All the Little Lights
Page 51
Madison took off her knit cap and quickly twisted her long platinum hair back into a tight bun. “Let’s just say I’ve got this . . . probably. I can try.”
I turned to Elliott. “I’m not afraid.”
Elliott brushed my hair from my face and kissed my nose. “Catherine isn’t a name for a princess. Sounds like a warrior to me.”
I grinned. I’d always loved the story Mama had told about how my name came about and I loved it when my dad called me Princess, but everything was different now, and Elliott’s version fit me better.
He hugged me one last time before he stepped onto the bus.
Sam waved to Madison, and we walked together to her 4Runner. My feet crunched against glass at the same time the locks disengaged, and I hopped in, trying to find some relief from the cold.
Madison turned the heat on full blast. We shivered for a moment, rubbing our hands together while Madison texted her father. I held my hand in front of the vents, anxious for the moment the air turned warmer.
She chuckled. “He’s not even mad.”
“That’s good,” I said.
“I’m just telling him we’re heading out, and then we can go.” She tapped a few more times and then put her hand on the gear stick, shifting into reverse. Madison flipped a switch a few times, frowned, and then pushed open her door, walking to the front of the 4Runner. Her eyes grew wide, and she covered her mouth.
I jumped out, joining her at the front of the car, but two steps in, I could feel the glass under my shoes again, and I already knew what she was looking at. The headlights had been bashed out.
“Those . . . those . . . I’m going to kill them!” Madison screamed.
The buses were still sitting at the stadium, so I gathered our things, shut the doors, and yanked on Madison’s coat. “We have to catch the bus before it leaves, or we’ll be stranded!”
Madison stopped being dragged and ran with me. I was out of breath halfway there, but the first bus was leaving, and the second would follow right after that.
Just as the bus pulled forward, I banged on the door. The bus driver slammed on the brakes. He glanced behind him and then down at us. Madison banged on the door, too.
“Let us in!” she cried, her cheeks already wet with anger.
Elliott appeared at the door, pulled on the lever, and helped us up the steps.
Coach Peckham stood. He’d been sitting next to Mrs. Mason.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We need a ride home,” Madison said.
Coach Peckham placed his hands on his hips. “We can’t do that.”
“Someone bashed in her headlights. There’s glass all over the parking lot,” I said.
“What?” Elliott said, sudden rage in his eyes.
The coach sighed. “Must have been the other team.”
“It was Presley Brubaker and her friends,” Madison said. “They told us if we came to the game, they were going to do something!”
“That’s a serious accusation,” Mrs. Mason stated. “Call your parents. Make sure it’s okay for you to catch a ride on the athletics bus.”
“Becca, we need to clear it through the athletics director. Maybe even the superintendent,” Coach Peckham said.
“We can’t leave them here. With the weather like it is, it could be morning before their parents could get to them. I’m on the bus, so they’ll have female supervision. I’ll text Mr. Thornton and Mrs. DeMarco and update them on the situation.”
Coach Peckham thought for a moment, prompting Elliott to speak up. “What is there to think about? You’re actually considering leaving them over two hours from home in freezing temperatures?”
“Youngblood, that’s enough,” Coach said. “There are rules to consider.”
Elliott turned his body, standing in front of me a bit as if he were protecting me from the coach’s decision. “If the rules mean you’re leaving them here, then the rules are wrong.”
“Just let me think a minute!” Coach Peckham yelled.
All the excited chatter in the back of the bus stopped, all eyes focused on the front.
“It’s not unheard of, Brad,” Mrs. Mason said. “The managers are on the other bus. Those girls ride with the team all the time.”
“The managers signed waivers, just like the rest of the team. This is different.”
Elliott took my hand. “I’m just telling you now, if we can’t get hold of Mr. Thornton or the superintendent . . . if you can’t get the clearance and you decide to leave them here, I’m staying.”
“Youngblood, you’ll be suspended, and you won’t be able to play. Sit down!” Coach growled.
“Me too, Coach,” Sam said, standing next to Maddy. “We can’t leave them here, and you know it.”
“Me too,” Scotty said, standing.
“Me too,” another player said from the back. Soon every player on the bus was standing.
Coach Peckham’s hand slid down his face. “This is ridiculous. Fine. Girls, sit in the seat across from us. Mrs. Mason, you’ve got the aisle seat. All athletes, move a seat back. I want one full empty row behind me and the girls. Do it!” he barked. “Now!”
