All the Little Lights

by Jamie McGuire

“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.” Her eyes glossed over. “I’m not good for you. It’s not fair what’s happening to you. You’re the star quarterback. Everyone would love you if it weren’t for me.”

“It’s normal to want to belong, so it makes sense that you’d want both—Elliott and the Juniper.” “Who says I want both?” I asked. “The Juniper is a necessary evil, not a want. Elliott is a want,

Realization that it had been Mama—not the Juniper—I’d been scared of all along made my blood run cold. Like always, it was my first inclination to ignore the fear and to go out to her, to make her come back in, but she looked angry, and I was too afraid of who else was out there.

“Catherine, listen to me. She’s the adult. She’s not your responsibility. She can’t keep you imprisoned here, and besides, once you leave, she’ll have to get help. She’s using you to stay stagnant. She’ll have to move forward or . . .” “Drown,” Catherine said, staring at the door. “You can’t get someone out of quicksand if you’re stuck in it, too,” I said.

I was thirsty, hungry, and afraid. I just kept thinking of all the little lights on our street and what it felt like to walk down it holding your hand, in and out of the darkness.

“Once you leave, I have to email him. They plan to bring you in for questioning.” “We haven’t done anything! Not liking Presley isn’t a crime! Why don’t they concentrate on finding her instead of us?” I yelled. Mrs. Mason sat back in her chair. “Well, that’s the most honesty I’ve seen from you. That’s incredibly brave. Honesty requires vulnerability. How did that feel?” I paused, feeling more manipulated than anything else. “Send Thompson whatever you want. I’m leaving.”

You’re the last person I’d want to see that. I was tired and raw, and . . . I lost it. I would never, ever lay a hand on you. Just doors, apparently. And trees . . . and Cruz Miller. Aunt Leigh says I need a punching bag in my room. I . . .” I turned, burying my face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight.

She looked at me. “Don’t put up with anyone’s shit today. I will cut a bitch.” One side of my mouth curled up,

“Anna Sue used the knife to scratch the letters into my locker, and I caught them. They asked me where Presley was, then Tatum took the knife and held it to my face. She backed me against the lockers.” Mr. and Mrs. Mason looked at Tatum, their mouths open.

Mrs. Mason looked to me, fear in her eyes. She cleared her throat. “Mr. Mason, please take Anna Sue and Tatum to Dr. Augustine. And call the police. Catherine Calhoun was just threatened with a dangerous weapon on school property.” Mr. Mason grabbed Tatum’s arm and then Anna Sue’s, pulling her to stand. “Wait,” Tatum said, struggling. “She attacked us! She attacked us!” “After you threatened her with a knife,” Mr. Mason said, his deep voice echoing down the hallway. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

I pulled out a thin pad and a tampon, slipping them both into the inside pocket of my coat. “Oh. That’s why you came to your locker in the middle of class,” Mrs. Mason said. She cupped my cheeks in her hands, then brushed my hair. “Are you all right?” I nodded, still feeling tears cooling on my cheeks.

“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.

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

“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.”

“The new guests . . . they don’t leave. Sometimes I find their suitcases in the basement, their toiletries still in their rooms. We don’t have guests other than the regulars very often, but . . .”

“Tell me what’s going on at home, and I’ll reconsider.” “Are you . . . are you bribing me?” “Yes,” she said flatly. “Tell me what you and Elliott are covering up, and I’ll let him come back to school tomorrow.” My mouth dropped open. The room began to spin, and the air felt thinner. “This isn’t fair. I’m not sure this is even ethical.” “Does it matter?” she asked, sitting back. She was proud of herself. She knew she’d already won.

“Isn’t it funny how lights seem so much more beautiful in the dark?” she asked. “Like the stars,” I said. “I use to stare out my bedroom window, down at the lights that lined our street. The city stopped replacing the bulbs when they burned out, and it bothered me until I realized I could see the stars better.” “Always making the best of your circumstances,” Mrs. Mason said. “Good night, Catherine.”

which is why college is a moot point.” “Don’t say that.” “It’s not ideal . . .” “It’s not a life.” “It’s not her fault.” Mrs. Mason sighed. “It bothers me that you’ve given up. Your whole life is ahead of you. Being born shouldn’t be a prison sentence.”

