The Last Confession of Autumn Casterly

by Meredith Tate

  My phone vibrates.

  Patrick: Hey.

  I stare at the text. I’d already started ruminating over what our first interaction would be like after the whole Liam mess. But the moment I see his name on my screen, I relax. He’s not the one who hurt Autumn, and he’s not the one who shot me in the chest. Being an asshole isn’t hereditary. And plus, I’m genuinely happy to talk to Patrick. Maybe I was so worried about getting Patrick to like me, I didn’t even realize he already did—as a friend. And maybe that’s not so bad after all. Maybe that’s pretty great.

  Me: Hey.

  Three dots pop up, then disappear. My anxiety kicks up a notch, waiting. Finally, he sends me, like, a novel.

  Patrick: I don’t even know what to say. Ivy, I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ve felt like crap all week. I really had no idea—neither did my mom, she’s beside herself. We wanted to stop over to see you at the hospital but I was so worried you hate me and don’t want to see me and would kick me out and I’m just so sorry. I hope you can someday forgive me.

  Usually long texts full of confrontation and drama make me freak out and pretend I never saw it. But this time, I don’t even have to think about it. I just type.

  Me: There’s nothing to forgive.

  Patrick: I can’t stop thinking about it. She was right there, in his backyard, all weekend, and I didn’t even know.

  Me: There’s no way you could’ve known. I was there on Sunday too and had no idea. But it’s okay now! Autumn’s going to be all right! I put a smiley emoji at the end, because I know he likes them.

  Patrick: My dad’s in jail.

  Me: I heard. I’m sorry.

  After I hit Send, it strikes me how weird it is to be sympathetic to this, because Mr. Perkins absolutely deserves to go to jail, but in the end, he’s still Patrick’s father.

  Patrick: I’m glad he’s in jail.

  Patrick: I know he did it to protect Will, but they’re both criminals. Everyone wants to act shocked that Will became an asshole, but that’s what Dad taught him. He became Dad. It really pisses me off.

  He’s got a point. Maybe if their dad hadn’t been a raging douchebag, all of this would’ve turned out differently. It’s good they’re in jail. But it probably sucks for Patrick, losing a brother and a dad in the same week.

  Me: You okay?

  Patrick: I can’t believe you got shot, and you’re asking me if I’m okay.

  Me: I care about you.

  People make fun of me for caring too much, but I don’t think it’s a weakness. It’s one of my superpowers.

  Patrick: I’m not going to turn out like him, though. Either of them.

  Something about the way he phrases it hits me. Maybe there are some things about our lives, our families, our circumstances, that we can’t control; but the biggest things, the people we choose to become, we can.

  I smile as I type my reply.

  Me: I know.

  * * *

  —

  Emma brings my dinner, which is a generous word, considering it’s a bowl of broth and another cup of water.

  Dad comes back in around 6:00 p.m., exhaustion trenched all over his face. “How are you doing, sweetie?”

  I put down my coloring book. “I’m fine. How’s Autumn?”

  “She’s awake.” He rubs his forehead. “And she’s doing better. Very dehydrated, and almost all her ribs are broken. We spent the last hour watching Judge Judy together. She’s not really talking, but she smiled at me, so that’s a start.”

  “Definitely a start.” I take another sip of water. “So, do they have any idea why he did it? I mean, other than the fact that he’s a raging dou—jerk.”

  Dad sighs. “I guess the son—William, Liam, whoever—thought Autumn might tell the police he broke into a store, even though they’d already identified him from the security footage. He got freaked out when the police started questioning him. So he had his gang beat her up to teach her a lesson and keep her from snitching.”

  “Jeez.”

  “Yeah.” Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “William got scared when it went too far—I guess they didn’t mean to hurt her—” He clears his throat. “Hurt her that badly. So William called his father begging for help, because he didn’t want to go to federal prison for the rest of his life, and his father wanted to protect him.”

  I shiver, picturing Autumn dying in that freezing old shed for three days. “I hope he’s in prison forever.”

  “He is.” Dad’s face grows stern. “Both of them, and their accomplices, too. Including that guy you hit with a hammer; he’ll be joining his friends in prison the moment the hospital deems him well enough to discharge. Lawyer says most of them should get twenty to life for what they did.”

  “Good.”

  Dad tilts his head up, studying the ceiling. A sheen of glass reflects in his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say those were tears. It’s surreal seeing Dad cry. He rarely shows emotion at all. In a way, it’s nice to know he cares.

  I rush to change the subject. “Hey, where’s Kathy?”

  “At her sister’s house, where she’ll be staying for a while.” His voice remains monotone. “She wasn’t sure if she’d be . . . welcome here. I think it’s a good idea for her to take some time away right now. But she stopped by yesterday to visit you both, and she sends her love.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Hey, listen, Ivy. There’s something I need to tell you.” He pulls up a chair, moves the cards off it, and takes a seat by my bed. “I want you to know, things are going to be different now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know I haven’t always been the best father, and you girls deserve better. I’d really like us all to start seeing a therapist, to work through some things. I’d never force you and your sister to come, but I think it’d be a good idea. Kathy and I are going to go through couples counseling, too—we have a lot to figure out.”

