Adam-
Shoulders shaking, Autumn blinks up at me.
“Are you okay?” I repeat.
Her voice, slightly hoarse from singing, says, “I’m fine.”
I enjoyed hearing her voice. No way does she have the angelic voice of an opera singer. Or the gentle whispering of a gorgeous soprano. Her voice is different, not exactly soprano, but not quite alto either. She has a crisper voice with a sort of gravelly undertone. It’s definitely not perfect. But I think it’s beautiful.
I beckon for Autumn to follow me out of the row of seats. Nobody notices us as we retreat out the theatre door. We sit on the bench right outside, both of us staring quietly at the moon. As I watch a few cars pass by, I remember our silence on the way here. I didn’t like that. I have to be the one to fill the silence this time.
Glancing over at Autumn, I can see her eyes shining with unshed tears. She’s not fine. Something is definitely wrong.
“You can tell me,” I promise. “Whatever it is.”
Biting her lower lip, she shakes her head.
“I just wanna help you,” I say. Timidly, I slide my hand beside hers on the bench. Our pinkies touch. She gives me a tight smile and pulls her hand back to scrub at her eyes.
“What is it?” I press.
Roughly, she blinks, but finally meets my eyes. “It’s just…” she holds out her hands helplessly.
“Just what?”
“I don’t want you to think that I can’t handle my own problems. But...I want to tell you.”
“Hey, it’s all right. Some people are different. It’s okay.”
“Yeah…” her voice turns prickly and I am under the impression that she did not appreciate being labeled as different.
“Go ahead,” I say.
“It’s just...my parents just got into a divorce.”
“Divorce? Oh no, I’m so sorry.”
“B-but,” she struggles to keep the sob down. Her eyes squeeze close. “B-but that’s n-not all.”
It actually is physically painful for me to watch her. Her white-knuckled hands clench her knees, her chest heaves and falls, and her shoulders violently shake. She has to gasp for air before she continues.
“My m-mom g-gave up her parental rights, and m-my d-dad lost his job. S-so,” she breaks off, crying.
What has happened to her?
“It’s okay,” I whisper, tentatively relaxing my arm around her shoulders. I wait for her to pull away, to put on the mask she always seems to cover her face up with. But she clings to me and suddenly I’m drowning in the sadness this girl has carried inside of her.
After a few minutes of consoling, Autumn can finally speak again.
“My dad robbed a bank to pay for all my medical expenses,” she says miserably.
“What happened?”
“He’s in jail.”
“Oh.”
I don’t know what to say. So I settle for giving her shoulder what I hope is a comforting squeeze. But then, right as I feel her finally relax against me, finally begin to trust me, she pulls back.
And on goes that mask.
I have to suppress a sigh.
“You won’t tell anybody, will you?”she demands. “About this. My family and me breaking down like this?”
“I would never,” I assure her. “I promise.”
Slowly, a tiny little smile crossed over her lips. It’s almost like she doesn’t want to allow herself to just let her guard down and enjoy a moment. Or feel any emotion at all.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Everybody breaks down eventually.”
She shakes her head firmly. “No, I should be able to fix this.”
I stare at her incredulously. “Autumn, this isn’t your fault. It’s not your responsibility to fix this.”
When she glares at me, I flinch.
“It is up to me actually,” she hisses. “Because nobody else is going to do anything about it!”
Before I can stop her, she grabs her crutch and limps back into the theatre, slamming the door closed behind her. I sit on the bench alone, staring woodenly at the night sky. I’d look for stars, but the streetlights are too bright. Mom used to say that stars were the angels watching out for humans. True, I’m no human, but it would’ve felt comforting to see my people twinkling down at me. So when I shiver, I know it’s not because of the cool November air. My gray Apple Ridge Strong Oaks sweatshirt is warm. But nevertheless, goosebumps prickle across my skin. I realize that this heavy feeling of loneliness and abandonment chill me more than I would’ve thought possible.
When I go back into the theatre, I hear soft sniffles coming from the girls restroom. I quickly take out my phone and send a brief text to Autumn.
Im sry. Pls come out?
I see the read receipt. Her texting bubble pops up.
No.
Pls. I need 2 talk 2 u.
No.
I bang on the door. “Better come on out.”
“No!” she yells.
“Do it or...or I’m coming in,” I lie.
“Okay, okay!” she pushes the door open and walks out, her hands on her hips. “What do you want?” she leans on her crutch.
“I wanted to apologize and just say—”
“Don’t!” she says, her olive skin wet with crystal tears.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say that you’re sorry for me,” she begs. “Too many people have told me that. Treating me like I’m fragile.”
