All the Little Lights(61)

I nodded. “That sounds good. I’ll go with that.”

“Drinks?” Madison asked.

“Vanilla Coke,” Sam said.

“Cherry vanilla limeade,” Elliott said.

I nodded. “That sounds good, too.”

Madison finished ordering and then rolled up her window, rubbing her hands together. She reached down and turned the heater on full blast.

I closed my eyes, basking in the heat as Elliott, Sam, and Madison chatted about their school day, who was dating whom, and the away game that weekend. Mama kept the Juniper so cold, and the school wasn’t much better. The hot air coming from the vents felt like a warm blanket, and I let my body relax against the seat, happily baking in the heat.

“Catherine?” Elliott said.

My lids popped open. “What? I’m sorry.”

“The game is in Yukon this weekend,” Madison said with amusement. “I’m still in the process of talking my dad into finally letting me drive to one, but it will be easier to convince him if I bring a friend. You want to drive with me? Road trip!”

Mama was acting stranger than usual, and so were the guests. I was afraid being gone an entire day would put her over the edge. “I can’t. I’m working.”

Elliott kept quiet, and an awkward silence filled the car until Sam piped up again.

“What is it like?” Sam asked. “Living there?”

“Cold,” I said, fingering the vent.

“But what about the people coming in and out? It would be weird to have strangers living in my home,” Sam said.

“They um . . . they don’t live there. And they’re not strangers. We mostly have regulars.”

“What are they like?” Madison asked.

“I’m not really supposed to . . .”

“Please?” Madison said. “We’re so curious. I’m not trying to pry, but you’re kind of an enigma.”

“Good word, Maddy,” Sam said, impressed.

Madison smirked. “I’ve been studying for the SAT. So Catherine? Pretty please?”

I glanced back at Elliott. He was unhappy. “You don’t have to, Catherine. I told them not to grill you.”

I met their gazes, one by one, feeling the blood under my face ignite. “You did what?”

Elliott’s expression changed from irritation to recognition. “I just . . . I knew they were curious about you and the house and you wouldn’t want to answer a bunch of questions, so I told them before lunch not to . . . you know . . . bug you about it.”

The thought of Elliott having to give a disclaimer before something as simple as a car ride to a half-hour lunch was so humiliating that I wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Catherine,” he began.

I had to do something, to say something so I didn’t look like the freak everyone thought I was. “My mom, Mavis, checks people in and keeps things in order during the day. We have Althea, who comes to visit her grandchildren. Duke, who stays while he’s working in the area. Sometimes he brings his daughter, Poppy. My uncle and cousin sometimes visit. A girl named Willow. I think she’s just a year older than me. She passes through sometimes.”

“But is it haunted?” Sam asked. “It’s gotta be haunted. You can tell us.”

“No.” The Juniper was full of frightening things, but they were real.

Sam looked confused. “But . . . didn’t your dad die in there?”

“Sam!” Madison snapped.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Elliott said.

The carhop tapped on the glass, startling Madison. She rolled down the window, taking the money Sam and Elliott handed her. We took our food, and Madison proved adept at driving and eating at the same time, but as hungry as I was before, the hot dog smothered in chili and melted cheese was no longer appetizing.

Madison looked over at me with apologetic eyes. “We’re gonna have less than five minutes once we get back,” Madison said. “You should eat.”

“Here,” Elliott said, opening his Sonic sack. “Put it in here, and we’ll eat in the commons.”

I dropped my Coney inside, and Elliott rolled the top of the bag down. I sipped on my drink until we got to school, pulling on the handle the second Madison put her car in park.

“Catherine,” Elliott called to me, jogging to my side with his Sonic sack in one hand. He had already inhaled his meal, but I was sure he’d follow me around with my food until I ate it. “Hey,” he said, tugging on my sweater until I stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“That was so humiliating,” I seethed. “First, you’re talking people into being my friend, then you’re vetting them?”

“I just want you to be happy,” he said, sad.

“I’ve already told you. I don’t want friends.”

He sighed. “Yes, you do. And you should be able to go out and do normal high school stuff. You should go to parties and road trips to ball games and—”

“Maybe it’s just personal preference. Not everyone has to like partying and going to ball games.”

“You don’t like going to my games?” he asked, surprised.

My shoulders sagged. The expression on his face made me feel ashamed. “Of course I do. I just think . . . maybe we’re different.”