The Last Confession of Autumn Casterly

by Meredith Tate

  “I know, I know.” Hailey rubs her forehead.

  “Why would you do that? You know she’s not going to forget about it.”

  Hailey props her elbows on the counter and rests her forehead in her hands. “I don’t know. Remember Kasey Muller?”

  I think for a second. Wasn’t that the girl who moved to Maine? “Vaguely.”

  “She was my best friend. Autumn started bullying her and it got really bad. Her family moved away in July and she, like, cut ties with everyone in Concord, including me. It sucked, you know?” She scrubs her hands down her face. “I was pissed at Autumn, and having a bad day, so I did it. I didn’t know the police would search her locker. I’m sorry. Okay?”

  My sister causes fallout everywhere she goes. “It’s okay.”

  “I felt like shit afterward.” She shakes her head. “I’ve never even talked to Autumn before. I wouldn’t have known about the drugs if my friend Kaitlyn didn’t buy from her.”

  I grind my shoe into the carpet, doing my best to look innocent. “Oh yeah? Kaitlyn who?”

  “Kaitlyn Kennedy—she’s in my grade. Apparently Kaitlyn had a run-in with Autumn on Thursday, right after the police ransacked her locker. I wouldn’t have told if I’d known the cops would find out, and now everything’s a mess and Autumn hates me and she’s messing with me about O—” Blush creeps across her face and she looks down. “About Owen.”

  Something happened between Autumn and this Kaitlyn person the day before she vanished. Okay, I can work with this. Right now, I need a lead, and Hailey might’ve accidentally provided it. “Any ideas where I can find Kaitlyn?”

  “Uhhh . . . I’m not sure. She plays varsity field hockey. I think they’re having a cookout tonight?” I can see in her wide grin that she’s milking this Kaitlyn thing for all it’s worth to placate me so I don’t spill her dirty little Owen secret. I don’t care. I’ll take it.

  “Where?”

  “No idea. Someone’s house.”

  Dave saunters back into the lobby, and I’m pretty sure he was hiding somewhere eavesdropping on the whole thing. “Shit, you’re Autumn Casterly’s sister?” He leans back against the counter and takes one of Hailey’s Twizzlers.

  I tense. “Yeah. Why?”

  Hailey scoffs. “Were you listening to our conversation?”

  “I remember her. She was a freshman when I was a senior.” He blows out an exaggerated gust of air. “She was . . . wow. Something. Chris was a lucky guy.”

  I don’t even try to suppress my groan. Seriously?

  Hailey slaps her brother’s arm. “Don’t be gross.”

  It’s so weird to me that the whole school knew Autumn when she was just a freshman. Hardly anyone knows me, and I’m a sophomore. Guess that’s what happens when you’re the school pill-pusher. How the hell am I supposed to find out who knows something about her disappearance when literally everybody knows Autumn? Where am I even supposed to start?

  “I was just saying I knew her. Stop freaking out.”

  “Can you please not stalk my friends? I’m gonna tell Mom.”

  “I’m not stalking anybody.” Dave rolls his eyes. “I told Mom I didn’t wanna shuttle you around all week.”

  Hailey slips him a middle finger and a fake smile, then turns to me. “My darling brother here borrowed our spare car—the one I usually use—while his was in the shop. He backed it into a parking meter and destroyed the bumper.” I’m trying to process the idea of having a spare car. Like it’s an extra pencil or jacket or something that’s just lying around. “So Mom said he has to drive me places until it comes out of the shop.”

  “Oh.” I need to leave. I have no idea where that field hockey party is, and it’s already getting late.

  Dave rolls his eyes. “It’s like I had nothing better to do today.”

  “Oh please, you never have plans. Whatever.” Hailey shrugs. “I’m glad you’re driving me. I have a dentist appointment in Manchester on Monday after school and I hate walking on that sketchy side street alone. Gross older guys always catcall me. One time, one of them followed me back to my car.” She shudders.

  “Ugh,” I say. “Men are so gross.”

