After that super emotional March of Freshman (thank you so much for the three likes!) from yesterday, I now have written the April chapter of Freshman, following the life of Autumn Allen if you were reading my other posts. I wrote it after digging through my closet and looking through old possessions in boxes for a few hours, searching for a necklace but unable to find it. You kinda need to read March of Freshman to understand what’s going on in this chapter, but you can read April alone if you want. I can’t control you. Enjoy.
Chapter 7
No one stepped foot in Skye’s room for over a month. My life was already really busy, but I still always found time to mourn over Skye’s death when I was taking a shower, brushing my teeth or something that kept my hands busy but my mind open.
Right after school, I had theater every single day, then next was track and dinner. I barely found time to do my homework, but I always glanced at Skye’s empty chair at the dinner table. The one that hadn’t been moved or sat in since March 4th, the day that Skye had let go. Mom noticed that I had stopped reading, stopped writing, stopped painting, and stopped eating as much and knew I was depressed.
“Where’s Austin?” Mom asked. I was silent, but apparently, my face told it all.
“Oh,” Mom said quietly.
So I spent more time on my laptop, writing a story from a guy’s perspective as he struggles to forget the memories of a perfect summer until his girlfriend ruined it, cheating on him with his best friend. It was three hundred forty-six pages long, which I finished in four weeks after I had all this free time. No friends, no Austin, no sister.
I cried every single night. Even though it had been over a month since Skye had died, the pain didn’t get any worse. Once word spread that Skye had died, people started slipping these notes called Encouragements into my locker, without signing them. I taped them in the new diary that I bought from Barnes and Noble last week and also wrote short entries about my day and thoughts before I went to bed. Most days of the week, I brought my laptop and homework with me to babysit, tutor, pet sat, cleaned people’s houses or taught kids how to play piano and violin.
I read the notes every night right before I went to bed. She didn’t leave you because she wanted to, she left because there were other plans for her, and she was greater than this world. You remember the kind of life she wanted for you, and that’s a happy life. You feel her in the wind and you see her in the stars, she visits you in your dreams and she guards you with all of her heart. But most importantly, when you think of your sister, remember that she is constantly guiding you and sending you love when you need it the most.
I started putting away money for College, thanks to Mom for setting up my Savings account. But there never was anything to do around the house anymore. Mom stayed home and cleaned the house every day, my room was neat because I never went there anymore.
There was just one thing missing from my life. Austin.
Austin and I tried to avoid each other as much as possible, and whenever we passed each other in the hallways, I stared down at my notebooks and avoided his beautiful ocean blue eyes. He did the same. But I can’t forget the expression he has on his face when he accidentally looks at me, sad, a little confused, but most of all, heartbroken. No matter how much I want to deny it, I had broken his heart, which he had loved me with, more than I probably would ever know. And once a heart’s broken, nothing can heal it. So, during study hall, I take out a sheet of notebook paper, a pen, and start writing down an apology.
Dear Austin,
I’m sorry about what happened between us on your sixteenth birthday. Lousy birthday present, I know. But we never were officially dating. We never kissed, and I didn’t really know what was going on between us.
We both fell so hard for each other. I think you fell for me on the first day we met, maybe even the minute we met, and then I fell for you a few months ago. Hard.
But, Austin love, I never meant to break your heart. I was grieving for Skye, and as you know, I’m still grieving for her. Even if I do move on in my life, Skye won’t vanish from my memories.
Yet, I still love you. I’m not trying to force you to get back with me, I’m apologizing for breaking your heart. Like Anne Frank wrote, people can tell you to be quiet, but it doesn’t stop you from having an opinion. Even if we broke up, it doesn’t stop me from loving you. Even if we stop talking, it doesn’t mean that I stopped loving you.
And I know how you look at me in the halls, and how I look at you every single day of my life. I see what I did to you, and I’m sorry.
Please forgive me. I love you.
Yours forever,
Autumn Allen
I slid it into his locker and prayed that Austin would read it. A few hours later, a note is in my locker.
Dear Autumn,
Most of the time, I didn’t understand what was going on between us. You felt guilty about dumping me yes, it’s dumping even though we were only “friends” and saying we no longer could be friends or having any contact.
