Dream Smashers (23 page)

I’m totally freezing even with my floppy snow
hat, gloves and, winter faux-fur jacket.

Evan pulls me close. “Only two minutes until
the new year. Are you ready to start your resolution?”

I sigh. “I hope so.”

Last night we spent an hour writing our
resolutions. Unlike my previous rules, Evan helped me write
attainable resolutions without having to change my lifestyle. But,
like he says, “Resolutions smezzolutions.”

Resolution Number One: Accept that certain
things are out of my control. For example, I spend way too much
time dreading and hating Jacinda, wanting her to be something that
she will never be. It’s not in my power to change her, but I can
live as an example, and I can try with all of my might not to let
her influence me.

Now, this totally goes against my carefree
philosophy. But in a way it doesn’t because we all know how Ms.
Lightheart turned out, and I know now that carefree is a state of
mind. It’s a way of looking at things. I can look at Jacinda as
being a burden, or as a very frustrating, agonizing, embarrassing,
scary, heartbreaking learning experience.

And that’s all we wrote for resolutions. One
is enough to keep me busy for a lifetime.

Grams hobbles through the crowd of sweaty
cold runners hopping around, waiting for the signal to run. She
nudges people with her cane to move them out of the way. I bought
her a wicked-awesome hand-made wood cane for Christmas. Well, I
borrowed money from her to buy my presents, but still, it’s
cool.

“Hello, dear.” She hugs Evan. “Where’s Caleb
and Rainy?”

I motion with my eyes to the tree.

“You two break it up.” Grams waves her cane
into the air, as if breaking up a fight.

Evan and I laugh.

I hobble on my crutches to the two lovebirds
and plow right in between them. “Yeah! Break it up, dorks.”

Rainy pushes me off, laughs and tries to
punch me but her fist slices air instead. “You’re the dork!”

“Yeah, but I’m fast.” I swing my crutch and
gently stab her on the arm, giving my best Rainy impression. “Oh,
baby, am I fast.”

“You better be fast.” Evan grabs me from
behind, wrapping his arms around my torso. I drop my walking
devices. “I’ve got you now.”

I turn to face him. His oven-baked breath
warms the blood in my cheek. My heart stutters. Fairies nip the
surface of my arms with tingly-kisses.

People countdown around us as one loud
booming voice, “Ten, nine, eight—“

An anxious feeling bubbles along with my
stomach acid. Another year has passed. No matter how many times
this happens, it still feels so exhilarating—like we’re given
another chance at a renewed life. A chance to fix everything that
is wrong or bad or negative in the days of history. But really, on
January second, life resumes as it always has. Sure, some people
fulfill their goals or even continue on with their happy new chance
for a month or so, but soon, the real them comes back. You can
always change the exterior, but the core will remain the same. I’m
still excited about the possibilities the future holds, though.

“Five, four, three, two, one!”

Evan puts his hands up to my face. The heat
melts my ears. He looks at me.

“Happy New Year, Autumn.”

“Happy New Year.”

He pulls me close and kisses me for a moment,
and then hugs me long and hard. He lifts me into the air and we
twirl around with the rest of the people who dance, cheer, kiss,
blow horns, and sing.

This is going to be a good year.

Rainy and Caleb come crashing into our
personal party.

“Happy New Year!” Rainy screams at the top of
her lungs.

Grams and Jacinda stand off to the side,
watching. Grams smiles, but Jacinda looks angry as usual.

I give Grams a hug. “Happy New Year.”

Her body shakes. She nods her head and says,
“Happy New Year, dear.”

Evan and Caleb sprint over to love on Grams.
After one last hug, they’re off to run their race.

“Good luck!” Rainy and I holler in
unison.

Evan blows me a kiss. I catch it and put it
in my pocket.

Then they disappear. The crowd of bobbing
flesh swallows them whole.

“You guys are pretty pathetic.” Jacinda
scowls.

Deep breaths.

Grams lights a cigarette and inhales. She
blows the smoke out through her nostrils. If not for the nasty
aroma, the smoke could fool the world as being innocent fog. “You
were young once. Let them be.”

