All the Little Lights(79)

“Catherine’s a great friend to Maddy,” Sam said. “Maybe she just got tired of your annoying chipmunk voice. I know I would.”

Minka’s mouth fell open, and Cruz swung at Sam. That’s when it happened. That’s when I snapped. I grabbed Cruz, threw him to the ground, and whaled on him. Minka was screaming in the background, the football players and wrestlers yelling above me, at times someone would pull on my coat, but everything else was a blur. I couldn’t feel the pain in my knuckles when my bones crashed against the bones in Cruz’s face, but I could hear it.

I wasn’t sure how much time had gone by when my teammates finally pulled me off Cruz. He was lying on the ground, his face a bloody mess. Minka was crying, and the wrestlers were looking at me like I was a monster.

The football players patted me on the back like I’d just won us another game.

“We should go,” Sam said, dazed.

Scotty was trying to congratulate me, but I yanked away from him. “Get off me!” I screamed in his face.

“Sorry, man . . . I just . . .”

I didn’t hear the rest of his sentence or if he’d even finished it. Sam followed me to the Chrysler, and we both slammed our doors at the same time. I gripped the steering wheel, noticing the blood oozing from my knuckles.

“Freakin’ asshole! Jesus! You okay, Elliott?” Sam asked.

I was shaking, still trying to calm down. “Just . . . give me a second.”

Sam nodded, staring forward. “I can drive if you want.”

I shook my head and twisted the ignition. “I’m going to drop you off. I have somewhere to be. I have to see Catherine.”

Sam frowned. “You sure you want her to see your hands like that? Might freak her out.”

I sighed. “She’s going to hear about it at school on Monday anyway. She might as well hear it from me.” I slammed the car into reverse and stomped on the gas, then peeled out of the dirt plot we’d all parked on. I was glad we’d gotten there last. Otherwise, I would have been blocked in.

Sam didn’t talk much on the way to his house, and I was glad. The voices in my head were so loud, any other noise would have been too much. I worried about what Catherine would say, about what Aunt Leigh would say. In seconds, all the hard work I’d done to control my anger over the years went poof.

Sam patted the top of the Chrysler when he got out. “Thanks for saving my tail back there. Call me tomorrow.”

I nodded and then turned my car toward Juniper Street.

Catherine’s light was still on when I pulled up, making adrenaline shoot through my veins all over again. I wasn’t sure if she’d understand or be angry or scared. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the seat. She didn’t freak out when she saw me punching the oak tree, but that was a long time ago. She’s been through a lot since then. Still, I couldn’t put it off. I didn’t want her to hear from anyone but me.

I walked across the street and jogged to the side of the house next to the Fentons’ dirt plot, picking up speed as I got closer to the lattice. I climbed up, feeling the grit from the shingles scrape my palms.

Catherine was curled up in a ball, holding something gray to her chest. She’d slept with the light on. Guilt washed over me, and I felt anger boiling in my blood again. I took a few deep breaths, willing myself to calm down before I tapped on the window with my finger.

Catherine stirred and then sat up, startling at the sight of me crouching next to her window. I waved with a forced smile, feeling guilty again that I’d scared her.

She looked over her shoulder at the door and then padded over to the window, lifting it up. She breathed out a white puff of air as I climbed past her and then closed the window.

She was already frowning, immediately seeing my hands. “What happened?”

“I went to the party,” I said.

“Are you okay?” she asked, gently looking over my hands. “Let’s get these cleaned up.”

Catherine led me to the bathroom, turning on tepid water and running it over the dirt and blood. She knelt down and then stood, holding a bottle of peroxide. “Ready?” I nodded, and she squirted the clear liquid onto my wounds. I sucked in a breath, watching as it turned light red and escaped down the drain. She bandaged my skin with what she had and then led me to the bed.

We sat down carefully, waiting after it squeaked to see if we’d woken anyone.

“Tell me,” Catherine said.

“Cruz Miller.”

“Oh,” she said, understanding in her eyes.

“I think he was there looking for a fight. Minka mouthed off, and he defended her when I told her to shut up.”

“About me?” she asked, her face crumbling. “This was about me.”

“It’s not your fault, Catherine,” I said with a frown. I knew she’d blame herself.

“You can’t even enjoy one party . . . on your birthday . . . because you get into a fight defending me.”

“I’d do it again.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” she said, standing. She paced back and forth, her long nightgown swaying between her legs. She stopped, looking at me, resolution on her face.

“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it to me right now,” I said. “I can deal with a lot of stuff being thrown at me, but not that.”