Buried in the Stars

by Gretchen Tubbs

  “No, but I can pick some up at the store. I’m going tomorrow.”

  “Whatever.” She keeps searching through the bare cabinets until she finds a bottle of vodka. I guess if there’s no pain reliever, more alcohol will do the trick.

  Her steps are clumsy as she moves to the table, the bottle sloshing in her hand. “Here. Take what you need, you damn leech. That’s all you’re good for- sucking me fucking dry.” She swipes her hand across the table and the contents of her purse spill across the surface. “I’m goin’ back to bed. Keep the noise down.”

  When I hear the door shut, accompanied by a few bangs and clanks, I’m sure from her falling against the wall and various pieces of furniture, I let out a sigh and look for some cash. Crumpled up bills are littering the surface of the old table. I have no idea how much supplies will cost. I grab several twenties, thinking that I also need to pick up some food. I have a small stash in my room, but I need more. I can start to stockpile food in the treehouse for when things get really bad.

  They’re bound to. They always do.

  ***

  “Please tell me you need to eat. My mother went crazy with breakfast. She’s a little excited about our outing today,” Sutton says in lieu of a greeting.

  Of course I’m hungry. I’m always hungry. “I could eat a little more.”

  “Awesome. Come in, Squirt.” He opens the door a little wider, and I have no choice but to duck under his arm and enter the house. I look over my shoulder once more to make sure my mom didn’t hear me leaving this morning. All looks quiet across the street, so I walk past Sutton and go into the kitchen. Easton and Emily are huddled over plates at the table, eating and playing on their phones.

  “Good morning,” Mrs. Winters sings, walking toward me with a plate loaded up with a mountain of food. “Sit down and eat. I put a little of everything on here since I’m not sure what you like. You won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t eat it all.”

  “Thank you,” I say and take a seat next to Emily.

  “Hey.” She tucks her phone in her pocket and gives me a one-arm hug. “I have some stuff for you. I mean, if you want it.”

  My brows must draw in because she keeps talking. “I can’t fit in any of my clothes from last year and my mom has been hounding me about cleaning out my closet. You’re at least one size smaller than me, if not two, so if you want some clothes and shoes, they’re all yours. If not, I have some friends at school I can save them for.”

  She goes back to eating as if what she’s just offered up is no big deal. “Thanks. I’ll take a look when we get back.”

  It’s not lost on me that this has nothing to do with her mother hounding her and everything to do with the state of my current clothes. Emily is always dressed impeccably, even when tromping through the woods with her cousins. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed that my clothes are almost all too small for me and worn to near rags. I push past the uncomfortable feeling in my belly and concentrate on eating the scrambled eggs and bacon on my plate.

  “Did you get your schedule yesterday?” Easton asks.

  “No. I don’t think it’ll be ready until the first day of school. I have to go to the office and pick it up.”

  “The school’s not that big. We should have a few classes together.”

  God, I hope so. Having a familiar face with me part of the day will make this so much easier. Because I’ve changed schools so much, you would think that it would be easy for me. It’s not. It sucks every time I have to do it. I’d much rather start the first day at a new school, though, than to come in mid-year. That’s the worst.

  “I’ll come with you,” he says, “and I’ll show you where all your classes are.”

  “Thanks.” That’s all I can seem to say, but these people are doing everything they can to make me feel welcome and at ease about my current situation. For once, it’s not pity I feel from them, it’s just kindness.

  “Are we almost ready?” Mrs. Winters asks.

  “Yup.” Sutton stands from the table and shoves another piece of bacon in his mouth. “Ready, Squirt?”

  I nod, taking one more bite of my biscuit, then follow them all out of the back door and into Mrs. Winters’ SUV.

  “We can just get essentials today,” she says as she backs out the driveway. “I’m sure each of your teachers will have detailed lists for you Monday.”

  Great. Yet another time I’ll have to ask my mother for money. Maybe I can just get a few things today and save some of the money to use later. With Emily giving me some clothes, I should be set for a while.

