A Year Without Autumn

by Liz Kessler

  Autumn gets out of the car and marches ahead with Mikey. I trail behind with Mrs. Leonard.

  “Can’t Mikey stay with you?” I say uselessly.

  “I’ve got a spa appointment, and then I’m meeting my husband for a hot date at the rec center after his squash match,” she says, laughing. “Hey, what’s wrong with Mikey all of a sudden? You’ve never minded him being around before.”

  We cross a dusty yard and head toward the far corner. A wooden RECEPTION sign is nailed onto the wall.

  Inside, a bunch of excited girls are lining up with their parents. A woman behind a small desk is scribbling something on a form. She gets up to fetch a couple of helmets. Bits of straw litter the ground; a leathery smell wafts across the room.

  Mikey runs over. “She says I can go, too,” he says, grinning as the woman comes over to him with a helmet in her hand.

  “Try this one,” she says, handing Mikey the helmet. She looks familiar. Where have I seen her before?

  As she turns to us and smiles, I realize where I’ve seen her. It’s the woman from the news program!

  My body shakes. It’s going to happen. Soon — within hours — and no one knows it except me. It’s still going to happen!

  Everyone’s acting so normal: smiling, laughing, trying on helmets. How can they do that? I can’t just stand back and watch it happen, I can’t!

  Autumn takes the helmet she’s offered and goes to wait outside in the yard. I follow her when I’ve got mine and we say good-bye to her mom.

  “Autumn, please listen,” I say, my voice low so no one else can hear me. I’m going to tell her the truth. I’ve no choice.

  “Come on, Jen. Just go with it,” she says, grinning as she fastens the strap on her helmet. “You never know, it might even be as much fun as the candle museum.” Then she bursts out laughing.

  I take a breath. “It’s not safe. Something awful is going to happen to Mikey if he comes horseback riding today.”

  She stops what she’s doing. “Oh, Jenni. Please don’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Resort to sci-fi stories as a way to get me to listen. If you don’t want to come, don’t, but please stop trying to spoil it for me and my brother. Give him a break.”

  “Autumn, just listen to me!” I snap. “I’m not trying to spoil it for you or Mikey. I’m trying to warn you!”

  “Warn me? So you can see into the future now, can you? What are you, a psychic?”

  The woman from the stables has come out of the office. “OK, all those on the ride, this way,” she says, striding off to a row of stables on the other side of the yard. Autumn hurries after her. “I’m Carol, by the way,” the woman calls over her shoulder as she walks. There are ten of us. Four girls who look about my age, all giggling together; a gangly boy on his own, pacing awkwardly along behind them; an older couple; and the three of us.

  How am I going to stop this from happening?

  I scurry to the front of the group, following just behind Carol and Autumn. Carol stops at the first stable. “This is Hunter,” she says, stroking his nose. “Very good-natured, easy to control, but powerful when he wants to be. Mark, you can take him; you’ve ridden before, haven’t you?”

  The gangly boy blushes and nods quickly.

  Moving on, Carol casts her eye over the group. “Marion,” she says, motioning the older woman to come forward. “You want to take Star?”

  “Okeydoke.” Marion smiles, tickling the horse’s nose.

  Carol moves on to the next stable. “Now, here’s one of our new boys,” she says, reaching in to pat the horse in the next stable. The horse jerks its head up, batting her hand away. It’s got a dark-brown nose, a thin white stripe running down the center. “He’s young, but he’s a darling. He’ll be suitable for one of the children. He can be a little feisty,” she says, smiling, “but sweet as pie if you keep him in check.”

  Mikey steps forward. “I like him,” he says. “What’s his name?”

  “Angus.”

  My blood runs cold. Angus. Mikey takes another step forward, reaching out to stroke him.

  “I want him!” I burst out. It’s him! The horse from the TV. The one that threw Mikey off.

  “You?” Autumn snorts. “I thought you didn’t even want —”

  “I want him,” I repeat.

  Carol turns to me. “Can you ride?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I say firmly. Autumn opens her mouth to speak. “I’ve ridden lots,” I add quickly. “Please let me ride Angus.”

  Carol looks me up and down. “OK.” She smiles. “You’re about the right height.”

