Autumn's Wish (20 page)

I don't hear Amalita's answer because I'm suddenly back in bed.

It's interesting. I jumped thinking about my family, but I didn't see them at all. Does that mean they're okay? Did my intervention with Glen succeed so he's no longer an issue?

I have to believe
yes.
Dad would want me to know if Mom still needed my help. So with her all set, Dad's spirit made sure I saw the people who need my help the most. Specifically Reenzie. And Tee, but the only way I can help her is to keep making changes now, so hopefully I find a future where Drew's okay.

But Reenzie—her I can help. If Stanford is too high-pressure for her, I have to make sure she doesn't go. The hard part is I know she already applied there for Restrictive Early Action. That means if they accept her, she has to go. They're not supposed to make their decision until December, but I want to act fast, just in case.

I head to my computer and write a letter to the Admissions Department at Stanford. I try to channel Reenzie's voice and explain that even though I applied for Restrictive Early Action, I only did so to appease my high-pressure parents. I say that I'm having communication problems with my parents, and they don't understand that Stanford is not really the college for me. Since I can't convince them, I humbly ask the Admissions Department to simply reject me. I sign it, print it out, then go downstairs and grab a stamp and envelope from the desk where Mom pays all her non-auto-pay bills. Snail mail's my only choice for this; email is too easily traced. Even if I set up a fake “Reenzie” email, they'll see it's not the one from her application.

I think I make a good argument. I bet they even get kids all the time who apply because their parents pressure them into it, so I'm sure they'll buy it. Reenzie will kill me if she ever finds out, but I'm okay with that. Better she kills me than tries to kill herself. At least, as long as we're talking metaphorically.

My jump also helped me figure out what to do about Amalita, so the next day after school I come home and make a batch of empanadas using Ames's mom's recipe. I make a ton of them, because Thanksgiving is only a week away and I may as well freeze some and save them for that. I call Ames's house to make sure her mom's there, and I'm thrilled when she answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Leibowitz! I made your empanadas! Can I bring some over for you?”

“I don't know,
mija.
Amalita's still feeling under the weather….”

“I don't even have to see her!” I offer. “I just want your opinion on these before I serve them up for Thanksgiving.”

That clinches it. She says yes, and I ride my bike over to Amalita's, the empanadas warming my back through my backpack.

“
Muy delicioso,
Autumn,” she raves forty-five minutes later when we're sitting at the kitchen table together.
“Perfecto!”

“It was your recipe,” I say humbly. “I just followed it and everything worked out.”

I spend some time chatting with her, and I listen while she tells me all about every single dish she's making for Thursday's meal. Then, when she's about to boot me out so she can make dinner, I ask to see Amalita.

“Just for a second,” I say. “She's just been sick so long, I'm worried about her.”

Mrs. Leibowitz frowns. “I don't want you to catch anything….” She walks to a kitchen drawer and pulls out a hospital mask. “Just in case. And only stay for a minute.”

I thank her and pull on the mask, then pull it off once I storm into Amalita's room.

“Hey!” she objects.

She's in the exact same nightgown as three weeks before, which would worry me from a sanitation point of view, except the baby blue fabric is so clean it practically glows, her room smells like lemon and bleach, and Ames herself looks sparkling clean. Her hair is plaited back in twin braids. Lying back against her pillows, she looks like she's about six years old.

“Go away, Autumn,” she mutters. “I don't want to see anybody.”

“Your mom gave me a mask to come in here,” I say. “What does she think you have, Ebola?”

Ames shrugs. “I'm lucky my dad's a hypochondriac. All the doctors say I'm fine, but I just tell him new symptoms so he keeps me home. Right now he thinks I've got walking pneumonia.”

“Ames, this has to stop,” I say.

“Yeah, I thought so too,” she says dully, “but it keeps going on. I saw this one today.”

She pulls out her phone and shows me a Vine. It's the picture she sent to Zander, only someone animated it. For six seconds, Amalita dances in her nightgown as hearts fly out of her eyes.

“It's never going to end,” she says. “Never.”

Her eyes have the same defeated look I saw on Reenzie's face in my last jump. But thanks to Ames, I know what to do about it.

“No,” I say. “No more moaning. I'm sick of it.”

