All That's Bright and Gone (ARC)

by Eliza Nellums

  I don’t even know what happens, but suddenly my hands are on Hannah’s shoulders and I push her down on the grass just like the bigger boy cousin pushes the littler one. For a minute I think Teddy must have done it, not me. I’ve never pushed Hannah or anyone else before, and she’s bigger than me, so you’d think it wouldn’t work. But I’m moving faster, and just like a cartwheel, it’s over before I know it and she’s on her butt.

  “You’re a liar and a sneak!” I yell at her. I don’t even know anything bad enough to say.

  “You’re a little slut!” Hannah screams back, just as loud. I don’t know what that means, but I think it must be the worst thing ever. Nobody has ever, ever said something like that to me before, and it feels like being kicked in the stomach, which Sasha Rajanhor did to me once on accident.

  Teddy has all his teeth showing and he wants to bite, bite.

  “Hannah!” It’s Hannah’s mom, standing in their doorway. “I think it’s time to come inside now, if you and Aoife can’t play nicely.”

  “It’s her fault,” says Hannah, getting up from the grass. She has dirt on her palms from falling. “She’s the one who’s always talking to her stupid imaginary friend like a crazy person, and then when I told her so, she pushed me down.”

  That isn’t even true. But I know I’m not going to be able to explain it properly. Hannah is older, and she’s better at talking to adults. They’ll never understand.

  “I don’t want to play with you ever again,” I say. That’ll teach her. She’ll have to hang out with those girls from school who don’t even like her. “And you’re going to go to hell.” I’ve never even told her that before, but it’s true.

  Then I turn around and run back to my own house. I didn’t even get to tell her about what Mac said, but I’m glad now that I have a secret, especially one she would want to know about so much.

  “Hell isn’t even real,” she calls after me. “It’s just made-up, and only stupid, crazy people like you believe it.”

  I let the door swing hard against the doorway with a crash, Teddy right at my feet.

  Chapter Nine

  I go straight upstairs and get ready for bed even though it’s too early.

  I miss Mama so bad. If she was here, I wouldn’t care what stupid thing Hannah said. And the sea-pee-ess ladies wouldn’t be bothering us anymore. And she could explain how come she said she found me in a cabbage patch when Mac says he’s my dad. Mama would make everything okay. But she won’t come home until I find Theo’s killer.

  I walk out of the bathroom with my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth. Theo’s last picture is looking at me from the end of the hall. Nobody has kissed him goodnight since Mama left.

  The last picture is not my favorite photo of Theo. In his scrapbook there’s one where I’m just a tiny baby and he’s eight years old. He’s sitting and smiling with me on his lap. That’s my favorite. It’s weird to think that even though Theo is dead, I’ll always be the second child. I’ll always be his younger sister.

  Mama doesn’t have my scrapbook made. She says it’s harder for the second child. But if she did, that picture would be in both of them.

  I go back to the bathroom and spit.

  Theo’s eyes, just like Mama’s, are watching me walk past. If I don’t solve this mystery, I’ll be letting both of them down.

  Maybe I don’t need Hannah to look for clues. Maybe I don’t need anyone. I can try to solve the mystery all by myself. Then everyone will thank me, and Hannah will be so jealous.

  I tiptoe down the hall because I don’t want Uncle Donny to hear me and come see what I’m doing. I get to Theo’s door and I wait to make sure the coasts are clear, which means nobody’s coming. They are clear.

  I know I’m not allowed to play in here. Stupid Hannah is usually the one who wants to, not me. But this time I’m not playing—I’m investigating—so it’s okay. Teddy pushes past my legs as I inch the door open and creep inside.

  “Hi Theo,” I whisper, just in case. “I’m very sorry I ran away last time. I didn’t mean to. But this time I’ll be brave.”

  Teddy isn’t worried that Ghost Theo will be mad at us, of course. He’s only interested in playing with Theo’s action figures. He thinks it’s funny to set them up in silly poses.

  I tell myself I do not hear any tapping, so I don’t. I walk around the room with my hands behind my back, looking for clues. We already checked Theo’s drawers and bookshelves once. The clues must be somewhere else.

