Autumn's Wish (10 page)

At this point Jenna never turns off her phone, because she's dying to hear what I'll call with next.

“His name's Glen,” I say.

“Who?”

“Balloon-head man. Mom's new husband.”

“I thought you got rid of him,” Jenna says.

“Me too!” I cry. “But he's back! And they have a baby! And she's pregnant with another one.
Glen!
”

“Glen and Gwen?” Jenna asks.

“Thank you!” I shout triumphantly. “See? It's ridiculous. And babies? Mom should be
done
with babies.”

“Did you see anything about me?” Jenna asks.

I sigh a little. Jenna has become obsessed with her own mortality ever since that first jump when she wasn't at the wedding. “No. But you're alive, I'm sure. You're just not in Florida. I see or hear about the crazy-dramatic stuff. I'd know.”

I fill Jenna in on everything else I saw as I make my way up to the stadium stands and hang up when I find my friends in our usual section. They're quieter than normal, and when I look at the scoreboard I see why. It's only the first quarter and we're down by fourteen points. Someone should probably tell Ames and the other cheerleaders down on the field. I know it's their job to be peppy no matter what, but it seems crazy for them to be so peppy and excited for a game this bad.

“Where have you been?” Taylor asks.

“Something's up,” Reenzie adds. “Sean isn't on the field. And the scout's here.”

“I know why,” I say, and do my best to sound very believable and contrite as I tell them the whole story. I feel like I do a really good job, so I'm surprised when they all look at me like I've been speaking Spanish.

Was
I speaking Spanish? They look really confused.

“Why would you call Sean to get Schmidt?” J.J. asks. “I live way closer to you.”

“I don't know,” I fumble. “I figured you and Carrie would be busy with…something….”

Carrie smiles. “We
were,
but we still would have come over to help you.”

“You could have called
any
of us,” Taylor says. “You knew Sean had to be here on time.”

“I didn't think the time was a thing!” I counter. “I didn't plan on getting locked in the attic!”

Jack snorts. “It sounds like you're the one who locked you both in there. Trying to rekindle a little old flame? Should Reenzie be jealous?”

“Yeah, Autumn,” Reenzie asks. “
Should
I be?”

I'm pretty sure Jack was just teasing, but Reenzie is
not.
Her jaw is set and her eyes have turned to steel. It constantly amazes me that someone as gorgeous and together as her thinks that
I'm
any kind of a threat to her relationship, but I guess that's Sean's fault. He waffled between the two of us long enough that he made her permanently neurotic about me. It's amazing it hasn't stopped us from being friends.

“Reenzie, seriously?” I say. “I was freaking out about my
very heavy
dog. Totally freaking out. Sean's the strongest. That's why I thought of him. And for real, if I had any desire to try and hook up with him—which I don't—would I do it when he'd miss the biggest game of his life? He wouldn't even
talk
to me when we were stuck in the attic, that's how mad he was.”

Reenzie thinks about it a second, then smiles like it's her birthday. “You're right. He probably hates you now. We're good.”

She swings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to the seat next to her, where we watch the rest of the game. It's a disaster, and we lose by thirty points, so we spend the time concentrating on stadium snacks, selfies, and talking. Jack and Taylor pump Carrie and me mercilessly for information about the Scare Pair dance. They're wondering if they can put in requests and if we can rig the program to get them with someone fabulous. We both say it's completely out of our hands and all about the computer, but I'm smiling inside because I know I have plans.

After the game we pile into our separate cars—I ride with Taylor—and we go to the Shack at Deerfield Beach, where at least half the school always ends up on home game nights. The Shack itself is exactly what it sounds like—a little stand on a wide grassy lawn just off the beach that serves some amazingly greasy snacks and the best soft-serve ice cream in the universe. We all park at one of the always-empty motels down the street, but the minute we get out of the car, we hear the sounds of the party. People talking and squealing and laughing, music blaring from Bluetooth speakers, the people who always come with their guitars and drums and play music on the sand. As we walk closer and all the people start to take shadowy shape in the moonlight, I feel this rush of happiness and sadness at the same time. Maybe it's because I keep visiting the future, but it's like I'm suddenly aware this is all so temporary. After this football season, I'll never be at a beach party with these same people ever again. Even if I come back and visit as an alum, it'll be different. I won't be a part of it; I'll be on the outside. And suddenly I want to hug everyone, even the people whose names I don't even know.

I'm flying so high on euphoria, I don't think twice when I see Sean standing with a bunch of the other football players. I shout his name and throw out my arms like I'm going to hug him. Which I don't, because when he sees me his face gets all Hulk Smashy. Then what's spookier is that he smiles really wide and puts out his arms too. Just not for a hug.

“Autumn Falls!” he shouts loud enough for everyone on the lawn, on the sand, and in every motel room on the beach to hear. Then he climbs onto a picnic table and raises his voice even more. “If anyone's wondering why we were slaughtered today, Autumn is the reason! She locked me in an attic. Can you believe it? Locked me up so I couldn't play and we tanked the game! Oh, and while she was at it, she killed my future too. So if you want someone to blame, please, blame Autumn Falls.”

He hops down from the picnic table and stares at me, the eerie smile still on his face. I don't have to look around to know that every pair of eyeballs in the crowd is on me right now. I can feel their hatred through the semidarkness.