  She moves on, the rest of the group following her to the next stable. “Now, this is Mouse,” I hear her say. She points to Mikey. “Same size as Angus. Not quite so spirited but loves trail rides. Want to take him?”

  Mikey agrees. Autumn takes the next horse. She’s called Winter. As the group moves on, she gives her horse a stroke before turning to look at me over her shoulder. “What are you up to?” she asks.

  “I’m not up to anything.”

  “Yes, you are. Pretending to be all psyched when you don’t even want to be here. What’s going on?”

  “I just liked the look of Angus. Anything wrong with that?”

  I glance across at Mikey. He’s still stroking his horse. Mouse nuzzles into Mikey’s shoulder as Autumn shrugs and turns away.

  “Come on, Jenni,” Carol calls from her horse. Everyone else has gotten on and is waiting for me, surrounding me in the yard.

  I try to smile as I stand next to Angus, gripping the bridle and praying he won’t step on my foot. Carol jumps down from her horse. “Come on,” she says. “I’ll give you a leg up.”

  She reaches up to Autumn and hands her the reins to her horse. “You look confident enough up there. Hold on to Misty for a minute, would you?”

  Autumn watches me as she takes the reins.

  “Bend your leg,” Carol says, standing behind me and heaving me up into the air. Oh, heck, she’s lifting me onto the horse!

  I’m up. High up in the air, clutching the reins. “Thanks,” I say, my voice shaking.

  “Adjust your stirrups,” Carol says.

  I look down at my feet. Adjust my stirrups? How do I do that?

  With a sigh, Carol comes back to my side. “Bend your leg forward,” she says, then yanks at a strap under the saddle. She walks around to the other side and does the same.

  “You sure you’ve ridden before?” she asks.

  “Yeah, lots,” I say, forcing a laugh. “I just didn’t hear you properly.”

  “OK, well, ride at the back with me to begin with, so I can keep an eye on you. Angus can get a bit frisky. Just keep a firm grip on the reins, OK?”

  “OK,” I say woodenly. And then she’s moving away and jumping back onto her horse.

  “Walk on, everybody,” she calls, waving the riders past her. She indicates a girl on horseback ahead of us who must work at the stables, too. “Sue will lead from the front. I’ll stay at the back. The rest of you, stay in between us, OK?”

  “You goof,” Autumn says with a laugh as she passes me. “At least we’re here, though. It’s not all that bad, is it?”

  “No, it’s great,” I say through gritted teeth.

  Autumn laughs again before kicking her horse and trotting to catch up with Mikey, who’s up ahead walking alongside Mark.

  I copy everyone’s movements, squeezing my legs into the horse’s sides. “Come on, Angus,” I say under my breath. “Be good for me.” He pulls at the reins, stretching his head out and making me lurch forward in my seat before he settles into a steady walk.

  We ride down to an old railroad track that’s been turned into a walkway. Trees reach across the top, in a ferny arch. Flies buzz around the horses’ heads as we walk along in a line, hooves thudding gently on the ground.

  Angus is behaving himself perfectly. I’m even starting to enjoy it. It’s easy. All I have to do is hold on to the reins and sit st
ill. He does the rest.

  “We’re turning here,” Sue calls from up at the front. I look to see where she’s pointing. The path leads up through the trees to another path higher up.

  “There are some lovely open fields up here where we can canter.”

  “Excellent,” one of the girls in front of me says to the girl alongside her. “I thought we were going to walk all afternoon.”

  “Boring!” her friend replies.

  The horses turn up toward the high path. “Come on, Angus,” I whisper. “Up here.” He stops at the bottom of the new path. “Come on,” I repeat. Nothing. He won’t move.

  Carol’s right behind me. “Give him a kick,” she says. “Walk on, Angus.”

  I bounce my heels against his sides the way I’ve seen the others do. Angus pulls on the bridle, yanking me forward.

  “Steady,” Carol says. She rides around to my side and tugs gently on the bridle. Angus jerks his head up again but still doesn’t move. I grip the reins with sweaty palms. Come on, Angus. Please don’t do this.

  Carol gives him a tap with her whip. He gives one more yank on the reins, rearing up slightly before settling down again. “Give him a little kick,” she says again. “Just gently. Use your heels.”