  Dave snorts. “Actually, not all men do that. You shouldn’t generalize.”

  I can’t help it; I burst out a laugh. Coupling this with the fact that he’s so pasty it looks like he hasn’t left his parents’ basement in a month, it’s like he’s a walking, talking internet troll.

  “What the hell?” Hailey crosses her arms. “I just told you some pig stalked me to my car, and your response isn’t Wow, Hailey, I’m glad you’re safe, or, Wow, Hailey, I’m sorry that happened to you.” She deepens her voice in a near spot-on impression of her brother. “Or even, Hmm, that’s a real problem, maybe guys should stop doing that. Nope, your response was Not. All. Men.”

  “Yeah, seriously, did you, like, fall out of Reddit?”

  Dave rolls his eyes. “I was just saying.”

  I check the time on my phone. “Okay. I’ve got to run.”

  “See you tomorrow.” Hailey waves, very obviously wanting to get rid of me.

  “Hey, what’s Autumn doing these days?” Dave asks. “I haven’t seen her since I graduated, but I’ve heard . . . things.”

  “Um.” How do I say that I have no idea? That I barely know my own sister anymore, and now she’s gone? “She’s fine. She’s a senior.” I start to leave, but hesitate. Autumn started cutting class and stuff in eighth grade. But freshman year really messed her up. She changed. Cut off all her hair. Stopped speaking to me. Suddenly I’m overcome with curiosity. “What was Autumn like when you were in high school?”

  Dave thinks for a minute. “Um. I’m not sure. I didn’t know her very well.”

  “Oh.”

  “I mean, I saw the Instagram photo, obviously.”

  My forehead creases. “Instagram photo?”

  “Yeah, there was some party where she got drunk and passed out and they got a picture. It went around the whole school. I saw her in the principal’s office with Chris Pike and a bunch of other adults the week after. Probably had something to do with it.”

  What the hell? She was in the principal’s office with Chris? I mean, Autumn gets in trouble all the time, but not Christopher “wow, your stepbrother’s really going places” Pike. That seems so off.

  “Okay. Thanks. I gotta run.” I turn and race back down the theater hall. “See you in band,” I call over my shoulder.

  Hailey shoots me another wave before I’m out the door. Dave doesn’t say goodbye, but that’s fine. I have a mission.

  Step one: crash the field hockey party. Step two: find Kaitlyn Kennedy and see what she knows. Step three: learn about this alleged Instagram photo.

  I didn’t want to involve my friends in this mess again, but I don’t have any other choice. The moment I’m back in the sun with my bike, I shoot off a quick text to the group chat:

  Me: Hey, Kevin—isn’t one of your sisters on the field hockey team?

  I drum my fingers against the handlebars, waiting for the little dots to turn into a response.

  Kevin: Yeah, Nicole. Why?

  Me: Is she going to the team barbecue tonight?

  Alexa: Wow, way to be creepy, Ivy.

  Kevin sends the blushing emoji. How’d you know about that?

  Here goes nothing.

  Me: I want to crash it and I don’t know where it is.

  There’s a long pause. I can practically see all my friends staring at the message and wondering who’s stolen my phone.

  Of course, Jason is the first one to break the silence.

  Jason: Jeez—first a home invasion, now party crashing, who are you and what have you done with Ivy? with a wink face at the end.

  Kevin: . . . Why?

  Me: There’s a girl on the team named Kaitlyn who m
ay know something about Autumn.

  Ahmed: Kaitlyn Kennedy? She sat next to me in German last year.

  Me: Yeah. I need to talk to her.

  Me: None of you have to come, I just want to know where it is. I won’t tell anyone you told me.

  I hesitate before hitting Send. I’m not going to lie, the thought of crashing a party by myself has already made my palms sweaty. But I can’t ask anyone to come, not after yesterday.

  The second I send it, a text from Patrick pops up: Hey! I’m at my dad’s house, and super bored. Wanna hang out?

  My heart jumps. This kid has only been back in my life for four days, but my stomach still flutters every time his name flashes across my screen. Okay, hanging out alone, that could definitely be a date.