Maybe I should have just let Sean go ahead and have a paralyzed future.

No. He has every right to be mad. He doesn't know I did him a favor. And I've already seen evidence that we're good friends again by senior year of college.
Junior
year of college, since we apparently hook up then. So he'll get over this. And I'll live beyond this night and
not
be murdered in cold blood by the entire football-loving population of Aventura High, even though that part's a little hard to believe at the moment.

I turn to my friends, all of whom have their mouths open in shock. Except Reenzie. She's smiling, though to her credit she changes that to a frown when she realizes I'm looking.

Taylor moves closer to me. “If you want to go home,” she says, “I'll totally drive you.”

She's not trying to get rid of me. She can feel the angry mob brewing, too, and she wants to help me. But I'm not ready to leave. Even if everyone here hates me, it's still true that I have a limited number of these Shack/beach parties left. I want to stay. I just maybe want a little more distance between myself and the immediate crowd of bloodthirsty natives.

“I'm good,” I say. “I'm just going to take a walk.”

Tromping through the lawn is the worst. With every step, I hear a low hiss of angry voices. Most of them blend together, but I make out the occasional “Loser!” The farther I get from the Shack, the darker it gets, so I also can't tell people have started throwing their ice cream cones until they splat into me.

By the time I get to the beach, my legs are spackled in chocolate, vanilla, and sprinkles. If the crescent moon was just a little bit smaller or if I had just a little less pride, I'd consider licking it off. The Shack ice cream is that good, and I didn't have a chance to get a cone of my own. Instead I kick off my sandals, hook them over my fingers, and wade into the water up to my thighs. I stand and wobble with the waves, watching them stretch out to infinity.

A minute ago I wanted to hug everyone; now I feel very alone. I consider disappearing into the future for a bit. It would remind me that anything I go through now will be worth it in the end. I only have seven jumps left, though, and I want to save them for things I really need to know.

I'm up early the next morning, and the smell of baking pumpkin lures me downstairs. I find Mom in her favorite red robe, pouring batter into our waffle iron.

“Mmmm,” she says. “I knew this would get you. Pumpkin has always had a near-mystical power over you.”

“Pumpkin waffles especially,” I say. “Do we have pumpkin butter?”

Mom scoffs and points to the little round jar on the counter. “What am I, an amateur?

“So I have to tell you the funniest thing,” she says as we tuck into plates of perfection. “Remember how the other day you told me you were so happy I was home early in the day? Well, it made me worry that I wasn't spending enough time at home these days—”

“That's not true!” I assure her. “You're getting the new place off the ground. It's amazing!”

Mom smiles. “Thank you. But that wasn't my point. Afterward, I decided I wanted to do nice for you, so I went to Trader Joe's and bought them out of pumpkin foods, and it was the silliest thing—I wound up getting into this giant conversation with a man who had
his
cart full of pumpkin foods! He couldn't choose between pumpkin scones or pumpkin macaroons. He didn't want to get both, and he wanted me to help him decide because I was clearly a pumpkin connoisseur.”

She's getting very girly as she tells this story, and the hairs on my neck are tingling. I have a strange suspicion I'm never going to want to eat pumpkin anything ever again.

“Are you saying you…
like
this guy?” I choke out.

“Autumn!” Mom looks at me openmouthed, like I shocked her, but there's still that thing dancing in her eyes.

“What? It's a question!”

“No,” she says emphatically. “Glen is a
friend.
I just thought it was funny—I've never met a friend at the supermarket before, and now we're meeting tomorrow for coffee!”

I choke on my waffle. Mom runs and gets me a glass of milk.

“I shouldn't have told you,” she says gently. “I can tell you're jumping to all kinds of conclusions. You shouldn't. He's a friend. It's nice to make new friends. I don't have a lot of friends apart from the ones I met at the rescue. It's not like when you and Erick were little and I met all my mom friends through you.”

She's crouched down so she can look me in the eye while I sit and drink my milk. The sunlight streaming in through the back sliders lights her brown curls like an angelic aura. She's absolutely telling the truth. To her this is just a friend thing and she doesn't want me to worry, but I know better, and I nearly choke again as it all comes together.

This
is why I saw her and Glen together in my last jump. It was the conversation I had with Mom that sent her on her pumpkin-product spree and right into Glen's waiting shopping cart. I did this. I got them back together.

Then I'll just have to get them apart again.

I wish Mom was going to the Scare Pair dance. It would certainly make my scheming easier.

At least the rest of the weekend is great. Ames and Taylor stay over on Saturday. Amalita partied too hard at the beach, so we all let her veg in my room and basically sleep it off all day while Tee and I make pit stops at Taylor's and Amalita's houses for their stuff, then hang in the pool. Sunday Amalita's feeling better, but we still go low-key. We're in our pajamas all day except when we're swimming, we do our homework together, and it seems like Taylor and I talk Amalita out of ever seeing Zander again. She definitely doesn't call or text him the whole time we're together, so that's huge. I'm tempted to jump ahead to the future, because I have a good feeling that the drinking thing won't be an issue for Amalita anymore. But with seven jumps and a lot of work to do still, I figure I'll wait.