Her Guardian Angel Autumn

Autumn-

I ache all over. I can’t make the pain stop. Mom’s looking at me like I’m some sort of evil spawn. All I can do is grip my sparkly crutch and fake a smile as my brothers race to the door.

“AUTUMN!” they both shout.

“Hey guys,” I say.

Samuel glances at my leg. I try to look away, but Kyle wraps his arm around my shoulders.

My big brother never hugs me like this.

So things must be pretty bad.

Somehow, I manage to find my voice. “Where’s Dad?”

Mom looks annoyed. “At work. It’s the middle of the day, Autumn.”

Cara places a hand on my shoulder and I look down. Mia helps me walk inside my house. But it doesn’t feel like my house anymore. There’s no sign of the happiness and laughter that once floated down these halls. Nothing seems the same.

“How’ve you been, Ari?” Mrs. Camden asks.

Mom slams the door as we finish filing through. The house rattles. “Tired, is all. Would you like anything to drink?”

“I’ll take water, thanks,” Mia says. “What about you Autumn?”

“Coke?” I ask hopefully.

My hopes are crushed when she shakes her head. “We’re out. Your dad took all the packs with him this morning.”

That makes it seem so official. He moved out. I feel the ache everywhere and I want to disappear. I want to turn invisible. I try not to get all sullen and filled with stupid teen angst, but it’s hard. I can’t fight it back. What I wouldn’t give for someone to help me.

“Let’s go grab you things,” Cara says quietly.

I stare at her blankly. “My things?”

And then I remember: I’m moving in with the Camden’s.

She links arms with Mia and me and together, we stumble to my bedroom. It’s the same way it’s been since I was ten years old. Teal walls, sapphire curtains. A twin-sized bed resides in the corner of the room, covered in a frumpy gray quilt and pillows. My bookshelf and desk are messy, as usual. And my bulletin board is covered with my calendar with several crossed off days, awards, and photos of my friends and me. No photos of my family, expect for the a couple of my brothers and I looking goofy with Snapchat filters. Oh, and then there’s the one I keep in the bottom of my drawer.

As Cara and Mia search for my duffel and grab some of my clothes, I pull the picture out, along with a lavender-colored notebook with a sapphire-spotted border. Turned so that Mia and Cara can’t see, I flip through the pages. Dozens of entries in all different colors race past my eyes.

“What’s that?” Cara asks.

I quickly slam it close and grab my glittery crutch. “Just...art ideas. I might bring my paints if that’s okay with your mom,” I add to Mia.

Mia nods, her light brown curls rippling with the movement. Cara places my duffel on my bed and I place the family picture and my journal inside. With Mia’s help, I then add my painting supplies. We fill the rest of the space up with shirts, pants, socks, shoes, underwear, and toothpaste and my toothbrush and hair things. Mia insists I bring my copies of Reader’s Digest and Percy Jackson and the Olympians. My whole boxed set. I tell myself that this is just like one big sleepover, but that’s hard to believe when my room is practically gutted. Especially when Cara grabs my guitar.

“Is that everything?” she asks.

I want to ask if we can take my bed and my desk and my bookshelf. But I nod and say, “Let’s go.”

They help me walk back to the living room where Mom and Mrs. Camden are seated, not talking. When Mrs. Camden sees us she looks super relieved. We say bye to Mom and Kyle and Samuel. I don’t want to leave, but at the same time, I have this huge feeling that I should get as far away from here as possible. If I had wings, I’d fly away from all of this. Because now three more people know my greatest fear has come true.

And I feel trapped.

••••••••••

Mia’s taking her shower, so I sit in her bedroom by myself. It’s bigger than mine, and way cleaner. Although any clutter in here at all is entirely my fault. Mr. Camden had an extra guitar stand that he’s letting me borrow, so my guitar is currently in the middle of the floor, lying on it. And I am still busy unpacking.

Thankfully, I don’t have to sleep on the floor. Mia has a trundle bed. It’s springy and a tad uncomfortable, but I would never complain. I am lucky to have a place to stay at all. Complaining would be about the most ungrateful thing I could do.

We brought my pillow and gray quilt. Now this bed almost feels like mine.

Only two more things remain in my duffel. The family photo and the journal. After triple-checking that Mia is still in her bathroom, I grab a pen from a pouch on her nightstand and open the journal. Most of the entries are letters to my future self about stupid little crushes I’ve had over the past years, or what I thought were life-changing experiences. It’s funny to see how pointless my funny little elementary romances and birthday parties are now. These things I used to concern myself so much with and now...I couldn’t care less.

I flip to the first blank page and take a deep breath. Then I write. I write all about the car crash and my injury and how I have to have a new normal. I write about how I have to be a Camden–live in their house, go to Mia’s school, and eat their food. Because apparently a Hathaway is not a good thing to be. And even though I know it’s not true, I can’t help but tell myself that this is all my fault. That I should be able to fix this.

Frustration take over and I slam the journal close. Mia comes back in wearing sweatpants and an oversized Disneyland 50th year Diamond Anniversary T-shirt. Her hair is wrapped in a yellow towel.

“Your turn,” she says.

I smile at the towel on her head. “Do I get a better color?”

“Hey!” she playfully kicks my arm. “Yellow is the best color ever.”

“Liar.”

“It’s the color of the sun.”

“And sour lemons.”

Mia rolls her eyes and tosses me a green towel. “Better?”

“Much, thanks.” I get up and grab some clothes and stumble to the bathroom.

The water from the shower is warm, the perfect temperature between cool and boiling. It’s awkward at first because I have to slide into the shower, and then run my hands along the slick walls. My leg won’t hold me up, so I’m basically balancing like a flamingo. I watch the water swirl down the drain and wish that I could make all my problems go away as easily.

Getting out of the shower is much harder than getting in. I nearly slip, but manage to grab onto the shower door. I pray it doesn’t break as I steady myself.

The mirror is fogged up with steam. Slowly, I manage to pull on my clothes–athletic shorts and a Camp Cedarleaf T-shirt. I then wrap the soggy strands of my coppery hair up in the green towel. I slip out my contacts and replace them with my glasses. Finally, I pop in my retainer and grimace at the reflection. I always look like a metal-mouthed monster with this retainer. But it’s helping my teeth, so that’s what matters.

Mia sits on her bed, listening to music from her speaker and chewing minty gum. I stumble into the room, half jumping and half falling. I barely make it to my bed before my leg decides to give out.

“Ouch!” Mia sits up and looks at me. “You good, girl?”

“No,” I moan, glaring at my limb. “Stupid thing just gave out!”

“Cara told me that the nurse is going to help you with getting your strength back early tomorrow morning.”

“Why so early?” I whine. “It’s not like I’m going to school yet or anything.”

I hear Mia’s gum snap and she pauses her music. “Actually, Autumn, you are. The nurse is coming early to see if you’re better with that crutch or a wheelchair. Then we’re going to school.”