  We shop almost all day, stopping midway through for refueling at a local deli. I stay quiet, wanting to keep the attention off me, but listen in rapt fascination to tales of Sutton, Easton, and Emily’s childhood. They are more like best friends than siblings and cousins. Not for the first time these past few weeks, I have the thought that I want to stay. I want to be a part of this. If I play my cards right and tread lightly around my mother, it might be possible.

  Chapter Three

  “Where is it?” she hisses in my ear. I’m pushed against my bedroom wall, fighting to breathe. Her body is pressed against mine, her arm firm against the back of my neck. All of the bags have fallen from my arms.

  “What?”

  “My fucking money? Where is it, you goddamn thief?”

  She backs away for a few seconds, long enough to take a swig of her vodka, and I take advantage of the time to pull in a few short breaths and figure out what to do. I need to keep her calm.

  “I want my fucking money!” she screams. Her hand connects with my face to drive the point home.

  “Here,” I cry, pulling the little bit I didn’t spend out of my pockets. She slaps it out of my hands and I watch as the bills hit the floor with the rest of my stuff. She’s so drunk I don’t even think she’s noticed the bags I dropped when she attacked me. This is a good thing.

  “Where’s the rest?”

  “I had to buy school supplies, remember?”

  “You lyin’ bitch! I want my money,” she yells, lunging at me. She trips on one of the bags and drops to the ground. Her only concern is not spilling her vodka, but she’s not very successful. Puddles of the clear liquid are forming on my cheap linoleum floor. I stand there, motionless, waiting to see what she’ll do next. She stands up, disoriented, and rubs her hand up and down her face.

  “Clean this shit up,” she slurs and walks out of the room, falling into the door frame on her way out.

  I don’t move. Risking her coming back in here is not something I’m willing to do. I watch the second hand on the clock by my bed tick, watch the minute hand make its way around the face before I decide it’s safe and she’s probably passed out. The bills are still scattered on the floor. Maybe if I put the money back in her purse she’ll forget about this entire incident. Chances are she won’t remember it anyway, but I don’t want to risk it.

  Just when I decide it’s safe to move around my room again, I hear her car pull out of the driveway. She’s going to kill herself or someone else one day, but I can’t worry about that right now. I need to clean up my room before she gets back. I make a quick plan and move to pick up the bags from Emily and stash them in my closet when I slip in one of the forgotten puddles of vodka on the floor. My legs split in two different directions and I fall into my bed frame. The corner of the rusty metal catches me close to the elbow and rips my arm open, stopping halfway to my shoulder.

  “Damnit,” I hiss, grabbing my arm and slipping down to the floor, scared to look at the damage. I can feel my hand growing wet. Crawling to my dresser, I grab a shirt out of one of the drawers and wrap it around my bicep. I sneak a peek at my arm and it looks bad. I don’t think this is going to stop bleeding on its own. I’ve been hurt plenty of times to know when something needs medical attention and when I can handle it on my own.

  Sitting on the floor and crying won’t fix this. I swipe at the tears that are flowing, muster up the strength to make them stop, and
walk on shaky legs into the bathroom. Blood tinges the sink pink when I wash my hands and face. The shirt that I’m using as a makeshift bandage is already turning red from the blood. My clothes are wet from the puddle of vodka I was sitting in. Using my good arm, I strip out of them. Once I change, I make the decision to go to the Winters’ house. I don’t know if it’s very smart, but it’s the only thing I can think of right now.

  I’m starting to feel faint and a bit nauseous on the walk over there. The shirt that I have wrapped around my cut is completely soaked through. When Sutton opens the door after I give it a weak knock, I fall into him, unable to hold myself up any longer.

  “Mom,” he calls, never taking his eyes off me. “I need you. Scarlett, what happened?”

  “I fell.” That’s all I can manage at this point.

  “We need to get you to the hospital. Where’s your mom?”