  Teddy knocks over one of the Star Wars action figures, the little guy with the sword. I hear Uncle Donny moving downstairs, and I hold my breath.

  “Stop messing around, Teddy,” I whisper. I walk to the desk and set Little Sword Guy on his feet again. I can see in the dust exactly where he was standing.

  But I’ve never noticed this box before. The action figures are hiding it, the big ones in front of it and the little ones on top. It’s a pretty wooden box, with a glass front. I move all the action figures carefully to one side to see better.

  There’s a bunch of pieces of ribbon inside and some pins. Those are called medals. Each one is different. There’s even a patch like Hannah got from Girl Scouts (which I’m not allowed to join, because we’re on a budget, but I’m going to be an altar girl someday, which is way better). I don’t know why Theo had these medals and patches. I don’t think he was a Boy Scout, or even an altar boy. I know he was really good at lots of things, but these don’t look like the plastic trophies on his shelves—I think these are for grown-ups.

  I pick up the box—it’s heavier than I thought—and tucked underneath there’s a folded piece of yellow paper. It crackles when I unfold it.

  It’s a page cut out of the newspaper. There’s a picture of a man and a lot of text. I recognize him—a man in a tan uniform with thick plastic glasses. It’s BEN, 1998.

  The newspaper is full of words. I can read, but I can’t always read every tiny little word. The headline is big, though:

  LO-CAL space MAR-INE space KILL-ED. IN. TRAIN-ING space EX-ER-CISE. I know those words. Marine means ocean, like Marine Biologist Barbie.

  This paper is saying that BEN, 1998 was killed while exercising.

  I look into his handsome, smiling face, and I am sad. Mama says we shouldn’t be sad when people are in heaven, but she breaks that rule all the time.

  I wonder why Theo kept this box and this newspaper here in his room, guarded by his action figures. “Teddy, what do you think it means?” I ask him. I don’t know if it’s a clue or not. Usually Hannah tells me.

  Teddy doesn’t care. But it must have meant something special.

  Well, I am too smart now to believe that Theo was found in a cabbage patch. Mac said Theo’s father is dead. And now I know BEN, 1998 is dead.

  I am a great detective.

  Teddy shrugs.

  I wonder what would have happened if Mama had married BEN, 1998. Maybe I would never have been born. But also, maybe Theo would never have died.

  Carefully I fold the newspaper back up and put it back where it was, with the box of medals sitting on it. Then I set the action figures back on top of the box just how I found them.

  “Maybe we should just go to bed, Teddy,” I say. “We’ll have to find more clues in the morning.”

  I’m almost starting to get sleepy for real. Teddy is wide awake, though. He’s bouncing along beside me like one of the characters on Hannah’s video games as we go back down the hall.

  “It’s time to sleep now, Teddy,” I complain. But he never listens to me.

  “Are you just up here talking to yourself?” asks Uncle Donny, coming up the stairs. I’m glad he doesn’t know where I was coming from. “Wow. Are you really getting ready for bed? Don’t you even want a story first?”

  “I’m too tired for a story,” I say, walking to my room.

  “Listen, Aoife, I hope I didn’t make you feel bad when we were talking to the CPS ladies,” says Uncle Donny, sitting on the mattress. I crawl in the other
side. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like you were in trouble. I just don’t want them to think we’ve got any problems we can’t handle. We’re doing okay, aren’t we, Aoife? You and your uncle Donny?”

  I don’t want to talk about the sea-pee-ess ladies. I don’t want to talk about how we’re doing, either. I don’t want to talk about anything, I want to go to sleep.

  “Yeah, we’re okay,” I say, fake yawning.

  Uncle Donny turns out the lamp. “Good. Okay. Well, nighty-night, early bird. See you in the morning.”

  “See you when you come in here later,” I say, but it’s slurred into the pillow. He pulls the door shut softly, and then I hear his familiar steps on the carpet, moving away.

  Teddy sits on the side of the bed where Uncle Donny just was. His weight tugs at the blankets. “Quit it,” I say, trying to push him off.

