80 Worcester Street was a house of vines and overgrown grass. They welcomed abnormalities and dismissed structure. They drank martinis and destroyed clocks. You could call Ms. Madden a hoarder, but you’d love her collections.  

280 Worcester Street was a place to hide.  

And Elliot Acker was taking out the trash. He could feel the night give way to the wind and leaves finding home on his driveway. And most importantly, the night loved Lady Vine. Only at night did Elliot enjoy where 280 Worcester Street was placed. The corner had one drain, a streetlight, and a stop sign. Lady Vine appeared by the drain where the moonlight acknowledged her black fur. The cat did not need to be recognized in the day. The Sun, What is to Become, did not do Lady Vine justice, while the Moon, What Was, kissed her beauty.  

Only at night could Elliot not lie. He could not lie to Lady Vine. The black cat crawled across the driveway, appearing to approach him. He waited for her to come to him because he would never hurt her. He could never.  

Elliot didn’t know it then, and he would never find out, but Lady Vine would be killed by a red Camaro driving five over the speed limit that night. Elliot would think she returned home.  

“You’re just a sore loser, Brandy.”  

The girl named after her father’s favorite liquor threw dice toward Elliot’s head.  

“You’re a cheater.”  

They were in their third game of backgammon, and Brandy had lost all three. The ghost of Presley was reading by the window. He was always entertained by their arguments, and never by the game itself. Which could be the game, depending on your perspective. Where was Presley?  

Brandy reached for her backpack, but Elliot stopped her. “What are you doing?”  

“If you couldn’t tell, tomorrow is Monday.”  

“What does that matter?”  

“Nothing to you, apparently.”  

The collection of ceramic elephants Ms. Madden had brought from Poland to New Jersey resided near the classics that Presley indulged in. Duke Humphrey would approve of their haven. Where was Presley? 

“One more game.”  

“Can I show you what I’ve found so far?” 

“One more game.”  

“I’ll show you, and then we can play another.”  

“Do you know where Presley is?” Elliot asked.  

Wooden stairs outside the library’s door began to creak. Elliot could recognize her footsteps as though they were his own. “Where’s Presley?” He asked again. Presley was the kind of person who made it his mission to disappear without a trace. Or maybe he didn’t think about it much and just never needed to say goodbye.  

“At his dad’s. And before he shows up, I can show you the photos, Elliot.”  

The fractures in each stair drew closer. 

“Do you think Presley likes red velvet cupcakes?” Elliot asked as though his birthday was approaching, because it was, and Elliot both despised and adored birthdays, and Elliot needed to run away from where Brandy was going, but he was the kind of person who wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted.  

The door swung open, and Brandy threw a photograph onto Elliot’s lap. “Her name was Estrella.”  

He picked up the photo before his mother, Ms. Madden, turned on the light in the library full of games. “It’s too dark in here.”  

“It’s better with the lights off, Mom.”  

“And life’s better with food, so you’re welcome to join me downstairs.”  

Ms. Madden left before they answered, and Elliot chose to stare at Estrella. “She’s my great-grandmother,” Brandy clarified.  

“You look nothing alike.”  

“I have her smile.” Elliot knew Brandy’s smile. He knew her deep brown hair, and he knew her eyes, and he knew they looked nothing alike.  

“How do you know that?” He asked.  

“I have other photos. I want to show them to you.”  

“One more game.”  

Ms. Madden shouted from the kitchen. “I found brownie mix!”  

Brandy smiled. “That sounds better.”  

They went downstairs without another word.  

Once Presley was inside, he no longer felt the need to scream. 280 Worcester Street was a place to hide.  

It was not long before Brandy showed Ms. Madden her great-grandmother. And it was not long before Elliot had to leave the kitchen.  

He chose to hide somewhere else. He brought a can of tuna fish for Lady Vine, hoping she’d walk to him. Waiting by the stench paralleled a rotten day, but Lady Vine was worth it. He waited until he was stung by three mosquitoes. Presley stood by the window when Elliot walked back in, the tuna fish left behind in case Lady Vine changed her mind.  

“Can I stay over tonight?”  

“I thought you were at your dad’s.” 

“I was, but now I’m here.” 

“Evidently.”  

Presley didn’t respond, and Elliot realized annoyance rang in his voice. Presley glanced at his analog watch, almost ready for some escape. “I think Brandy is staying tonight too. There’s room downstairs.”  

“I’ll need a blanket,” Presley said.  

“What if I don’t want to give you a blanket?”  

One blonde curl fell over Presley’s forehead as he laughed. “Too bad.”  

Night fell over 280 Worcester Street, and soon it welcomed the Sun.  

Hours crawled into seconds. Monday called for lessons, homework, and agony, but the Sun ran away, leaving the Moon to wake.  

Elliot was driving. He always drove. Why wouldn’t he? 

