by Sasha Hibbs
“You lied! Multiple times,” my dad said. “You lied to us so you could sneak around with the same boy who you were caught with at the school—”
“That’s not fair. He didn’t do it—”
“Don’t interrupt me!” Dad yelled, and I jumped at his words.
“You sneak around with this kid behind our backs all the time we trusted you were dating Jay.” My dad shook his head in disgust while my mom kept her lips pursed tight. “The only thing working toward our advantage is you are a minor and they will not print your name in the paper. I’m going to have to do some serious damage control.”
And there it was. It all came down not to what had happened, but how it would affect our name. In an instant, I was back at the school, lashing out, stripping the walls of their perfection, adding flaws so all that passed by could see. My tears dried up, replaced with anger.
“That’s all it ever is with the two of you. You don’t care about what happened to Sean. You don’t care that Jay’s terrified of what his parents will do if they find out he was with Sean, that he’s gay. You don’t care about anything as long as I’m perfect, your perfect little daughter. Can’t you see I hid dating Mickey from you both because I knew all along you all would never give him a chance? Jay’s parents, they’re the same … that’s why Jay and I used each other so we could see the people we love.”
I balled my fists up at my sides.
“Love?” Mom said incredulously. “Since you’ve been with this boy—”
“Mickey, Mom. His name is Mickey,” I interrupted her.
“Mickey,” she said as though his name were slimy against her palate. “Your father and I abhor violence, Autumn. Of any kind. And Jay being gay is irrelevant to what you did. You lied. You’ve been sneaking out and lying to us. Your father has worked hard to provide everything he has for us and this acute infatuation with Mickey will stop. Immediately.”
It felt like my chest was constricting.
“You can’t make me stop seeing him.” I had never talked to my parents like this. I never had a reason to, but the thought of not being allowed to see Mickey was too terrible a thought to conceive. I wanted to lash out.
“You’re wrong,” Dad said, his knuckles white as he gripped the back of my mother’s chair. “We can and we will.”
I opened my mouth to protest but he continued.
“We are taking away your phone.”
Tap. Tap.
“We are taking away your car.”
Jab.
“Monday, I am driving you in to the school where we will have a meeting with Principal Oliverio.”
Punch.
“You are not to see this boy again so long as you live under our roof.”
Knockout blow.
I had never been in the ring before. I was an amateur. I didn’t know how to fight and win. But I knew I loved Mickey Costello. And where there was love, there was always a way to win. They won this round, but the next one would be mine.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Saturday mostly consisted of me staying in my room. True to their word, my parents took the keys to my car and my cell phone. I kept replaying the events of Friday night over and over in my head. I was haunted by Sean’s pain, Jay’s torment, and all my lies. My parents branded me a liar and up until I got involved with Mickey, I was anything but. I thought back to me telling Mickey I loved him right in front of my dad. He had been stunned, my dad too. But there had been a flicker of forgiveness I thought I saw flash in Mickey’s eyes while my dad’s had boiled with anger.
He’d stuck his hand out to my dad and introduced himself. His hand was met with my dad’s cold indifference. His only acknowledgment of Mickey was to tell him to stay away from his daughter. As my dad hauled me away from the hospital, I glanced over my shoulder and prayed that everything I felt was conveyed in my look. My eyes tried to tell Mickey how sorry I was, that somehow we would find a way to be together, we could get through the atrocity of what happened to Sean, to his family, that we were stronger together than apart.
My parents made me attend church with them on Sunday. Appearances had to be kept, after all. I was anxious to see if Jay and his family would be at the Country Club after church services, but my anxiety soon turned to worry when they never showed. It was a struggle to maintain any kind of conversation with my parents, but my concern for Jay led me to try.
“Why aren’t they here?” I asked my dad.
He glanced at me over his steak and kept his voice clipped. He knew exactly who I was talking about. “I’d say they are dealing with him.”