Mrs. Mason facilitated the move, and the boys did so without complaint, quickly and quietly. Mrs. Mason directed us to sit across from her, and Elliott stopped before making his way to the back.
“It was the right thing to do, Coach.”
Coach Peckham looked up at him. “Elliott, when you’re an adult, right and wrong isn’t so black and white.”
“It should be,” Elliott said, walking back to his seat.
Coach sat, directing the driver to leave.
Madison’s phone was the only light on the dark bus, shining in Coach Peckham’s face when he saw the text from her dad.
Thank God the bus was still there. Tell Coach Peckham thank you for making sure you got home safe.
Coach Peckham nodded, appearing ashamed. Mrs. Mason patted his knee and relaxed, smiling as she spoke to him.
Madison doodled on the frosty window with her finger, and I pulled the blankets over us, trying to stay warm in the drafty bus. The hum of the engine and road noise made my eyelids feel heavy, and I drifted off, knowing I was surrounded by a team of boys who would do anything for Elliott, and Elliott would do anything for me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Elliott
Sam and I sat two rows behind Catherine and Madison. It was so dark, I could barely see the silhouettes of their heads poking above the seat. At first the girls were looking out the window and at each other as they talked, and then I could tell when Catherine had nodded off, because her head was wobbling back and forth until she finally settled against Madison’s shoulder.
I felt half-frustrated, half-cheated. Catherine would have been much more comfortable sleeping on my shoulder.
“Hey,” Sam said, nudging my elbow. “You finished staring at her yet?”
I breathed out a laugh and shook my head. There was no point in denying it. Sam already knew I was stupid in love with that girl. The bus was driving painfully slow, and I was finding it more and more difficult to be so close to Catherine without being able to talk to her. School was bad enough. This was torture.
The raindrops flittering against the wind on the windows created glowing specks as they magnified the headlights of cars passing for seconds at a time. The windshield wipers swayed back and forth, and together with the hum of the engine and the road noise vibrating the dark bus, a soothing rhythm made it almost impossible to stay awake. Usually the bus was abuzz with celebration and energy on the way home from a won away game, but aside from a few deep voices murmuring somewhere in the back, it was eerily quiet.
I turned to Elliott. “I’m not afraid.”
Elliott brushed my hair from my face and kissed my nose. “Catherine isn’t a name for a princess. Sounds like a warrior to me.”
I grinned. I’d always loved the story Mama had told about how my name came about and I loved it when my dad called me Princess, but everything was different now, and Elliott’s version fit me better.
He hugged me one last time before he stepped onto the bus.
Sam waved to Madison, and we walked together to her 4Runner. My feet crunched against glass at the same time the locks disengaged, and I hopped in, trying to find some relief from the cold.
Madison turned the heat on full blast. We shivered for a moment, rubbing our hands together while Madison texted her father. I held my hand in front of the vents, anxious for the moment the air turned warmer.
She chuckled. “He’s not even mad.”
“That’s good,” I said.
“I’m just telling him we’re heading out, and then we can go.” She tapped a few more times and then put her hand on the gear stick, shifting into reverse. Madison flipped a switch a few times, frowned, and then pushed open her door, walking to the front of the 4Runner. Her eyes grew wide, and she covered her mouth.
I jumped out, joining her at the front of the car, but two steps in, I could feel the glass under my shoes again, and I already knew what she was looking at. The headlights had been bashed out.
“Those . . . those . . . I’m going to kill them!” Madison screamed.
The buses were still sitting at the stadium, so I gathered our things, shut the doors, and yanked on Madison’s coat. “We have to catch the bus before it leaves, or we’ll be stranded!”
Madison stopped being dragged and ran with me. I was out of breath halfway there, but the first bus was leaving, and the second would follow right after that.
Just as the bus pulled forward, I banged on the door. The bus driver slammed on the brakes. He glanced behind him and then down at us. Madison banged on the door, too.
“Let us in!” she cried, her cheeks already wet with anger.
Elliott appeared at the door, pulled on the lever, and helped us up the steps.
Coach Peckham stood. He’d been sitting next to Mrs. Mason.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We need a ride home,” Madison said.
Coach Peckham placed his hands on his hips. “We can’t do that.”
“Someone bashed in her headlights. There’s glass all over the parking lot,” I said.
