Autumn Falls (13 page)

“Do you see that?” I hiss.

J.J. doesn’t answer. When I turn to face him I realize it’s because he’s catatonic. His mouth is wide open, and even though I watch him for a full minute, he doesn’t blink once.

I turn back to the show. A red Mustang convertible sits in the back of the school parking lot, under some palm trees. The spot is shaded and well tucked away from the front entrance but very much in view of our walking route. The car’s top is down, and Reenzie and a hot junior guy I recognize from track—Trevor, a sprinter—are in the backseat, making out so frantically and breathlessly it’s impossible not to stare.

“If she’s with Trevor, I’m off her list, right?” I ask Amalita, filling her in when we get to school.

Amalita has a math quiz, and she’s in deep prep mode. “Um, right. Looking good. For now.” Then she goes back to her notebook.

I can’t blame Amalita for being cautious. She doesn’t know about the journal. Jenna does, so I text her the minute I get the chance.

she texts back.

I’m honestly not worried. The Winter Formal is only a few days away now, and there are a million things I need to do to get ready. Mom wanted to take me dress shopping, but I told her I wanted to go with Amalita, and she seemed okay with that. We do look at some magazines together, though, and she loves that. I like it too. It’s fun to see Mom get so excited, even though her choices are kind of boring.

When Amalita and I hit the mall after school, we go straight to the department stores. She finds a clingy purple floor-length gown with rhinestones up one side and a slit to mid-thigh that would look laughable on me, but she has the curves and personality to pull it off. When she bursts out of the dressing room in it, she reaches her arms out in both directions.

“How do I look?” she asks. “And how will I look with a man on each arm?”

“Fabulous and extra fabulous,” I say. Amalita, Jack, and J.J. are going to the formal together as friends.

“You sure J.J.’s not mad at me?” I ask once she’s back in her regular clothes and we’re scanning the racks.

“For saying yes to another guy before he even asked you?” Amalita asks. “He has a crush on you; he’s not insane.”

She pulls out a sleeveless emerald-green dress and holds it against me, then frowns and puts it back.

“Besides,” she says, “we went as friends last year and it was really fun. Me, Jack, J.J., and Taylor. Rented a limo, went to Denny’s at midnight.… We swore we’d do it that way every year. Which reminds me.”

She scrolls through her phone, then shows me the screen. It’s the four of them posed on a limousine in a parking lot. Amalita and Taylor are back-to-back on the hood of the car, Jack is dangling upside down off the roof, and J.J. is popping out of the sunroof, arms spread wide. The yellow Denny’s sign shines in the background.

“Looks like fun,” I say truthfully.

“I’m texting it to Taylor,” Amalita says. “I’m sending her one every day this week so she’ll remember what she’s missing.” She glances down at her phone. “Look, I know that if Taylor dumped me she’s not worthy of me, but I can’t stop myself from wanting to humiliate her.”

I study her face. “Are you sure you want to do that?” It seems a little desperate.

Amalita nods. “She misses me. Someday soon she’ll come crawling back, I’ll say yes, and I’ll let her hang out just long enough for her to get attached before I dump her just like she dumped me. Oooh,” she says as she pulls out a dress. “This is the one. Try it on.”

The dress is bright red, which I’d never pick out for myself, because with my hair I figure I’d look like an erupting volcano. It’s strapless, tight on top, with a flurry of tulle that stops just above the knee.

I don’t flatter myself much, but this dress looks amazing
on me. I snap a picture and text it to Jenna. I laugh out loud when I get her response.

“Amalita, you are a fashion genius,” I say as I open the dressing room door.

“This is not something you have to tell me,” she says. She walks around me, appraising the fit from all sides. “
Perfecto
,” she declares. “You look so good you can even wear it on our Night of Dreams with Kyler Leeds. Assuming I invite you to join me.”

“Assuming you win. Which you won’t.”

“Which I
will
. This is the last week of the contest. Still plenty of time for you to change your mind and enter.
If
the servers don’t crash. They’re expecting so many entries they think they might.”

“And that’s supposed to make me want to enter?” I ask.

“Someone has to win, Autumn.”

“Yes,” I agree. “Someone who is not me.” I spin in front of the mirror. “You really think I look good in this?”

“Seriously? Amazing.”

Finally the day of the Winter Formal arrives. I’m in my room waiting for Sean to pick me up, and I have Jenna on Skype so she can check out the outfit, complete with
Amalita-approved heels, earrings, bracelet, hair, nails, and makeup.

“Tell me the truth. I look good?” I ask as I spin around.

“You are amazeballs gorgeous,” she says. “Take lots of pictures!”

The doorbell rings.

I gasp. “Noooooo! I wanted to be down there before—”

“Well, hello! You must be Sean.” My mom’s extra-chirpy voice travels upstairs. “You look so
handsome
.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Go,” Jenna says. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

I click off the computer, slip off my shoes, and carry them so I can run down the steps.

“Autumn!” Mom says, then adds under her breath, “Erick, make sure you get her all the way down the stairs.”

Yep, there’s my brother, videotaping the whole uncomfortable scene.

“No, no video. We’re not doing this. This is completely embarrassing. I’m so sorry,” I add to Sean.

He doesn’t look embarrassed at all. “It’s cool,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

Mom sighs, a long, deep sigh that cracks at the end. It hurts my heart. I know exactly what she’s thinking, and if I look at her I’ll think it too, and I don’t want to. Not now.

