Autumn's Wish

by Bella Thorne

  Reenzie doesn’t answer right away, but she smiles. “Your jewelry,” she finally says. “I’m gonna have some pretty ugly scars for a while. Got any bracelets that can cover them up?”

  I don’t hear Amalita’s answer because I’m suddenly back in bed.

  It’s interesting. I jumped thinking about my family, but I didn’t see them at all. Does that mean they’re okay? Did my intervention with Glen succeed so he’s no longer an issue?

  I have to believe yes. Dad would want me to know if Mom still needed my help. So with her all set, Dad’s spirit made sure I saw the people who need my help the most. Specifically Reenzie. And Tee, but the only way I can help her is to keep making changes now, so hopefully I find a future where Drew’s okay.

  But Reenzie—her I can help. If Stanford is too high-pressure for her, I have to make sure she doesn’t go. The hard part is I know she already applied there for Restrictive Early Action. That means if they accept her, she has to go. They’re not supposed to make their decision until December, but I want to act fast, just in case.

  I head to my computer and write a letter to the Admissions Department at Stanford. I try to channel Reenzie’s voice and explain that even though I applied for Restrictive Early Action, I only did so to appease my high-pressure parents. I say that I’m having communication problems with my parents, and they don’t understand that Stanford is not really the college for me. Since I can’t convince them, I humbly ask the Admissions Department to simply reject me. I sign it, print it out, then go downstairs and grab a stamp and envelope from the desk where Mom pays all her non-auto-pay bills. Snail mail’s my only choice for this; email is too easily traced. Even if I set up a fake “Reenzie” email, they’ll see it’s not the one from her application.

  I think I make a good argument. I bet they even get kids all the time who apply because their parents pressure them into it, so I’m sure they’ll buy it. Reenzie will kill me if she ever finds out, but I’m okay with that. Better she kills me than tries to kill herself. At least, as long as we’re talking metaphorically.

  My jump also helped me figure out what to do about Amalita, so the next day after school I come home and make a batch of empanadas using Ames’s mom’s recipe. I make a ton of them, because Thanksgiving is only a week away and I may as well freeze some and save them for that. I call Ames’s house to make sure her mom’s there, and I’m thrilled when she answers.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mrs. Leibowitz! I made your empanadas! Can I bring some over for you?”

  “I don’t know, mija. Amalita’s still feeling under the weather….”

  “I don’t even have to see her!” I offer. “I just want your opinion on these before I serve them up for Thanksgiving.”

  That clinches it. She says yes, and I ride my bike over to Amalita’s, the empanadas warming my back through my backpack.

  “Muy delicioso, Autumn,” she raves forty-five minutes later when we’re sitting at the kitchen table together. “Perfecto!”

  “It was your recipe,” I say humbly. “I just followed it and everything worked out.”

  I spend some time chatting with her, and I listen while she tells me all about every single dish she’s making for Thursday’s meal. Then, when she’s about to boot me out so she can make dinner, I ask to see Amalita.

  “Just for a second,” I say. “She’s just been sick so long, I’m worried about her.”

  Mrs. Leibowitz frowns. “I don’t want you to catch anything….” She walks to a kitchen drawer and pulls out a hospital mask. “Just in case. And only stay for a minute.”

  I thank her and pull on the mask, then pull it off once I storm into Amalita’s room.

  “Hey!” she objects.

  She’s in the exact same nightgown as three weeks before, which would worry me from a sanitation point of view, except the baby blue fabric is so clean it practically glows, her room smells like lemon and bleach, and Ames herself looks sparkling clean. Her hair is plaited back in twin braids. Lying back against her pillows, she looks like she’s about six years old.

  “Go away, Autumn,” she mutters. “I don’t want to see anybody.”

  “Your mom gave me a mask to come in here,” I say. “What does she think you have, Ebola?”

  Ames shrugs. “I’m lucky my dad’s a hypochondriac. All the doctors say I’m fine, but I just tell him new symptoms so he keeps me home. Right now he thinks I’ve got walking pneumonia.”

  “Ames, this has to stop,” I say.

  “Yeah, I thought so too,” she says dully, “but it keeps going on. I saw this one today.”

