Autumn Falls (15 page)

I don’t answer. I keep reading “Winter’s” revelations. I force myself to read slowly and carefully so I don’t miss a word. Each bullet point is nastier and more personal than the last. I feel light-headed. At least Amalita’s here if I pass out.

My hands feel clammy, as if I’ve been holding them over a pot of boiling water. “This one makes no sense. ‘
Reenzie Tresca: Thought you could keep your “exclusive” Sweet Sixteen party at the Firefly Club a secret? Sorry. I know all about it, and now so does everyone else.’
That’s not even a dig.”

“She’s bragging,” Amalita says. “The Firefly Club is this
muy exclusivo
event spot. Reenzie wants everyone to know she’s having her party there, but this way she’s not the one rubbing all our noses in it.”

“Plus, she’s named on the list so people won’t think she wrote it,” I add.

“Smart,” Amalita says, sounding almost like she admires her.

“It’s
devious
! Beyond devious.” Who does something
like this? And how long did she plan it? “This list goes on forever!”

I’m scrolling and scrolling, looking for the end, when my eye catches on a name that makes me gasp.

“I’m going to kill her,” I say, pushing back my chair so hard a boy in the study carrel next to us picks up his stuff and moves. I think actual steam is pouring out of my ears. “No. I’m going to slowly torture her, and then I’m going to kill her.”

“Works for me,” Amalita says.

I rest my head in my hands and rub my temples.

“How long has it been up?” I mumble.

“From what I heard, Sunday night. I only saw it during homeroom.”

I sit there for a long time. If I could will myself to disappear I would.

“Autumn?” Amalita finally says, her voice low. I can tell she’s worried about me. Well, she has good reason to be.

“I have to go,” I say suddenly. “I can’t be here.”

She doesn’t try to talk me out of it. She walks me to my locker, where an envelope sticks out from between the slats.

“Mrs. Dorio?” Amalita asks.

I don’t have to open it to know that’s exactly who it’s from, but I do anyway, and nod.

“I’ll tell her you went home sick,” Amalita offers.

“That’s okay,” I say, “I’ll get it over with.”

The principal’s office is becoming a home away from home for me. Ironic, since I’ve yet to do a single thing wrong since I set foot in this school.

“Autumn, Autumn, Autumn …,” Mrs. Dorio sighs when I enter. She’s sitting behind her desk for once instead of leaning in front of it, and turns her computer monitor so I can see the orange-background
The Winter of My Discontent
title screen.

“I realize you feel like we’ve failed you,” she says, “but there are better ways than this to get satisfaction.”

My blood boils, but my fury makes me brazen. I rest my arms on her desk and lean in so I’m the one looking down on her. I speak calmly and slowly, enunciating every word.

“Mrs. Dorio, every time I’ve asked you for help, you’ve told me you can’t do anything unless you have proof. I know what this looks like, but can you
prove
it was written by me and not someone pretending to be me?”

She blinks several times. I think I actually surprised her.

“No,” she says. “Not at the moment.”

“Then until you can, I expect you to assume I’m innocent,” I say, “or just like you suggested, I’ll have my very angry parent come after you with harassment charges.”

I storm out. I’m sweating and my heart is pounding, but I feel good. I plan to grab my stuff and leave before I have to face anyone else, but class ends and the halls fill with people.

Someone slams into me and sends me hurtling into the wall. I hear laughter, but I don’t bother to turn to see who it was. Then someone pushes me hard from behind and I stumble into Sofia Brooks. She looks friendly until she realizes it’s me.

“You’re seriously going to get in my face?” she asks. “You want to talk about my shoes? Why don’t you get a good look at them first?”

“Sofia, I swear, it wasn’t me,” I say. “I have no idea about your financial circumstances. How would I know?”

She’s not listening. In fact she’s pulling back her arm to throw a very sharp-heeled shoe.

I run for it, but only make a few steps before the shoe slams into my spine. “OW!”

Just have to get to my locker. I stagger forward but trip over a leg I swear wasn’t stuck in my path a second ago. I smack face-first onto the floor.

Maybe I should just lie here until everyone gets into class. Or commando-crawl into a corner and curl into a ball. Instead I get up and see …

“Sean. Hey …”

He’s no more than two feet in front of me, but he only flicks his eyes at mine and keeps walking.

“Are you kidding me?
Sean
.”

I grab his arm. He yanks it away, but he stops walking.

“Hey,” he mutters.

“It wasn’t me.”

“I know,” he says, but his eyes flit around as if he’s worried about who will see him talking to me.

“Do you? I mean, think about it. Never mind the fact that I
wouldn’t
, it makes no sense. I’m in ADAPT too. Why would I say that?”