Rainy stands next to me and crosses her arms
in a fashion that says ‘back off.’ We are a united front against
the dream smasher before us.

“Oh please, Ma! I was never
that
pathetic,” Jacinda says with a slur.

As I watch her now, I see the only real side
of Jacinda that I’ve ever known. The sliding down a slippery slope
side. She’s in super bitch mode—crash mode. And when she crashes,
she drinks.

A strong stench glides its way to my
nostrils, spoiled warm alcohol. Nothing else smells like it.
Nothing compares. Alcohol smells like, well, alcohol. I guess urine
is close, but not quite. Like the bar she used to drag me to when I
was little, in the middle of the night, just at closing. Before
Grams and Gramps took me from her. When beer and fruit tainted
drinks layered the floor and I was stuffed under a table, hidden
from other patrons until Jacinda got herself kicked out, leaving me
forgotten to fall asleep until daylight. Only then would someone
discover me. Someone who must have known who I was because they
didn’t turn me over to authorities. Instead they handed me back to
the evil monster. Those memories, those smells, are burned into my
brain forever.

She reeks, and I hate it.

My blood turns to gasoline, ready to combust
at any given spark. I’m pretty sure steam escapes my body in the
cold air and that Rainy sees it because she wraps her arm through
mine, giving me the kindle to ignite. “You promised!” I say. My
throat burns.

Jacinda’s breathing turns raspy and increases
in rate. Her jaw clenches as does her fists.

To reiterate my point, I say, “You’re a
liar!”

Grams walks away, as if she doesn’t want to
deal with anything anymore. She must think I’m old enough to cope
with the dream smasher on my own—my wicked ghost who haunts me
daily.

Jacinda’s bottom lip curls. “Now look what
you’ve done.” She too walks away, but then, turns back to face me.
“I ain’t promised
you
nothing.”

“Yes you did. You promised Grams too!”

“Do you ever wonder why I hate summer so
much?” She snarls. “Why I left summer out of your name?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” My
mind races to think of a single reason why she could possibly hate
summer.

One by one, rain drops plop onto the
sidewalk, trees, us.

Only a maniac would like winter over
summer.

“When were you born?” She glares.

I don’t answer her. I don’t have to. July
10
^th
. I’m the reason she hates summer.

Plop, plat, ding, tick, pitter. My fuse is
out, spent.

Air escapes Rainy with a hiss. “Oh, she did
not just say that.” She marches over to Jacinda who takes a step
back. “You have no right to talk to Autumn like that. She didn’t
ask to have a junkie for a mom, but look what’s she’s got.” She
pricks the air with her finger, pointing at Jacinda. “You—“

“It’s not worth it.” I hobble toward Rainy
and put my hand on her shoulder, stopping her from saying another
word. “Don’t waste your breath. Nothing we say will change a
thing.”

Jacinda’s face scrunches into a grimace,
reminding me of a picture Grams has of her as a kid at the circus.
A clown handed her a balloon, probably getting a little too close,
and that’s when someone snapped the photo. With fear in her eyes
and a frown on her lips, she held a hand close to her body and
cranked her torso away from the scary clown. In a way, I’m the
scary clown, and she’s still the little girl afraid to enjoy the
gift being offered.

I wipe the drops of rain from my brow. “Mom.
We’re not gonna do this anymore. I don’t ever want to see you
again.”

Rivers pour from Jacinda’s eyes. She smears
her nose with the back of her hand.

“I mean, when you’re clean, then you can see
me. But, until then, I’m done.” And I am too. I wait for some sort
of pain to stab my guts or a sense of freedom to overcome me or
tears to burn my eyes, but none of that happens. I feel…normal. Not
happy, not sad. Indifferent.

Jacinda sniffles one more time. “Okay.” She
nods her head, turns and then fades away into the fog.

The rain turns into a shower.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

One Year Later

“Are you sure about this?” Evan hollers as
loud as he can to be heard over the engine and wind. He looks
fantastically bug-like with giant goggles covering half his
face.