Ames frowns. “Excuse you?”

“I am!” I say. “You did this to yourself, Amalita. You got drunk. You sent a picture. That's on you. So, what, you're gonna give up on your life just because you're feeling sorry for youself?”

I'm quoting Amalita to Amalita, only she can't possibly know since it's a speech she's going to give to Reenzie three years from now, in a future I've already made sure won't happen. I don't quote it perfectly, and the pep talk I go on to give her is about
my
past,not hers. I remind her again about my sophomore year, when everybody hated me and all I wanted to do was disappear.

“I never thought that would get better,” I say. “But it did.”

“ 'Cause Reenzie took the site about you down,” Ames says. “This picture is out there forever.”

“So what if it is?” I say, channeling Future Ames the best I can. “So what if people Google your name years from now and it comes up? You know what you'll do?”

“Oh, you're gonna tell me?” Ames challenges me. “Like you're psychic now?”

I try not to smile. I see it as an excellent sign that she has the energy to get angry with me.

“Not psychic,” I say. “I just know you. And I know you're too kickass to let your own mistake and a bunch of some complete jerkoffs' bullying get in your way. So whenever this comes up, you'll hold your head high and deal. You messed up, sure, but Zander and the losers like him are the
panzons
who took advantage. And if you stay here and hide, or take yourself out of the picture, they win.”

Ames is quiet for a second. “I think I should call Zander,” she says.

I'm stunned. “Seriously, Ames?! Why?!”

She smiles. “I want to tell him I have family in the Cuban mafia whose business is revenge. If he gets anywhere near me, or does one thing to piss me off, they'll make him disappear.”

I grin. “
Is
there a Cuban mafia?”

“How should I know?” Ames asks. “But I bet he doesn't know either.”

“If you do call and tell him that,” I say, “he'd be
really
happy if you never went back to school and he never saw you again.”

“Yeah, I bet he would,” Ames agrees. Her eyes dance as she thinks about it, then she catches me grinning giddily and rolls her eyes.
“Callate,”
she says. “Go. Maybe I'll see you at school tomorrow. Give Zander one less thing to be thankful for over vacation.”

I give Ames a big hug, then dart out of her room and ride home.

Ames does go to school the next day, even though she says it was a nightmare trying to convince her parents she
wasn't
sick anymore. It's an ugly day for her. Lots of people laugh and whisper behind her back—or right in front of her face—but she ignores it all. And she takes a special joy in grabbing every opportunity to get near Zander, who always looks terrified and runs in the other direction. At lunch, she even sprawls on the lawn like always, even though it's the same pose she struck in the picture and everyone notices. I'm proud of her, and I'm crazy-over-the-moon thrilled to have a lunch friend again.

“So,” she says, “when were you going to tell me you're head over heels for J.J.?”

“What?!” I blurt, and quickly look away from J.J., since of course I was staring right at him.

“Mija,
I was hiding and depressed for three weeks, not dead. That boy tells me everything.”

I suddenly feel a little light-headed. “What did he say?”

“Oh, look at that. Now you're staring at me and not him.”

“Ames!”

She sits up, jangling all her bracelets. “Come on. He loves you.”

“He said that?”

“No.
I
said that.
He
said that after what happened last year he can't ever trust you that way, and he's better off sticking with a girl who at least knows she wants to be with him.”

“But what about her and Keith Hamilton?” I balk. “She kissed him!”

“
He
kissed
her.
Different. And not on the lips.”

I open my mouth to object but she shakes her head, cutting me off with earring jangle. “I know! But that's what he said. And you were straight with me yesterday, so I'm gonna be straight with you. You had your chance with him. You blew it. It's Carrie's turn. Maybe it'll work for her and maybe it won't, but you can't get in the middle. If it's meant to be, it'll be.
Que sera sera.
”

I nod, but Ames has no idea what she's talking about. If I had just let the future be, Ames would be doomed to a future in rehab, Sean would be doomed to paralysis, Carrie and J.J. would be parents before they were out of college, Jack would be closeted forever….The future is
not
set in stone, and it only gets better if we make it better.

J.J. isn't meant to be with Carrie. I know it. I just have to figure out a way to make him know it too. With Thanksgiving break, I guess I'll have time to think about it.