Buried in the Stars

by Gretchen Tubbs

  I close my eyes and shake my head.

  “How’s it feel?”

  “It hurts,” I whisper. A few tears escape with my words. The emotional pain is just as bad, if not worse, as the physical pain. Did my mother even notice that I’m not there? Is she even home?

  “I’ll go get Dad to see if you can have something.”

  My eyes pop open. “No. Stay with me.”

  He runs his hands through his hair and walks the few feet to the couch. I pull my legs under me to make room for him.

  “What happened?”

  “I slipped and fell.”

  “Scarlett,” he demands. Right in this moment, he seems older. I don’t know why I’m compelled to look into his eyes, but I do. “I want to know what really happened.”

  “That’s exactly what happened.”

  “Maybe, but the circumstances aren’t as simple as you try to make them.”

  “I’m not talking about this with you.” I’m so stupid. This is exactly why I shouldn’t have gotten involved with Sutton and his family.

  “You can trust me, Scarlett. I want to help you. You’re my friend. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Believe me, you don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

  Fire flashes through his eyes. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.”

  I look down and start to pick at nonexistent threads on the blanket. His hand covers mine to stop the movement.

  “I can’t tell you,” I whimper. “If you want to be my friend, if you want me to stay here, you have to trust me.”

  His hand leaves mine and reaches for my face. “You can tell me anything. I’m good at keeping secrets. You shouldn’t have to carry them alone. Let me help you.”

  I don’t know why I decide to tell him anything. Maybe it’s the pain medicine lingering in my system, or maybe it’s because for the first time since my father died I feel like someone really cares about me.

  I feel safe.

  “Please,” I beg him. “You can’t tell anyone about me and my mother. They’ll start asking questions and she’ll take me away from here so fast you won’t even realize I’m gone until it’s too late.”

  “I won’t tell a soul,” he reassures me. “I only want to know so that you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I want to keep you safe.”

  “My mom,” I start, but have to stop and take a few deep breaths. “My mom used to be a great mom. She was a lot like yours. She made sure my dad and I were always happy. Her whole reason for living was to take care of us.”

  “What happened?” he whispers into the darkness.

  “My dad was killed and it was like a switch was flipped. Maybe she was like this before and my dad kept her demons away, but when he died, the good version of her died, too. It started right after his funeral. She started drinking. She’d get angry, destroy things around the house. At first, I didn’t get the brunt of it because I was too lost in my own grief. I barely came out of my room.”

  Sutton pulls me into his arms, mindful of my stitches, and I continue with my story that I’ve never told before. “Soon she realized that she felt better if she could take her anger out on me. She’s told me countless times she blames me for his death. Instead of punching a few holes in the walls or tearing up the furniture, she started to call me names, hit me, wish I was never born.” I laugh, even though it’s completely inappropriate. “Those are not easy things to deal with.”

  “She’s a fucking monster.”

  “I guess it was my fault. I needed something for school, so I called him when he was leaving work. Instead of coming straight home, he went to the store to get some construction paper and glue for my project. He was hit by a drunk driver. I’m the reason my father is dead.” I’ve never said that out loud, and it hurts. The words burn my throat as they leave.

  Sutton’s grip gets tight. “That was not your fault. You cannot be blamed because someone else chose to drive drunk. Don’t let your mother’s words poison you.”

  “She’s learning to hit and not leave marks, but people still notice that she doesn’t take care of me. When Child Services starts sniffing around, she picks up and leaves in the middle of the night. I’ve changed schools more times than I can count.” I look at Sutton and tell him what I’ve been feeling. What he makes me feel. “I don’t want to leave here, Sutton. I want to stay here with you. You make me feel safe. It’s crazy, since I barely know you, but I’ve never wanted to be settled like this before. I’ve never wanted to make friends. Please, Sutton, I’m begging you, don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Not even your parents. She’ll take me away.”

  “I won’t. I promise. Just let me keep you safe, Scarlett.”

  I nod and sink into his arms. He stiffens and mutters, “Shit.” I sit up and look around the room, expecting to see one of his parents. Instead, I see Easton, leaning in the doorway, tight fists at his sides.

  “Easton,” I call, pushing out of Sutton’s arms. He pulls me into his frame and hugs me tightly.

  “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through all of that alone,” he whispers into my hair. “You’re not alone anymore. You have me and my brother.”

  “You can’t say…” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “I know, Scarlett. I heard it all. The last thing we want is for you to go away. We’ll take it to the grave. Right, Sutton?” he asks, pulling away from me to look at his brother.

  “Right.” Sutton doesn’t look too happy about the fact that his brother is hugging me, but that doesn’t make sense to me. He’s my friend, too.

  Easton walks me back to the couch and he and his brother get me settled. I actually feel better now that I’ve gotten all of that off my chest. I’ve never told a soul about my mother.

  After a while, Sutton breaks the silence. “I hate to leave you after all that, but Mom won’t be happy to come out and find us all asleep out here. Will you be alright for a few hours by yourself?”

  “I’ll be fine. Thank you,” I tell Sutton. “Thank you both.”

  “Anytime, Squirt,” he winks and heads down the hallway.

