Autumn Falls (3 page)

He’s unbelievably goofy, but he’s happy. You can tell. You hold the picture and it’s like you can’t help but want to jump in and hang out with him because you know you’ll have the best time ever.

“I love you, Daddy,” I said.

Then I walked out the door.

As I pass a steady stream of single-story houses with pink roofs and huge picture windows, Jenna finally texts me back:

I miss her like crazy.

I still can’t believe I’m living in Florida. I was positive that after what happened we’d cancel everything, but Mom decided Dad would want us to stick with our plans, move into the house he’d already set up for us, and keep
an eye on Eddy. I argued that moving meant we’d lose our home and friends and everything familiar, which was one thing before, but now everything had changed. As a good mother, shouldn’t Mom want us to hold on to what little stability we had left?

That made her cry. I’ve been a real rock for my family lately.

A block into the walk, a guy my age with a backpack slung over his shoulder turns onto the sidewalk from another street. I’m maybe four feet behind him, and I’m guessing he’s also going to school because he looks the right age and has a backpack slung over one shoulder, and we make the exact same turns two blocks in a row.

I don’t mean to stare at him, but he’s right there in front of me, so I kind of do. He’s wearing cargo shorts that reach to just above his knees, and a red T-shirt. I have an excellent view of the back of his head, which features close-cropped brown hair, but I’m particularly mesmerized by his neck. It’s almost as red as his shirt. He must have forgotten to put sunblock there, because it’s the only swath of burn I see, and this is a guy who’d burn easily. His arms and legs are as pale as mine, and I have to put on SPF 100+ if I even think about stepping outside around here.

Am I actually as pale as him? He’s pretty translucent. I hold up my arm and try to judge it against his legs. It’s a tough call with the distance between us. Maybe if I get a little closer.

I’m about to speed up when he wheels around.

“Either you’re a private investigator on my tail, in which case I’ll go ahead and tell you whatever you need to know, or you’re also walking to Aventura High, in which case it’s impossibly rude and maybe a little bit sexist to stay three steps ahead of you all the way to school.”

I like him right away. Partly because he’s funny and confident, partly because he’s a fellow pale in a land of golden tans.

“I’m walking to Aventura High,” I say. “Autumn Falls.” He looks like he’s thinking about it so I clarify. “My
name
is Autumn Falls. That’s not just a statement I’m telling you.”

“A Lustful Man,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“Anagram of your name. I’m J.J. Austin, which tragically has no good anagrams. One more ‘A’ and one more ‘N’ and I could be Just A Ninja, but as it is I’ve got nothing.”

“This is what you do?” I ask as we start walking again. “You make anagrams?”

He nods. “I like word stuff. Anagrams, crosswords, acrostics, the jumble …”

“The
jumble
? Is that even a thing if you’re under eighty?”

“It is if you’re a member of my family. It’s what we do together. Weird, I know, but it’s kind of our thing.”

“A full-family Thing?” I ask, impressed. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

I explain my theory and how the Family Thing will be a welcome addition to the treatise. I’ve spent all of five minutes
with J.J. and I’m already acting like a goofball around him. I hope we have some classes together.

My new high school is a low, sprawling building in a truly bizarre shade of purple with
AVENTURA HIGH
painted in giant turquoise letters along the largest wall. It’s shaped like a U, with a wide, flat lawn in the middle. The lawn is packed with people playing Frisbee, tossing footballs, and hanging out.

Maybe J.J.’s a good omen. Maybe I’ll click this easily with everyone here. Maybe by next week—maybe by tomorrow morning—I’ll have my own little spot on the lawn where my new amazing friends will meet me and hang out until class.

“Can you show me where the principal’s office is?” I ask when we enter the building. Thankfully, it’s air-conditioned, although it’s too late now; I know without looking that my hair is a lost cause. “I’m supposed to check in with her.”

“Sure. It’s down this way. Did you just move here?”

I really preferred where the conversation was before. This road leads to my dad, which leads to wide, sympathetic eyes and a horrible you-poor-thing-I-can’t-possibly-relate void that swallows everything it sees.

“Yeah. A couple weeks ago.” I’m afraid he’s going to start asking me questions, so I throw him off by asking for anagrams of Stillwater (Little Wars), Aventura (Rave Tuna), and Way Too Humid (Audio Myth Ow). By that time we’re
at the principal’s office. It has a giant window that opens on the hall, but the blinds are shut tight.

“Want me to wait?” he asks. “I can walk you to your class.”

“Oh,” I say, not expecting that. “I’m good.” I pull my tank top back and forth, trying to cool off.

“Got it.”

I’d actually love it if he hung out and walked with me to class, but I don’t want him to hear whatever the principal has to say. If she brings up my dad, it would just be awkward.

“So, I’ll, um … see you around?” I offer.

“Right. See you around.” He turns and walks away, then wheels back to call over his shoulder, “No Arduous Eye!” which I figure out is an anagram for “See you around.”

As he walks off, I rummage in my tote bag for my phone and send Erick a text:
sorry about this morning. the kids at school will love you.

He texts back immediately:
I know they will. I’m awesome.

Sometimes I totally want to be my brother.

Mrs. Dorio barely glances up, just peers over her glasses when I walk into her office after the secretary motions me in. “Yes?”