“Dealing with him? Do you think they know?”
Jay and I were both cowards, but I knew in my gut he would be in more trouble than what I went through Friday night. He’d warned me what would happen to him if his father found out he was gay, and the gravity in his voice, the distant look in his eyes … I believed him.
“Of course they know. A boy was beaten and disfigured,” my mom chimed in. “That’s not something you can hide.”
My head swirled. What would happen to Jay? What would his parents do to him?
“What will happen?” I asked. I was still upset with my parents. Their stares told me the feeling was mutual.
“Unfortunately, unless someone comes forward with information on who attacked Sean, most of the time, these things go unsolved. As for Jay, that’s up to his parents,” Dad said.
“He was afraid,” I said, feeling the need to justify Jay’s actions. “You handle Mr. Aster’s money, Dad. Can you please ask why they weren’t here today? Try and find out if Jay’s okay?”
My dad simply glanced at me.
****
I dreaded Monday. Getting through the weekend was hard enough. I had no way to communicate with Mickey. No way of knowing how Sean was getting along at the hospital. I had no idea if Jay survived his parents’ wrath as I suspected their absence from the Country Club was confirmation they knew something more than what Jay wanted. It was torture. I hated myself for these feelings because regardless of what my parents were doing to me, I wasn’t Sean. I wasn’t confined to a hospital bed wearing a reminder scrawled across my chest of how cruel the world truly was. What love could cost someone.
As promised, at eight a.m. sharp, my dad and I were in Principal Oliverio’s office. I begged him on the way in not to confront Principal Oliverio, but he wouldn’t listen. As we sat in front of his desk, I heard the door open and close. As Principal Oliverio came into view, so did Mr. Romano. Principal Oliverio took his seat and gestured for Mr. Romano to grab the chair in the corner. Mr. Romano dragged the foldup chair over to Principal Oliverio’s desk and situated himself facing me and my dad.
I squared my shoulders and straightened my spine. This was terrible. Far worse than the first time I found myself in his office.
“I’ll get right to it,” my dad started. “I donate a significant amount of money to this institution, and my daughter informs me that as restitution for her infraction months ago, the two of you concocted a plan to have her tutor a boy. This makes no sense to me whatsoever. I’m told over the course of Autumn’s tale, that this boy is brilliant. I ask myself then, why would he require tutoring? The only logical explanation for this scenario is this particular boy is not being held to the same standards as the rest of the subordinates, and that my daughter’s final grade is being used against her in the hopes of gaining compliance out of this hoodlum—”
“Now hold on right there, Mr. Chamberlain—” Mr. Romano started, but my father cut him off sharply by slamming his fist down on Principal Oliverio’s desk, causing a plaque to fall over and rattle against the wood.
“No! You hold on!” Dad yelled.
Principal Oliverio motioned toward his younger brother to be quiet.
“Dad, please calm down. I agreed to tutor Mickey. He’s not to blame—”
“Correct. You two are to blame,” my dad said, waving his finger back and forth between the two brothers. “If Autumn wasn’t in th
e final weeks of her senior year, I would snatch her from this school so fast it would make your heads spin and place her in a private school. You’re damn lucky I’m not reporting this to the Board of Education. I could have your jobs. Using my daughter,” he said, his voice swelling to an angry pitch. “It’s the same as blackmailing her.”
“Please accept our sincerest apologies, Mr. Chamberlain,” Principal Oliverio said as Mr. Romano gritted his teeth. “There were never any malicious intentions on our behalf. The hope was to utilize the talented mind of your daughter to encourage another talented mind to perform better in his studies. We care about all of our students and this one in particular is troubled.”
“Don’t insult me,” Dad said, the disgust clear in his voice. “I don’t give a damn how troubled this punk is. Starting now, my daughter is not allowed to tutor his boy, to be near him. You will rearrange his schedule so they don’t share the same class and so help me, if I find out otherwise, I will report this to every superior within my power and the both of you will be looking for employment elsewhere.”