  I try to go to sleep, but Uncle Donny’s right—it’s really early. It’s still light outside, and the light is coming in a different way than usual, right in my face. Plus, everyone outside is awake. I can hear Hannah’s cousins playing in the yard next door, shouting and screaming. I know they’re shooting each other with squirt guns, because Hannah’s bigger boy cousin Liam said he was going to bring his new one over.

  There are cars on the street, too. We live pretty close to the highway, so you can always hear that in the background, but now I can hear wheels shush, shushing past the house outside. People are coming home. Parents are coming home to their kids. But not at my house.

  I’m falling asleep. “Goodnight, Teddy,” I say.

  Sweet dreams.

  The last thing I think about is Hannah’s surprised face when I pushed her. She looked scared. Nobody’s ever been scared of me before. Her mouth was open, and her eyes were wide, and then she was flying.

  * * *

  We’re in the water, going up and down on the waves, me and Teddy. I have an awful feeling like there’s something right beneath our feet, like at any second my toes are going to brush against it, or maybe it will reach up and grab me. And I’m feeling sick, being pushed around by the waves, up and down, side to side, and up and down.

  I open my eyes. Teddy is bouncing on the bed.

  “Stop it, Teddy,” I say. “You woke me up.” He’s never done that before.

  He’s a bear the same size as me today.

  I know a secret, says Teddy. I sit up in the bed. It’s so late at night now that even the highway is quiet.

  “What secret?”

  It’s in your pocket, says Teddy.

  I don’t want to get out of bed to find my shorts. Even though it’s summer, it still feels chilly because I was sleeping. But Teddy told me to do it, so I get up in my bare feet and walk to the dresser. The shorts I was wearing are slung over the desk. Usually Mama comes to pick up my laundry and put it in the hamper, but Uncle Donny hasn’t. I put my hand in one pocket—nothing. I put my hand in the other side.

  It’s Mac’s cigarette lighter. Silver, with a picture of a bird on it, and USMC.

  “Teddy, why did you take this?” I ask him. I don’t understand. Teddy has never moved anything in real life before.

  We need it, he says.

  “Oh, Teddy.” Taking the lighter from Mac’s car is stealing, which is a mortal sin. “We’re going to get in so much trouble.”

  But Teddy never cares about that.

  “What do we even need it for?”

  It’s a secret, says Teddy.

  “I can keep secrets,” I say.

  Watch, Teddy says. I’ll show you another one.

  He tilts his head towards the door and listens. I climb back into bed and listen, too. I don’t hear anything special at first, but then I hear the creak, creak, creak of Uncle Donny’s feet on the stairs. Then he comes down the hallway.

  “It’s just Uncle Donny,” I tell Teddy. “So what?”

  Wait.

  Uncle Donny opens the door, just like he always does. I think for sure he will see me sitting in the bed and say something. But he just stands in the doorway, looking at the bed. He doesn’t seem to notice me at all.

  “Uncle Donny?” I ask.

  But he doesn’t answer.

  Wait for it, says Teddy. We’re just getting to the good part.

  After a few minutes, Uncle Donny turns around and walks back out into the hallway, just like he always does. He doesn’t pull the door shut, though.

  Come on, says Teddy. He picks up the lighter off the dresser. Let’s go.

  “Go where, Teddy?” Teddy is already out the door, walking heavily on all fours. He’s following Uncle Donny down the stairs. I hear Uncle Donny’s two feet, and then Teddy’s four.

  I don’t know what to do. I wish Mama was here. She always knows what to do.

  I climb out of bed and go after them.

  The hallway is stuffy. It looks different late at night, with long shadows from the bars on the staircase. I don’t like to walk through them, because my legs look striped, like they’re covered in bruises. I hurry to catch up with Teddy.

  Uncle Donny goes all the way downstairs. I never knew where he went after he left my room, but he walks straight to the front door without pausing.

  Come on, says Teddy. Don’t you want to see? I’m doing this for you, Aoife.

  “Where are we going?” I ask. I wish I was back in bed, under the covers, where it’s warm and dark.

  Uncle Donny doesn’t seem to hear my voice. He unlocks the front door and pulls it open.

  See? He wants you to go, says Teddy. He wants you to go find the murderer. Come on, Aoife, this is your big chance.

