by Bella Thorne
“Eddy,” I say out loud. “Today I’m saving your life.”
I check to make sure my debit card is in my wallet. The money I made this summer is in my account, and while Mom wants me to save it for college, I’m sure she’d approve of the things I plan to buy today. At the same time, I don’t want to explain my motivation, so I ask Mom for the car instead of a ride. She’s thrilled. She knows Dad’s accident is the reason I hate to drive, so I’m sure she thinks my request is a big psychological step forward. She falls all over herself to give me the keys.
I drive myself to Walmart, do my shopping, then walk into Century Acres so laden with bags that I have to lean heavily on one of my other purchases: an old-lady rolling walker, the seat of which I’ve also covered with bags.
“Autumn!” Eddy and Zelda shout from their matching comfy seats. Then Eddy jumps up and runs my way.
“STOP!” I shout.
“It’s okay, Autumn,” Zelda says. “I’ll save her seat.”
“It’s not the seat,” I snap. “Eddy, do not move.”
“What? Do I have a bee on me?” Eddy asks.
I place all the bags on the floor, leave the cart, and run to her side, then take her arm. “Lean on me,” I say as I gently guide her back into the chair. Eddy looks at me like I have a cucumber growing out of my face.
“Autumn, what’s wrong with you?” she asks.
“I want you to be safe,” I say. “I got you some things.”
I hold up a “stay” finger and run back to the bags. I pull out a small metal stick with a hook at one end and four rubber-capped prongs at the other. Eddy narrows her eyes.
“That better be a messed-up looking cheerleader baton for a midget,” she says.
“No, it’s a cane!” I enthuse. “It folds up small so you can take it with you anywhere; then…” I yank it out to its full height and lean on it, but I’m much taller than Eddy, so I have to hunch over. Still, I try to make it convincing when I say, “See? Super-comfy! And a great way to make sure you’re safe when you walk!”
Eddy looks at Zelda and raises her eyebrows. Zelda sighs and shakes her head.
“Wait, there’s more,” I say, running back to the bags and pulling out items as I show them off to Eddy and her friend. “I have these grab bars with suction cups—you can stick them to any wall and put them all over your room so you can catch yourself if you fall. And I got these racks you can put on the sides of your bed so you won’t fall out at night. Did you know that can happen?”
“Oooh, so you want me to sleep in a crib?” Eddy asks.
“Not exactly a crib.”
“And that cart under all the bags. What’s that, a walker?” she asks.
“Well…yeah!” I say. “But look how handy it is. It has four wheels, so it’s very steady, the grip handles keep you stable, and there’s even a built-in chair so if you get tired while you’re walking around, you won’t fall—you can just sit!”
“Is that a toilet seat?” Zelda asks; then she turns to Eddy. “Your granddaughter got you a toilet seat. She doesn’t think you can handle the toilet.”
“No, no!” I object. “I know you can handle it, but the guy at the store said it’s easier for people of a certain age to have a seat that’s raised a little higher, so you don’t have to crouch as low. That way you don’t have to struggle to get up and risk a fall!”
“Zelda, will you excuse me and my nieta dementa?” Eddy asks.
“Maybe,” Zelda says; then she nods to me. “Come here.”
I walk over to her. She leans close and inhales deeply.
“Um…Zelda…are you sniffing me?” I ask.
“Looking for harsh perfumes. They never come out of the upholstery. You’re clean.” She turns to Eddy. “I’ll go back to my room and have a nosh.”
“Aren’t you guys having lunch soon?” I ask. It was why I rushed through my Walmart trip. In old lady land, lunch starts at exactly 11:00 a.m.
“Yes, but I didn’t say I was having lunch. I said I’m having a nosh. Then I’ll have lunch.” She waves to Eddy. “I’ll come get you when I’m done.”
Eddy waves back, then lowers her voice. “The woman eats morning till night. That’s why she looks like she has a blimp between her pechos and her caderas.” She pats Zelda’s chair and I sit. She waves toward all my shopping. “This all came from someplace, and I don’t mean the store. Dime. Tell me.”
