All the Little Lights(68)

She shook her head. “Only that he was trying to say sorry and you wouldn’t forgive him. I asked, but he wouldn’t tell me. You can, though, if you want.”

She was only half teasing, but it was nice to talk to someone else. This was something I could talk about without consequences. “I met him the summer after my freshman year.”

She grinned. “He told me that part.”

“We spent pretty much every day together after that. I knew he would go back at some point, but then my dad died. Elliott had to leave. He wasn’t allowed to say goodbye, but I didn’t know that at the time.”

“Oh God. You thought he just saw that your dad died and bailed?”

I nodded.

“He felt wretched. He came here for you, I know that.”

“Did . . .” I trailed off, not sure how open I should be. Madison waited patiently, and it made me feel comfortable continuing. “Did he ever say why?”

Madison blurted out a laugh and covered her mouth. “For you, silly.”

“No, I know. But why me?”

“You don’t know?” I shook my head. “Oh. Uh-uh. I’m not going to be the one. You’re going to have to ask him.”

“I have. He won’t tell me.”

Madison’s expression turned to sympathy. “Aw! I can’t believe he hasn’t told you. It’s so sweet!”

I tried not to smile while I imagined sweet reasons Elliott was so devoted to me.

“Well, now that we’ve been through every emotion possible, here we are,” Madison said, pulling in the drive to the school. She drove slowly through the parking lot, trying to find a spot. It took longer than Madison expected, but we found an open parking space in a dark corner of the lot.

I stepped out, feeling the coldness permeate every part of me. I began to shiver after just a few seconds. “This is a perfect place for Presley’s surprise. I’m thinking pig’s blood. Hopefully it’s warm.”

Madison zipped her coat and narrowed her eyes. “I dare her.”

“I don’t,” I said.

Madison giggled. “Don’t worry. What could she possibly do?”

“I don’t know, and I think that makes me more worried than anything.”

Madison put on a hat and black mittens and then opened the back gate of her 4Runner, pulling out two thick blankets. She handed a fleece-backed quilt to me, and then hooked her free arm around mine. “Come on. We’re going to watch our boys kick some Yukon Millers a—”

“Hey, Maddy!” Presley said, walking with the clones.

Madison shot her an equally fake smile. “Hey, girl, hey!”

Presley was no longer amused, her smug grin melting away. They continued across the parking lot to the ticket booth, and we made sure to stay far enough behind so we didn’t have to engage again.

The stadium was already churning with noise, deafening before we reached the ticket booth. Huge banners with Yukon Millers hung from almost every side, and the field lights were cutting through the night sky.

Madison’s boots skirted across the asphalt with each step, making me think about Althea’s insistence that I pick up my feet when I walk. I could almost hear her voice in my head, and that made me stop in my tracks. I didn’t want to carry them with me, even Althea. I wanted to be able to leave them all behind when I could finally step away.

“Catherine?” Madison said, tugging on my arm.

I blinked and chuckled to cover that I’d checked out for a few minutes.

“Are you okay?” she asked, genuine concern in her voice.

“Yeah,” I said, taking a step. She took one with me, her arm still hooked around mine. “Yes, I’m fine.”

We stopped at the ticket booth, showed our student IDs, and the grandmother behind the window stamped our hands with a smile.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Enjoy losing,” the grandma said, a Cheshire cat’s grin stretching across her wrinkled face.

Madison’s mouth fell open, and I pulled her away, guiding her through the gate.

“Did she say . . . ?”

“Yes. She did,” I said, stopping at the bottom of the steps that led to the guests’ side of the stadium. Half of it was filled with overflow from the home side, but there were a lot of empty bleachers and sporadic groups of parents.

We climbed the steps and sat in the sixth row from the walkway, as close to the center of the players’ benches as we could get. The cheerleaders were bundled and standing on the track in front of the band, dressed in full regalia. The players of the trumpets, tubas, and drums were already warming up in random, separate song.

Madison rubbed her gloved hands together and then noticed my bare hands. She grabbed my fingers, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Did you forget yours in the 4Runner?”

I shook my head. “I don’t have any. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay! It’s twenty degrees!” She lifted my blanket and shoved my hands under, holding hers on top of mine until she felt they’d had enough time to warm.

The band’s conductor stood in front, holding up a signal. A few of the horn players blew quick practice notes, and then they all bleated the same scale. The announcer came on over the PA system, welcoming the spectators and thanking them for braving the cold.