The Last Confession of Autumn Casterly

by Meredith Tate

  MISSING: Autumn Natasha Casterly

  AGE: 18

  Last seen at Concord High School,

  Friday, September 20th

  Please contact Katherine or Steve Casterly.

  Our phone number and address are typed below. I’m not sure what would piss off Autumn most: the fact that our stepmom hung her picture on telephone poles like she’s a lost cat, the fact that it’s printed in Comic Sans on pink paper, or the fact that Kathy listed herself as Autumn’s contact.

  “Hung them everywhere,” Kathy says proudly. “Put some up at Panera, hung them on the bulletin board at Shaw’s, and tacked about fifty of these suckers all over the high school.”

  Yeah. Autumn’s going to be pissed.

  Dad stands up and heads for the fridge.

  “What do you think, Steve?” Kathy waves one of the flyers like a flag. “Got two hundred more waiting in my car.”

  “I think she’s going to be upset.”

  “And?” Kathy holds up her hand, waiting for an answer. “What, you’re afraid she’ll be mad at you? For caring about her?”

  “That’s how Autumn works. She wants us to stay out of it.”

  “You’re being awfully blasé. Your daughter is missing.”

  Dad closes his eyes. “I know.”

  “You don’t seem very concerned. Maybe you should do something productive to find her instead of moping at the table.”

  “You think I’m not concerned?” Dad raises his voice, and it’s the first time I’ve ever heard him yell at Kathy. “Dammit, Katherine, she’s my daughter.”

  I tug at my sweatshirt hem. Dad and Kathy never fight. I wish they’d wait until I’m out of the room.

  “Well, maybe if you’d set some boundaries over the past three years, she wouldn’t be like this!”

  Dad’s grip tightens around the mug handle, his knuckles bleached white. “Don’t tell me how to raise my children.”

  “I can’t even believe you right now.” Kathy anchors a hand on her hip, crinkling the paper. “It’s like Ivy and I are the only ones actually worried about her. Right, Ivy?”

  I stare at the floor. She’s right, but I’m not thrilled she dragged me into this.

  Dad pushes to his feet. “We’re not having this discussion right now.” He brushes out of the room, leaving his empty mug behind.

  I tuck my head into my sweatshirt hood. Sometimes when there’s conflict, I pretend I’m in a turtle shell and no one can see me. Even without the Ninja Turtle mask, I’m pretty much always Michelangelo, only without the mad nunchuck skills.

  Kathy rips open the fridge, muttering something that sounds like unbelievable.

  I’m not sure what makes me do it, but I follow him. “Dad. Wait.”

  He pauses on the third step but doesn’t look at me. His whole body deflates, like someone punctured him and let all the air out. “What is it, Ivy? I’m already late for work.”

  Anger wells up inside me. It’s always work. You know how people are always worried their parents have a favorite kid, and it’s not them? My dad does have a favorite child: his auto shop. “Every time anything happens, you just disappear. Poof.” I throw my hands up.

  “Someone has to pay for this house, Ivy. I know you don’t get that. Someday, when you have a job, you’ll—”

  “Are you kidding me right now?” I’m shocked at the words flying out of my mouth, but I can’t stop myself. “Don’t tell me someday I’ll understand. I understand perfectly: Autumn’s missing, and you’re going to work.”

  “She knows I’m here if she needs me.”

  “She’s gone. She needs you to find her.”

  “I don’t know how to raise two girls by myself. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do when this happens. What do you do when your own daughter hates you?”

  “Dad—”

  He tilts his head back and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

  I start to follow him but end up standing and watching as he takes the remaining stairs. His bedroom door thuds shut.

  Maybe Dad’s given up on finding Autumn, but I haven’t.

  AUTUMN

  The smell of moldy cedar envelops me. I already know, before I open my eyes, that I’m back in my broken body.

  A groan escapes me, and I feel it everywhere; knives stab into my lungs, pokers press against my sides, and my dry mouth sears. Exhaustion and a dull ache pin me to the cold floor.

