Autumn's Kiss (14 page)

My mom's eyes are giant circles. Her mouth is open. She holds up a wooden spoon with batter on it, and her long curls have settled in the batter. I don't think she even realizes.

“The parade,” she says. “I…Erick and I…we thought we saw you…”

“We
did
see you,” Erick says, tromping up the stairs. “On a float with Kyler Leeds.”

I look at him like he's nuts. “Loser,” I say, “what are you talking about? I just woke up.”

The color's coming back to Mom's face. When she speaks this time, she sounds more like herself. “It was really uncanny. He had a girl on his float who looked so much like you, I almost thought…” She laughs. “Maybe I'm more thrown by this Thanksgiving than I thought.” She gives me a hug and tells me to come on down and help them cook. I do, but I act curious about what they saw so Erick will roll back the TiVo. It's actually not as bad as I thought. By the time I was onstage with Kyler, the TV cameras had long since moved on to the next float. What Mom and Erick saw and what freaked them out was just a quick shot of me ducking away from the fish dancers.

It was a crazy adventure, but I stand by it. I feel much better now about staying at home. I even have fun hanging out with Erick and Mom, just the three of us, and working like mad scientists to cobble together an insane amount of food. When the parade's over, we put on music—a Pandora channel we make based on one choice from each of us. We do goofy dance moves to our favorite songs, goofier ones to songs we don't like, and of course Erick pretends he's being poisoned every time a Kyler Leeds song comes on.

“I have an idea!” I say at one point. “Since Eddy's coming, I should make
boniatillo
!”

Mom and Erick freeze like I threw ice water on them.

Of course they do.
Boniatillo
is what I was making—trying to make—the day we heard about Dad's accident. It's a word I've never even said since, and it's certainly nothing I've ever wanted to try to cook. However, now…it just seems right.

I need them to answer me soon, though. I'm still smiling, but tears are welling in my eyes.

Then I see they're welling in Mom's eyes too. She comes over and gives me a huge hug. “I think that's a wonderful idea, Autumn. I really do.”

Luckily, we have all the ingredients. Mom says she's willing to brave the supermarket for the cause, but I'd rather we all stay together. So unlike the time I made the dish a year ago, when I felt like I needed to do everything while Erick and Jenna only watched and Mom wasn't involved at all, this time we all work together. We get out sweet potatoes, sugar, lime, cinnamon, eggs, and
manzanilla.
Erick peels the potatoes, I mash them, Mom works the saucepan to stir together the other ingredients and heat it to just the right consistency…

We don't say anything about Dad. It's not that we don't want to; it's more like if we did, we couldn't cook—we'd just cry. But we're all thinking about him. We're all thinking about that day. And in a weird way, it's like we're doing it over again but giving it a happier ending. Maybe not one with Dad back, but one where the three of us are laughing together and having fun instead of being completely ripped to shreds.

There's still more to cook even after the
boniatillo
is done, and then we all go up to shower and get ready before we set the table. By quarter to five everything's set—Mom just has to get Eddy.

Instead she tosses me the keys.

“What?!” I say.

“You're driving,” Mom tells me.

I toss the keys back to her. “Learner's permit,” I say. “I can't drive alone. It's the law.”

She tosses them back to me. “I'll ride in the passenger seat.”

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Erick pipes up. “They say that's the least safe place in a car. And if Autumn messes up…”

I should be insulted, but I actually agree. I have no desire to be orphaned on Thanksgiving…well,
ever,
but certainly not today, and even more certainly not when it's my fault. “Listen to your son,” I tell Mom. “He has our best interests at heart.”

“Erick, you're welcome to come along and sit in the backseat if you want to keep an eye on things,” Mom says. “Otherwise fill the water decanter and get it on the table. We'll be back very soon.”

Erick's too nervous to ride in the car with me driving, but he's also terrified to be home alone when I'm driving Mom. He calls Mom the second she gets in the car—we can still see him through the dining room window—and stays on the phone with her the entire drive.