  She pulls out her phone and shows me a Vine. It’s the picture she sent to Zander, only someone animated it. For six seconds, Amalita dances in her nightgown as hearts fly out of her eyes.

  “It’s never going to end,” she says. “Never.”

  Her eyes have the same defeated look I saw on Reenzie’s face in my last jump. But thanks to Ames, I know what to do about it.

  “No,” I say. “No more moaning. I’m sick of it.”

  Ames frowns. “Excuse you?”

  “I am!” I say. “You did this to yourself, Amalita. You got drunk. You sent a picture. That’s on you. So, what, you’re gonna give up on your life just because you’re feeling sorry for youself?”

  I’m quoting Amalita to Amalita, only she can’t possibly know since it’s a speech she’s going to give to Reenzie three years from now, in a future I’ve already made sure won’t happen. I don’t quote it perfectly, and the pep talk I go on to give her is about my past,not hers. I remind her again about my sophomore year, when everybody hated me and all I wanted to do was disappear.

  “I never thought that would get better,” I say. “But it did.”

  “ ’Cause Reenzie took the site about you down,” Ames says. “This picture is out there forever.”

  “So what if it is?” I say, channeling Future Ames the best I can. “So what if people Google your name years from now and it comes up? You know what you’ll do?”

  “Oh, you’re gonna tell me?” Ames challenges me. “Like you’re psychic now?”

  I try not to smile. I see it as an excellent sign that she has the energy to get angry with me.

  “Not psychic,” I say. “I just know you. And I know you’re too kickass to let your own mistake and a bunch of some complete jerkoffs’ bullying get in your way. So whenever this comes up, you’ll hold your head high and deal. You messed up, sure, but Zander and the losers like him are the panzons who took advantage. And if you stay here and hide, or take yourself out of the picture, they win.”

  Ames is quiet for a second. “I think I should call Zander,” she says.

  I’m stunned. “Seriously, Ames?! Why?!”

  She smiles. “I want to tell him I have family in the Cuban mafia whose business is revenge. If he gets anywhere near me, or does one thing to piss me off, they’ll make him disappear.”

  I grin. “Is there a Cuban mafia?”

  “How should I know?” Ames asks. “But I bet he doesn’t know either.”

  “If you do call and tell him that,” I say, “he’d be really happy if you never went back to school and he never saw you again.”

  “Yeah, I bet he would,” Ames agrees. Her eyes dance as she thinks about it, then she catches me grinning giddily and rolls her eyes. “Callate,” she says. “Go. Maybe I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Give Zander one less thing to be thankful for over vacation.”

  I give Ames a big hug, then dart out of her room and ride home.

  Ames does go to school the next day, even though she says it was a nightmare trying to convince her parents she wasn’t sick anymore. It’s an ugly day for her. Lots of people laugh and whisper behind her back—or right in front of her face—but she ignores it all. And she takes a special joy in grabbing every opportunity to get near Zander, who always looks terrified and runs in the other direction. At lunch, she even sprawls on the lawn like always, even though it’s the same pose she stru
ck in the picture and everyone notices. I’m proud of her, and I’m crazy-over-the-moon thrilled to have a lunch friend again.

  “So,” she says, “when were you going to tell me you’re head over heels for J.J.?”

  “What?!” I blurt, and quickly look away from J.J., since of course I was staring right at him.

  “Mija, I was hiding and depressed for three weeks, not dead. That boy tells me everything.”

  I suddenly feel a little light-headed. “What did he say?”

  “Oh, look at that. Now you’re staring at me and not him.”

  “Ames!”

  She sits up, jangling all her bracelets. “Come on. He loves you.”

  “He said that?”

  “No. I said that. He said that after what happened last year he can’t ever trust you that way, and he’s better off sticking with a girl who at least knows she wants to be with him.”

  “But what about her and Keith Hamilton?” I balk. “She kissed him!”

  “He kissed her. Different. And not on the lips.”