  I squeeze my heels into his sides, and he finally edges forward. As he follows the others up the path, I breathe a sigh of relief. My heart’s racing.

  The path takes us up to a wide meadow. I can’t see the end of it. All I can see is green open fields. Is this where Autumn encouraged Mikey to gallop? A thought crashes into my head so hard it takes my breath away: What if it happens to me? What if Angus gallops across the field and I’m the one who’s thrown off, I’m the one who ends up —?

  “OK, gather around me, everyone,” Carol calls the group together, thankfully breaking into my thoughts. “Those of you who are happy to have a canter here can do so. We’re heading over there to the stream and the woods.” She points to some trees in the distance. “Hands up who’s ready to do that?”

  The group of girls raise their hands. So does Autumn. The only people who don’t are Mark, Mikey, me, and the older couple.

  “Mikey, you can canter — come with us,” Autumn whispers.

  “He’s fine with me!” I snap, before he can reply. Autumn just gives me a funny look and starts to head off with the other girls.

  “You go ahead with Sue,” Carol says to Autumn. “The rest of you stay close to me, OK?”

  I nod, holding tight on to the reins as I watch the others charge across the field, Autumn racing ahead at the front. Mikey’s just ahead of me. Safe. I’m starting to breathe almost normally again. Nearly there, nearly there.

  “We’ll just take it at a steady trot,” Carol says. “You guys OK with that?”

  As we set off, I bounce around in the saddle, jigging and slipping. I hang around behind the others so they won’t notice. Every time Carol looks around, I try to lift myself in the stirrups the way the others are doing.

  “Just along that river for a bit, then down a lane to Mile End Farm, and that’s our halfway point,” Carol calls to us.

  Mile End Farm! My throat tightens another notch.

  “Sounds fine,” I force myself to say. The others smile and nod.

  As we approach the river, I recognize the surroundings. It’s where they filmed the news report. We’re near the farm now. This is where it happened.

  They’re all waiting on the other side of the river. Even Mikey’s already gone across.

  But I can’t do it. The horse, Angus, he galloped up to the river, and plunged down the bank without slowing. That’s how Mikey was thrown off. And now he’s going to do it to me. It’s all going to happen to me instead!

  No. No, it doesn’t have to be like that. I’m not galloping. I’m not Mikey. I’ve changed the past. I’m safe. I can do it.

  “Come on, Jenni.” Carol’s calling from behind me. I’m gripping the reins tight, yanking Angus’s head upright and making him dance jerkily at the water’s edge. If I’m not careful, I’ll make him buck me off. I’ve got to cross it.

  Autumn’s watching me from the other side, laughter in her eyes. Mikey is next to her, staring at me like all the others.

  “Come on, Jenni. What’re you waiting for?” he calls.

  Why don’t any of you understand? This is serious!

  Then Angus makes his own mind up and walks into the water. I can’t look. I’ve virtually got my eyes closed as he gracefully steps across. Two seconds later, we’ve done it. We’re across! I want to scream and laugh. We’ve avoided the accident! I’ve changed everything! It’s not happened to Mikey, and it’s not going to happen to me, either!

  I’m so desperate to tell someone. I wish Autumn would listen to me. All the things we’ve talked about, all the sci-fi stories we’ve shared, maybe she really would understand, if I could think of the right way to tell her. I’ll find a way, one day.

  As we head up the lane, I can feel my confidence growing. I pass a couple of the girls, making my way toward Autumn at the front. I’ll tell her everything, I’ll make it into a joke or something. I’ll enjoy the second hour of the ride as we head back to the stables. It’s all going to be OK; I know it is. Mikey’s riding alongside Autumn, the two of them confident and happy — I feel almost as confident as they look, now that I’ve stopped the accident.

  “Autumn!” I call her as I pass the rest of the group. I’m grinning, waiting for her to turn as I go around the outside of the two girls behind her.

  “Jenni!” Carol shouts from behind me. “You’re in the middle of the road!”

  It all happens so quickly.

  The car comes from behind me. Too fast. Tearing along a little country lane at about eighty miles an hour, zooming past, virtually scraping into me.