I actually do great. I'm pretty surprised and excited about it. The whole drive is so simple that when we turn in to the Century Acres driveway, I wheel to Mom for a high five.

“Up top for your brilliant driver daughter!”

“Autumn!”

She's looking out the windshield, so I do too…and slam on the brakes just in time, barely bumping the car parked in front of us.

“Oh my God!” I gasp when I realize what I did.
“I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry!”

Mom takes a deep breath. “It's okay. You bumped it lightly. Maybe you didn't even leave a mark. Back up a little so we can see. We'll have to talk to the car's owner and take responsibility.”

I'm shaking all over—so much I can barely shift the car into reverse and back up. I do, though; then I park. I'm about to get out, when I see the driver's door of the other car open. My heart sinks. He was in the car when I bumped it. He's going to kill me.

The first thing I notice is the driver of the other car is my age, maybe just a year or two older, so I relax a little, thinking he'll understand. Then my whole body seizes because I realize the driver's not just any guy my age—it's
Kyler Leeds
! He frowns as he walks toward the back of his car, but my mom's already out and talking to him.

“Hi. I'm so sorry. That was us who bumped you. My daughter's just learning and she misjudged the distance. If there's any damage, of course we'll pay for it.”

She clearly has no idea who she's talking to. Kyler, meanwhile, is peering through the windshield, like he can sort of see me but wants to get a better look. Probably the sun's glare is making it hard. I get out of the car and smile sheepishly. “Hi, Kyler.”

“You already know each other?” Mom asks. She still doesn't get it.

“Yeah,” I say. “Mom, this is Kyler. Kyler, Mom. I mean, Gwen. Kyler's grandmother is Eddy's archenemy.”

I expect some kind of amused reaction from Kyler, but he's just looking at me like my whole face broke out in a strange growth. Did it break out in a strange growth? Or is he just mad at me for bumping his car? I look down at his rear end—
the car's
rear end. “I don't see any scratches or anything,” I say. “I'm really sorry.”

“How did you get back here so fast?” Kyler asks. “I had a private jet waiting for me and I still barely made it.”

Oh crap. I'd forgotten I spent the morning on a float with him. I feel pinpricks of sweat break out all over my body.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“The parade. You were on my float?”

“What parade?” I ask. Then I gasp as I fake-realize what he means. “Ohhhh, the Macy's parade! I saw it on TV! Well, part of it. I slept through you. I'm sorry. But Mom says you were really good, right, Mom?”

“You're Kyler…Leeds?” she asks. Then she laughs and smiles. “Oh my goodness, Autumn's been a fan of yours forever. You should have seen her room back at our old house. I don't think there was a space on the walls not covered with your face. And the magazines, and the books, and the
accessories
—”

“Wow, okay, Mom, I think he gets it,” I say hurriedly. But when I turn back to Kyler, he has a big grin on his face.

“What kind of accessories?” he asks.

“Not important,” I say quickly.

He smiles even wider. “I'm going to get my grandmother. You sure you weren't in New York this morning?”

“On your float!” Mom exclaims. “Yes, I saw that too! The girl—she looked so much like Autumn,
I
thought it was her, and I knew she was up in her room.”

Score one for Mom, totally coming through.

“Wow,” Kyler says, “yeah. I
swore
it was you.” He meets my eyes when he says it and I can tell he's still not convinced it wasn't. “Good seeing you both. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“What about your bumper?” Mom asks.

“It's cool,” Kyler says. “It looks fine. Even it wasn't, it's a rental and it's all covered.”

Huge relief. And I got to see Kyler Leeds for the second time today! I really do have a lot to be thankful for.

We all head inside, then split off to gather our old folks. Eddy's pacing right by the door, which she tells us is what she's been doing for the last two hours. She refuses to ride in the car if “the baby” is driving—that's me—so Mom drives, Eddy takes the passenger seat, and I flop in the back. I see on my phone that Erick has texted me ten times between when we got to Century Acres and now. Apparently after I hit the other car and Mom screamed my name, she told Erick very abruptly that she had to go and hung up, and now he's in a wild panic. I call him and let him know we're okay and he doesn't have to call a SWAT team. He stays on the phone with me the whole time, and when we all get home, he runs out and hugs each one of us like we'd been at war for several years.

