Autumn Falls (2 page)

I wiped my hands on my jeans. I was covered in sweet-potato
spatter and coated in sweat, and I’d shaved off the bulk of my finger skin with the vegetable peeler.

Cooking was not my Thing.

“Is this stuff supposed to look like old Play-Doh?” Erick asked, poking at the contents of a bowl.

“The recipe says it’s supposed to be a smooth puree,” Jenna said, wrinkling her nose. She and Erick exchanged glances.

“Shut up!” I snapped. I was bent over a saucepan filled with sugar, water, lime, and cinnamon. “How long do I have to stir this?”

“ ‘Until the syrup reaches the soft-thread stage,’ ” Jenna read.

“It’s supposed to turn into yarn?” Erick asked.

“Jenna, please remove Erick from the area before I kill him.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to film this for Dad,” he complained.

Our lazy bassett hound, Schmidt, woke from a sound sleep and started barking, which meant Mom was home.

“Mmmm, what’s that smell?” she asked, walking in and dropping her yoga mat next to Jenna’s tote bag. Anytime Dad came back from a long trip, Mom got so excited that only insanely exhausting exercise could keep her calm enough to function. They’d been married twenty years and she was still so in love that she’d jump out of her skin for him. “Are you making the
boniatillo
?”

Erick snorted. “Sort of.”

“Do you need help?” Mom asked.

“I’ve got it,” I insisted, feeling annoyed.

She came over anyway. “It gets a little complicated.” She looked over my shoulder into the saucepan, then scooped up some syrup and let it drip back in. “You went a little long with the heat, but it’s okay. I’d pour in the batter and keep stirring until it gets smooth. It’ll be fantastic.”

She kissed the top of my head before heading upstairs. I did what she said, but it didn’t get smooth at all. It was like stirring concrete.

“He’s going to think I’m poisoning him,” I said through gritted teeth.

“It’ll be okay,” Jenna said in that reassuring way she had that made me feel grateful to have her and overwhelmingly sad that soon I wouldn’t.

“Hey, look at that!” Erick shouted. “It’s smoothing out. You really did it, Autumn.”

It didn’t happen often, but sometimes Erick completely forgot to be a pain. He zoomed his camera in for beauty shots while Jenna read off more directions and I took the pot off the heat, waited a bit, then added two beaten egg yolks, stirred the whole thing over the burner some more, put in the Manzanilla, then poured it all into a soufflé dish.

“By the time Dad’s here,” I announced to the camera in my best celebrity-chef voice, “it’ll be chilled and ready to enjoy with a dollop of fresh whipped cream.”

Jenna applauded as I bowed.

“I’m gonna post this, okay?” Erick asked in a non-asking kind of way.

Erick had his own YouTube channel, but Dad had made him promise never to post footage of anyone without their permission.

“Bad idea,” Jenna said.

I checked out the freeze-frame of me. Clumps of sweet-potato goo stuck to my face and clotted my long orange hair. Add in my vegetable-peeler-bloodied fingers and I looked like a farmland horror show.

“Nice try,” I said. “Not a chance.”

I looked at the clock. I’d need every second if I was going to look human before we left to pick up Dad. “Jenna—”

“Go get ready. Text me later and tell me how it went.” She chucked her apple core in the trash and hugged me despite my potatoey grossness, which is the measure of a true friend. Erick was still staring after her out the living room window when I headed upstairs to shower.

“Erick. It’s so not happening,” I said, just loud enough for him to hear.

An hour and a half later, Mom and I were ready. “Erick! Let’s go!” Mom called impatiently. She looked really pretty—she was wearing a skirt and top Dad had gotten her last Christmas, and her hair was shiny and smelled like mangoes. I don’t know how the hair genes missed
me, but they totally did. Hers is long, dark, and naturally curly. I’d tortured mine with a hair dryer, a curling iron, and mass quantities of styling product, and it was still a sea of orange limptitude with a faint sweet-potato scent.

“Coming!”

Mom tapped her hands against her sides, eager to get on the road. When her phone rang, she rummaged through her bag to find it. Her brows furrowed. “Hello? Yes, this is she.… I’m sorry, what?”

I’d been petting Schmidt, but when she said that, I froze. There was just something about her voice. Her face was pale, and she held the back of one of the kitchen chairs so tightly her knuckles went white.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Erick ran downstairs, but I met his eyes and shook my head.

“That’s not possible,” Mom said thickly. Erick and I both moved closer to her, but she wasn’t looking at either one of us. “My husband’s on a plane. We’re about to go pick him up.”

My breath caught in my throat. Jenna’s prediction came floating eerily back to me. Erick reached for my hand and I took it.

“Yes,” Mom said, the word barely more than a whisper. “Yes … that’s his ring. Yes, on his right ankle. I understand, I … Yes.”

She staggered to a drawer and pulled out a pen and paper, scrawling something down.

“Of course,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

She hung up the phone and leaned heavily on the counter, facing away from us, her head bent low.

“Mom?” I said. I sounded like a frightened little girl. “Is Daddy …?”

Mom turned around. Her face was red and splotchy. It took her a long time before she could get out the words.

“There was a car accident near the airport in Miami,” she said, her voice hollow. “Daddy never made it to the plane.”

six weeks later

“Are you
kidding
me?”

I say it out loud because it’s inconceivable any place could be this hot and sticky before eight a.m. My pleated-waist shorts are wrinkling in weird places, and I’m rethinking the muscle tee over tank top that looked cute in the mirror but now just looks meh. The air is so thick it feels like the inside of a sweaty sneaker.