I know we both want to date, maybe not each other, but I do know we both were in love with each other.
I’m sorry too, that I didn’t fight harder for you and me and that I let you dump me. I didn’t understand what you were going through and couldn’t comfort you. You would have if I was going through a situation like yours. I realize my mistake now and can see everything that you were going through.
But, Autumn, love, we make mistakes. We’re not perfect, any of us. And this mistake of letting you walk out of my life for a month was the biggest one yet.
Love,
Austin
After school, Austin walks me home, and when we arrive at my porch, I stand on my tip toes and kiss his cheek again before walking in. Not the lips. I want my first kiss to be extra special. Austin leans in, bends his head, and kisses my right cheek before kissing my left cheek.
“Wait,” I said. Austin waits, standing still, as I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him on both cheeks. “That’s for all the kisses that we never had.”
“Isn’t there interest?” Austin teased. “For it being late?”
“Fine, greedy boy,” I said, laughing for the first time since Skye’s death and kissing him again on the cheek. “I’ll call you later, I promise.”
“And Autumn?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
I didn’t know what to say back so I said, “And I you.”
I didn’t have anyone to tell about the I love you and getting back with Austin. Dad was still at work, Mom didn’t understand about dating in the twenty-first century, and Skye. . .
I blinked, the familiar feeling of tears stinging my eyes again. Cupcake meowed comfortingly and I glanced down into her watchful eyes. Why could I not stop crying? I was not a crier, but I had cried more in the last month that I did in my entire life.
“I know,” I said as a tear rushed down from my eye, slid down my cheek, and fell onto Cupcake’s soft fur which normally would make her claw me but she ignored it, just flicking her tail back and forth lazily. “The pain just never ends.”
The next day, Austin was waiting for me by my doorstep, smiling as I stepped out of the house, wearing a light blue gauzy skirt and a white lace trimmed tank top with my favorite sandals. I had actually done my makeup that day, paying attention as I spread concealer under my eyes. Austin was gorgeous with his startling blue eyes, thick eyelashes, and crooked smile.
“You look beautiful today, as usual,” Austin said, kissing my forehead.
“You always say that,” I said.
“Because you always do,” Austin said, taking my slender hand in his and walking me down the stairs.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“I know,” Austin smirks at me. “I just know you’re going to fall.”
As if by magic, I stumble on the last step of the stairs, and fall against him, crashing into his chest but Austin didn’t seem affected.
“Told you,” Austin said, before taking my hand again, walking down the driveway and walking down the asphalt.
“I love you,” Austin whispered. “More than my own life.”
“Austin,” I said. “We’re still friends. And sooner or later, we’re going to break up. We have to learn to forgive and forget before moving on.”
“Autumn, love, I forgive. But I don’t forget.”
“Austin, no one cares about the first love of your life,” I said. “One day, we’re going to go and get married to different people, and no one will ever know who you first kissed or loved. If you don’t forget about me, the pain of me breaking up with you or you breaking up with me will forever be there, even when you’re an old man.”
“I do,” Austin said, touching my face with his fingertips. He brushes against my cheek. “You can’t just forget the first person you truly loved.”
“No one stays with your first boyfriend,” I blurt out.
Austin wrinkles his forehead. “You can’t honestly believe that.”
“No, really,” I said. “My mom broke up with her first boyfriend only weeks after they started dating. Skye. . .”
There’s a moment of silence between us, and Austin shakes his head. “My dad was my mom’s only boyfriend.”
“Really?”
“Yep. My mom hadn’t planned on dating till she was out of college, but then, they became lab partners at the beginning of college. Dad took her out on a few movie and dinner dates before they fell really hard for each other.”
“Oh,” I said. There wasn’t much to say.
“Anyways, most people break up with their girlfriend/boyfriend, date for a few months, and if they both really miss each other, they get back together,” Austin shrugged.
“My mom and dad met during college, but my mom dated a lot. She was dating someone, and Dad had just broken up with his girlfriend. My dad dated each girlfriend for about two months before breaking up, but he started dating much earlier than my mom. He started dating when he was thirteen, while Mom started dating when she was nineteen.”
Austin is silent for a moment, watching me out of the corner of his eye.