He always dropped Presley off first and admired his ability to get out of the car before it stopped. He dropped Brandy off last and let her fill the car with conversation, because Brandy was the kind of person who wanted to discuss everything. She sometimes got fixated on things.  

“You can turn right here,” she said.  

“I don’t turn right here.” 

“Turn right here today.”  

Elliot drove into Memorial Park. He parked. She exited the car. He followed. He followed. He followed.  

Brandy stood in front of the grave bearing dirt, water stains, and no flowers. “I should have bought flowers, Elliot.”  

Estrella Simón— Elliot could not read further.  

“Why are we here?”  

“I wanted to visit her, Elliot.”  

Elliot looked up, attempted to look at the Moon, but lowered his gaze to the ground where he couldn’t find a blade of grass green enough. “Are you getting anything for Presley’s birthday?”  

Brandy responded after a second. “I bought him a book,” she then paused. “What did you get him?” 

“I was going to get him a gift card.” At that, Brandy turned to look Elliot in the eye. “He’s turning 18 and all you want to get him is a gift card?”  

“Well, we’re celebrating at my house.”  

“It’s always at your house, that’s nothing new. You have to get him something better than that. Maybe something like—” Brandy began to kneel at Estrella’s grave, but Elliot stopped her with a hand on her arm.  

“Why are you sitting down?” Elliot asked. 

“Let’s stay for a bit.”  

Elliot shook his head. “Let’s just leave.” Brandy took her arm out of his grip. “I don’t want to.” A wisp of black fur passed Elliot’s vision.  

“This is becoming too much, Brandy.” 

“I want to know her.”  

He ran a hand through his hair. “Why’s that?”  

“My mother doesn’t.” 

“It’s like you’re stuck in some past that’s not yours.” 

“It’s nice to have a past, Elliot. I would like to have one.”  

Elliot began to walk back to the car. “I want to stay longer,” she said.  

He did not turn around to speak to her. “I’ll wait in the car.”  

They did not speak on the drive home. They did not speak for a week. Only when Presley’s birthday came around on Sunday did Brandy bid Elliot hello. Presley was turning 18.  

Ms. Madden found the cake. Presley’s name was spelled wrong. They sang “Happy Birthday” by the vines.  

“Why are you still downstairs, Elliot? Go up and be with them,” Ms. Madden insisted in the kitchen.  

“I want to help you clean up.”  

“No, you’re hiding.” 

“Sue me.”  

“Then take out the trash, will you?”  

And then Elliot Acker was taking out the trash once again. He searched through the night for Lady Vine. He elongated each movement just to wait. He had not seen her in days. Only possibilities of her.  

He waited as long as he could.  

Maybe she was no longer a stray and finally had a family. For a moment Elliot would like to forget, the thought irked him.  

He stepped back inside, but before he could close the door, a black cat entered with him. Lady Vine welcomed herself to 280 Worcester Street. She walked into the kitchen where Ms. Madden no longer was. Elliot felt relief that this was the home Lady Vine returned to. 280 Worcester Street was a place to hide.  

Elliot would never go to Lady Vine, she had to come to him. Yet as she walked through the home, the wooden walls grew dark. Her shadow from the moonlight grew beyond her body. She left shadows everywhere that Elliot was not prepared for. His vision became spotty. The house grew dark in dots. A blanket fell over each room. She walked where she pleased. Elliot’s relief grew into anger. His haven was shutting down.  

“Stop,” he started. The shadows grew stronger. The darkness overcame his understanding of where he was standing.  

She walked through each room, and Elliot could not stop her. He didn’t know how. He wasn’t sure where he was walking, and Elliot was the type of boy who didn’t know what he wanted. Lady Vine led him through. He followed, he followed, he followed, until he didn’t.  

“Stop it now!” he yelled.  

Lady Vine did not turn back. Lady Vine led him back to his front door. She sat down in front of the knob. He had a choice.  

Elliot did not like the Sun or the Moon, and he no longer liked Lady Vine.  

“Get out!”  

He opened the door. “Out!”  

She waited for him. He could never hurt her.  

But Lady Vine had returned home already. Here, she was a ghost. Lady Vine was dead.  

“Out!” The words followed the cat’s steps as she ran away. Lady Vine was dead.  

If death had an army, Elliot Acker would be the strongest soldier.  

It was Monday morning and Elliot, Presley, and Brandy walked outside to leave for school. Elliot Acker was a boy in between, in limbo, never home.  

Brandy smiled. 

Elliot knew Brandy smiled because he always searched for it.  

“You got a real nice car, Elliot,” she said.  

“It’s my dad’s,” he answered. That’s all he could answer. And maybe one day he would find it in himself to answer with what he didn’t want.  

The three got in. It was Monday. Presley was 18. Brandy was a daughter. Lady Vine was dead. And Elliot Acker was driving away in his father’s red Camaro.