  I’m totally taken aback. I’ve been wishing Dad would see a therapist for years. “Wow, really?”

  “Yep. But I am pulling the dad card to implement a new rule around the house.”

  “Oh no.” I groan. “What?”

  “Dunkin’ Donuts Fridays. I think we should bring them back. Just you, me, and Autumn.” He twiddles his fingers. “I mean, if you want to.”

  I smile. “I’d like that.” Maybe in time, Autumn will, too. I don’t think there’s going to be a magic Band-Aid we slap over our family to heal all the wounds. But even the deepest wounds can fade to scars over time, if you take care of them properly.

  “Me too.” He gently squeezes my arm. “So, how are you feeling? Do you need any more meds?”

  “What I need is for you to go home and sleep. You look really tired.”

  “I can’t just leave you girls here,” he says. “Besides, that chair is more comfortable than it looks.”

  “That chair looks like a deathtrap, for one, and for two, I’m fine. They’ve been taking great care of me, I swear.”

  He gives me a guilty smile. “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t want to see you again until you’ve slept for, like, twelve hours.”

  “All right, then.” He kisses my forehead. “If you need anything, no matter how small, you call me, okay?” Dad pulls out his phone and turns the ringer on. “See? Nice and loud, from now on. Even when I’m at work.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I blow him a kiss. “You’re the best.”

  He hesitates in the doorway. “I’m not the best. But I’m going to be better.”

  * * *

  —

  At 9:00 p.m., Emma comes to say goodbye when her shift ends. She flips off the TV and turns off the lights. I lie back in bed, the fluorescent hallway lights casting a glow into the otherwise dim room.

  I wish Autumn was here. The moment the thought
flits into my head, I realize how weird it is. Autumn hates me. She probably wishes she could trade me in for a different sister, or just get rid of me completely. But still. I wish she was here.

  I start nodding off around 9:15, when a soft knock on the doorframe startles me back awake. “Ivy?”

  I slide my glasses on. “Jason?”

  “Hey.” He buries his hands in his pockets. “The gang said you were awake.”

  The moment I see him, my heart skips, and I really hate my body for betraying me like that. “Are . . . you going to creepily linger in the doorway? Or are you going to come in?”

  He plops down in the chair by my bed, but keeps his eyes down. “You look a lot better.”

  “Well, my organs are no longer bleeding out, so that’s a plus. Also I got this.” I place the bullet fragment on the side table. “Pretty badass, right?” I’m not sure why I’m talking so fast, but I need to get it together. “I mean, not badass like I’m bragging or anything. Just, like, it’s pretty cool.”

  “Jeez, Ivy.” He rests his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Yeah, bullets are pretty terrifying. You should try having one shot into your chest. Or actually, don’t, because that would suck. For me. To have to go to school without you, I mean. I’d have to find another ride.” Jeez, word vomit much? “By the way, thanks for, you know, calling 911 and checking out that barn and everything. Sorry about all the detentions.”

  He reaches out, and for a second, his hand brushes mine. Then he pulls it away. “Is Autumn okay?”

  “I think so,” I say. “I haven’t seen her yet. We’re both kind of confined to our rooms.”

  “I’m glad she’s all right.”

  “Me too.”

  We sit in silence for a moment, looking anywhere but at each other.

  “I’m sorry I was a jerk at the field hockey party,” he says. “You were right the whole time.”

  “I usually am.”

  “I hate that we fought—it’s been bothering me all week. I was so scared when they said you got shot. I just . . . It’s probably the most scared I’ve ever been.”

  “Yeah, well, how do you think I felt?” I say it as a joke, but he cringes, and I hate talking about this, so I quickly add, “Did you see these flowers your parents sent?”

  “Oh wow, yeah. They said they were doing that. They wanted to come visit you, but I told them it would be weird.”

  “It wouldn’t be weird!”

  “Yeah, I knew you’d say that. You like my parents more than you like me.”

  “That’s true. As always.”

  We look away from each other. I start fiddling with my IV tube, which is probably a horrible idea, because I can imagine myself accidentally ripping it out of my skin.

  There’re a million things I want to ask him.

  Did you really come to see me every day?

  Is it because I’m your best friend?

  What’s going on with us?

  Why wasn’t I good enough for you?

  I open my mouth to blurt it out, when he beats me to it.

  “Do you still like Patrick in that way?”

  Well, that’s nosy. And totally none of his business. But I don’t mind. “No. He’s one of my best friends, though. Probably will be forever.”

  “Really? I thought you were in love with that kid.”

  “Yeah, well. Love doesn’t always have to be romantic love, you know? I do love him. As a friend.”

  “That’s cool.”

  My heart monitor beats a little too quickly beside me, and I kind of want to smash it against the wall.

  Jason’s knee bounces against his hand. “I have to tell you something. I probably should’ve told you forever ago, and I didn’t, and when you got . . . you know . . . I kept thinking that I should’ve just sucked it up and said it, and ugh, it’s driving me nuts.”

  “Just say it.”

  “Remember last summer at Sophie’s house, when . . . you know.”