I nod my head, hesitant, even though I know
in my heart of hearts that this is going to be the most amazing
thing ever in the history of things that I’ve done. I can’t wipe
the smile off my face, even if I had a wet wipe to do so. It’s not
like we could turn back now anyway. We are in the plane, impelling
super-fast in the air to the drop zone 14,000 feet high. To me,
that seems like the height of outer space.

My tandem dude hooks himself to the harnesses
around me and signals for me to move toward the exit. I try not to
pee my pants.

Rainy and Angel look rad in pink jumpsuits
and matching goggles. Fortunately for us, the tandem sky-dive
company offers jumpsuits in two fashionable color choices—pink or
blue. Rainy’s smile stretches as wide as mine. She gives Caleb a
wink, but I can tell that she’s just as freaked as I am.

Angel grins with an I’m-not-sure-about-this
look on her face. I’m surprised I got her to come at all. Outside
of school and church, this is the first we’ve convinced her to do
something with us since James died.

The three-minute signal buzzes, my heart
leaps, and my muscles become rigid. I can’t stop laughing at how
ridiculously stupid this is. If the chute doesn’t open, I’ll end my
life as a pancake with some tandem parachute guy that I just met
squished on top of me. Not the way I plan on dying.

The wind blows—hard and stinging. Out the
door, below us, a quilt covers the ground. Olive, beige, brown,
lime, asparagus, forest green, chocolate, earth, every shade of
green and every shade of brown imaginable are represented in the
patchwork that lay before us—far, far, far below us.

The green light flashes above the door. Two
experienced jumpers throw themselves out.

Paralyzing Fear introduces himself.

I turn around. Rainy, Angel and Caleb attach
themselves to their tandem dudes. Evan smiles at me, giving me a
thumbs-up and a wink.

“Are you ready?” my tandem dude says. I don’t
answer. We step toward the door whether I’m ready or not. “Ready,
Set, Go!”

We jump.

Air shoots up my nose, making it hard to
breathe.

I’m falling with nothing to grasp onto,
nothing to stop me, only air.

The knot holding the beaded hemp bracelet my
mother made to my wrist suddenly unravels. The bracelet vanishes
upwards. Gone. Forever.

Sloppy-emotion bubbles and consumes my guts
and comes out in a completely irrational and uncontrollable
laugh.

Pure. Freedom.

Giving Thanks

Dream Smashers was a difficult novel to
write. For putting up with my more than usual impatience and
irritability, I thank my son and husband. I love them to pieces.
They gave me space to work through the demons of this story and
supported me until the end.

My dad’s an awesome poet. He inspires me to
write from the heart. My mom’s my cheerleader and biggest fan. For
some reason, she thought she’d be able to retire when I published
my books, which makes me smile out of flattery and laugh at the
same time.

I am fortunate to have an awesome group of
critique partners and authors who worked with me on making Dream
Smashers the best it can be: Gary Corbin, Kate Davis, Cheryl Sears,
Carolyn J. Rose, Randal Houle, and the peeps from PDX Word
Wranglers (Vannessa, Mark, Joe, Erik, Phillip, Thomas, and Dawn). I
also appreciate Monique Bucheger for her help with prayers.

Katie McAllister (my other biggest fan) and
Breanna Kurth for reading Dream Smashers in its early stage and
telling me it wasn’t as good as my other novels. (In other words,
it needed to be rewritten. Again and again and again.)

Thanks to Ali McCart from Indigo Editing in
Portland for her superb advice and remarks on the first draft.

One agent of over a hundred who took the time
to give me feedback was John M. Cusick. Thank you.

Megg Jensen, Karly Kirkpatrick, and G.P.
Ching welcomed me into the DarkSide. They are awesome writers with
fabulous YA books available now. They are also formatting
goddesses. Much thanks to them.

Publishing this book became one of the
scariest things I’ve ever done. It’s not easy putting your soul
down on paper and then exposing it to the world. Book bloggers are
a portal to readers and I appreciate all the hard work they put
into their blogs and reviews to help readers find good books and
authors promote their work.

Thanks to Danae Ayusso for introducing me to
Wattpad.

And thanks to you, the reader, for supporting
my writing.

About the Author

Angela Carlie writes fiction about young
people. She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her
husband and son. She loves reading, writing, hiking, kayaking, and
traveling.