All the Little Lights

by Jamie McGuire

  “That’s enough,” she said, unamused.

  Madison turned, speaking under her breath. “Is she texting?”

  I peeked up from the corner of my eye. “Yes.”

  She hunched over and groaned. “She’s texting my dad. They go to our church.”

  “No one is shocked more than me. I’ve always thought you were shy,” I said.

  “I’m not. I’ve just never had a friend to defend. Isn’t that what friends do?”

  I nudged her with my shoulder. “You’re a really good friend.”

  She looked at me, beaming. “I am?”

  I nodded.

  She held up her phone, the display alerting her to a text from her dad. “Worth it,” she said, putting her phone down without reading the message.

  Elliott, Sam, Scotty, and Connor walked to the center of the field to meet the Yukon team captains. A coin was tossed, Elliott calling a side. Whatever he said, the referee pointed to Elliott, and the few Oak Creek fans in the stands cheered. Elliott chose to receive the ball, and we cheered again. Canned music played through the PA system as the players lined up on the field and as the Yukon team got ready to kick to our receiver. We made a failed attempt to be louder than the home side.

  Sam caught the ball, and Madison screamed, clapping for him the whole sixty yards he carried it.

  When Elliott jogged out onto the field, I felt a strange twinge in my stomach. He was getting ready to face off against his old teammates, and I wondered what that must feel like. The pressure to win had to have been insurmountable.

  Elliott yelled words I could barely hear over the noise, and Scotty hiked him the ball. Elliott took a few steps back and, after a few seconds, fired a perfect spiral to one of the receivers. I wasn’t sure what was going on and had a hard time following, but then the crowd gasped, the referees threw yellow flags, and I saw a Yukon defensive lineman stand up and point down at Elliott. My number seven was on the ground, his arms and legs splayed out.

  “Oh my God. What happened?” I asked.

  “They were worried about this,” Madison said.

  “About what?”

  “That Elliott’s old team would try to take him out. They know how good he is. They’re also pissed he left his senior year.”

  I winced at her words, feeling guilty. I knew exactly why he’d left his teammates.

  Elliott slowly crawled to his feet, and the crowd applauded. I put my frozen hands together, even though it shot pain up my arms every time I clapped. I slid them under the blanket, watching Elliott slightly limp back to the line.

  The next time Elliott threw the football, it was caught in the end zone. Then the Millers made a touchdown, and the teams seemed to go back and forth that way until we caught a slight lead at halftime.

  Madison talked me into standing in line with her for hot chocolate. I walked in place, trying to stay warm while we waited for our turn.

  “Anna Sue?” Presley said loudly behind us. “He said he’d text you on his way home, right?”

  “We’ll see,” Anna Sue answered. “He’s been kind of a baby lately about her finding out.”

  “Don’t turn around,” Madison said. “They’re just trying to get your attention.”

  “It was going to happen. A guy can’t love ice cream that much and not see you all the time,” Presley said, this time louder. “Buttered pecan, right?”

  Madison’s eye twitched, and she turned around slowly.

  Presley noticed, and a small smile touched her lips. “Well, let me know if you’re missing the party again to meet him. I’m not waiting an hour like I did last weekend.”

  Madison turned, her eyes watering. She blew out a long breath. “They’re lying.”

  “Lying?” I asked. “About what?”

  “Sam goes to Braum’s every day. Buttered pecan is his favorite.”

  I made a face. “That doesn’t mean anything. If that’s what he orders every time, of course she’s going to know.”

  “Sam was an hour late to the party last weekend. He said his homework took longer than he thought.”

  “Nope. No way. I see the way he looks at you.”

  Madison nodded. “You’re right. I still want to rip out that cheerleader reject’s blonde ringlets one by one.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “I’m not even going to ask him. Sam would never in a million years. He hates Anna Sue.”

  We stepped up to the concession stand and ordered two large hot chocolates. I paid with the few dollars I had to help offset the cost of gas, and then we made our way back to our seats, ignoring the giggles of the clones.