  A pit drops in my chest. I have to say no. Autumn has to be my first priority right now. So why can’t I make my fingers type the damn message?

  Kevin: Just checked the flyer the coach sent out to everyone. Here:

  He sends a picture of the invite with the time, place, and RSVP instructions. It’s at a senior’s house—someone named Laura Morton. Everyone’s supposed to bring something, but there’s no sign-up form. I know how this works. They’ll end up with eight thousand brownie platters and bottles of knock-off Coke from the dollar store but no plates or napkins.

  Me: You’re a lifesaver. Thanks!

  Kevin: NP. I guess all the parents are going, too. Nicole said I could come, so if you wanna tag along, that’s cool. Less sketchy that way.

  I will never not owe these people everything in the world.

  Me: That would be amazing. So I don’t look like a creep crashing a party by myself.

  Jason: You’ll still look like a creep. Can I come?

  Me: Only if you drive.

  Jason: Never mind.

  Jason: JK obviously I will drive you, freeloader.

  Sophie: I wanna go! My parents say I have to stay home for dinner, ugh

  Alexa: Yeah, I have this massive English paper I’ve been putting off . . . if you really need me there I’ll go but I should probably work on it . . .

  Ahmed: I thought I was the only one who put that paper off until today

  Alexa: Don’t challenge me in the procrastination Olympics, Bashir. I will win 100% of the time.

  Jason: Ivy, when should I pick you up?

  I think for a second, then type back: Actually, are you free now? I’m downtown with my bike. I can meet you at your place. And I need to make a stop before the party.

  It’s probably better if I don’t tell him where we’re stopping.

  I text Patrick back: Hey! You wanna go to a party tonight?

  IVY

  The thing about Jason’s family is, sometimes I wish they were my family. I’m not sure how long I can get away with making excuses to come over and hang out with them, but Jason hasn’t said anything about it.

  His mom runs over and hugs me the second I walk in the door. “So good to see you, dear! Are you hungry? You look famished.” She pats my cheek. “I can heat something up for you.”

  “I already ate, but thank you.”

  “Is that Ivy?” Jason’s dad pops his head around the corner. He’s a skinny white guy who towers over his five-foot-one Filipino wife. “How’s it going? Long time no see.”

  “Yeah, what’s it been, like, six whole days at this point?” I say.

  Jason’s mom takes a seat at the kitchen table, gesturing for me to sit opposite her. “I want to hear all about your weekend.”

  “You want some tea or anything?” His dad wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Cookies?”

  Coming to Jason’s house always leaves a bittersweet aftertaste. His parents are one of those couples who are always smiling at each other, always laughing. Portraits of Jason, his little brother, and their parents on various vacations are tacked up all over their massive house. I make fun of the ones where Jase still had those beaver buckteeth. But sometimes it feels like I’m looking through a window into someone’s perfect home; I can see it, feel it, almost experience it myself, but it’s not mine.

  “I’m good, thanks. What’ve you guys been up to?”

  “I’ve been thinking of getting this for Jase, what do you think?” She slides a catalog across the table, the page bent at the corner. A fancy, heavy-duty saxophone case that looks like it could survive a nuclear blast fills the page, under the word Indestructible. “He throws his sax around constantly. At least this way it won’t get damaged.”

  “Jeez. I need one of these for my trumpet.”

  Jason’s dad waves his hand dismissively through the air. “We’ll order two. I’m sure they make a trumpet one.”

  My face gets hot. “Oh, you don’t have to.” They’d never say it, but the implication is there—We’ll buy you one because we know you could never afford it.

  “Eh, it can be your payment for hanging out with this kid.” He loops his arm around Jason’s shoulders as he lumbers into the room.

  “Dad, really?” Jason knocks his dad’s arm off. “Leave Ivy alone.”

  I scoff. “Just because your parents are cooler than you doesn’t mean you need to be so jealous.”

  “Cooler isn’t the right word.”

  “You didn’t know we pay her to hang out with you?” Jason’s dad winks at me.

