All the Little Lights(13)

I stood at the window, already knowing Elliott would be out of sight. He was different—more than just odd—but he had found me. And for the moment, I liked not feeling lost.





Chapter Two

Catherine

Catherine,” Dad called from downstairs.

I trotted down each step.

He was at the bottom, smiling. “You’re awfully chipper today. What’s up with that?”

I paused on the second to last stair. “It’s summer?”

“Nope. I’ve seen your ‘it’s summer’ smile before. This is different.”

I shrugged, taking a crispy slice of bacon from the napkin in his open palm. My only response was a series of crunching, to which Dad scoffed.

“I have an interview at two today, but I thought maybe we could go ride around the lake.”

I stole another piece of bacon, crunching.

Dad made a face.

“I kind of might have plans.”

Dad raised an eyebrow.

“With Elliott.”

The two lines between his brows deepened. “Elliott.” He spoke the name as if it would jog his memory.

I smiled. “Leigh’s nephew. The weird boy in our backyard.”

“The one who was punching the tree?”

I stumbled over my response until Dad finally interjected.

“That’s right. I saw him,” Dad said.

“But . . . you asked me if he was tearing up the yard.”

“I didn’t want to worry you, Princess. I’m not sure I’m okay with you spending time with a boy who assaults trees.”

“We don’t know what’s going on with him at home, Dad.”

Dad touched my shoulder. “I don’t want my daughter getting mixed up with whatever that is, either.”

I shook my head. “After last night, maybe his aunt and uncle are saying the same about our family. Pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“It was mostly her,” I grumbled.

“It was both of us.”

“He told Presley off last night.”

“The tree boy? Wait. What do you mean, last night?”

I swallowed. “We walked to Braum’s . . . after Mama got home.”

“Oh,” Dad said. “I see. And he was okay? I mean, he didn’t try to punch Presley or anything, did he?”

I giggled. “No, Dad.”

“Sorry I didn’t come in to say good night. We were up late.”

Someone knocked on the door. Three times, and then two.

“Is that him?” Dad asked.

“I don’t know. We didn’t really have a set time . . . ,” I said, watching Dad make his way to the door. He puffed out his chest before he pulled on the knob, revealing Elliott looking freshly showered, his damp hair wavy and glistening. He held his camera with both hands, even though the strap was around his neck.

“Mister, uh . . .”

“Calhoun,” Dad said, gripping Elliott’s hand to give it a firm shake. He turned to me. “I thought you said you met him last night?” He looked to Elliott. “You didn’t even get her last name?”

Elliott smiled, looking sheepish. “I might be a little nervous to meet you.”

Dad’s eyes softened, and his shoulders relaxed. “Did you know her first name is Princess?”

“Dad!” I hissed.

Dad winked at me. “Be home by dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Elliott said, stepping to the side.

I passed Dad, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before leading Elliott down the porch steps and out the gate.

“It’s already hot,” Elliott said, wiping his forehead. “This summer’s gonna be brutal.”

“You’re here early. What are you up to?” I asked.

He nudged me with his elbow. “Hanging out with you.”

“What’s with the camera?”

“I thought we could go to the creek today.”

“To . . . ?”

He held up his camera. “To take pictures.”

“Of the creek?”

He smiled. “You’ll see.”

We walked north toward Braum’s and turned a street before. The road turned to red dirt and gravel, and we walked one more mile up to Deep Creek. It was narrow, and apart from a few ten-foot sections, I could jump over it with a running start. Elliott led me along the bank until he found a section running over stones.

He stopped talking to me and started tinkering with his camera. Elliott snapped one picture quickly, checked the settings, and then took several more. After watching him for an hour, I walked around on my own, waiting until he was satisfied.

“Beautiful,” he said simply. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“The park.”

We headed back toward Juniper, stopping at Braum’s on the way for ice water. I pressed my thumb to my shoulder, leaving a temporary white spot before it turned red.

“Sunburn?” Elliott asked.

“I always do in June. Burn once, and I’m good for the summer.”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” he teased.

I scanned his bronze skin with envy. Something about it looked soft and touchable, and those thoughts made me feel uncomfortable because I’d never had them before.