  The Oak Creek marching band performed “Back in Black.” We cheered as they left, replaced by the enormous Yukon band. They performed a Beyoncé mash-up and made a moving T. rex. The crowd erupted. Even Oak Creek’s spectators stood up and cheered.

  Not long after the home team’s band left the field, the Mudcats ran out of their tunnel. I yelled for Elliott when I spotted the number seven jersey, settling in for another hour of freezing temps and human pileups.

  Elliott was sacked twice, and the second time it took him a full minute to stand. When he got to his feet, he seemed even more determined to win. He went on to run for another touchdown. With one minute left in the game, we were twelve points ahead, and Yukon had the ball. They lined up at Yukon’s twenty-yard line.

  “What does first and ten mean?” I asked Madison. The cheerleaders had been chanting it throughout the game.

  “Basically, every time a team gets the ball, they have four tries to gain ten yards at a time. If they don’t get ten yards in four tries, the other team gets the ball. Make sense?”

  I nodded.

  The clock counted down as Yukon tried again and failed. On their fourth attempt, they fumbled, and Oak Creek’s number twenty-two—whoever that was—carried the ball all the way to our end zone.

  Madison and I were on our feet, bouncing up and down with our empty Styrofoam cups. Oak Creek and Yukon high-fived, and then Elliott and his teammates headed for the locker room. Sam and Elliott waved to us as they passed, but Elliott was limping. I tried to be brave and smile, but Elliott saw the worry on my face. His gloved hand touched my cheek for a brief second as he passed. “I’m okay, babe.”

  Madison lowered her chin and smiled at me, and then we walked over to wait by the gate near the bus.

  “What do you think it is?” I asked.

  Madison wrinkled her nose. “Huh?”

  “Presley’s surprise. You think because her mom is here she’ll back off?”

  “Probably not. How do you think she got that way? You think her mother cares that Presley is awful?”

  “Good point,” I said. I wondered what Madison would think if she ever met Mama, then quickly dismissed it. That was never going to happen.

  When the football team began filing out, Elliott was one of the first.

  “Happy birthday!” I said.

  He lifted me in his arms, stealing a quick kiss before his coaches came out. He had a scrape across his swollen nose and another black eye. His chin and cheekbone were scraped, too. He looked beat-up, but he was smiling.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  Sam slapped Elliott on the shoulder, and Elliott winced.

  “We knew they were going to target him. We had his back, though,” Sam said.

  “For the most part,” Elliott said, sliding from Sam’s grasp.

  “Elliott,” I began.

  He smiled. “I’m fine. Just another night on the field. It was fun.”

  “Doesn’t look like fun. Is your nose broken?” Madison asked.

  “Coach says no,” Elliott said. “We won. And,” he glanced around, leaning in, “Coach says there’s a couple of scouts coming to the playoff game. So if I do well, I could be playing college ball.”

  “I thought you said that wasn’t an option.” I winked.

  He leaned down to kiss my cheek.

  Madison turned to Elliott. “Don’t Na
tive Americans get to go to college for free?”

  Elliott chuckled. “No.”

  “Oh my God. Was that offensive? I’m so sorry,” Madison said.

  “Common misconception.” He looked at me with a smile. “With a scholarship, though, looks like we might be picking a college soon.”

  I peeked around, not wanting to discuss this in front of Madison and Sam. “I can’t go to college, Elliott. I can’t afford it,” I said quietly.

  Elliott seemed unfazed. “We’ll make it work.”

  “Great game, Elliott,” Presley said, smug. “Hey, Princess Kit-Cat.”

  Tatum waved from behind her.

  Elliott nodded, keeping his voice low when he spoke. “Have they bothered you?”

  I shook my head. “They tried stirring up trouble with Sam and Maddy.”

  “Huh?” Sam said, confused. “Me? What’d I do?”

  “Nothing,” Madison said, kissing his cheek.

  “What did they say?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Madison said. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Now you have to tell me,” Sam said, a frown on his face.

  She shifted her weight, fidgeting. “That you’re cheating on me with Anna Sue.”

