Autumn-
November 28, 2019
I don’t know anything anymore. There’s no one I trust. No one to talk to. No one to confide in. Well, except you, Diary. And even still, I feel stupid. People with diaries are always stereotyped as overdramatic crybaby girls who do nothing more than wallow in their own self-pity. Unfortunately, I suppose that’s what I am doing. You see, there was an...epidemic at dinner tonight. Azalea had said a prayer mentioning something bad about my parents. Mia and Mrs. Camden were mad and Mr. Camden sent the poor crying girl upstairs to her room. I figured out that Mr. and Mrs. Camden have been hiding things from me. Mia was angry with them too. Mrs. Camden was all, “Oh, poor Autumn. She won’t be able to handle it.” On the one hand, I truly appreciate the concern. But on the other, MUCH larger hand, I’m SO tired of being treated like I’m a delicate, porcelain doll! Though to be honest, after what they told me and how I handled the news, maybe they have a point. I’m so glad Mia’s downstairs right now, because I am crying as I write this. But here’s what’s been going on with my parents—Ari and Dustin Hathaway. Mrs. Camden told me that she received the news that Mom went to court and and gave up her parental rights for me. I’m not so sure about Kyle and Samuel, but right now they’re at Aunt Olivia’s. That’s where Mom wanted to send me too, but the Camden’s so graciously took me in. Since she and Dad got divorced, Mom doesn’t think I’m her responsibility anymore. She doesn’t want to pay for my hospital expenses. That hurts more than words can describe. I mean, it’s not like I CHOSE to injure my leg. HEY EVERYBODY, I WANTED TO GET HURT BEYOND REPAIR! NO! Dad however, is the total opposite. Mrs. Camden said he was so upset about my leg and he was working harder than ever to earn more money to pay my hospital bill. But the divorce broke his heart and his boss started to see him “slacking off” and “not doing so well”. He fired Dad. Dad still really wanted to pay my bill though. So he…(this is so bad I don’t know if I can write it). Okay. Here goes.
My Dad robbed a Bank of America.That’s right. My loving, Christian father robbed a bank. FOR ME. I think that makes it worse. Never fear, Diary. Because THAT’S NOT ALL.
Daddy’s in jail.
-Autumn Hathaway
•••••••••••••
I’m really not in the mood for a movie night. But I think it’ll be good for me and I already promised Jordan. So when Mia tells me that we’re leaving soon, I walk to my bag of clothes and pick out something to wear. I choose jeans and a light pink sweater, hoping that if my clothes look nice enough, it’ll distract people in case a flash of pain decides to slither across my face without my consent. There was far too much of that last night when I wrote that long diary entry. Luckily, it was dark when Mia came in so she didn’t notice.
“CARSON’S HERE!” Mia shouts.
“Coming!” I shout back. I pause at the mirror for a quick recollection of myself. Tonight’s Goals: have fun, be normal, sing to the songs, and don’t let anyone see how shattered I am feeling.
In theory, I suppose that’s easier said than done.
Mia and I walk out the door and are greeted by Carson’s black Ford truck. He honks the horn obnoxiously and Jordan waves from the passenger seat.
“Hop in the back with Sophie and Adam!” she calls.
Stumbling over my crutch, I follow Mia to the back end of the truck. Sophie folds down the ledge and Mia hops in, acting like she’s ridden in the bed of a truck dozens of times. I prop my crutch onto the rigid metal surface and place my hands on either side, prepared to hoist myself up. But two gentle hands on my wrists startle me. I glance up and see Adam Malach smiling at me.
“Need some help?” he asks.
Before I can say no, he jumps out of the bed of the truck. Kneeling down, he makes a little cradle out of his hands, which I step into with my good leg. He boosts me up.
“Thanks,” I say, meeting his eyes.
He jumps back in and sits beside me. “No problem.”
“Y’all ready back there?” Carson asks.
“Heck yeah we are!” Mia shouts. I smile. She always lets her wild side loose when we’re with our friends.
“Then let’s go!” Jordan pumps her fists from the front seat.
Sophie closes off the ledge again and sits back. She and Mia strike up a conversation that from what I can tell revolves around a new Starbucks drink and how they could make their own cheaper, and much healthier version.
I close my eyes and lay my head against the wall of the truck. Music pours out the front windows, which Carson and Jordan have rolled down, and floats along the evening breeze as we speed down the road. By no means can I say that Carson is a good driver. It’s a miracle that he passed his driving test.