“What?” Elliott said, sudden rage in his eyes.
The coach sighed. “Must have been the other team.”
“It was Presley Brubaker and her friends,” Madison said. “They told us if we came to the game, they were going to do something!”
“That’s a serious accusation,” Mrs. Mason stated. “Call your parents. Make sure it’s okay for you to catch a ride on the athletics bus.”
“Becca, we need to clear it through the athletics director. Maybe even the superintendent,” Coach Peckham said.
“We can’t leave them here. With the weather like it is, it could be morning before their parents could get to them. I’m on the bus, so they’ll have female supervision. I’ll text Mr. Thornton and Mrs. DeMarco and update them on the situation.”
Coach Peckham thought for a moment, prompting Elliott to speak up. “What is there to think about? You’re actually considering leaving them over two hours from home in freezing temperatures?”
“Youngblood, that’s enough,” Coach said. “There are rules to consider.”
Elliott turned his body, standing in front of me a bit as if he were protecting me from the coach’s decision. “If the rules mean you’re leaving them here, then the rules are wrong.”
“Just let me think a minute!” Coach Peckham yelled.
All the excited chatter in the back of the bus stopped, all eyes focused on the front.
“It’s not unheard of, Brad,” Mrs. Mason said. “The managers are on the other bus. Those girls ride with the team all the time.”
“The managers signed waivers, just like the rest of the team. This is different.”
Elliott took my hand. “I’m just telling you now, if we can’t get hold of Mr. Thornton or the superintendent . . . if you can’t get the clearance and you decide to leave them here, I’m staying.”
“Youngblood, you’ll be suspended, and you won’t be able to play. Sit down!” Coach growled.
“Me too, Coach,” Sam said, standing next to Maddy. “We can’t leave them here, and you know it.”
“Me too,” Scotty said, standing.
“Me too,” another player said from the back. Soon every player on the bus was standing.
Coach Peckham’s hand slid down his face. “This is ridiculous. Fine. Girls, sit in the seat across from us. Mrs. Mason, you’ve got the aisle seat. All athletes, move a seat back. I want one full empty row behind me and the girls. Do it!” he barked. “Now!”
Mrs. Mason facilitated the move, and the boys did so without complaint, quickly and quietly. Mrs. Mason directed us to sit across from her, and Elliott stopped before making his way to the back.
“It was the right thing to do, Coach.”
Coach Peckham looked up at him. “Elliott, when you’re an adult, right and wrong isn’t so black and white.”
“It should be,” Elliott said, walking back to his seat.
Coach sat, directing the driver to leave.
Madison’s phone was the only light on the dark bus, shining in Coach Peckham’s face when he saw the text from her dad.
Thank God the bus was still there. Tell Coach Peckham thank you for making sure you got home safe.
Coach Peckham nodded, appearing ashamed. Mrs. Mason patted his knee and relaxed, smiling as she spoke to him.
Madison doodled on the frosty window with her finger, and I pulled the blankets over us, trying to stay warm in the drafty bus. The hum of the engine and road noise made my eyelids feel heavy, and I drifted off, knowing I was surrounded by a team of boys who would do anything for Elliott, and Elliott would do anything for me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Elliott
Sam and I sat two rows behind Catherine and Madison. It was so dark, I could barely see the silhouettes of their heads poking above the seat. At first the girls were looking out the window and at each other as they talked, and then I could tell when Catherine had nodded off, because her head was wobbling back and forth until she finally settled against Madison’s shoulder.
I felt half-frustrated, half-cheated. Catherine would have been much more comfortable sleeping on my shoulder.
“Hey,” Sam said, nudging my elbow. “You finished staring at her yet?”
I breathed out a laugh and shook my head. There was no point in denying it. Sam already knew I was stupid in love with that girl. The bus was driving painfully slow, and I was finding it more and more difficult to be so close to Catherine without being able to talk to her. School was bad enough. This was torture.
The raindrops flittering against the wind on the windows created glowing specks as they magnified the headlights of cars passing for seconds at a time. The windshield wipers swayed back and forth, and together with the hum of the engine and the road noise vibrating the dark bus, a soothing rhythm made it almost impossible to stay awake. Usually the bus was abuzz with celebration and energy on the way home from a won away game, but aside from a few deep voices murmuring somewhere in the back, it was eerily quiet.
