All the Little Lights(78)

Happy birthday, I mouthed.

After Elliott crawled down, I opened my bottom drawer and pulled out my dad’s favorite Oklahoma University T-shirt. It was thin and had a couple of small holes, but it was the closest I could be to him after something so frightening. I rolled it up and lay in my bed, hugging it to me. The shirt hadn’t smelled like him in a long time, but I remembered, and I tried to visualize him sitting on the end of the bed, waiting for me to fall asleep like he did when I was little. Before long, I was drifting off, but it wasn’t Dad I felt was keeping me safe in that space between awake and asleep. It was Elliott.





Chapter Twenty-Three

Elliott

I buttoned up my letterman jacket and shoved my hands in my pockets. The bonfire was twice my size, but the freezing rain that was drizzling made it hard to ward off the cold. Everyone except the football players was already drunk by the time Sam and I had arrived, but the team was taking swigs from tequila bottles to catch up.

I ducked my head when the wind would blow, tucking my chin into the top of my wool jacket. Sam jumped up and down and bounced from one foot to the other to keep the blood flowing. “I’m going to ask Scotty for a shot. He brought a bottle of Fireball. You want some?”

I frowned. “This is miserable. I’m going back to Catherine’s.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You go inside?”

“I did tonight.”

“How did her mom feel about that? I thought she didn’t allow anyone in but family and guests.”

I shrugged, looking down. “I climbed up the lattice to her window. She let me in long enough to kick me out.”

“Uh-oh. Did you get into it?”

I felt my eyebrows pull in. “Not really. It was kind of like what you said. She doesn’t want to be responsible for keeping me from this. She’s never been to a party before. She clearly thinks it’s something different.”

A group was chanting across the fire. Another keg stand.

“Elliott,” Tatum said, raking her wet hair back. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I’m not staying long,” I said, looking past her to the activity at the keg.

“Did you want a drink? I brought—”

“No, thank you. I need to talk to Scotty about something,” I said, leaving Sam alone with Tatum.

“Hey,” I said, tapping Scotty’s shoulder.

“It’s the birthday boy!” Scotty said. The liter of Fireball was already half gone. He was weaving but smiling. “Wanna shot? Let’s do shots!” He took a swig.

“Nah, I’m good,” I said. He couldn’t feel the cold, so he was farther from the fire. I began to shiver, so I took a few steps back, bumping into Cruz Miller. He was holding hands with Minka.

“Watch where the hell you’re going, Youngblood,” he spat. He was drunk but not as drunk as Scotty, who stepped between us like we were about to fight.

“Hey, hey, hey . . . it’s Elliott’s birthday,” Scotty slurred. “Don’t be a dick to him on his birthday.”

“Where’s Catherine?” Minka asked, smug. “Couldn’t she come? Or did she have to clean toilets or something?”

“Shut up, Minka,” I said dismissively.

“What did you just say?” Cruz asked. He was more than a foot shorter than me, but he was the star of the wrestling team, his ears and nose all jacked, his neck as thick as his head.

“Elliott,” Sam said, standing next to me. “Is there a problem?”

More of the wrestlers stood next to Cruz, prompting Scotty to sober up enough to signal the team to gather behind me.

“Say it again, paint sniffer,” Cruz said.

All the muscles in my body stiffened. It had been a long time since someone had attacked my heritage, but that’s what it always came down to, the easiest insult for mouth breathers like Cruz.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm down, hearing Aunt Leigh’s voice in my head telling me to control my anger. “I’m not fighting you, Cruz. You’re drunk.”

Cruz laughed. “Oh, you can insult my girlfriend, but you’re not going to fight me? You might be big, but you’re slow.”

Sam smiled. “You haven’t been to any of our games this year, have you, Cruz?”

“And what?” Cruz asked. “He’s hot shit now? He can’t even get a normal girl; Catherine’s a freak.”

The wrestlers laughed.

“Shut up. Right now,” I said through my teeth.

“Oh, you can talk shit to my girl, but Catherine is off-limits, huh?” Cruz said.

“Catherine hasn’t done anything to you. She hasn’t done anything to any of you,” I said, feeling myself close to snapping.

Sam cupped my shoulder, pulling me back a few inches. I hadn’t realized I was leaning forward.

Minka hugged Cruz’s arm. “You don’t know what she’s done. But you will. Catherine is just using you.”

I made a face. “For what?”

“For a while, like she does everyone else.”

“Everyone else,” I said. “Her dad died, Minka. They started a new company. And you feel snubbed? It’s a good thing she doesn’t have you as a friend anymore. Talk about selfish . . .”