At least I don’t have to rush. Aventura High’s only six blocks away. And I’m not exactly in a hurry to get there. It hasn’t been a great morning. Erick was flying his remotecontrol helicopter pre-dawn, and the thing zoomed into my room, and just as I lifted my head to flip my pillow over, it smacked into me. Hard.

“Owwww!” I cried out as the helicopter bounced off my forehead and landed on my comforter, writhing and twisting. I was already feeling pretty down. I feel that way a lot,
lately. The worst times are those moments right between sleeping and waking up.

When I’m asleep, he’s alive.

When I’m awake, I pretend he’s alive. I fool myself into thinking he’s not gone, he’s traveling. Just like always.

But when I’m in that thick, swimmy place, my senses just waking to reality, it smacks into me, just like Erick’s stupid helicopter did: He’s gone. Forever. And all I see are the scary accident-scene images I force away every other minute of the day and night.

So not only was I miserable, I was in serious pain—the maximum-dose ibuprofen kind.

“Autumn!” Erick said in this accusing tone as he ran in and picked it up. “That was my sky cam. Thanks a lot.”

“Sky cam?” I watched as he detached one of his small camcorders from the bottom of the helicopter. “Seriously? You were filming me sleep?”

“Mom told me to wake you up! You slept through your alarm.” Then he picked up a sock I’d left on the floor and slam-dunked it into my hamper. “Suh-weet! Falls does it again!”

Not true. I didn’t
set
my alarm.

I blinked hard to clear my throbbing head. My brother looked like a kid on a cereal commercial, all bright-eyed and carefree, ready to tackle the day with the help of a good, balanced breakfast. It kind of made me nauseous.

“How are you happy?” I blurted out.

“What?”

“Aren’t you nervous about the first day of school?”

“No,” he said.

“You should be,” I told him, my eyes narrowing. “It’s all new kids. What if nobody likes you?”

“People will like me.” He said it with conviction, but there was doubt in his eyes. I felt a flicker of triumph.

“Maybe they won’t.” I fixed him with a cold stare. “It’s the middle of the year. Everyone already has their friends. Maybe they’ll think you’re some strange intruder who does freaky things like record people in their sleep, and no one will want to hang out with you at all.”

Erick’s mouth dropped open and the confidence drained out of his eyes. It felt satisfying … until he turned around and left, his shoulders hunched.

Then I knew I was the most horrible human being in the universe.

Because what I told him was really how I’m feeling about myself. My brother will be fine. I’m the one no one will want to hang out with. The one who won’t fit in.

“Erick, wait!” I called, guilt filling me. “You left your sky cam!”

“I don’t want it.”

“Erick!” I’d make it up to him later. It’s not that I wanted to be mean to Erick; he’s just handling everything so much better than I am.

I plucked my phone from my night table and texted Jenna two words:
I SUCK
. Then I dragged myself to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. I had a giant red lump
in the center of my forehead. One of the sky cam’s propellers had sliced a cleft right in the middle of the bump, so the end result looked almost exactly like a monkey’s swollen butt.

After a shower that only made the lump even larger and more horrifying, I went back to my room to find my mom on my bed.

“I know,” I said when I saw her reproachful look. “I’m a terrible sister.”

She just patted my pillows, so I sat down next to her. I’m a little taller than she is, which is still kind of weird. Like I’m supposed to be the one taking care of her because I’m bigger.

She put her arm around me and I leaned my head down on hers. “Do I have to go to school?”

“Ever?”

“Is never an option?”

“Do you remember why Daddy named you Autumn?” she asked.

“Because he secretly hated me?”

Think about it
—Autumn Falls
. It’s a full declarative sentence that calls me out as a complete klutz
and
seasonally challenged. Here’s Autumn. What does she do? She falls. Then there’s the other problem. Summer is hot and beachy and outdoorsy and alive; winter is cozy and snowy and tucked in and sleepy. Autumn goes back and forth, not sure what it wants to be. It’s a messy season,
scattered and uncertain. And
that’s
the season I’m named after. Twice.

Is it any wonder I’ve never found my Thing? No, it is not.

“He named you twice for what he thought was the most outstanding season of the year,” Mom said.

“That’s what he thought?” I asked. I know the story, but I wanted to hear her tell it.

“I had a whole list of other girl names, but he only wanted Autumn. He said he’d spent a lot of time getting to know you, and you were definitely Autumn Falls.”

“Getting to know me … before I was born.”

“That’s what he said. And he said you were meant to be Autumn because autumn is complex. It’s hot and it’s cold, it’s a wild mix of colors, and even when its leaves dry out and wither, it’s still beautiful. ‘Autumn is strong and intricate,’ he told me, ‘and our daughter will be too.’ ”

“So you’re saying I have to go to school?” I asked, sighing heavily.

“I’m saying you’re tougher than you think. Whether you go to school or not is up to you. I’ve got to drive Erick now. I love you, Autumn.”

I flopped back on my bed, fully intending to go back to sleep … only I couldn’t close my eyes. Stupid story. I wanted to be strong for my dad. The bump was still a problem, but a little makeup and a strategic shifting of my bangs helped.

When I got downstairs, my mom and Erick were gone.
For a second I gazed at the couch, the dog, and the TV. The three of us could have had a spectacular day together.

Then I picked up a framed photo on the end table. It’s my dad, from our vacation in Bermuda just last August. He’s standing on the pink sand in a superhero pose, pulled up tall with his hands on his hips. He’d lost his sunglasses the day before, so he was wearing a pair of mine that were round and bedazzled, and board shorts covered with Tiki-faced caricatures of U.S. presidents.