  Sam and Elliott bent over, their entire bodies shaking with laughter.

  “So that’s a no,” I said, amused.

  When they finally settled down, Sam looked disgusted. “They’d better not be spreading that around school. Gross.”

  Madison hugged him and kissed his cheek. “I didn’t believe it for a second.”

  Elliott stood up, taking a deep breath. “Well, don’t think that’s all they have up their sleeves.”

  “We’ll stick together,” Madison said, hooking her arm in mine. “They won’t touch her.”

  “Maddy has two older brothers. She can be scrappy if she needs to,” Sam said, hugging her to his side.

  Madison took off her knit cap and quickly twisted her long platinum hair back into a tight bun. “Let’s just say I’ve got this . . . probably. I can try.”

  I turned to Elliott. “I’m not afraid.”

  Elliott brushed my hair from my face and kissed my nose. “Catherine isn’t a name for a princess. Sounds like a warrior to me.”

  I grinned. I’d always loved the story Mama had told about how my name came about and I loved it when my dad called me Princess, but everything was different now, and Elliott’s version fit me better.

  He hugged me one last time before he stepped onto the bus.

  Sam waved to Madison, and we walked together to her 4Runner. My feet crunched against glass at the same time the locks disengaged, and I hopped in, trying to find some relief from the cold.

  Madison turned the heat on full blast. We shivered for a moment, rubbing our hands together while Madison texted her father. I held my hand in front of the vents, anxious for the moment the air turned warmer.

  She chuckled. “He’s not even mad.”

  “That’s good,” I said.

  “I’m just telling him we’re heading out, and then we can go.” She tapped a few more times and then put her hand on the gear stick, shifting into reverse. Madison flipped a switch a few times, frowned, and then pushed open her door, walking to the front of the 4Runner. Her eyes grew wide, and she covered her mouth.

  I jumped out, joining her at the front of the car, but two steps in, I could feel the glass under my shoes again, and I already knew what she was looking at. The headlights had been bashed out.

  “Those . . . those . . . I’m going to kill them!” Madison screamed.

  The buses were still sitting at the stadium, so I gathered our things, shut the doors, and yanked on Madison’s coat. “We have to catch the bus before it leaves, or we’ll be stranded!”

  Madison stopped being dragged and ran with me. I was out of breath halfway there, but the first bus was leaving, and the second would follow right after that.

  Just as the bus pulled forward, I banged on the door. The bus driver slammed on the brakes. He glanced behind him and then down at us. Madison banged on the door, too.

  “Let us in!” she cried, her cheeks already wet with anger.

  Elliott appeared at the door, pulled on the lever, and helped us up the steps.

  Coach Peckham stood. He’d been sitting next to Mrs. Mason.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “We need a ride home,” Madison said.

  Coach Peckham placed his hands on his hips. “We can’t do that.”

  “Someone bashed in her headlights. There’s glass all over the parking lot,” I said.

  “What?” Elliott said, sudden rage in his eyes.

  The coach sighed. “Must have been the other team.”

  “It was Presley Brubaker and her friends,” Madison said. “They told us if we came to the game, they were going to do something!”

  “That’s a serious accusation,” Mrs. Mason stated. “Call your parents. Make sure it’s okay for you to catch a ride on the athletics bus.”

  “Becca, we need to clear it through the athletics director. Maybe even the superintendent,” Coach Peckham said.

  “We can’t leave them here. With the weather like it is, it could be morning before their parents could get to them. I’m on the bus, so they’ll have female supervision. I’ll text Mr. Thornton and Mrs. DeMarco and update them on the situation.”

  Coach Peckham thought for a moment, prompting Elliott to speak up. “What is there to think about? You’re actually considering leaving them over two hours from home in freezing temperatures?”

  “Youngblood, that’s enough,” Coach said. “There are rules to consider.”

  Elliott turned his body, standing in front of me a bit as if he were protecting me from the coach’s decision. “If the rules mean you’re leaving them here, then the rules are wrong.”