  Angus jumps up, throwing his head high. I grip the reins. Mikey turns at that moment, to see what’s happening. I can see the horror in his eyes.

  Pulling hard on the reins, somehow I manage to get Angus to the side of the road. I’m panting, almost breathless with fear and relief. That was so close.

  But then I look up. I almost see it happen in slow motion, frame by frame. Mikey’s horse, spooked by the car, rears up like a rodeo horse as the car disappears into the distance. Mikey’s face is sheer terror. He’s slipping in the saddle, grasping the horse’s mane, his body hurled forward again as Mouse plunges back to the ground.

  “Autumn! Help!” he yells. Mouse is kicking out with his back legs now. Mikey’s completely lost control.

  Mikey. My throat closes up.

  And then he’s in the air. Mouse has thrown him off. One silent, almost calm, moment. And then the worst sound in the world — a sickening thud as Mikey meets the ground.

  People are leaping off their horses. I just sit, staring openmouthed at my best friend’s little brother lying motionless on the road.

  It’s just like before. I can’t speak, can’t utter a word.

  All this. Everything I’ve been through, and it didn’t change a thing.

  I jump down from Angus and pass the reins to Mark, who’s pulled up alongside me. Everyone’s getting off their horses and crowding around Mikey. I join Autumn by his side.

  “Mikey, can you hear me?” I ask breathlessly.

  Then Mikey opens his eyes and frowns at me. “Of course I can,” he says. And then he slowly sits up. He sits up! He’s all right!

  Rubbing his head, he carefully gets to his feet.

  “Mikey, are you sure you’re all right?” Autumn asks, holding on to his arm.

  He shakes her off. “I’m fine, sis. No big deal.”

  A moment later, Carol’s in front of him. “Mikey? Where does it hurt?” she asks.

  “It’s just my head. Just banged it a bit. I’m fine, honestly!”

  I’m so relieved, I can’t speak. I changed it — I really changed it. Mikey’s fine. Everything’s going to be OK!

  And then something happens that feels sickeningly familiar, but I can’t think w
hy. Carol takes her horse back from Sue and walks Mikey’s horse over to her. “Take Mouse back will you?” she says. “I think Mikey should ride back with me on Magic.”

  “I’m OK. Stop fussing, everyone,” Mikey says. “I can ride back.”

  Carol shakes her head. “Just to be on the safe side.” Then she helps him up onto her horse and gets on behind him. “We’ll take it nice and slowly back to the stables. Follow me, guys. Sue, you bring up the rear this time.”

  She starts to walk away, Mikey sitting in front of her, all the others starting to follow after them. And I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything — because I’ve realized something terrible. Something I only know from the news report that will be on television tonight.

  This is exactly what happened last time.

  “Come on, slowpoke. What are you waiting for?” Autumn says as she pulls up alongside me on her horse. We’re walking up the lane by Mile End Farm. I’m trying to figure out what I can say to Carol, and what I can do to change this — even though part of me can’t help wondering whether Mikey really is all right. He certainly seems it.

  “That was close, wasn’t it? Thought he was a goner for a minute there!” Autumn says with a laugh.

  How can she laugh?

  I’m trying to figure out how to reply when a car turns into the lane ahead of us.

  Dad! He’s here!

  He pulls up and gets out of his car, just as Carol and Mikey reach him. They stop beside the car. I kick Angus on, to catch up with them.

  “Hey, what’s happened here, then? Got lazy, did you?” Dad asks Mikey with a wink.

  Mikey grimaces at Dad. “I’m fine,” he says. “Fell off my horse, so they won’t let me go back on my own. But I’m OK, honestly. Just bumped my head a bit.”

  As I pull up alongside Carol and Mikey, Dad glances across at me and smiles. “Hey, sweetheart, you having a good time?”

  A good time? Am I having a good time? I look across at Mikey. That’s when I notice the back of his head, right below his helmet, is swollen up like a tennis ball. Suddenly I can see that things aren’t quite how they seem. What was it Autumn said earlier? The surgeon’s words: that the bleed had spread too far for them to operate because he hadn’t been brought to hospital in time. That even one hour could have made all the difference. How Autumn wished she hadn’t believed Mikey when he said he was fine.