Thanksgiving dinner is really nice. It ends up being all about Dad, but not in an awful way. Eddy tells us stories we never knew about him as a child, and we tell her our favorite stories about him too. It's sad, but happy too. It's really the first time we've all sat around and talked about him—well, ever, really. And it's definitely the first time any of us have had a conversation like this without it getting too sad for someone to take. We do all cry a little bit, but they're tears we can talk through, and we laugh even more than we cry.

Eddy goes nuts when we bring out the
boniatillo.
She swears it's the best she's ever had, which I find hard to believe, but I like that she says it. I know she knows its significance—we talked about it once—so I'm happy when she winks at me and takes a huge bite.

After dessert, Mom's washing dishes—I volunteered to help but she said no—and Erick and I are sitting around watching TV while Eddy's in the bathroom. It's an extended experience for her. After a while I see her in the hallway, in a spot where Erick can't see her but I can. She beckons to me and I get up and join her.

“Did you find anything in the journal?” she whispers.

“Yes,” I whisper back. “It was a map. It has the
zemi
on it. It…takes me places.”

Eddy nods. “Have you been using it to bring peace and harmony to your little corner of the world?”

I think about it. I messed up with Ames and Denny, but I was at least trying to make her happy when I got them together. And it's definitely done good things for Taylor and Leo and me and Sean. As for Jenna and I, she's straight up told me that having me at her house all the time is the best thing that's happened to her since I moved away, and it's the same for me.

“Yeah,” I say. “I think I have.”

“Bueno,”
she says. “Then keep doing it. “Reinaldo…he knows. And he's proud.”

The next day, Mom, Erick, and I are all still floating on a cloud of family fabulousness. We wake up late, make breakfast together, take Schmidt for a walk, visit Catches Falls and play with all the dogs there, go out to the movies…it's all really nice, and I'm incredibly thankful for both of them.

I miss Sean, though. A lot. I'm on Day Six now (counting the day he left town, which I do), and I'm going through serious withdrawal. The texts and calls are great, but they're not enough. I need to see him, and I can't wait until Monday at school.

Do I
have
to wait until Monday?

I kind of don't.

Sean's in Pensacola. That's ten hours away by car. If I use the map and write myself there and anyone other than Sean sees me, I can say I took a road trip. Sure, it would be an illegal road trip since I only have a permit and I need an older driver in the car with me, but no one would probably think that deep about it. Plus, that's only if I get caught and need an excuse. With Sean…maybe I can tell him the truth. I trust him, I'm crazy about him…why not let him know? And once he knows, we can use the map to hang out together even more. I could even map myself into his room in the middle of the night. Not to do anything crazy, just to sleep with him. Literally
sleep
with him. Cuddle up in a bed with his arms around me and my head on his chest and tucked under the covers with him and be with him all night.

It sounds like heaven. Yeah, we'd have to scramble in the mornings to get me out of there, but even that would be easy. I'd set my phone alarm for like four in the morning and map myself to my own bed.

I love this idea. This might be the best idea I've ever had. I come up with it when Mom, Erick, and I are on our way home from the movies, and I decide I'll do it for sure this evening. Late, so Sean's not hanging out with his and Reenzie's families when I show up. It'll be dark, moonlight will stream in through the window, and I'll appear in some kind of gorgeous gauzy nightgown that flows around me like a cloud. I'll gently tap Sean awake and he'll think he's dreaming. Then I'll crawl into bed next to him and everything will be perfect.

The waiting is torture, but my plan will really only work after he's gone to bed, so it's a necessary torture. I fill the time playing board games with Mom and Erick, all of which I lose because I can't concentrate; then, after they go to bed, I put on trash TV so my brain doesn't have to even try to work. I'd love to talk to Jenna, but she's still away, and when I text her, she texts back that she's in a massive cousin conclave and can't talk, which I get. She has about a zillion cousins, and a bunch of them are our age, so when they get together it's a big party.