  “Goodnight, Scarlett,” Easton says, lingering in the doorway.

  “Goodnight. I’ll see you soon.” I get comfortable and close my eyes. When I don’t hear Easton’s steps I open my eyes again. He gives me a tight smile and then goes down the hall to his room.

  I have a feeling that my dreams won’t be plagued with visions of my mother, knowing that, for once, someone is here to take care of me.

  ***

  “These look great. There’s no pulling or redness. Let me change the bandages and then we’ll go to your house so I can talk to your mom about it.”

  “No,” I tell Doc. “She’s probably still sleeping from her shift last night. She’s been working a lot of doubles. Besides, you’ve done enough. I can explain everything to her.”

  He doesn’t look like he’s happy with my answer, but nods anyway. “Come over later for Vera to change the bandage if your mom is still at work. You’ve got to keep it clean and covered.”

  “I will. Thanks again.”

  “Anytime, Scarlett. That’s one of the perks of having a doctor on the block.” He kisses his wife goodbye and heads out the door, off to take care of the sick and injured people of my new town.

  “I guess I need to head back home,” I say to no one in particular. They’ve already re-bandaged my arm and fed me. I don’t want to wear out my welcome.

  “Let me walk you home,” Sutton says.

  I know better than to argue with him. When we step outside the smile drops off his face. “I don’t want you over there.”

  I give him a tight smile. I can’t have this argument with him, day in and day out. I have a feeling, though, now that he knows the truth, we’ll be discussing this often. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ve been dealing with her for a long time. I’ll stay out of her way. Besides, after my shower, I’ll probably end up in the woods. Come find me in a bit.”

  “Wou
ld it be better if I came over and waited for you?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Scarlett, I doubt she’d do anything with me in the house.”

  I don’t know how I’m even going to explain my arm, but having witnesses there won’t help the situation. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing. Just meet me soon in the woods.”

  We stop walking just shy of my yard. “Okay. Make it quick.”

  “Yes sir,” I salute and head up the front walk. He lingers while I let myself in.

  Mom’s sitting at the rickety table, one hand supporting her head and the other wrapped around a chipped coffee mug. I square my shoulders and take a seat in the chair directly across from her. Her eyes shoot to the bandage on my arm.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  “I fell in my room and cut it on the bed frame.”

  “Is it bad?”

  Wow. She’s actually playing the concerned mother role this morning. I consider lying, but I don’t want her to see the stiches later and freak out on me.

  “I had to get stitches last night. One of our neighbors is a doctor and he took care of it.” Her eyes zero in on mine and she gets up from the table. She’s furious. “I didn’t know what else to do,” I continue, trying to diffuse the situation. “I was losing a lot of blood, and you weren’t here.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth… that I slipped and hit my arm.”

  She’s right in my space, her hand squeezing around the white gauze that Dr. Winters placed on my arm just minutes ago. “Do you have any idea what will happen to you if people started sniffing around and asking questions about me?”

  The pain she’s inflicting is worse than when I cut it open. A light sheen of sweat is coating my skin and I’m having trouble breathing. “I didn’t say anything, Mom. I swear.”

  She gives my arm one final squeeze and lets go. The gauze is tinged with pink. I close my eyes briefly and take a couple of deep breaths to help with the pain, saying a quick prayer that she didn’t pop any of the stitches. I don’t know how I’d explain that one to Doc.

  “They’d throw my ass in jail and make you a ward of the state. They’d have a field day with you, with your blonde hair and your perfect little body. How’d you like to be part of a gang bang, Scar? Sound like fun?”

  I swallow down the bile threatening to come up. “No.”

  “Or, maybe I’d have to sell you to get money for a fancy lawyer. I know some men that would have a hay day with an innocent little virgin like you.” I shake my head and she comes back to me, wrapping her hand around my throat. My head hits the back of the chair and bounces forward again. “Or maybe I’m wrong. What’d you have to do for those stitches, you little slut? Nobody does anything for free. You let that doctor touch you? Did you blow him?” I try to shake my head once more, disgusted by her accusations, but she’s not satisfied. “Tell me, you whore!” she demands, putting more pressure on my throat.

  I grab her arm and push her away. “I didn’t do anything,” I say through choppy breaths.

  “Good. Don’t be a whore. Your father would die if he thought you were spreadin’ your legs like some cheap shut.” When she realizes what she said, I see a flash of something pass across her otherwise dead eyes. Remorse maybe? But in a second it’s gone. “And keep your fucking mouth shut about me. You don’t need to be spreading our business all over the place.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I answer. How else am I supposed to respond to that?

  She pushes against me once more, my head bouncing back. “Get outta here. I’m sick of lookin’ at you.”

  I scurry out of the kitchen as fast as I can, deciding that my safety is far more important than a shower and a change of clothes. My legs can’t carry me fast enough into the woods. I never stop running until I reach the old treehouse. Tucking myself into the corner of the shelter, I cry and wait for Sutton to come meet me and make everything better, just like he always does.

  Chapter Four

  “Tell me again why we’re watching this,” Emily whines.