“Dad, please stop. You’re not being fair. I wanted to help—”
“Not another word, Autumn. It’s not too late for me to change my mind.”
I shot pleading looks to Principal Oliverio and Mr. Romano, but I knew very well there was nothing they could do. My dad had the upper hand. I knew it, he knew it, and the looks on both Principal Oliverio’s and Mr. Romano’s faces told me they knew it too.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Getting through the rest of the day was miserable. It had been a long time since I’d felt so hopeless. My parents crippled me with these new restrictions. I didn’t care about my car, my phone, not sharing the same class with Mickey … it was the absence of a guy that brought so much more into my life that left my chest aching. It didn’t matter how much I tried to reason with my parents, the lengths I went to defend Mickey—that he wasn’t a bad influence on me—they refused to listen. Not only did they take everything away from me, but they limited my travel options down to them, Mary, or the school bus. My anger outweighed the embarrassment of riding the school bus.
After my dad left Principal Oliverio’s office, I acquired the bus schedule from his secretary. There was no sign of Daniel at school. I imagined Sean was still in the hospital and it was too soon for Daniel to come back. I knew it was stupid, but I prayed throughout the day that I would catch a glimpse of Mickey somewhere. Even a glance would hold me over and rekindle my resolve to wait out my parents’ punishment. I would be eighteen soon. I had only ever thought life after eighteen held my college future, but on the other side of that number was Mickey. I never wanted anyone more. The last bell rang, signaling the end of the school day.
I lugged my books in my arms and walked out of the classroom. I had ten minutes before the bus loaded and left. The day couldn’t have been worse. I didn’t know how I was going to make it through the long weeks ahead. Doubts and insecurities started manifesting in my mind. Did Mickey still feel the same way? Would he wait? Did he even forgive me? I thought yes, and then I thought no.
I walked aimlessly down the hallway toward where the bus was waiting outside. Suddenly, I heard a door shriek open and felt arms circle around my waist, pulling me backward. It happened so fast I dropped my books and had no time to react.
“Shh.”
In the dim janitor’s closet I heard that whisper, that voice I knew so well. It was Mickey holding me in the dark, crushing me against his chest and kissing me in a way he never had. He ran his fingers through my hair. My fingers bit into his back. I couldn’t get close enough to him. Once we finally broke from our kiss, he rested his forehead against mine.
“How’s Sean?” I whispered.
“He’s getting discharged in a few hours.”
I wanted to ask so many things, but time was not on our side.
“What are we going to do?” I asked, my lips trembling.
“Do you think it would help for me to drive over and talk to your parents?”
My heart swelled with ache, with love, with longing at his suggestion. Mickey trying to force my parents into consenting would only make them dislike him even more, but I loved him for having the courage I should’ve had all along.
“No. I’m so sorry, Mickey. It’s my fault. If I had been honest with my parents, things might’ve been different.” Even though I said so, I didn’t believe they would have ever approved of him.
“There’s no use in thinking about the past. That’s counterproductive to my plan,” he said, brushing his lips softly against mine.
“Your plan?” I managed to say in between our soft kisses.
“The future. That’s my plan and I’m hoping you want to be part of it.”
My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness. While I was glad for the few moments I had with Mickey, I would’ve given anything to see his eyes. I kissed him in response.
“Mickey, I have to go. I’ll miss the bus and my parents have already taken my car and phone. The last thing I want is for them to pick me up every day because I missed the bus.”
“I’d love to whisk you away on my motorcycle, but I guess I’ll have to resort to Plan B.”
I felt my eyebrows knit together in confusion as I heard the crisp wrinkling of paper. In the next instant, I felt him place it in my hand.
“Where there is a will, there will always be a way,” he said.
****
Never once had I dreamed I’d be thankful to be riding the school bus home instead of driving myself. But the ten-minute drive allowed me to read what Mickey shoved into my hands.