  My eyelids crack open and I startle. Someone is crouching over me. A black ski mask covers his face, and a pair of yellow goggles hides his eyes. He tugs the gag out of my mouth.

  “Who are you?” I rasp, but it comes out a jumbled mess that leaves my throat searing and raw.

  I can’t see his eyes, but I can tell they’re fixed on me. It sends a shudder rippling through to my core. The man shoves the gag back into my mouth.

  He stands and brushes dirt off his jeans; a few flecks sprinkle onto my face. My captor pushes open the wooden door, and the sliver of sun grows into a wedge that burns my retinas. I flinch away from the light. The door slams shut behind him, echoing in the small space and drowning me in darkness. When my eyes adjust, I squint at the strips of light shining through the slats in the walls. They stretch up my body like prison bars.

  I try to prop myself up, but my elbow buckles and sends another wave of pain shooting through me. With a metallic grumble, the familiar chain loops back through the door and the padlock clicks shut, sealing me inside.

  My eyes frantically scramble to soak up everything they can. A dusty blue tarp covers something that looks like a lawn mower. Rusty tools dangle from hooks in the walls. Old shelves stack high over my head, their contents silhouetted in the dark room. None of this helps me. I could be anywhere.

  Footsteps patter outside.

  “She’s awake.” The man’s voice seeps through the wood. I strain for a hint of recognition, but I’ve got nothing. He’s a stranger.

  “What do you mean?” Another voice—deeper, scratchier. I don’t recognize this guy, either. “She wasn’t supposed to wake up.”

  My ears twitch, straining to hear everything.

  “We tied her up good. I don’t think she can walk.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” says the second voice. “We’ve got to get rid of her.”

  Their voices fade, and I’m alone again.

  I gasp for air like a fish out of water. I have to get out of here. I have to tell Ivy. Now.

  IVY

  The entire time I’m in the shower, something’s pulling at me. It’s like there’s an invisible fishhook in the back of my head, latching on and prying and begging me to keep looking.

  I lather coconut shampoo through my hair, rehashing every moment with Autumn over the past few weeks. She must’ve said something, let something slip.

  I keep coming back to Hailey Waters and the text to her on Autumn’s phone. Autumn asked about her on Thursday afternoon. It was the first time she’d said anything to me in a month. Maybe I’m grasping at straws, but I can work with this.

  I’m so eager, I almost slip and face-plant over the tub ledge getting out of the shower. Hot steam coats the mirror, but goose bumps still prickle down my skin. Like someone’s watching me. It’s unsettling. I wrap my hair in a towel, throw on some clothes, and grab Autumn’s phone. I read that same text again, the one that Autumn sent Hailey on Thursday night.

  Autumn: How’s Owen?

  I swear I’ve never heard of any Owen before. Granted, other than band kids and the Nerd Herd, my circle is pretty small. Owen could be someone who doesn’t even go to Concord, but if Hailey and Autumn both know him, chances are he does.

  I pull out last year’s yearbook and start thumbing through names. It isn’t until I get to the juniors that I find the only Owen in our school: Owen Price. He’s cute—he’s g
ot curly brown hair and dimples, and wore a Godzilla shirt that I want to steal in his school photo. If he was one or two grades younger, he’d be a new recruit for the Nerd Herd. I can tell just by looking at him. Whoever he is, he has something to do with Hailey—and Autumn.

  I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts, stopping on Hailey’s name. But my thumb hesitates.

  The thing about marching band is, there are over a hundred people in it, but we’re all like one giant, nosy family who knows way too much about one another. For example, Luke Hawkins wears red boxers with little foxes on them. I know this because after the freezing-cold Exeter Christmas Parade last year, he shoved a couple of hand warmers into his pants and ran up to people asking them to feel his “hot ass.” Then they got too hot, so he ripped his pants off, right there in the middle of the bus back to school. Likewise, Megan Plummer, who’s in my grade, hooked up with Kyle Zhang, a senior, in the unisex music-wing bathroom after Tuesday night band camp practice in August. I didn’t see it personally, but that stuff gets around. I guess all those hours packed into a sweaty bus together can do that.

