All the Little Lights(44)

“You okay?” I asked.

She smiled, breathing a small laugh out of her nose. “I’m supposed to be asking you that.” I waited, and she conceded. “Yes, I’m okay. I guess I’m not used to being wrong, Catherine. I’m slipping.”

“Maybe you’re not perfect. Maybe that’s okay.”

She narrowed her eyes at me, a playful scowl on her face. “Who’s the counselor here?”

I smiled.

“You know what I’m going to ask,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “Why don’t you just talk?”

I shrugged. “Things are better.”

She sat up. “Better?”

“Elliott.”

“Elliott?” She was clearly trying to keep the hope she was feeling a secret, and failing horribly.

I nodded, frowning as I stared at the floor. “Sort of. I’m trying not to.”

“Why? Because you prefer to keep to yourself, or because he’s pressuring you to be more than friends?”

My nose wrinkled. “It’s nothing like that. I’m just still angry.”

She bristled like my dad use to do when I’d talk about Presley. “What did he do?”

“He use to stay with his aunt during the summers. Then he had to go home. It was the day my . . . the day he . . .”

She nodded, and I was thankful she didn’t need me to say the words. “And?”

“He promised he’d come back, but he didn’t. Then he tried when he got his license, but he got caught. Now his parents are getting a divorce, and he’s here.”

“That’s quite a story. So you’re starting to realize that maybe it wasn’t his fault? He seems like a nice guy. And you said he tried to come back?”

I nodded, trying not to smile as I envisioned him sneaking out in the middle of the night and jumping in his rickety car, racing down the highway at forty-five miles an hour. “He tried . . . Mrs. Mason?”

“Yes?”

“Back when you were my age, did you go to football games?”

She smiled at the instant memories filling her mind. “Every one of them. Mr. Mason played football.”

“Did you have a job?”

“Yes, but they understood that I was a kid. You can’t get these years back, Catherine.”

I thought about her words. High school wasn’t my favorite, but I couldn’t go back and do it over.

“Have you been to a game?” she asked, snapping me back to reality. She knew the answer by the look on my face. “Never? Oh, you should go, Catherine. They’re so much fun. What makes you nervous about going?”

I hesitated, but Mrs. Mason’s office had always been a safe place. “I have chores at home.”

“Can they wait? Maybe if you talk to your mom about it?”

I shook my head, and she nodded in understanding. “Catherine, are you safe at home?”

“Yes. She doesn’t hit me. Never has.”

“Good. I believe you. If that changes . . .”

“It won’t.”

“I don’t want you to get into trouble. I can’t advise you to do anything against your mother’s wishes. I think you should ask permission, but a night off is not unreasonable. As a minor, it’s required. Anything else?” She noticed my unease. “Come on. You know you can talk to me. Do you want me to do my top ten most embarrassing moments of high school again?”

A laugh erupted from my throat. “No. No, I won’t make you do that.”

“Okay, then. Share.”

After a few seconds, I vomited the truth. “I’ll have to sit by myself.”

“I’m going. Sit with me.”

I made a face, and she conceded. “All right. All right. I’m not the coolest, but I’m a person to sit next to. Lots of students sit with their parents.” I eyed her, and she backpedaled. “Okay. Some of them do. For a second. Just sit with me until you’re comfortable. We can get a cherry limeade on the way home, and I can drop you off.”

“That’s um . . . that’s very nice of you, but Elliott said he’d take me home. We’re practically neighbors.”

She clapped her hands together once. “Then it’s settled. First football game. Woo!”

Her reaction might have made another student roll her eyes, but I hadn’t experienced that kind of celebrating since before Dad died. I offered her an awkward smile and then glanced over my shoulder at the clock.

“Maybe I should . . . ?”

“Yes. We’ll talk again next month if that’s okay. I’m impressed with your progress, Catherine. I’m excited for you.”

“Thanks,” I said, pushing in my chair.

The bell rang, so I went straight to my locker, placing my hand on the black dial, pausing for a second to remember the combination.

“Two, forty-four, sixteen,” Elliott said behind me.

I narrowed my eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll forget it. So? You coming?”

I sighed. “Why? Why do you want me to come so badly?”

“I just do. I want you to see us win. I want you to be there when I run off the field. I want to see you waiting by my car when I come out, my hair wet, still out of breath, high on adrenaline. I want you to be part of it.”