I’m tempted to point out that she did just run away, angry at me. But I make the smart choice and decide against it.
“I don’t think you’re sensitive,” I lie, trying to sound convincing.
She looks skeptical. “Oh really?”
I nod. “Look, we got off on the wrong wing, but—”
“The wrong wing? Don’t you mean the wrong foot?”
“Pretty sure it’s the wrong wing,” I insist.
“You must be from Canada,” she decides.
I can’t help but laugh. “It’s a little farther than Canada. But as I was saying, we got off on the wrong...uh...foot, and I’m sorry. I don’t always think before I say things. So please don’t be mad at me.”
Sighing, Autumn traces her finger over the theatre wall. “It’s not you I’m mad at.”
“Who’re you mad at?”
“My mom, my dad, Mrs. Camden, and Mr. Camden. But mainly myself. I know, I know,” she adds hastily, glancing at me. “It’s not really my fault. But I feel like it is.”
I take half a step closer. “If I had any way to help you…”
“Actually,” she blushes, “talking to you helps. You haven’t run away screaming yet or looked at me like I might spontaneously combust from all my misery.”
Really? I must be a good actor then.
“So what you’re saying is, you trust me?” I ask.
She slowly nods, her mouth quirking up into the slightest smile. “I don’t know why, though.”
“Hey!” I pretend to be offended. “I’ll have you know that where I come from—”
“—Canada?” she raises a teasing eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. “No, not Canada. But where I come from, I’m considered the most trustworthy person.”
“Why do I have a hard time believing that?”
“Probably because it’s not at all true,” I admit, flashing a rueful grin. Autumn gives me a smile, a real one this time and a laugh escapes her lips.
For the rest of the time while our friends are watching the movie, Autumn and I sit outside, just talking and talking and talking. We debate about small things and exchange funny sibling stories. She loves hearing about Bailee, and I feel like the two of them would make great friends.
I’m actually sad when Carson, Mia, Jordan, and Sophie exit the theatre singing The Greatest Show at the top of their lungs. Mia’s also the only one who seems to notice that Autumn and I didn’t exit with them. I hear her whisper something to Autumn who says, “We both got headaches and ended up talking about school.” Mia doesn’t question this.
On the ride home, Autumn sits beside me. She mostly talks to Mia and Sophie, but quite often she’ll turn around and smile at me. I smile back and chime into their conversation.
Under the starry, late-night sky, we laugh in the back of Carson’s black truck. Time goes by so quickly. Because all too soon, we stop at the first house. The Camden’s. Sophie and Mia unlatch the back of the truck and I jump out with Autumn’s crutch. She slides to the edge, her legs dangling off. I tuck the crutch under my arm and place my hands on either side of Autumn’s waist as I lift her off the bed of the truck and help her steady herself. As I hand her the crutch, I spy a blush highlighting her cheeks. Mia’s already at the door and making her way inside. I walk Autumn slowly to the door. Before she goes in, she turns to smile shyly at me.
“Thank you for a fun night,” she says. “I hope to meet your sister soon.”
I nod. “You two would get along great. I’ll have to ask about her schedule. But um...speaking of schedules…”
“Yes?” hope sparks in her eyes.
“How’s your tomorrow schedule?” I ask, wondering if I can possibly find another way to help her cope with all that she’s going through. She said talking helps, so maybe if we keep talking, I’ll be able to fix this and earn my wings.
“Empty,” she says. “Why? Do you have plans?”
“Well…” I shift my weight, not sure why I’m feeling nervous and slightly sweaty. “I haven’t been here long. So I don’t know what’s around here really. And…”
Her grin lights up her face and it glows under the moonlight. “So you want me to show you the ups and downs of East Creek, Texas.”
“Well, if you want…”
Eagerly, she nods. “Yes. I need to take you to the townsquare and Wildflower Park! But...do you have a car?”
I flinch, remembering the failed attempts at driving lessons that Bailee tried to give me. Well, fine, they weren’t that bad and I only ran into three mailboxes. I just don’t feel super comfortable driving yet.
“Do you have a bike?” I ask, thinking of the green one Mom gave me as a going–away gift.
She nods. “Yes. Do you want me to bike to your house at...say...eleven in the morning? And if you won’t be busy, we can maybe stay out for a bit…”
“Yes,” I say with a grin. “That sounds absolutely perfect.”
“Hey, Adam!” Carson yells. “I have to be home by midnight! Ride’s leaving!”
“Coming!” I yell back. Turning to Autumn, I say, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
With one last wave to Carson, Jordan, and Sophie and a smile just for me she says, “Yup. Goodnight, Adam.”
And she slips inside before she can hear my barely audible, “Goodnight.”
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