I look around to make sure no one is listening in, which is crazy because no one around here can hear; then I tell her all about my dad’s latest gift and the things I’ve been seeing. The only thing I leave out is the most vital piece of information, mainly because I don’t want to scare her.
A slow smile spreads across her face. “And you saw me muerta, sí?”
My face burns red, but she doesn’t seem upset. In fact, she leans in closer, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. “Tell me, how did I go? Another stroke? An aneurysm? Oh, lo se! It was the receptionist, sí? He went loco and pulled out a gun and shot us all in the middle of music time.”
I rear back and grimace, horrified. “Eddy, no!”
She shrugs. “Nah. Figured I wouldn’t get anything that exciting. Plus you got me all that safety stuff. What is it, broken hip?”
I purse my lips together. “It doesn’t matter what it was, because it’s not going to happen.”
Eddy throws back her head and laughs.
“Eddy, it’s not funny! We’re talking about your life!”
“Which I’ve lived, querida! So take back all those things. I don’t need them.”
“But…it’s my job to change things.” I look around again, because I always feel stupid saying the next part, even though it’s true. “It’s my mission. Peace and harmony, remember? You know it better than anyone.”
“I do. But I also know you can’t change everything. And some things you can’t change at all. One day I will go to be with mi amor, your abuelo. I’m not afraid of that. And when it happens, it will not be your fault. Comprende?”
“But if I can stop it—” I begin, but Eddy silences me, putting her hand on my knee.
“I love you, Autumn. I love you for wanting to take care of me, and your friends, and the rest of your family. You will do great things for all of us. Who knows? Maybe just by telling me you’ve already changed what you saw. I’ll be more careful now, because it would be nice to have a little more time. But when things do go wrong—and they will, querida—know that it won’t be your fault. Okay?”
I look into her eyes, so alive on her tiny wrinkled body. I smile. “Okay,” I say. I get up, kiss the top of her head, then put all the bags together so I can return them.
“Leave the walker with the seat,” Eddy says. “Zelda and I can take turns pushing each other down the halls.”
I wince. I’m fairly certain Kyler Leeds will hate me forever if his Mee-Maw breaks every bone in her body thanks to a wild walker wipeout, but Eddy’s right. I can’t protect her—or anyone I love—from everything. Still, I can at least try.
While I’m in line returning everything but the cart, I email Gus and apologize for the way Jack acted at the dance. I tell him Jack’s usually a much better guy, that he’s going through some personal stuff that makes it rough for him right now, and I hope he and Tom can forgive him. I almost don’t hit SEND because I know “personal stuff” is code for Jack’s fear of coming out. I’m hoping Gus will guess that, maybe talk to Tom, and maybe they can reach out on their own to Jack and try to help. At the same time, I don’t want to push too hard. In the end I figure what I’m saying is nebulous enough that it’s okay. If it comes back to bite me, I can always say I meant Jack was worried about college or something.
I’m heading back to my car when I get a text from Reenzie.
OMG have you seen this???
Then she sends me a picture. It’s Ames, splayed out on her bed. She’s lying on her side, propped up on one arm, a smile on her face. That’s weird, but fine. What’s not as fine is what she
’s wearing: some super-short slinky nightie with tiny spaghetti straps. I drop my phone and have to rescue it before another Walmart customer runs it over with her cart.
I call Reenzie.
“Tell me you’re the only person who has this.”
“Why in the universe would I be the only person who has this?” Reenzie retorts. “Why would she send it to me? You think I want that on my phone? You think I want that in my brain?”
I’m getting nothing helpful out of Reenzie. “I gotta go,” I say, and immediately call Amalita, who doesn’t answer. Luckily I have the car. I drive to her house and her mom opens the door a crack when she sees it’s me.
“Hi, Mrs. Leibowitz,” I say. “Is Ames around?”
She pouts sympathetically. “Autumn, I’m so sorry. Amalita’s not feeling well today. She doesn’t want to see anyone.”
“Okay,” I say. I turn away as if I’m going to go, then spin back around before she can close the door. “Una cosa…me gustaría hacer empanadas de Thanksgiving de este año. ¿Tiene una buena receta?”