Sean nods, but he doesn’t look at me. “I’ve got to go,” he says.

And he’s gone.

“Autumn!”

I look up expecting another furious victim, but it’s J.J. And he’s smiling. I try to remember if the website said something horrible about him. I’m sure it did.

“Hey,” I say nervously.

“You look like you could use an armed escort.” He holds out his arms. “Sadly, these are the best I can do.” He drapes one of them over my shoulder, a gesture that would have felt intensely out of place just two hours ago, but now I’m so grateful I could cry. People still glare at me, but they’re not physically attacking.

“They hate me,” I say, my bottom lip quivering. “They all hate me.”

“They don’t know you,” he says. “They don’t know how insane it is to think you’d put up a site like that.”

“When did you see it?”

“Jack showed it to me in first period. He was not
pleased about the size of his manhood being maligned, but I reminded him you’d have no way of knowing. Amalita told me you’re going home. Want me to walk you?”

“I’m okay. Thanks.”

I want to call Jenna on the way home, but of course she’s in class. Maybe I could wish for a freak blizzard to hit Maryland so she’d get out and we could talk.

Like I wished for Reenzie to stop being evil to me.

Did the journal ever work at all?

I can’t figure it out. It seemed as if it did, but maybe it was pure coincidence.

The weird thing is, the more I turn it over in my head, the more I feel like it would help to get it all down on paper.

In the journal.

When I get home, no one’s there but Schmidt. I scoop him up and plop down on the couch, then pull out the journal.

Dear Dad,
I write.
I’m so confused.

I tell him everything. I keep hoping for some grand epiphany, but it doesn’t come. By the time I get to the part about the website, I’m feeling so furious and helpless I have to blink away tears to keep going.

I pause. Does it even make sense to wish on the journal anymore?

Probably not, but this is something I’d say whether or not the journal has powers, so I keep going.

I wish she could know how it feels,
I write.
I wish that next time, Reenzie’s the one who gets hurt.

I spend the rest of the day watching bad TV. By the time Mom and Erick are supposed to come home, I’m exhausted. I leave a note on the kitchen table that says I came home sick, then climb upstairs and crawl right into bed. A couple times I half hear my phone ring. The rings pause, like someone got my voice mail, then start all over again. I ignore them and fall back asleep.

When I finally open my eyes, it’s dark out. I flip on my night-table lamp and find a note from Mom.

My phone’s ringing again. It’s Amalita.

“Did you hear about the crash?” she asks breathlessly.

For a second I can’t fathom what she means. Is she talking about the
Winter of My Discontent
website?

Then I remember. The Kyler Leeds contest. Tonight was the last night to enter. Amalita told me they were expecting
so many entries the servers could crash. I’m both stunned and amused that with everything else going on she can still get this excited about a stupid contest on TV.

“You shouldn’t sound so surprised,” I say. “Didn’t you tell me they pretty much knew it was going to happen?”

“What are you talking about?” she asks.

“The Kyler Leeds contest.”

“The Kyler Leeds contest?”
She says it like she’s saying
“The puppy-slaughtering contest?”

“Yeah,” I say. “What else?”

“Autumn, I’m talking about Reenzie.”

“What about her?”

“Her
car
crash. She’s in the emergency room.”

Cold washes over me like I’ve been dipped in a freezing lake. I can’t speak.

“Autumn?” Amalita asks. “You there?”

“Yeah,” I mumble. I grab the journal and flip to my last entry, even though I already know what I’ll read.

Oh my God … what did I do?

I press Amalita for details, but she doesn’t have any, so I quickly hang up and call Sean.

He doesn’t answer. No doubt he’s mad at me for the website I didn’t write.

Two seconds after I hang up, my phone chirps with a text.

There is an ugly, shallow part of me that is incredibly happy right now. Not about Reenzie’s crash. That’s horrifying. I’m incredibly happy that even though Sean’s at the emergency room waiting to see if his practically-a-sister will be okay, he still texted me. He obviously can’t be that mad.

It’s way too late, but I call Jenna. Her phone rings several times. Her parents won’t be happy if they hear her ringtone, but they like me, so hopefully they’ll get over it quickly.

“Is somebody dead?” Jenna grumbles sleepily.

“I wished that Reenzie would get hurt and she ended up breaking her leg in three places in a car crash,” I blurt out, clutching the phone so tight my knuckles turn white.

“What?” Jenna’s voice is clear now. She’s awake. I tell her everything and send her to the website so she’ll understand how mad I was, then read her the end of my journal entry word for word. I finish with the details from Sean.

“That’s it,” she says matter-of-factly. “You have to get rid of the journal.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” I pick up the book. I feel the soft leather and stare at the triangular face on the cover. It looks oddly sad.