All the Little Lights
Page 47
“Catherine?” Althea said.
I jumped, then touched my hand to my chest. “Oh. Althea. Do you, um . . . do you know about this?” I asked, gesturing to the bag.
Althea scanned the bag and then smiled at me. “No. Want me to ask your mama when I see her?”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll ask her. Thanks.” I made my way to my room.
“Everything okay, sugar?”
“All good. Let me know if you need anything,” I called back.
“You do the same,” she said.
I could hear the uncertainty in her voice, and I was sure to her my behavior seemed odd, but it was best not to drag Althea into any suspicious activity. Althea was the only solid ground I had within the walls of the Juniper, and I didn’t want her to be involved in whatever that suitcase meant.
The four books inside my bag hit my bed with a thud, and I sat down next to it. After five minutes, Poppy still hadn’t come in for the story. I was glad; I had too much to do before the game. The night meeting when the guests were in one room, talking in frightened, panicked voices, was about me, and it was disturbing to know I was the reason for it. I wondered if it was the first one and if there would be more.
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.”
I jumped, then touched my hand to my chest. “Oh. Althea. Do you, um . . . do you know about this?” I asked, gesturing to the bag.
Althea scanned the bag and then smiled at me. “No. Want me to ask your mama when I see her?”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll ask her. Thanks.” I made my way to my room.
“Everything okay, sugar?”
“All good. Let me know if you need anything,” I called back.
“You do the same,” she said.
I could hear the uncertainty in her voice, and I was sure to her my behavior seemed odd, but it was best not to drag Althea into any suspicious activity. Althea was the only solid ground I had within the walls of the Juniper, and I didn’t want her to be involved in whatever that suitcase meant.
The four books inside my bag hit my bed with a thud, and I sat down next to it. After five minutes, Poppy still hadn’t come in for the story. I was glad; I had too much to do before the game. The night meeting when the guests were in one room, talking in frightened, panicked voices, was about me, and it was disturbing to know I was the reason for it. I wondered if it was the first one and if there would be more.
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.”