She brightens immediately. “Oh, sí! Sí! Adelante!”
It’s a cheap play on my part, but I didn’t see another way. Ames’s mother comes from a hodgepodge of Spanish-speaking cultures. The language is her first love, and the food of her heritage is her second. The instant I opened my mouth and asked her—in Spanish—if she had a good empanada recipe so I could make the dish this Thanksgiving, I knew I had her. She brings me into the kitchen, hands me a pen and a notebook, and rattles off recipes and tips in high-speed Spanish for a full hour. She’s so excited about it that I kinda do want to make empanadas for Thanksgiving and almost forget why I’m here. Luckily it comes back to me before she shuttles me out the door.
“Por favor, ¿Puedo hablar con Amalita? Se acaba de tomar un segundo.”
After we’ve had such a good time together, how can she say no to me seeing Ames for just a second? She pretends to consider, but she’s already smiling, and soon I’m knocking on Amalita’s door before opening it up and shutting it behind me.
Unlike my own room, Ames’s is perfectly neat. Cluttered with jewelry stands and makeup kits and accessory shelves and mirrors and extra clothing racks to hold the outfits that don’t fit in her closet, but neat. Her bed is even made…with an Amalita-shaped lump tucked right in the middle of her fuchsia-and-black tiger-striped comforter.
I sit next to the lump.
“Ames?”
“Go away, Autumn. I’m never leaving this room ever again.”
“Really?” I ask. “ ’Cause I don’t think there’s a bathroom in here, and at a certain point—”
Ames flips the covers off her and sits up. She’s wearing an amazingly conservative tent of a nightgown, with long sleeves and a ruffled neckline. The remnants of last night’s makeup make dark circles under her eyes, and her hair is a frizzed-out fright wig screaming out from her head in all directions.
“You saw the picture?” she asks.
“Yeah, I saw it,” I admit.
“Then you know I can never show my face again,” she says. She lies back down, turns away from me, and cuddles the comforter up to her chin. I move to the other side of the bed and crouch down so I can look her in the eye.
“What happened?”
She sighs heavily.
“I don’t remember sending the picture to Zander. I woke up this morning and my head was throbbing and I was so sick and I checked my phone and I saw it.”
She messes with her phone and then tosses it to me. It’s an outgoing text to Zander. The picture…preceded by a note that says:
Dance w/Corbin all u want—can she give u THIS???
There’s no response text from Zander. I wince. “How did you find out other people had it?”
She just raises her eyebrow.
“Other people did text you?” I guess.
“Texted, emailed, called…some freshman sent me a link. At first there were five versions of that picture. An hour later there were thirty.”
I hurt inside for her because I know exactly how she feels. My first year at Aventura, Reenzie put up a horrible website about me and I was positive I’d have to move away and hide under a rock for the rest of my life.
“I can’t believe I did something so stupid,” Ames moans. “Now Zander will never want me again.”
“Are you kidding me?!” I snap. “This guy sent your private picture to the entire world, and you’re worried he won’t want you?!”
“You don’t know how many people he sent it to,” Ames retorts. “Maybe he sent it to just one person. Maybe one of his friends took his phone and he sent it around. You don’t know.”
“Ames, for real—”
“Just go, okay?” she asks. “I wanna sleep. I still have a headache.”
She burrows back under the blankets.
“Ames…”
She fake snores. She’s done.
“Fine,” I say. “But I’ve been there, remember? It’ll get better. And if you want to talk, just call me, okay?” I rest a hand on the part of the under-the-covers lump I think is her back. She doesn’t respond. “Love you, Ames,” I say.
I hate to leave her like this, but I don’t know what else to do. I spend the rest of the day texting and talking about the situation with Reenzie and Taylor, but it doesn’t help. Reenzie’s totally unsympathetic. She thinks Ames brought this on herself the second she sent the picture. Taylor and I totally disagree—Ames had no clue Zander would betray her and show the picture around—but we’re both still clueless about how to make it better. We figure the best we can do is be there for her while we all wait for it to blow over.
In the meantime, I tell myself, maybe something good will come out of the whole thing. Maybe this will be the thing that takes her off the path I keep seeing in her future and makes everything better.