“Are you feeling okay?” Sophie’s voice startles me. I open my eyes, thinking that she’s directing the question towards me. But I find that both she and Mia are staring earnestly at Adam. His face looks slightly pale and his eyes have the same glazed look that Samuel’s get when he’s feeling carsick.
Adam swallows and forces an anguished sort of grimace that I think is supposed to be a smile. “F-fine,” he says. “J-just n-never ridden in-n a truck bef-fore.”
“Never?” Mia asks, astonished.
Adam glances uncertainly at me. “You mean the bed of a truck?” I guess.
“Um, sure. I mean, yes.”
I nod. “You’re probably just carsick. Happens to my little brother all the time.”
He looks interested. I get a comfortable feeling. The one that I’ll occasionally get around my friends. Not always, and it depends on which friends. It also depends on if I feel like I can trust them at that exact moment. I don’t know why, but I feel like I can trust Adam.
I’m just not quite ready to yet.
“So, where were you before Apple Ridge?” I ask.
Adam cocks his head. “What do you mean?”
“What school?”
“Oh. Uh. It’s kinda far. You probably wouldn’t know it.”
Mia nods understandingly and flicks a mosquito away from her face. “Out of the county?”
“County? Um…”
Mia takes that as a “yes”.
As I look at Sophie, Mia, and then back at Adam, I wonder if I’m the only one who notices how uncomfortable he looks. Maybe he’s waiting for someone to change the subject. I decide to go for it.
“Do you have any siblings?” I ask when Mia and Sophie begin to talk about a new TV series.
Adam smiles ruefully. “An older sister who loves to boss me around. You?”
“Two brothers. Kyle, who’s seventeen and Samuel who’s ten.”
“Hey, my sister is seventeen too. Her name is Bailee.”
I grin at him slyly. “She dating anyone? Kyle’s been looking for a girlfriend. That’d be funny if we could hook them up.”
“Oh,” he looks awkward. “We aren’t allowed to date you guys.”
Frowning, I ask, “Hathaways in particular?” And hurt settles in me when I think about that. Of course they wouldn’t be allowed to date a Hathaway! Nothing but bad blood runs through our veins.
“No,” Adam says. “Just not people.”
I cock my head skeptically, wondering why I’m prying. “What are you allowed to date then? Trees?”
He laughs. “That’s not what I meant. It’s kind of a long story.”
“Okay then.” And I stop asking questions.
We sit in a companionable silence for the rest of the ride. Or at least that’s what I wish. Actually, we ride on with a swirling wall of angst, secrets, and unspoken things set in between us.
And neither of us is brave enough to smash it down.
••••••••••••••••
I don’t think I’ll ever understand the perfection of white cheddar popcorn. Mia buys me a whole bag and as I go to sit in my cushioned seat, my mouth waters at the beauty of my snack. Luckily, it was half off. Otherwise this thing would’ve been WAY overpriced. But on old movie showings, our local theatre has good popcorn and large-sized soda deals.
I sit between Mia and Adam, both of them munching away on their popcorn like two happy cows at a new grass field. But I wait because I’m the kind of person who wants to savor the popcorn so that I can stress-eat at the most stressful part of the movie.
“All right, ladies!” Carson grins. “And Adam.”
We laugh.
“Warm up your vocals because here! We! Go!”
Right on cue, the lights dim and a “Whoa oh oh oh oh!” erupts around me. I sing along to The Greatest Show with Mia. Adam is lost with the lyrics, but he looks like he’s having a good time anyways. He laughs after we finish the first song and applauds. We are so lucky that we are the only ones in this theatre tonight, because we are being loud.
There are a few moments throughout the movie where I catch Adam gazing at me while I sing. I find this strange and unsettling, but proud at the same time. If he wants to admire this view, he can go ahead. (Oh no! That sounds like something Mia would say. Yikes…)
When we make it to Tightrope...well...I once saw a quote that I only applied to my own music. It says something to the effect of: “Happy people enjoy the lyrics; broken people understand them.”
Tightrope is a song I will never forget. I will always remember the way I felt on the 29 of November as my fourteen-year-old self sang her heart out with her friends’ voices around her. The sparkling tears tracing down the side of her face are cemented into my mind. I swear that I will always remember.
And I will also remember the strange, unfamiliar hand on mine when the song ends. Through my tears and the darkness of the theatre, I will always see two concerned eyes—that glinting shade of hazel. And a mouth leaning close to my ear asking, “Are you okay?”
I shake my head and Adam offers me his shoulder to cry on.
The rest of my companions may not have noticed my tears.
But Adam did.
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