The whole evening, I stay in touch with Sean via text so I know when will be a good time. Obviously I don't tell him my plan, but I check in with him like everything's normal. I find out when he's having dinner, when his and Reenzie's families go for an after-dinner walk along the beach, when they all sit up playing charades, and when they finally go to bed.

That's when I start to get ready. I don't have a gauzy nightgown like the one in my fantasy, but cute sleep shorts and a tank should be good. I pull on a hoodie I like too, just in case it's cold in the house or on the beach if we want to sneak out and walk around before I make my predawn escape. I want to put on a little makeup, but I don't want it to smear while I sleep. I opt to go without it—if Ames can, so can I. I do brush out my hair with a little product and put on lip gloss—which doesn't count as makeup—and I use the body lotion Ames bought for me at the beginning of the summer that smells like coconut.

My heart is thudding in anticipation. I take one last look at myself in the mirror to make sure the results are good; then I take out the map and write “
Sean
” across the green splotch of land.

Suddenly I'm sitting in a closet. The map seems to have a thing for closets lately. I can't see anything, but I know it's a closet because my butt is resting on a pile of clothes and shoes, many of which don't smell great.

I'm glad I have the coconut body lotion on. Hopefully its scent is stronger than the sneakers'.

Despite the odor, it's good I'm in the closet. That gives me a chance to make sure Sean is sleeping, so I can sneak up on him. There are slats on the door, but no light streaming through them. That's good. He's in bed. Or just not in the room. I adjust the slats so I can try and see.

One detail of my fantasy was right. Moonlight
does
stream into the room, so once I adjust the slats, I can see a little bit. The bed's far from the closet, but I can make out something shadowy on top of it. It's moving a little, I think. Like Sean's rolling over in his sleep.

Then I hear giggling.

Girly giggling.

My blood turns to ice.

I strain every cell to listen more closely.

I hear other sounds now. Unmistakable sounds.

Kissing.

Heavy breathing.

No-no-no-no-no-no-no.
This isn't possible. I'm in the wrong room, maybe. This is one of Sean's
brothers'
rooms, and the brother's in here with his girlfriend. That has to be it.

I shift in the closet. Sneakers tumble a little under me and I freeze—did the people on the bed hear? No. They're not saying anything. I shift a little more, carefully this time, and readjust the slats so I can see the bed more clearly.

Sean and Reenzie
are on the bed. They're dressed—they're both in shorts and tops—but they're smushed up next to each other and they're kissing. Not peck-on-the-cheek kissing. Not you're-like-a-sister-to-me kissing. Full-on, tongues-in-each-other's-mouths, grasping, grabbing, groping
kissing.

I want to throw up.

I want to cry.

I want to slam out of the closet and scream at them both.

I can't. I can't do any of it. I'm not even supposed to be here. It's impossible for me to be here.

I'm so shaky I don't even know if I'll be able to write my way back home. I'm positive I'll end up in Rome, or Nome, or buried in a hole.

I get home. That's when I cry. Deep, wracking sobs that hurt when they come out.

How could Sean do this to me? How could Reenzie? Was she only pretending to be my friend all this time?

I cry until I'm completely wrung out. Then I guess I fall asleep because the sun's streaming through the window when I open my eyes. Or try to open my eyes. They're swollen and sticky and sore.

Stupid map. Peace and harmony? Yeah, right. Although I guess if I didn't see them together, I'd be living in fake peace and harmony, so maybe it did me a favor. It just doesn't feel like it right now.

I don't want to leave my room. I don't want to leave my bed. Mom comes and knocks on my door at one point to see if I want to go out with her and Erick, but I tell her I'm not feeling well. She comes and sits on my bed and pets my head—she's worried I'm not really sick, just sad after yesterday and all the talk about Dad. It would be an easy excuse, but I don't want to upset her. Plus, I liked yesterday. I don't want her to think days like that are bad. I tell her it's really just some kind of cold and I'll feel better if I just stay in bed. I don't know if she believes me, but she says okay and leaves, promising to check in while she and Erick are out.