  So I already know Hailey won’t want to tell me why Autumn was looking for her. She’s had her heart set on getting into BU for forever, and she just applied early decision. Her boyfriend, Logan Kerch, applied there, too. Pretty sure they’re going to get married. If Hailey’s into drugs, she wouldn’t want anyone to know.

  I type, Hey, can we talk? in my text window with Hailey, but my thumb just hovers over Send. I rotate the phone in my hands for a good five minutes. No. This won’t work. If she knows anything, she’d never send it over text.

  I hop on my bike and head downtown to Red River Theater. Red River is this awesome artsy theater where they show foreign films and indie movies and serve Polar Seltzer and fine chocolates. It’s where all the indie kids and rich old people go. I hope Hailey’s working today.

  The September sun burns especially strong, and by the time I get to Main Street, a layer of sweat has plastered my hair to my head beneath my helmet. I lock my bike to the rack by the entrance and plow through the door.

  The buttery smell of popcorn floats through the air, and movie posters from films I don’t recognize line the hallway on either side of me. I stay close to the wall and pretend to be interested in the giant ad for a French movie now playing in Theater Two while inching toward the concessions desk.

  This must be, like, field trip day at the local nursing home, because there are at least twenty old people in front of me in line. I can see the top of Hailey’s reddish-brown ponytail at the front, peeking out beneath a lace headband. Only Hailey Waters could make a movie theater uniform look cute. Every few seconds, her bubbly voice tells customers to enjoy the show.

  A twentysomething guy with a face full of acne leans against the counter. Probably hitting on Hailey—he should know better, because she’s practically got Logan Kerch’s name tattooed on her forehead. He better leave by the time I get up there; I don’t need an audience for this.

  My hands get clammy around my phone. I know I’m supposed to be embracing my inner Neville Longbottom, but honestly, I feel like I’m going to vomit before I get the chance to try. What do I even say to her? Hey, are you responsible for kidnapping my sister?

  The cute old guy in front of me keeps his fingers laced with his wife’s, and my heart practically melts. I love older couples. They’re goals, for sure.

  Hailey smiles at the couple, sending them down the hall to Theater Two with the rest of their friends, leaving us and the random guy alone in the lobby. “Can I help whoever’s—” Her eyes land on me and a veil of panic flits across her face. It’s super weird, considering she greets me with a giant smile literally 100 percent of the time. Not gonna lie, her sudden aversion to me kind of sucks. “Ivy. Hi.” She blinks. “This is my brother, Dave.”

  “Hi.”

  “Sup.” He nods, pulling out his phone.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, wondering how the hell I’m going to word this. I wish Dave would go somewhere else. Why is he even here? I have to act natural. Play it cool.

  “I have a really awkward question about my sister, Autumn,” I blurt out instead.

  The moment I say it, I realize I’m not playing it cool at all. Seriously. Most people can communicate like human beings, but I always manage to make everything weird.

  She opens her mouth, then closes it. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  Holy shit. I was definitely not expecting that response. It’s Hailey. My band friend Hailey, the designated mother of the low-brass line. “You’ve gotta tell me what’s going on. Please. I’m really worried.”

  “I said I don’t wanna talk about it.” All the color drains from her face. “If you don’t leave, I’ll get my manager.”

  “Hailey—”

  “I mean it, Ivy. Leave me alone.”

  Dave lowers his phone, not hiding his interest in the conversation.

  “Come on—”

  “I said leave me alone!”

  I can’t believe it. She’s involved. “Shit,” I whisper. “Oh my God. You did it. I can’t believe it.”

  “Can you wait outside?” Hailey snaps at Dave. “My shift’s done in fifteen. I’ll meet you by the car.” Her brother begrudgingly skulks away, clearly not wanting to miss the gossip. The moment he’s gone, Hailey holds her fist to her mouth and her face scrunches. “Yes, okay?” Her voice squeaks out like a mouse’s. “Please don’t tell anyone. Especially Logan.”