That’s what I’m still hoping the next morning, when I walk into school looking around for Ames. She hasn’t returned any of my calls, emails, or tests, but if she does show up, I want to make sure I’m right there by her side.
I don’t see her anywhere, but I do find Carrie Amernick waiting by my locker. She’s clearly not happy. Her mouth is set in a grim line, her hands are on her hips, and smoke is coming out of her ears.
Immediately, I freeze. Did J.J. tell her about Saturday night? Is that why she’s so angry? Did he tell her that we kissed and he realized he wants me back?
“Hey, Carrie,” I say warily. “What’s up?”
“Your time on the Senior Social Committee,” she says in a clipped voice. “That’s what’s up. You completely blew off cleanup duty yesterday.”
Prickles of guilt crawl over my skin, having nothing to do with the fact that I threw myself at her boyfriend. “Carrie, I’m so sorry!” I say. “I totally forgot! Some family stuff came up, and then—”
“Don’t want to hear it,” she cuts me off. “You were fine enough to email Gus. He said he heard from you and you didn’t even mention the cleanup, never mind apologize for not being there to help.”
“I know,” I agree. “That’s what I’m saying—I totally blanked. But—”
Carrie puts up a hand, stopping me. “Don’t want to hear it. You shirk your duty, you’re out of the sisterhood. Period.” Then she leans in closer and bares her teeth, which I swear she filed into fangs. “We also don’t allow sisters who try to steal what isn’t theirs. I know what you did with J.J., and it didn’t work. We’re back together, we’re totally in love, and we even made a deal. I won’t talk to Keith Hamilton again, and he won’t talk to you again. Ever.” She stalks away, then turns back, a sweet smile on her face. “Oh. He won’t be tutoring you anymore either. Yeah, I know about that.”
She turns and flounces down the hall.
I’m stunned, but I actually don’t take her that seriously. J.J. might get distant again, but he’s not going to stop talking to me entirely. I mean, he can’t. We have all the same friends. And besides, he still has feelings for me.
I know it. I felt it. No way would he avoid me forever.
That’s what I think, but then I don’t see him all morning. Not even in passing. It’s not completely unheard of, but it makes me wonder the littlest bit if he might be specifically avoiding places I’ll be.
Lunch cinches it. I grab my tray and bring it to the spot where we always eat…and no one’s there. I stand there, all alone, holding my tray. I spin around slowly, searching for my group. Taylor’s nowhere, but that doesn’t surprise me. She told me she was going to try to get off campus and meet Drew for lunch as often as she can. Ames isn’t around, but she texted me in the morning to tell me she’s playing sick—she’s too mortified to come to school at all.
Finally I see J.J., Jack, and Carrie. They’re sitting and eating with Kassie and a group of Carrie’s other girlfriends far across the lawn.
Is Jack mad at me too? Or is it just that I was there when he freaked out on Tom and Gus and he doesn’t want to talk about it? Either way, same thing. He chose Team Carrie.
Reenzie and Sean I find eating with a bunch of the other football players. I don’t go over to them. I don’t want to seem that lame. But Reenzie catches me looking and then pulls out her phone. I get the text:
More college recruiters coming this week. Sean wants to keep his distance so you don’t mess anything up. Sorry!!!!
So that’s it. My friends have all ditched me.
“So wait,” Jenna asks. “Amalita’s been out of school for all this time?”
It’s three weeks later, and I’m spending my lunch period on the phone with Jenna. I’m eternally grateful our lunches sync up. It’s the only thing that makes the period bearable.
“Yeah,” I say. “She convinced her parents she’s horribly ill and can barely get out of bed. They’ve dragged her to a bunch of doctors for all kinds of tests, but she says it’s still better than facing everyone at school.”
“And everyone else is still avoiding you?”
“J.J., Carrie, and Jack, yeah,” I say. “Sean too. Reenzie isn’t, but she’s always with Sean, so she kinda is. Tee and I are cool, but she’s always with Drew, so I don’t see her that much, I basically just hang by myself, and work on my grades and college applications.”