  “Not nearly enough,” I say.

  “What is this, open season?”

  “Are you going to be home for dinner?” his mom asks. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner, Ivy. Nothing fancy, just going to pop some leftovers into the oven.”

  “We’re crashing this cookout for the girls’ field hockey team,” Jase says. “Free food.”

  Jeez, way to be a little too honest about it. I rib him in the side. “Not crashing. Kevin’s sister Nicole is on the team.”

  “Sounds fun.” His mom hugs Jason and kisses his cheek, then mine. “Call if you need anything.”

  Jason grumbles at his mom’s hugs, but I always hold on to her a little longer than necessary. “Will do.”

  “Love you both.”

  “Ugh, Mom. Don’t be weird.”

  Sometimes I feel defensive when people are snarky to their moms. Like, you have a mom to be snarky with; not all of us do. “It’s all right. I love your parents.”

  “See, some people don’t think we’re weird.” His mom grins at me, which makes Jason groan.

  “Don’t get arrested,” his dad says. “I don’t want to have to bail you out tonight. Shark Tank is on.” It’s always a running joke here, but the comment hits a little too close to home today.

  Jason rolls his eyes and tugs my hand. “C’mon, before they rope you into staying.”

  “Not that,” his dad calls sarcastically after us. “Anything but that.”

  There’s a difference between a house and a home. Jason’s place is a home, full of love and warmth. Home is where my mom is, where Autumn and I shoot hoops in the driveway, where everyone loves everyone else. Now the place I live is just a structure made of wood and plaster with no beating heart inside.

  We leave and I climb into Jason’s car. He starts the ignition and wiggles his brows at me. “Okay, where are we going first?”

  “Gotta head toward 89.”

  “The boonies?” His eyebrows shoot up. “What’re we doing there?”

  “Picking up Patrick.”

  “Oh. Cool.”

  I ignore the fact that his tone sounds anything but cool.

  “Yeah. He’s gonna help us at the party, to find more clues about Autumn.”

  “Oh.”

  “What do you mean, oh?”

  “Nothing.” He shrugs. We sit in silence for a minute. “Hey, after the party, do you wanna go catch the new Avengers movie?”

  “I can’t.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Big date
with Patrick?”

  “Um, no.” I clench my jaw. “I have to keep looking for Autumn.”

  “Aren’t the police doing that?”

  “Not well enough.”

  “Sorry, I just didn’t realize we were going to spend the whole day looking for clues.”

  I bristle. “Well, my sister’s still missing, so.”

  There’s a long uncomfortable pause. Jason finally breaks the silence.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  There’s an edge to his tone I don’t like. It’s like a game of Jenga, where you know the next brick someone pulls off the tower will make the whole thing collapse. And you’re just sitting there, holding your breath, as someone’s fingers brush the wooden piece that’s the inevitable end of the game.

  I brace myself. “What.”

  “Well, you’re spending all this time and energy searching for Autumn when you don’t even know something’s wrong with her. I thought you two weren’t even that close.”

  His words pierce me right in the heart. My sister flashes through my mind, scowling at me, yelling at me, slamming the bathroom door in my face, calling me useless, calling me stupid, telling me to eff off because I asked her for a ride to school that one day Jason stayed home sick.

  I look out the window, watching the pine trees get thicker the farther we get from downtown. “We’re not.”

  We don’t talk the rest of the way there.

  * * *

  —

  A chill rustles through the tree branches towering over our heads. I ring the doorbell while Jason stands beside me with his arms crossed.

  Patrick’s head pops out. “Oh, hey, guys. I just gotta grab my coat.”

  “Ivy has to pee,” Jason says.

  I shoot him the deadliest of my death glares. “If it’s okay, can I come in and use the bathroom?”

  “Uh, yeah. I guess.” He steps aside and holds the door open for us.

  I haven’t been to this house in years, but my nose gets déjà vu the second we walk through the door. I’m still not used to calling it “Patrick’s dad’s house.” It was always just “Patrick’s house,” back when his parents were still married.