All the Little Lights
Page 71

“Here,” I said, pulling back the covers. When she lay back, I helped her out of her shoes and jeans, covering her with the sheet and blanket as she turned her back to me.
Her skin felt cold and clammy when I pressed my lips to her cheek, but she remained still. I patted her hands, noticing dirt packed under her fingernails.
“Mama, what have you been doing?”
She pulled her hand away.
“Okay. We can talk about it tomorrow. I love you.”
I closed her door and tried to keep my footsteps light as I descended the stairs and walked down the hall to my bedroom. I passed my door and turned the dial on the thermostat, sighing when the vents kicked on. Mama hadn’t even asked why I was wet and shivering.
“It’s me,” I whispered as I slipped in through the small opening the dresser behind my door allowed. I expected to see Elliott in my bedroom, but he wasn’t there. Instead, he was standing in my bathroom, dripping wet and shivering. He only wore his wet jeans, with one of my towels wrapped around his bare shoulders.
“What are you doing?” I asked, joining him in the bathroom.
His lips were a bluish tint, his teeth chattering. “Can’t get warm,” he said.
The shower curtain rings scraped against the pole, and I twisted the knob. I peeled off my coat and stepped into the tub, pulling Elliott with me.
We stood together under the warm stream, the uncontrollable trembling of our bodies slowing to a tolerable level. I reached for the knob again and again, adjusting the temperature, warming the water as it did the same for us.
Elliott looked down at me, finally able to notice something other than the cold. Water dripped from the tip of his nose and chin as he stared, seeing that my sweater and jeans were drenched. He reached down to the bottom hem of my top and tugged up, leaving me in a thin, pink tank top. He leaned down, cupping my cheeks before touching his lips to mine.
I reached down to unbutton my jeans, but they didn’t slide off as normal, sticking to my skin every inch of the way. I kicked them to the back of the tub. Elliott’s fingers felt different on my skin, his fingertips sank in deeper, his breath faster, his mouth hungrier. He wrapped his arms around my middle and pulled me closer, and just as his mouth left mine to taste my neck, his kisses slowed, his touch returning to normal.
He reached back to turn off the shower and then for two towels, handing one to me and then drying his face with the other.
“What?” I asked.
“You should probably . . .” He gestured to my bedroom, seeming embarrassed.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he said quickly, desperate to save me from the same humiliation he felt. “I’m not . . . prepared.”
“Oh.” I blinked, waiting for the realization to hit. When it did, my eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t realize that was an option.”
I tried not to smile but failed. I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t given him any clues that it was. “I’ll just . . .” I pointed to my dresser, closing the bathroom door behind me. I covered my mouth, stifling a giggle before opening a drawer.
I slipped one leg and then the other into a dry pair of panties and then pulled the first nightgown I touched out of the drawer and over my head.
Elliott tapped on the door. “Can you grab my shirt and shorts from my bag?”
“Yes,” I said, turning toward his duffel bag in the corner. A black T-shirt and a pair of gray cotton shorts were folded on top. I snatched them, rushing over to the bathroom door. It cracked open, and Elliott’s hand appeared, palm up.
Once the clothes were in his hand, the door closed again.
I sat on the bed, brushing my hair to the sweet chime of my music box, waiting for Elliott to appear. Finally, he stepped out, still sheepish.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” I said. “I’m not.”
“It’s just that . . . Aunt Leigh brought this up after the first night I stayed here. I assured her that wasn’t a possibility anytime soon. Now I wish I had listened to her.”
“Now that’s embarrassing.”
Elliott chuckled, sitting next to me and trying his best to pull the hair tie from his wet bun.
“Here, let me help,” I said, smiling as he relaxed back against me. It took me a solid minute, but I finally worked all his hair from the black band and started to unravel it. I began at the ends, holding them as I gently brushed through his hair. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as the sound of the dark strands passing through the teeth of my brush became a steady rhythm.
“No one’s brushed my hair since I was little,” he said.
“It’s relaxing. You should let me do it more often.”
“You can do it as much as you’d like.”
When I could start at the roots and pull the brush through to the ends, Elliott took the hair band from me and pulled it up again.
“You’re like that guy in the Bible,” I said. “The strong one with the strong hair.”
Elliott lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve read the Bible? I thought you said you didn’t believe in God.”
“I use to.”
“What changed your mind?” he asked.
“Do you? Believe in God?”
“I believe in a connection, to the earth, the stars, to every living thing, my family, my ancestors.”
“Me?”
He seemed surprised. “You’re family.”
I leaned down, barely touching my lips to a dark red split in his lip. He winced.
“I’ll get some ice.”
“No, it’s fine. Don’t leave.”
I chuckled. “I’ll be right back.” I slipped outside and down the stairs, opening the freezer and reaching inside for a cold pack. I wrapped it in a dish towel and hurried back upstairs, realizing it was second nature now for me to listen for any movement. There was only silence. Even the water heater downstairs was quiet.
When I returned to the bedroom, Elliott helped me to replace the dresser and bed against the door.
“I could come in sometime when your mom is gone and install a bolt lock.”
I shook my head. “She’d know then. And she would freak out if I altered the house.”
“She has to understand her teenage daughter getting a lock on her bedroom door. Especially if the guests are coming in.”
“She won’t.” I touched the dark line on his lip, split from where Cruz had hit him. “I’m so sorry, Elliott. If you had stayed away, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”
“Think about it. Why do they think you had a reason to hurt Presley? Because she was horrible to you. You’ll never convince me any of this is your fault. They could jump me a dozen times, and it still wouldn’t be your fault. That’s their choice. Their hate. Their fear. You don’t make them do anything.”
“You think they’ll try to jump you again?”
He sighed, irritated. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“Yes. Because you’re right. It’s getting worse. Maybe you should do your work in Mrs. Mason’s office, too,” I said.
“That’s not a bad idea. I miss seeing you in the hall and in Mr. Mason’s class.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve been back there for a month. It’s almost Christmas break, with no end in sight.”
“Mrs. Mason is worried about you. I am, too.”