“I’m so sorry you had to see that, Catherine.” “Why? It was beautiful.” “Pain is beautiful?” she asked, straightening the present. “Pain . . . love. Can’t really have one without the other.” She breathed out a silent laugh. “You always surprise me.”

“Okay.” One side of his mouth turned up. “I was hoping you’d say that. It would really suck if you slept better without me.” “Well, I don’t,” I said, sitting next to him. I rubbed my hands together. “You cold?” he asked. Elliott pulled his hoodie over his head.

“That’s not why I came over, though. I’ve had it since the last we . . . you said we should have, and we should. So I got some. Just in case. But we don’t have to.” It was painful to watch him stumble over the words, his mouth clumsy when seconds before his hands had been so sure. I touched my index finger to his lips, leaning up to kiss him. His shoulders sagged. He already knew what I was going to say.

More photos of me and us were in frames at his bedside and taped to the wall in collages. “Lots of me and not much else.” He shrugged. “They say you photograph what you love the most.” I picked up his camera, pointed it at him, and snapped a picture. He beamed.

“You make him happy. I know he loves you. I just don’t know why. No offense.” “It’s okay. I don’t really know why, either.” She breathed out a laugh and shook her head. “We’ve had so many fights about Oak Creek, and come to find out, they were all about you.”

“He tried to get to you so many times, and it seemed like the harder I fought him to stay, the more he wanted to leave. I thought it was the usual teenage crush, but he was anxious. Irritable. It was like he couldn’t breathe.”

“Shut up!” Duke spat. “You just couldn’t stand it, could you? You had to stick your nose in where it didn’t belong. We told you to stay away from her, didn’t we?” Mrs. Mason’s face crumpled, and she began to cry again. “Please,” she managed to say around the gag.

“The detective said he saw a child’s drawing in Becca’s blood. I knew it was Poppy’s,” I said. Poppy whimpered. “It wasn’t my fault. I want to go to bed.”

“I wanna go to bed,” Mavis said in a child’s voice. “Shhh,” Catherine said. “I’ll take you to bed. It’s okay.” “Oh my God,” Mrs. Mason whispered from behind me. “How many are there?” “How many of what?” I asked, feeling more confused by the second. “Seven,” Catherine said, helping Mavis to her feet. “Mrs. Mason, this is . . . this is Poppy. She’s Duke’s daughter, and she’s five.”

“No one came for her.” Willow smirked. “I don’t know what happened. But I know Duke buried her in the dirt plot next door with the others.” “The Fentons’?” Catherine asked, tears streaming down her cheeks. “That’s right,” Willow said. She turned, walking to the chair Mrs. Mason had been tied to. “That little bitch sat in her own shit for days. Right here.” Catherine’s expression crumpled. “Mama,” she cried. “I can’t follow you here.”

“Who was real?” I asked. She swallowed. “No one.” “Althea?” She shook her head. “You said seven.” “Althea. Duke. Poppy. Willow. Uncle Toad. Cousin Imogen.” “That’s six.” She hesitated. “Catherine,” I prompted. “Mama,” she blurted out. “Mama is the seventh.”

Aunt Leigh disappeared with Catherine behind the spare bedroom door, and Uncle John sat with me in the living room. “We’ll take care of her,” Uncle John said. I nodded. It was time someone took care of Catherine for a change.

If things got too hard, she would seem to short-circuit and fall into a deep depression and stay in bed for days. Dad tried to shield her from that, to shield me. When he wasn’t home, I could see it. I could see them all in glimpses, but I didn’t know it at the time. Dad’s death made them stronger, and the Juniper was the perfect bridge to allow them out. When Duke and Poppy showed up with names, personalities so different from Mama, I was afraid. I didn’t understand,

She snarled at him. “Be nice, Mama.” Elliott stood. “I’ll take care of her, Mavis.” I’d seen her leave, but Elliott wasn’t used to the signs of her flipping personalities yet. Mama wasn’t there. “Carla,” I called, standing. Duke glared up at me, his nostrils flaring. Carla attended to Mama while we walked out. I’d gotten accustomed to not saying goodbye. Duke usually appeared when our visits were over. I’d hoped Althea would come to say goodbye, but Duke was the only one strong enough to push through the medication.