But I look at her. She’s smiling, trying hard not to cry. I take her hands.

“Mom, it’s okay.”

“You’re so beautiful,” she says, touching my cheek. “If your father could see you …”

Oh no. I can feel the ball of tears in my throat, rising toward the back of my eyes. If they make it, I’m lost. I blink quickly.

“Stop. Please. It’s just a dance. I love you so much, but I don’t want to cry.”

“Of course not,” she says. She takes a deep breath and smiles. “Have a fantastic time. Home by midnight.”

“I promise.”

“Nice meeting you, Mrs. Falls,” Sean says. My mom takes a few pictures of us with her phone and then we’re off.

Sean holds my hand as we walk to his SUV, and I refrain from flipping the bird behind my back, where I know one-hundred-percent positively that Erick is filming us through the window.

“You okay?” Sean asks once we pull away.

“Yeah,” I say, smoothing out my skirt. “Um, I’m sorry about the drama.”

“Don’t be. I can’t even imagine …” He drives for a bit, then turns and smiles. “You look incredible.”

“Thanks,” I say, smiling back at him. “You too.”

He’s wearing a dark suit, a mint-green button-down, and a gray tie. It’s a very good look.

The dance is at the school gym, which should be a buzz-kill, but I have to admit whoever decorated it did an amazing job. Aside from the basketball court lines on the floor,
it’s unrecognizable—tonight it looks like a fairyland, with small twinkling lights and tables with candles and vases of white flowers. Loud music thrums through the room, and Sean and I quickly meld into the crowd of dancers. The dim light and formal clothes make it almost impossible to recognize some of these people, but Taylor’s there with Zach, and Reenzie with Trevor. They don’t bother me. I’m dancing with Sean, his eyes are locked on mine … it’s perfect.

At one point, the DJ puts on a song I don’t know. Sean, however, lights up.

“Do you swing dance?” he shouts over the music.

“Swing dance?” I repeat incredulously.

I have never known anyone who swing dances, but I realize that even though a lot of people have cleared off the dance floor, the ones who remain swirl in holdinghand couples, jumping and twirling and gliding together in a way I’ve only seen in the movies.

“It was a thing when we were kids,” Sean admits. “A bunch of us took lessons. Hated it then, but it’s actually pretty fun. Want to try?”

He holds out his hand. His smile is enticing. So is the idea of him whirling me around on the dance floor.

“You do realize I’m the least coordinated human being on the planet,” I say over the music.

“Just let me lead you,” he says.

I give him my hand.

In the movie version of my life, the next four minutes
would be an exhilarating whirlwind. We’d move as a single unit around and around the floor, and end the song with him balancing me in a gravity-defying dip.

In reality …

“Ow! Oh God, I’m sorry.… Wait.… Oh no … shoot … ow!”

I can’t go two steps without tromping on his toes, making him step on mine, or smacking heads. No matter how many times he tells me to let go and just follow, I can’t do it. Does this say something good about my strong, independent personality? No doubt.

It also makes me a crappy dance partner.

“Forget it,” he says. “We’ll wait for the next song.”

He’s not a jerk about it or anything, but I see the way he watches the other dancers and I know he’s disappointed. Then I see Reenzie. Apparently Trevor missed dance lessons when he was a kid too, because he’s talking to Zach while his date looks longingly at the couples on the floor. I notice her catch Sean’s eye and shrug.

“You should dance with her,” I tell him impulsively.

Sean looks surprised. “Really? You don’t mind?”

Shockingly, I don’t. He’s here with me, Reenzie’s here with Trevor, he wanted to dance with me first … it’s cool.

“Thanks.” He walks over to Reenzie and says something into her ear and reaches for her hand. She looks to Trevor as if asking his permission, but he’s not even paying attention. She shrugs again, takes Sean’s hand, and a second later they’ve turned from high school sophomores to
professional dancers, bopping across the floor as though they’re in
Dancing with the Stars
.

Unlike me, Reenzie follows Sean flawlessly. With the exception of those moments he spins her away, their eyes stay locked, and it’s like they’re reading each other’s minds. I find it hard to believe they haven’t spent the last ten years rehearsing this moment.

They look disturbingly happy.

I remind myself this was my idea. I told him to dance with her.

That doesn’t mean I have to watch it.

I head to the refreshments table. Jack is there downing punch while Amalita nibbles a cookie.

“Hey, Autumn,” Jack says, wiping his mouth on his jacket sleeve.

Amalita looks at me closely. “Are you okay with them out there?”

I nod. “Totally. And the song’s almost over. Where’s J.J.?”

Amalita tilts her head toward the dance floor. J.J.’s swing dancing with a pretty girl with bobbed brown hair. She wears a fringed dress, beads, and a shimmering headband. She looks adorably as if she stepped out of a time machine from the 1920s.

“Is that … Carrie Amernick?” I ask, recognizing her.

“Yes,” Jack grumbles.

“Carrie’s J.J.’s date?” I ask. “I thought he came with you guys.”

“She asked him at the last minute,” Amalita explains.

“Like … a date?” I ask, surprised. “They’re together now?”

“Emergency date,” Jack grouses. “Hers got the flu. And did she call
me
, the guy who’d love to go out with her, or did she call
him
, the guy who broke up with her last year?”

“He broke up with
her
?” I ask. For the first time I imagine J.J. as boyfriend material. “What were they like together?”

“Listen to you,” Amalita says. “What are you, jealous?”