  I’m sprawled across her plush, queen-sized bed, surrounded by more snacks than we could possibly consume, fixated on the flat screen mounted on her wall.

  “Because it was my turn to pick the movie.”

  She throws a cookie at me, which I proceed to pick up and eat while she continues to complain. “You could have picked something that had actors in it I actually knew.”

  “This is the greatest movie ever made,” I tell my friend. Her taste in movies is seriously lacking.

  “Really?”

  “Really. Now hush. This is my favorite part.”

  I look away from Emily and watch as Rhett Butler, drunk and jealous, sweeps Scarlett O’Hara up the staircase to push all thoughts of Ashley Hamilton from her mind. Sighing, I clutch my chest and fall back on the bed. Ashley is no comparison to him.

  “I love that man.”

  “Ew. He’s like a hundred years old.”

  That comment earns her a pillow to the face. “Don’t go there, Emily. I’ve been in love with Rhett Butler for as long as I can remember.”

  She picks up the remote and turns off the DVD. I don’t protest… I’ve seen Gone with the Wind so many times, I can recite the entire thing. Besides, she’s spoiling it for me with her snide remarks. I’d rather watch my old VHS copy of the movie, comfortable in the privacy of my own bedroom that I still have from when I was just a kid. Knowing that it’s the same one that my mom and dad used to watch makes it mean more, anyway.

  “You know,” she says, “for such a romantic, you’re pretty blind to the fact that you have two boys who are head over heels in love with you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play coy, Scarlett Cook. You can’t pull it off like the Southern Belles in that movie you forced me to watch. My cousins follow you around, tending to your every need. All I hear about is you, day in and day out. If they aren’t with you, they’re talking about you. I’d be jealous if they weren’t related to me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re just friends.”

  “Maybe on your end, but not on theirs. You and I are just friends. Y’all are something totally different.”

  My fingers move to the scar on my arm, and my mind drifts to the night when Sutton and Easton learned about my life, the details of which I’ve tried so hard to hide for so long. The physical marks from the incident have long since healed, but the emotional ramifications of that evening will be with me forever.

  “They’re protective. Those two are like brothers to me.”

  She laughs. “Okay. Maybe Easton, but not Sutton. No way. I see the way the two of you look at each other. And, my God, when he’s watching you when you’re not looking. Geez.” She fans herself.

  My stomach tightens at the mere mention. I do think of Easton like a brother. But with Sutton, things are starting to change between us. Well, at least on my end. I don’t understand it, I don’t really want the change, so I do what I do best with unwanted feelings… push them aside and refuse to deal with them.

  “You’re being ridiculous.”

  “I don’t know, Scarlett. He’s freaking out about going to California for Christmas, practically begging Aunt Vera to take you with us.”

  He’s freaking out over the notion of leaving me alone with my mother for two weeks. It has nothing to do with feelings of love. But I can’t tell Emily that. Sutton and Easton kept their word last year and didn’t say anything about the conversation we had the night I got stitches. Emily’s not stupid, though, and neither are Doc and Mrs. Vera. They might not know the extent of what I have to deal with at home, but they know enough to know that my mother isn’t going to be nominated for Mother of the Year anytime soon.

  “He just doesn’t want me to be alone over the holidays. He knows Mom works a lot.”

  “Okay,” she says, the sarcasm bleeding through in her tone. “Whatever you say. But, just remember that we had this con
versation. I can’t wait to rub it in your face when you and Sutton start dating.” She gets up and walks over to her extensive DVD collection. “Now, can we watch something from this century? Please?”

  ***

  The noise in the hallway is deafening. The last exams have been completed and the students of Oak Hills Middle School have two glorious weeks of freedom. I think I’m the only person who’s not running out of the doors, eager to get home to get the holiday started. Easton walks up behind me and loops his arm through mine, giving it a tug.

  “Two weeks off, Squirt. Are you excited?”

  He should know better. “When does your flight leave?” I reply instead of giving him an answer.

  He kisses my temple. “In the morning. Are you coming over for dinner?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  We walk to the bus, arm in arm, quiet, while the celebration goes on all around us. I don’t know what I’ll do without the Winters boys for two weeks.

  “What are your plans?” Doc asks as he passes around a huge bowl of pasta later that evening.

  “I have a few projects to finish up before we head back to school. I also have a few things to binge watch on the DVR.” He laughs, and I feel Sutton’s hand at my knee, squeezing gently; there’s no DVR at the Cook Residence, we can’t even afford basic cable.

  “I wish you could come with us,” Mrs. Vera tells me.

  I want nothing more, but it’s an impossibility. “I know, but then my mom would be alone.”

  “The two weeks will fly by. Besides, you’re probably sick of us,” Sutton says beside me.

  “Never.”

  Dinner conversation turns to talk of exams, last minute Christmas requests, and bickering over the fact that they have to wake up so early to be at the airport on their first morning of the break. Like always, I start to clear the table and help with the dishes when everyone is done eating. Instead of going in the living room to play video games or watch television with his brother, Sutton follows me into the kitchen and grabs a dish towel to help me dry the pots and pans.

  “I want to give you your gift before you leave,” he says quietly.