  “Just let me think a minute!” Coach Peckham yelled.

  All the excited chatter in the back of the bus stopped, all eyes focused on the front.

  “It’s not unheard of, Brad,” Mrs. Mason said. “The managers are on the other bus. Those girls ride with the team all the time.”

  “The managers signed waivers, just like the rest of the team. This is different.”

  Elliott took my hand. “I’m just telling you now, if we can’t get hold of Mr. Thornton or the superintendent . . . if you can’t get the clearance and you decide to leave them here, I’m staying.”

  “Youngblood, you’ll be suspended, and you won’t be able to play. Sit down!” Coach growled.

  “Me too, Coach,” Sam said, standing next to Maddy. “We can’t leave them here, and you know it.”

  “Me too,” Scotty said, standing.

  “Me too,” another player said from the back. Soon every player on the bus was standing.

  Coach Peckham’s hand slid down his face. “This is ridiculous. Fine. Girls, sit in the seat across from us. Mrs. Mason, you’ve got the aisle seat. All athletes, move a seat back. I want one full empty row behind me and the girls. Do it!” he barked. “Now!”

  Mrs. Mason facilitated the move, and the boys did so without complaint, quickly and quietly. Mrs. Mason directed us to sit across from her, and Elliott stopped before making his way to the back.

  “It was the right thing to do, Coach.”

  Coach Peckham looked up at him. “Elliott, when you’re an adult, right and wrong isn’t so black and white.”

  “It should be,” Elliott said, walking back to his seat.

  Coach sat, directing the driver to leave.

  Madison’s phone was the only light on the dark bus, shining in Coach Peckham’s face when he saw the text from her dad.

  Thank God the bus was still there. Tell Coach Peckham thank you for making sure you got home safe.

  Coach Peckham nodded, appearing ashamed. Mrs. Mason patted his knee and relaxed, smiling as she spoke to him.

  Madison doodled on the frosty window with her finger, and I pulled the blankets over us,
trying to stay warm in the drafty bus. The hum of the engine and road noise made my eyelids feel heavy, and I drifted off, knowing I was surrounded by a team of boys who would do anything for Elliott, and Elliott would do anything for me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Elliott

  Sam and I sat two rows behind Catherine and Madison. It was so dark, I could barely see the silhouettes of their heads poking above the seat. At first the girls were looking out the window and at each other as they talked, and then I could tell when Catherine had nodded off, because her head was wobbling back and forth until she finally settled against Madison’s shoulder.

  I felt half-frustrated, half-cheated. Catherine would have been much more comfortable sleeping on my shoulder.

  “Hey,” Sam said, nudging my elbow. “You finished staring at her yet?”

  I breathed out a laugh and shook my head. There was no point in denying it. Sam already knew I was stupid in love with that girl. The bus was driving painfully slow, and I was finding it more and more difficult to be so close to Catherine without being able to talk to her. School was bad enough. This was torture.

  The raindrops flittering against the wind on the windows created glowing specks as they magnified the headlights of cars passing for seconds at a time. The windshield wipers swayed back and forth, and together with the hum of the engine and the road noise vibrating the dark bus, a soothing rhythm made it almost impossible to stay awake. Usually the bus was abuzz with celebration and energy on the way home from a won away game, but aside from a few deep voices murmuring somewhere in the back, it was eerily quiet.

  “There’s a keg party at the dam,” Sam began, but I was already shaking my head. “C’mon, Elliott, why not? It’s the best way to get back at Presley and them, anyway. They were hoping Tatum would get some alone time with you, and they could spread another rumor. If we show up with the girls and they find out they rode all the way back with us on the bus? They’ll be livid,” he said, chuckling.

  “Catherine has to get home.”

  He elbowed me. “We can sneak her out.”

  I looked out the window. “Nah, man. You don’t know what she goes through.”

  “Her mom’s pretty strict, huh? Well, you can still go. With Madison and me there, at least the Brubitches can’t say you did something you didn’t.” When I shook my head again, Sam frowned. “Why? You haven’t been to a party since school started.”