“I’m Autumn Falls. I’m supposed to see you before I go to class?”

“Right.” She rises and looks me over. Mrs. Dorio is young and could even be pretty if she weren’t so intimidating. She doesn’t crack a smile, possibly because she’s roasting inside her gray pantsuit. “Did you get into a fight?”

Her words are clipped and almost monotone, as if she doesn’t want to waste time or emotion on them. She walks around her desk so she can peer down at my forehead. Talking to J.J., I forgot all about the clefted lump of doom, but under her scrutiny it starts throbbing all over again.

“No. I, um—”

“Battery’s an expellable offense. As are drugs, weapons on campus, sexual assault, and arson. Other offenses
go through discipline council and result in anything from detention to expulsion depending on the severity and frequency of the crime. You received all this in our emails, yes?”

I have no idea what to say. Arson? Is that seriously a problem here?

Mrs. Dorio raises an eyebrow. I worry she’s getting suspicious because I haven’t responded. Maybe she thinks she struck a chord with the arson thing. “Yes,” I say. “I got the emails.”

“Good. Then you know where to go?”

“I do.”

She stares at me again, waiting for more, so I pull out the schedule I printed.

“First period, room three. Ms. Sklowne.”

Mrs. Dorio frowns and takes the paper.

“Ms.
Knowles
,” she corrects me. “Room
eight
.”

I would have gotten it right if she hadn’t been looming over me. Still, she goes down the rows of classes and locations, pointing to the words as she reads them. It’s mortifying, but I have to admit it helps. Now I won’t have to worry about the letters and numbers playing tricks on me when I look at them later.

“Thanks.”

She nods. “Welcome to Aventura High, Autumn. If you need anything, my door is always open.”

As she says it, she pulls open her very
closed
door without a hint of irony, then shuts it again behind me.

The halls are empty. Class has already started. Great. I have my locker information, but there’s no time to drop off my stuff; I’ll just bring my whole bag. I walk as fast as I can, trying to strike a balance between speed and making sure my shoes don’t echo too loudly on the linoleum floors. The walls are white, but with giant random swaths of turquoise and hot pink. I wonder if whoever painted the school was color-blind.

There’s a window in the door of room 8, and I can see there’s one open seat. It’s across the room, but toward the back, so maybe I can slide in without the entire world coming to a screeching halt. It helps that I can hear the muffled voice of Ms. Knowles calling roll, so I know I’m not that late. It’s possible they’ll barely notice me.

When I open the door, a hundred pairs of eyes turn and stare.

Okay, maybe not a hundred. Maybe only twenty-five or so. It just
feels
like a hundred. I smile casually and walk toward the empty seat. I’m almost there when Ms. Knowles picks her head out of her attendance book. “Autumn Falls?”

I jerk my head up, which means I don’t see the outstretched legs in front of me. Big surprise: I trip and sprawl to the ground and my bag spills open, stuff flying everywhere.

A few people laugh, including the guy with the hazardous legs. Then he gets inspired. “Check it out,” he says.
“Autumn … Falls!”

It’s an oldie, but not to this crowd. Now they’re all laughing. Even Ms. Knowles puts a hand over her mouth so I won’t see her joining in.

I peek over my shoulder at the genius wit who made the comment. He’s so enormous his desk/chair combo looks like a toy. I bet if he flexed, the whole setup would explode into shrapnel.

“You okay?”

I’m so busy looking at the Hulk I don’t even notice the guy next to him slide out of his chair, but here he is next to me on the floor, and …

Oh.

He is easily the most beautiful human being I have ever seen in my life.

No, really. He could give Kyler Leeds a run for his money. Kind blue eyes, creamy dark skin, sculpted arms. He’s picking up my pens and keys and lip gloss, and as he does, his flexed bicep curves out from his short-sleeved T-shirt. I wonder if he’d think it was weird if I traced it with my finger.

Oh no. I’m actually reaching out to trace it with my finger. Bad finger. I pull it back and hope he didn’t notice.

“Don’t you want them?” he asks.

His biceps? Yes, very much.

Then I realize he means my books. I take them and slide them back into my bag. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m Sean.”

“Autumn. Nice to meet you.”

“Are you done making introductions on all fours like dogs,” asks Ms. Knowles, “or do you still need to sniff each other’s rear ends?”

More laughter. I quickly slip into my chair and slouch down. I feel bad for Sean. But he’s laughing right along with everyone else. He even catches my eye and flashes a smile so bright I have to smile back.

As a rule I don’t like to pigeonhole people, but Sean’s pretty easy to peg: confident, gorgeous, fearless in the face of embarrassment … he’s popular. Probably has been since birth. Good for him. And good for me. He was nice to the new girl; maybe that’ll start a trend.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to face a girl who’s obviously just slumming here between takes for her swimsuit-issue cover shoot.

“Hi,” she whispers, flashing a smile.

“Hi.”

“I just wanted to let you know”—she leans over her desk and whispers a little louder—“you have a
growth
on the front of your head.”

Everyone in earshot turns to stare, and it’s like their eyes push down on the giant clefted lump, making it hurt worse than ever. I don’t have to reach up to check. I know my bangs have shifted and it’s out for all to see.

There’s a terrible moment of silence; then a few people start to laugh.

And it’s official: I’ve definitely been noticed. Just not in the way I hoped.