  All the heat in my body floods my face. Sometimes I really hate this kid. “When I asked you to kiss me, and you did, and then you got all awkward about it and rejected me?” I keep my expression neutral, trying to mask the fact that inside I’m totally freaking out right now. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Okay, so. Do you remember last year on the band bus when we were all playing truth or dare, and Maura Williams dared you to kiss Brandon Myers?”

  “How could I forget? It was my first kiss.”

  “Yeah, well, then do you remember when it was my turn, and I picked truth, and drummer Jon asked me how far I’d gone with a girl?”

  “Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “You had a long list. The girl from camp, the girl from church, the two girls from that Battle of the Bands at the Y, that girl—”

  “I made it all up.”

  I give him a weird look. “What? Why?”

  “I was embarrassed, okay? I was almost sixteen and still hadn’t kissed a girl. I had a huge crush on you and I was a sophomore and you were a freshman and you already had more experience than I did.”

  “I wouldn’t call a dare-kiss ‘experience,’ but okay. Wait—you had a crush on me?”

  “And after I blurted it out, I couldn’t just take it back, you know?” His words all cram together into one long sentence. “When you wanted to kiss me last summer, I thought you liked me back, but then I felt awful that we were being, you know, kind of physical and I hadn’t told you the truth. And then because I’m a huge loser, I didn’t know how to tell you, and you didn’t mention it again, so I thought I could just let it go.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. What, because you’re the guy, that means you’re supposed to be more experienced? Who made that rule?”

  My heart beats faster. Jason wanted to kiss me?

  “I know. It was stupid. And anyway, now you know your best friend is a buffoon who was like an inch away from ruining our friendship forever.” He raises his shoulders like he’s a turtle retreating into his shell. “Please don’t hate me.”

  It takes a second for it to sink in. Jason liked me. All this time I thought I was the one who almost ruined our friendship, and he was worried it was him.

  Jason’s fingers drum against his thighs. It strikes me how jittery he’s being. Like he’s super nervous. Jason. The guy who’s always cool and collected and giving me attitude. I’m making him nervous?

  “Please,” I say. “First of all, I knew you were a buffoon way before now. And second of all, it would take a lot more than that for you to get rid of me, Jason Daly-Cruz.”

  We share a smile that quickly turns into both of us looking away as fast as humanly possible.

  I want to know what he’s thinking. I want to know everything he thinks about me. And I’m pretty tired of staying quiet. Didn’t I say that was Old Ivy? New Ivy speaks her mind. New Ivy says her feelings. So what if I get rejected? Knowing is better. I need to stop dicking around and tell him how I feel. Tomorrow’s not guaranteed—who’d have thought, this time last week, that I’d be in the hospital for a gunshot wound? Not me, that’s for sure. I can’t keep living my life this way, tiptoeing around the edges, peeking in from the outside.

  “Oh jeez, it’s late.” Jason stands up. “I think visiting hours technically ended like two hours ago, and I kind of snuck in. You’d be proud, I did this whole duck-and-dodge move to get past the nurses’ station.” His smile falls. “I guess I should go before they kick me out.”

  “Do you still like me like that?”

  The heart monitor beeps steadily beside me, the only noise breaking through the silence.

  “Yeah.” He blinks. “I never stopped.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  A soft silence fills the room.

 
“I was gonna tell you,” Jason whispers. “But then Patrick showed up and I . . . I didn’t want to get in your way, because you liked him so much. But man, seeing the way you looked at him just . . . killed me.”

  “Now you know how I felt every time you mentioned one of those imaginary girls you hooked up with.”

  I don’t know what gets into me, but I reach out and take his hand. He laces his fingers with mine, and my breath catches. This feels right. It’s a pretty cool thing, when you like someone and they like you back.

  “So, are we really doing this? You know.” He nods at our joined hands.

  I can’t stop the smile bursting across my face. “I mean, if you want to. Do you? Want to, I mean?”

  “How about this.” He takes a deep breath. “Do you want to go to homecoming together?”

  “I thought we were.”

  “You know. Not as friends. Do you want to go as my date? Or . . . as my girlfriend?”

  My heart full-on somersaults. “Yeah. That’d be cool.” I don’t know where this nerve comes from—maybe it’s the painkillers—but I can’t stop myself from saying it. “Took you long enough to ask.”

  Jason smirks. “You know, you could’ve asked me.”

  “How about I ask you this, for the second time.” I bite my lip. “Kiss me, maybe?”

  “Okay, now that is long overdue.”

  He leans down and kisses me super gently, and my heart goes so wild, I’m shocked that little monitor doesn’t full-on explode. And it’s real, and right, and everything I ever thought kissing Jason would be. I let myself get swept away, and for a few moments, all I feel is him. The best part is, this time, he doesn’t pull away.

  I can’t stop smiling the whole rest of the night—when he’s sitting by my bed, brushing the hair out of my eyes, when we’re laughing our heads off and then quickly shutting up when we don’t want to get caught, and even when it gets to be midnight and the night nurse comes in and throws a hissy fit and makes Jason leave.

  I don’t have a lot, but tonight, it feels like I have everything in the world.