  I shake my head. I have no idea where she is. Even if I did, it wouldn’t matter.

  “Do you have insurance?” his mom asks when she reaches my side.

  Another shake of my head, this one smaller. Every movement causes my stomach to protest.

  “Sutton, call your father and tell him to meet us at his office.”

  Supporting the majority of my weight, Mrs. Winters walks me through the house and out of the back door. Sutton’s back at my side, helping me get into the backseat.

  “Talk to me, Squirt. I can’t have you passing out.”

  “My arm hurts,” I whisper. Now that I’m safe, I allow the tears I shut off earlier to fall. He wipes them away.

  “I know. My dad is gonna take care of you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hang on, honey,” his mom calls from the front seat. “His office is not too far from here. He’s meeting us there.”

  “Is your mom at work?” Sutton asks.

  “I don’t know. She left while I was taking a nap.” The lie rolls off my tongue with ease.

  “We can call her when we get you settled.”

  Moments later, we pull up at what I assume is Sutton’s Dad’s practice. His truck pulls up right after us. His steps are hurried, and I’m taken aback by the look of anger splashed across his face.

  “I’m so sorry,” I cry.

  “Don’t apologize,” he says, taking the brunt of my weight and walking me to the door. “I was worried sick the whole way over here.”

  I’m not used to anyone being worried about me. This man who barely knows me has no reason to worry. My own mother doesn’t even worry about me.

  “But I interrupted your night.” That will earn you a beating at my house.

  “Trust me, making sure you’re taken care of is more of a priority than having dinner with some pharmaceutical reps.”

  After getting the door unlocked and entering the alarm code, he whisks me to the back of the offices, Mrs. Winters following close behind and turning on lights.

  “Have a seat and let me see what’s going on.” He lets go of me long enough to get me settled in a chair and get a tray of tools I don’t want to look at. This whole scene is making me feel sick.

  “Can Sutton stay with me?” I ask.

  “Sure.”

  Without having to ask, he moves from hovering in the doorway to standing right next to me. He leans in close and lifts up the sleeve of his t-shirt. “We’ll have matching battle scars,” he teases. “Dad had to sew me up a few years back. It’s best not to look while he’s doing his thing.”

  Dr. Winters is unwrapping the shirt from my arm. “Tell me what happened.”

  For once, I can tell the truth. “I was cleaning up my room and slipped on a drink that had spilled. I fell against my bed frame.”

  “Metal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We should probably give you a booster, just to make sure. This is pretty nasty.”

  I nod my head and turn to look, but Sutton grabs my chin and keeps me from gazing in that direction. “Eyes on me, Squirt.”

  “I’m numbing the area now so I can get you cleaned and stitched.”

  “Tell me a story,” I whisper. I need a distraction.

  His laughter is soft and warm, a far cry from what I’m feeling right now. “What do you want to hear about?”

  “Anything. Please, Sutton.”

  “Okay.” He proceeds to tell me about the book he’s reading for summer reading, one I’ve read before, but I don’t care. His voice is low and smooth, a pleasant distraction from the tugging, cold sensations happening in my arm, and from the gasps from Mrs. Winters in the doorway. I close my eyes and let his voice lull me into a sense of calm.

  “All done,” Dr. Winters tells me. I open my eyes and glance over my shoulder, where he’s just finishing covering the stitches. “I’m going to make you a care package to take home. Everything you’ll need to clean it and bandage it will be in there.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Winters.”

  He gives me a soft smile. “It’s Doc, honey, remember?”

  I smile back. “Thanks, Doc.”

  “You could come to the house and I’ll change your bandages for you,” Mrs. Winters tells me. “I know your mom works a lot and these things are easier if you don’t have to do them alone.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper. These people have shown me more kindness in a few short weeks than I’ve known my whole life.

  At least, since my father died.

  “I’ll give you something for the pain,” Doc says. “When the lidocaine wears off, that arm will be pretty sore. You should take it before you go to bed.”