  I open my mouth to object but she shakes her head, cutting me off with earring jangle. “I know! But that’s what he said. And you were straight with me yesterday, so I’m gonna be straight with you. You had your chance with him. You blew it. It’s Carrie’s turn. Maybe it’ll work for her and maybe it won’t, but you can’t get in the middle. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be. Que sera sera.”

  I nod, but Ames has no idea what she’s talking about. If I had just let the future be, Ames would be doomed to a future in rehab, Sean would be doomed to paralysis, Carrie and J.J. would be parents before they were out of college, Jack would be closeted forever….The future is not set in stone, and it only gets better if we make it better.

  J.J. isn’t meant to be with Carrie. I know it. I just have to figure out a way to make him know it too. With Thanksgiving break, I guess I’ll have time to think about it.

  We make the holiday a bigger affair than last year, since Mom decides to have her friend Amanda and a bunch of the other Catches Falls workers and volunteers over. That means the whole weekend and days leading up to the holiday are a giant whirl. We clean the house, make song mixes, make list after list of everything we want to serve, shop…it’s crazy. Mom loves it, though. I keep an eye on her, just to make sure she’s not upset about Glen, but she seems completely carefree.

  She, Erick, and I all go to Century Acres together to pick up Eddy. She’s waiting in her favorite lobby chair but leaps up when we walk in. She races over to me in quick shuffling steps, then loses her balance and screams as she pinwheels her arms.

  Alarms sound in my head. I thought I’d changed the future, but it’s Thanksgiving and she’s going to fall and break her hip! I run to catch her…

  …which is when she stands up straight and smirks at me. “Gotcha.”

  “Eddy!” I shout.

  “What? I gave you something else to be thankful for,” she says. She takes my arm, and as we walk to the car she adds, “Oh, you just missed your boyfriend. Kyler just picked up Zelda. He’s taking her on a private jet to the Keys. Any chance we’re doing the same?”

  We’re not, but it’s still a great meal, and it’s fun having the house full. I Skype Jenna in on the festivities for a while, so it’s like she’s there, and Eddy goes crazy for the empanadas I made with Mrs. Leibowitz’s recipe. We do that goofy thing where we all go around and say what we’re thankful for, and I list my friends, and Eddy, and Mom, and Erick. And when I add, “And Dad, because I’ll always be thankful for him for as long as I live,” Mom reaches over and squeezes my hand while Eddy winks.

  That night, though, after Mom runs Eddy home and is hanging out back with all her friends and Erick has retreated to his faux man cave, I get sad. This time last year I started going out with J.J. Yes, it was all messed up and I ruined it all, but that’s not the part I think about. I think about the road trip we took when I was devastated about Sean and he wanted to make me feel better. How he drove me all through Florida, taking me to taste the wildest, greasiest, bizarre-est foods at these random places he’d looked up just because he knew we’d have fun trying them. I remember how we put on new personas at each restaurant, just to mess with everyone around us.

  It’s like I told Mom when I was talking her out of Glen. When you have someone who makes you laugh and is romantic and surprises you and makes you come alive and be happier just because you’re together…why would you want anything else?

  Once I thought I did. Now I know better.

  I wonder if there’s any chance he’s feeling nostalgic too.

  I could call him, but that’s not as much fun. I’d rather surprise him. Just show up on his doorstep. I run upstairs and toss on distressed denim shorts and a patterned tank. Something very cute but casual enough that I can claim the visit as spur of the moment. I brush out my hair, add product, a little makeup, and cute sandals and slip my phone in my back pocket and I’m ready. I shout out to Mom and her friends that I’m going for a walk, and then I’m out the door.

  J.J.’s only a few blocks away, but my heart’s racing like I’m running a marathon. I have all these images of how he’ll come to the door, surprised for a moment. Then he’ll shake his head and say, “Amazing”—only he’ll say some kind of anagram for the word. And when I ask why, he’ll smile and say, “Because I was just thinking about you.” And I’ll say, “I was thinking about you too.” Then we’ll have that nervous excited smile thing for a while, and his parents will call out asking who it is and J.J. will be all embarrassed and answer but say he’ll be right back and then he’ll come outside and we’ll talk in the moonlight until he leans down and—

  I hear the shouting when I’m in front of his next-door neighbor’s house. Apparently, J.J.’s already in his front yard with someone. And they’re not happy.