Schmidt's the next one to come in, but him I want with me. I know he can tell I'm depressed, because he jumps on the bed, which is next to physically impossible for him, and just lies there while I hug him.

I fall asleep again, but I wake up when my cell phone rings. It's J.J.

“Hey,” he says. “I was thinking about you. How did it go?”

He's pretty surprised when I burst into tears.

“I'll be right over,” he says.

When I hang up, I see that Sean has already texted to say good morning. I can't deal. I change my settings and block him. By the time I do that, the doorbell's ringing. J.J. I go down and open the door, but I don't bother to fix my hair or face or get changed. I'm still in the sleep shorts and tank, my face is blotchy and swollen, and my hair sticks out in all directions, including straight up.

J.J. looks horrified for all of a nanosecond; then his face melts with sympathy and he wraps his arms around me. The hug feels really good. I hug him back and cry.

“It's okay,” he says. “I'm so sorry…but it's okay.”

Now I feel guilty. I know he thinks I'm upset about Thanksgiving without my dad. I pull away gently. “It's not what you think,” I say. “Thursday was great.”

He wrinkles his eyebrows. I definitely don't look like it was great.

“The day was great…and the dinner. It was last night.” I take a deep breath and let it out in one rush along with the words, “Sean and Reenzie hooked up.”

J.J. cocks his head. “How do you know?”

“I
saw
them,” I say, before I realize how idiotic that sounds. “I mean…” I flounder to find a way I'd know it's true. “Sean admitted it,” I say. “But the way he told me, I could picture it in my head, so it's like I saw it.”

He still looks like he's trying to shift gears and compute what's really happening. “It's stupid,” I say. “You're right—with what you're thinking. I have bigger things to be upset about, and I'm not. I made it through Thanksgiving, and next to that, this is nothing.”

“It's not nothing,” J.J. says. “You can't compare it to the other thing. This is different. It's horrible. I can't believe he'd do that to you.”

“You can't?” I say. “I thought you'd be giving me anagrams for ‘I told you so.' ”

I expect J.J. to laugh, maybe even spout out a couple anagrams, but he looks more serious than ever. “Not a chance.”

There's an intensity in his eyes that surprises me. I think he's even angrier at Sean than I am. I have to admit, it feels nice that he's so protective of me and cares so much…but I'm not really sure what to do from here. I'm sure J.J. would be happy to hang out, but I don't think I'm up for it. “Thanks for coming over,” I say.

He shakes his head. He can tell where I'm going. “Nope,” he says. “Not getting rid of me that easily.”

I actually laugh out loud. “I'm not?”

He shakes his head. “You've been hurt, and you need something to make you feel better. I have a car that's desperate for a road trip, and a huge list of places it needs to go, including the most amazing food spots in a two-hour radius. Get in the car.”

“ ‘Get in the car'?” I laugh. “Is that an order?”

“A firm suggestion?”

“I look like crap.”

“You look beautiful.”

“I'm wearing pajamas.”

“Really? They look like clothes.”

“I'm not hopping in your car like this.”

“Come on! It'll be an adventure. You're already feeling better thinking about it, right?”

I kind of am, but I'm still not going anywhere looking like this. I compromise. I get ready, but not totally ready. I run water through my hair to tame it, then toss it in a ponytail. I slap on deodorant, put on lip gloss, grab sunglasses and flip-flops, and even though I stay in my sleep tank and shorts, I put a bandeau on underneath. I also grab my bag with my money, keys, phone, lip gloss, mints, and the map—not because I plan to use the map, but because I feel weird leaving it around the house.

“You asked for it,” I say as I tromp downstairs, “the least attractive version of me you will ever see.”

“Yeah, right,” J.J. snorts.

“Do any of these food places have waffle cones?” I ask.

“As you wish,” he replies, and opens the door for me. The humidity outside is oppressive as always, but it feels good to be out of the house. I take my usual spot in the passenger seat, slip off the flip-flops, put my feet on the dash, and turn the music up painfully loud so I can scream along.