  Sutton stands and extends his hand to me. Mrs. Winters disappears from the doorway and comes back into the room with a drink for me.

  Sutton keeps his arm around me and walks me back to the car. His parents linger inside the building for a few minutes longer, cleaning up and turning off lights. And, I’m sure, having a conversation about me.

  “Better?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think if your mom’s not back then you should stay with us. We can watch movies and eat junk food. It’s the perfect distraction.”

  At first I think he means a distraction from the pain, but his eyes are boring into me, making me realize that he means a distraction from what really happened to me tonight.

  A distraction from life.

  “Sounds good.”

  Mrs. Winters is back, unlocking the car and starting it so we can begin the short ride home. The whole way there, I pray my mom’s car is still gone. I don’t want to go back there tonight. I want to stay with Sutton and be distracted. I want to pretend that I’m just a normal girl doing normal things, like watching movies and eating junk food. Plus, how in the world am I supposed to explain this bandage and the seventeen stitches hiding underneath?

  “I was thinking,” she says, “that if your mom isn’t back that you need to stay with us. I wouldn’t feel right sending you home alone. If something happened to you I would feel terrible. I’ll give you the medicine Robert mentioned for the pain, we’ll make you a pallet in the living room. That way I can keep an eye on you.”

  Sutton squeezes my leg.

  “Okay.”

  “You can call your mom when we get home and let her know what happened, let her know the plan.”

  We turn onto our street, and I’m thrilled that my driveway is empty. As soon as Mrs. Winters puts the car in park, Easton is in the garage, opening the car door for us and practically pulling his brother out to get to me.

  “Are you alright? Mom called a few minutes ago to tell me what happened.” He looks at my arm and lets out a heavy breath. “Does it hurt?” His brown eyes are filled with concern.

  I shake my head. “Not right now, but I’m sure it will soon.”

  “Squirt’s tough,” Sutton tells his brother. “She’ll be fine. She’s staying here tonight so we can keep an eye on her.”

  “Let the poor girl in the house,”
their mom calls from the doorway. “Scarlett, when’s the last time you ate? I don’t want you taking a pain pill on an empty stomach.”

  “Um, I guess when we went to lunch.”

  “Boys, get her settled in the living room. I’ll fix you all a snack.”

  Sutton and Easton drag out mountains of pillows and blankets, making me a nest on the couch that is more comfortable than my bed at home. They sit on either side of me and pop in a movie.

  “Is this one okay?” Easton asks. At this point, I’m about to crash. They can watch whatever they want and I couldn’t care less.

  “It’s fine.”

  Their mom comes in with cut up fruit and cheese, bottled water, and a tiny Dixie cup with a pill for me.

  “Eat a little bit and then take this. I’m going to the back to get ready for bed. Yell if you need me,” she says, placing a light kiss on my forehead. “Oh, and don’t forget to call your mom.”

  “Okay, Mrs. Winters. Goodnight.”

  “I think we’ve moved past you calling me ‘Mrs. Winters’. Please, call me Mrs. Vera.”

  I’ve never been close enough to an adult to call them something other than their last name. It feels foreign leaving my mouth for the first time, but I do as she asks.

  “Boys, after the movie, go to bed,” she tells them, giving them kisses as well.

  We all call out ‘goodnights’ one last time and proceed to devour the fruit and cheese. Once my tummy is full, I take the pain pill and burrow into my blankets.

  I wake up disoriented. My arm starts throbbing and the night’s events all come crashing down around me. I wince and roll over, almost falling off the couch.

  “Easy, Scarlett,” Sutton whispers.

  I look around the living room, expecting to see the movie still playing and Easton burrowed in his seat but it’s dark, except for the light shining over the kitchen sink. The television if off and the house is quiet. I notice a lone blanket and pillow in the armchair in the corner of the living room.

  “What time is it?”

  Sutton pulls his phone from his pocket. “Just after four. Do you need anything?”