy!" Presley said, walking with the clones.

  Madison shot her an equally fake smile. "Hey, girl, hey!"

  Presley was no longer amused, her smug grin melting away. They continued across the parking lot to the ticket booth, and we made sure to stay far enough behind so we didn't have to engage again.

  The stadium was already churning with noise, deafening before we reached the ticket booth. Huge banners with Yukon Millers hung from almost every side, and the field lights were cutting through the night sky.

  Madison's boots skirted across the asphalt with each step, making me think about Althea's insistence that I pick up my feet when I walk. I could almost hear her voice in my head, and that made me stop in my tracks. I didn't want to carry them with me, even Althea. I wanted to be able to leave them all behind when I could finally step away.

  "Catherine?" Madison said, tugging on my arm.

  I blinked and chuckled to cover that I'd checked out for a few minutes.

  "Are you okay?" she asked, genuine concern in her voice.

  "Yeah," I said, taking a step. She took one with me, her arm still hooked around mine. "Yes, I'm fine."

  We stopped at the ticket booth, showed our student IDs, and the grandmother behind the window stamped our hands with a smile.

  "Thank you," I said.

  "Enjoy losing," the grandma said, a Cheshire cat's grin stretching across her wrinkled face.

  Madison's mouth fell open, and I pulled her away, guiding her through the gate.

  "Did she say . . . ?"

  "Yes. She did," I said, stopping at the bottom of the steps that led to the guests' side of the stadium. Half of it was filled with overflow from the home side, but there were a lot of empty bleachers and sporadic groups of parents.

  We climbed the steps and sat in the sixth row from the walkway, as close to the center of the players' benches as we could get. The cheerleaders were bundled and standing on the track in front of the band, dressed in full regalia. The players of the trumpets, tubas, and drums were already warming up in random, separate song.

  Madison rubbed her gloved hands together and then noticed my bare hands. She grabbed my fingers, looking up at me with wide eyes. "Did you forget yours in the 4Runner?"

  I shook my head. "I don't have any. It's okay."

  "No, it's not okay! It's twenty degrees!" She lifted my blanket and shoved my hands under, holding hers on top of mine until she felt they'd had enough time to warm.

  The band's c
onductor stood in front, holding up a signal. A few of the horn players blew quick practice notes, and then they all bleated the same scale. The announcer came on over the PA system, welcoming the spectators and thanking them for braving the cold.

  Madison and I sat closer as the air seeped inside our blankets and coats, watching as the Oak Creek Mudcats ran onto the field to the sound of our school song.

  "Look! There they are!" she said, pointing to our boyfriends. They were standing on the sideline next to each other, listening to Coach Peckham.

  Once the coach walked off, Elliott turned around, looking up in the stands. I held up my hand, raising my fingers and thumb. Elliott did the same, and like last time, I felt the eyes of those in the line of sight between us staring. Elliott turned back around, bouncing up and down, his breath puffing above his black helmet in a cloud of white.

  "That might be the cutest thing I've ever seen," Madison said. "No wonder you don't wear mittens. You couldn't do that with these on," she said, holding up one hand.

  I bowed my head, feeling embarrassment heat my cheeks, but couldn't stop looking at number seven as he moved to keep warm. Maybe for the first time, I realized what I meant to him and what he meant to me. The warmth spread to my chest and then the rest of me. I wasn't alone anymore.

  "Aw!" Presley said from a few rows up. "How sweet!"

  Madison turned around, batting her lashes and smiling. "Eat shit, Presley!"

  "Madison Saylor!" a blonde woman sitting next to Presley yelled.

  "Mrs. Brubaker!" Madison said, surprised. A nervous laugh tittered from her mouth. "Good to see you. Maybe your daughter won't be such a troll while you're here."

  Presley's mouth fell open, and the clones' did the same. Mrs. Brubaker's expression turned severe.

  "That's enough," she said, unamused.

  Madison turned, speaking under her breath. "Is she texting?"

  I peeked up from the corner of my eye. "Yes."

  She hunched over and groaned. "She's texting my dad. They go to our church."

  "No one is shocked more than me. I've always thought you were shy," I said.

  "I'm not. I've just never had a friend to defend. Isn't that what friends do?"

  I nudged her with my shoulder. "You're a really good friend."

  She looked at me, beaming. "I am?"

  I nodded.