  Uncle Donny just stands there, holding the door open. I can’t see the yard or the bushes, just the white street. It’s silent out there, like it’s holding its breath. Waiting to see what I will do.

  “Are you sure?” I say. There could be a huge dog, right there in the shadows, just waiting to bite me as soon as I set a foot outside.

  Don’t you want to be brave? asks Teddy. Don’t you want to be like Joan of Arc?

  “Well, ye-e-esss…”

  Uncle Donny is still just standing there, holding the door open, letting the cold air out, as Mama would say.

  “Uncle Donny, are you sure I should go?” I ask.

  He’s not going to answer, says Teddy. And sure enough, Uncle Donny doesn’t. He doesn’t even blink.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  If you solve the murder tonight, your Mama can come home tomorrow, says Teddy. Remember? Isn’t that the deal you made?

  I did say I would take up the mantle of the Lord, didn’t I? Maybe this is it. I bet Joan was afraid, but she listened to the voices of the saints. They probably sounded something like Teddy.

  “Maybe you’re right,” I say. If even Uncle Donny wants me to go solve the mystery, it must be the right thing to do. Right?

  Right, says Teddy.

  So I walk past Uncle Donny, out into the blue darkness. Behind me, I hear him slowly close the door and lock it shut again.

  * * *

  For a while I just stand in the driveway and wait until I can see in the dark. It doesn’t take long. Even in the middle of the night there’s orange glow over the trees, which Mama says is the city of Detroit. Between that and the moon, which hangs in the sky like a big capital D, there’s not a single star overhead.

  I’m not cold in my pajamas. The air-conditioning machines buzz like bees, so loud I want to clap my hands over my ears. From somewhere far away I can hear a horn honking, or maybe it’s a truck backing up.

  There are no dogs waiting to bite me, at least not that I see yet. I don’t look real hard, just in case. Mama says that sometimes bad people from the city wander around the neighborhood at night, and they don’t have any homes so they sleep in corners or under bridges or in alleys. I don’t look for them either.

  It’s time to get going, says Teddy.

  The neighbor’s house—not Hannah’s, the other side—has lights over their driveway, which light up as Teddy an
d I walk through their grass. In front of the lights there’s insects swirling everywhere, and they make shadows on the wall, like bats, or the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. I don’t like how it looks, but Teddy tells me not to be a baby.

  We make it across the grass. We walk down their driveway and into the road. I’m not wearing any shoes. The tar is still a little warm under my toes.

  C’mon, says Teddy. Don’t drag your feet.

  “Where are we going, anyway?” I ask.

  It’s a surprise, he says.

  Even though we’re in a fight, I kind of wish Hannah was here. She likes investigating a lot more than I do.

  You’re brave, Aoife, remember?

  Teddy’s right, I’m brave. Just like Joan of Arc.

  We walk past the quiet houses, and all the windows are eyes, watching me. There are no cars rolling by on the street. It’s easier to walk right in the middle of the road, where there are fewer stones or sharp bits of glass, but every once in a while something pokes into my foot.

  We keep walking.

  When we finally make it to the corner, I see the cat from next door, sitting under the streetlight. She turns to watch me, her tail flicking, and even though I think she’s going to run away when we get close, she doesn’t. Teddy takes us right past her.

  When we get to the end of the road, Teddy cuts across someone’s lawn instead of walking all the way around the circle, so I follow him even though somebody has planted flowers and they might be mad. Maybe it’s okay in the dark, when nobody can see our footprints in the dirt.

  As I look back, the cat uncurls itself and follows us. I want to stop and try to pet her, but Teddy says we have to hurry.

  The three of us cut between the houses. It feels like the whole neighborhood moved out at the same time except for me and Teddy and the cat, and now we live here all alone. But then there’s the sound of a car on the road and Teddy tugs my shirt sleeve.

  Get down, says Teddy.

  So I get on my hands and knees in the grass, hoping I will look like just another one of the bushes in the side yard. The grass smells good this close, and it’s cool against my palms and my toes. Teddy and I crouch low as the car goes past. The cat stands there like a regular cat, but she’s small, so that’s okay.