All weekend long I wanted to jump on my bike and drive over to your house … see if you were okay. Don’t be mad at your parents, Autumn. They only want the best for you. If you can wait, so can I. I’ve been waiting since freshman year for you, I can wait longer for the both of us. My locker number is 43. I’ll check it every day before leaving school, and I promise I will look for every chance to steal you away even if it’s only for a few minutes every other day.
I clutched his note to my chest. It was strange reading a letter. We texted, typed, or on the rare occasion, called. Writing was something so old-fashioned, but it held an old-world charm to it. There was something exciting at the thought of exchanging letters. I tucked his into my pocket until I could get it safely hidden in my bedroom.
The bus pulled up to the stop sign outside the gates leading into my community. As I got off the bus, I wondered if my parents thought about me being dropped off outside the gates instead of right up next to our stunning curb. I wouldn’t point that out to them or press my luck. I walked up to the sidewalk and headed toward my house. As I reached it, I saw Dad’s car wasn’t in our driveway but Mary’s still was. Walking through the door, I noticed Mary pulling her coat on, keys in hand.
“Hi, Mary.”
“Hi, Autumn,” she said with a soft look of sympathy.
I knew Mary well enough to know she didn’t hold an ounce of sympathy for me having to ride the bus or my current status of having my accessories confiscated. She’d warned me not to lie, but I knew she loved me too much to tell me she’d told me so.
“Leaving for the day?” I asked the obvious, but I had nothing significant to say in light of the weekend I knew she knew I had.
“Yes, honey. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before leaving.
My mom was sitting on a barstool at the dining room counter when I walked in. She turned to look at me.
“I trust school went well?”
“Which part? The part where Dad embarrassed me in front of my principal and teacher, or the part where I had to ride the bus home?” I gritted my teeth. I told myself I wouldn’t push my luck, be snarky. I needed to make amends and sarcasm wasn’t the way to do it. My anger was still so fresh, though.
“And that is no one’s fault but your own.” She looked at me with a glint of challenge in her gaze.
I took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to get anything accomplished but more trouble if I continued to show resentment. I thought about Mickey’s letter and tried a last-ditch effort in the hopes I could sway my mother’s opinion.
“I can’t argue that,” I began. “But Mom, Mickey is such a great guy. He’s so smart, and he treats me with respect. This is entirely my fault, but you’re not only punishing me, you’re punishing him. Why can’t I have him over for you and Dad to meet? You don’t even know him.”
“That is absolutely out of the question. If he were respectful, he wouldn’t have been painting up the side of the school with you. He wouldn’t require a pretty girl to coax him into going to class. It seems to me that he skips school, makes his own rules, and has no respect for anything but his own desires.”
“Mom, that’s not fair! You just don’t understand. You and Dad never listen to me. I’ve tried to tell you that it wasn’t Mickey’s fault about the graffiti. That was all my idea, he simply happened to be there.” I opened my mouth to defend him against my mom about skipping English, but even with the complicated relationship between him and his uncles, it didn’t sound like a good enough excuse.
“Autumn, this conversation is over. You are not seeing this boy. You can hate your father and me all you want, but it is our job to do what’s best for you. Your judgment has obviously been clouded since meeting this boy and until you can demonstrate better decision-making, this is how things must be. You’re lucky I convinced your father not to pull you from school altogether.”
Her words stung, causing frustration to rise up in me. “I’m sure if Mickey was the son of the Asters, you’d be all about me dating him,” I said. “But he’s poor and that’s what this is really about. You and Dad couldn’t care less about my happiness so long as I date someone from money. Mickey doesn’t fit into our little clique, does he? He drives a beat-up motorcycle, not an Audi. He lives on High Street, not in our perfect gated community. He’s not the quarterback at Clarksburg High, but if he wanted to be valedictorian, he could’ve been. Image. That’s all it will ever be with you.”