  “It was a mistake!” a girl wails.

  Carrie. Carrie wails.

  Carrie made a mistake?

  I perk up. This could be very good. I want to listen closer. I want to see what’s happening, but I can’t just stroll out in front of the house. They’ll see me and they’ll stop and I won’t learn anything. I walk onto the neighbor’s front lawn and sidle up to the hedges that separate it from J.J.’s. I gently push my way into the plants until I’m right in the middle. I’m covered, but I can see J.J. and Carrie through some leaves. They’re lit up by the outside house lights, so I can see he looks hurt and furious. She looks like she’s been crying.

  “How is that a ‘mistake’?” J.J. asks. “You, what, tripped and fell and he caught you with his lips?!”

  “That’s not funny,” Carrie says sulkily.

  “No, it’s not. Know what else isn’t funny?” J.J. pulls out his phone and holds it out to Carrie like it’s a crucifix and she’s a vampire. It has the same effect too—she shies away and won’t look. “It’s not funny when Keith Hamilton sends me a selfie of the two of you kissing.”

  “He wasn’t supposed to do that,” she snaps.

  “Why, because you didn’t want to get caught?!” J.J. explodes. “He also said you two have been dating behind my back ever since the Halloween dance! Is that true?!”

  I hear his voice crack on the last question, and it breaks my heart. I don’t want him with Carrie, I’ll admit it, but it’s awful to hear him hurt like this.

  “I didn’t know what I wanted,” Carrie says softly. “I needed time to figure it out.”

  “Have you figured it out yet?” J.J. asks.

  Carrie doesn’t answer. She just looks at him, her eyes big and sad. It’s a complete standoff…

  …which is when I get bitten by the world’s largest mosquito.

  “OW!” I shout without thinking, slapping at my neck.

  Carrie and J.J. both look my way. I freeze, hoping they’ll decide it was their imagination.

  They don’t. They both walk right toward me. I love my bright orange hair, but I realize this is one time when it’s not really working in my favor.


  “Autumn?” J.J. asks.

  I’d like to say he intoned the word with surprise and excitement, but it’s more like horrified disgust.

  “Are you kidding me?” Carrie yelps. “Are you spying on us?”

  She reaches into the bushes, yanks my arm, and drags me out, scraping me through about a million sharp branches.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

  “What are you doing here?” Carrie snaps.

  I look back and forth between Carrie and J.J. They both look furious. I decide to go with the truth.

  “I just came by to say hi,” I tell J.J. Then I add to Carrie, “I had no idea you were here, I swear. But then I heard you guys fighting and—”

  “You decided to hide and watch?” Carrie spits.

  When she says it that way, the truth isn’t really so flattering. Time to redirect.

  “Hey,” I tell J.J., “I’m not the one who cheated on you.”

  “Yeah, you are,” J.J. says stonily. “Just not this time.”

  For a second I wonder if it’s worth clarifying that while I may have emotionally cheated on him last year, Carrie actually had a full-on relationship behind his back.

  Looking at his face, though, I decide to keep that detail to myself.

  “Go home,” J.J. says. “Both of you. And do me a favor and stay there.”

  He turns and walks into his house, shutting the door behind him. Carrie shouts his name and runs after him. She twists on the locked doorknob and pounds on the door. I don’t do any of that. It’s Thanksgiving. His family’s inside. And he made it pretty clear it’s the last thing he wants. I walk away and go home.

  “I thought you spoke Spanish!” Ames screams into my ear the next morning. “What part of que sera sera do you not understand?”

  I can’t even begin to answer that question, but I assure her I don’t want to talk about it. I’d love to go to a movie or something, but she promised the day to J.J., and I’m clearly not welcome to come along. It’s okay, though. I spend it with Mom and Erick and I do some homework, and then hang with Ames over the weekend. We even get to see Taylor because Drew’s out of town with his family. She is completely smitten with him, and I specifically ramp up a game of Would You Rather so I can ask, “Would you rather have the love of a lifetime, even if it’s doomed to end tragically, or a love that’s just okay, but you know it will last forever?”