  “Don’t tell anyone?” Rage burns hot and sudden inside me. “I’m going to tell everyone!”

  “Please, Ivy.” Her voice cracks. “I thought you were my friend.”

  “I thought you were a normal person, and you hurt my sister!” I fumble with my iPhone. “I’m calling the cops right now.”

  Hailey snaps out of it. “What are you talking about?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Owen.” Her brow creases. “Owen Price. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Autumn. She texted me out of the blue the other day to mess with me, and I think it’s pretty shitty that she sent you here to threaten me. What do you want? I don’t have any money.”

  What the actual hell? “I’m here because Autumn’s missing.”

  Hailey gasps. “What?”

  “That’s . . . that’s not what you’re confessing to?”

  Her jaw drops. “Oh my God, no! What? You thought I . . . I was . . . oh my God. No! Autumn’s missing? Where do you think she is?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been looking for her all weekend.”

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Ivy. I had no idea.” She leans against the counter. “I swear, if I hear anything, I’ll tell you right away. Did you call the police?”

  “Yeah. They didn’t do anything.” My words are thick with defeat. I don’t know if I’m relieved Hailey isn’t involved, or dejected by the dead end. “Wait, what does Owen have to do with anything?”

  “Nothing.” She picks at her fingernail. “Don’t worry about it.”

  I give her a serious eye-roll. “Okay, you can’t just leave it like that. You have to tell me.”

  Hailey clamps her lips together, and for half a second I think she’s going to burst into tears. But then the truth comes spilling out. “It only happened once, and I’m never going to do it again. Logan and I are soul mates. I don’t even know how Autumn found out, but she’s holding it over my head.”

  How did Autumn find out? By knowing everything about everyone—Autumn’s worse than the band. But wait a second . . .

  “Holy shit—you cheated on Logan Kerch?”

  She covers her face with her hands. “My parents are friends with Owen’s parents and we all went on this camping trip in August and we got a little tipsy after our parents went to sleep and
he was really hot and I fucked up. I hate it. Logan’s saving himself for marriage, and he’d dump me immediately if he found out. Please, Ivy. Please don’t tell him.”

  I can’t even believe it. “Why don’t you just end it with Logan if you want to be with Owen?”

  “I don’t want to be with Owen. It was a mistake.”

  Well, shit. So much for their perfect relationship. “I won’t tell.”

  I guess that explains Autumn’s cryptic text to Hailey, although I don’t get why my sister cares who Hailey’s sleeping with.

  A lady comes in to ask about a theater event, so I step to the side to let Hailey do her job. My brain won’t stop buzzing. Liam’s house gave us nothing, Hailey’s got nothing, and I’ve got nowhere else to look.

  The lady pockets the manager’s phone number, which Hailey’d scrawled out on a Post-it for her. “Thanks so much for this. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Have a great day!” Hailey grins widely until the woman disappears out the door, then her smile fades. She grabs a Twizzler from a pack of movie candy and takes a bite. “Seriously, though, I feel terrible about Autumn. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Jeez, missing person is . . . yikes.”

  I fidget my hands. It’s obvious that she’s rushing to change the subject, but it works. I’m still not used to missing person referring to anyone in my family. It’s surreal.

  This whole thing still feels strange to me. I can’t see Autumn even giving Hailey Waters the time of day. Autumn’s known for threatening and blackmailing people, but never without cause. “Actually, I do have a question. The day before she disappeared, my sister asked about you. Any idea why?”

  Hailey bites her lip. “Well, uh. For starters, I accidentally, uh . . . Don’t hate me, okay?”

  I watch her expectantly. “Okay . . .”

  “I told Mr. Browne she was dealing.”

  She might as well have confessed to snitching on Whitey Bulger. I clap my hand over my mouth. I’m not sure whose safety I’m more afraid for right now—Autumn’s or Hailey’s. “You ratted her out?”