“It doesn’t matter where you start. Only that you begin,” Austin said.
“Sorry, what?” I asked.
Austin smiled crookedly at me. “Robin Sharma.”
“Oh. Never heard of him.”
“You stopped hiding your face behind your hair,” Austin noted, smirking at me. “And you stop mumbling so much.”
I realized that my long golden brown hair was no longer covering my face. I could see clearly, without hair in my face. My voice was louder and stronger.
“When did you notice?” I asked, stunned.
Austin chuckled. “Around November.”
“Really?”
“When did you notice?”
“Four seconds ago,” I admit.
“I thought you would have noticed,” Austin teased, tsking. “You are the most observant person I know.”
“I think,” I pause, “I stopped noticing the world around me when she died. It just became black and white to me. No color or beauty left.”
“Except one,” Austin said, brushing aside my hair, and kissing my forehead. We were on the sidewalk, and I could already see the school, but I stood up on my tiptoes, kissing his cheek. I was still saving my first kiss.
Autumn had never looked happier, or more beautiful. Her golden brown hair shone in the sun, almost auburn, wavy, flawless, silky, her tropical ocean blue eyes were dazzling, breathtakingly beautiful, her skin was dewy, having a faint glow to it, yet still cream and rose. Everything about her was perfect. Heart shaped face, full lips, high cheekbones, and a radiant yet delicate smile. She resembled her mom so much, as well as Skye. But she only had Skye’s eyes, the familiar laughing eyes framed by those thick lashes that models would die for. And the perfect skin and face were something thousands of people went through plastic surgery for, but Autumn had it.
I had thought about kissing her on the lips, but I wanted to wait for a little, make it more special for her and me. I hadn’t had my first kiss yet, even though all my friends had already kissed the most popular, pretty, and cute girls in school during middle school.
I leaned toward her, kissing her cheek before Autumn kissed me on the cheek and she walked toward her homeroom. I stood there for a few minutes, touching the place where Autumn’s full lips had touched my skin, before walking upstairs.
M.K wore a miniskirt and crop top, with designer heels that she wasn’t quite used to, so M.K stumbled around and walked around unsteadily, trying to look casual. When she passed by my seat, she humphed and walked with her chin way too high. I gagged as I smelled her perfume. It was way too strong and flowery to be sweet smelling. M.K’s makeup was way too noticeable, too much lip gloss, fuchsia eyeshadow, heavy eyeliner, thick mascara that slightly smeared on her eyelid, rose blush.
When the bell finally rang, she strutted into the hallway and started chatting to a girl that was standing there. I noticed M.K’s normally light brown hair had been highlighted so it would be blonde and was curled.
My phone pinged with a text so I checked it. Rosemary. Another link to her Instagram. I clicked it, and now, I was shocked. Rosemary’s long, gorgeous, flawless hair that I was so used to was different. It was bright blue, and her hair seemed a little duller than it used to be. Her eyes were closed, slightly red. I read what she had written with it.
#Breakup Hair
SAMerica the Beautiful had posted a comment.
I’m so sorry. I thought your relationship was perfect right from the start.
I hit comment and started typing.
I’m really sorry about what happened. Even if you don’t believe it now, some day you will get over it. This may not help, but what if I come over to your house Saturday and help you through this?
I put my phone in my backpack, before walking out of the classroom, into the hallway where M.K was still talking to the same girl.
“Yeah, I totally know,” M.K said. “Austin Masen is totally the cutest boy in the school. Too bad he doesn’t have a girlfriend and keeps hanging around a girl that doesn’t deserve him. Autumn, right?”
I whirl around. She could steal my stuff, lie to my face, but she will not trash talk about me, acting like I was the loser and she wasn’t.
“So, you deserve Austin? He’s not even interested in thieves and liars,” I said. “You’re the one that stole the stuff from him. I may not be the best person for him, but at least I don’t sink so low to steal someone’s stuff then lie.”
The girl with M.K started laughing, and M.K’s face turns red, before she slinks away, melting away into the crowds.
“Are you Autumn?” the girl asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you dating Austin?”
I remembered the look on Austin’s face. “In a weird sort of way. None of us confirmed it to the other person.”
“I’m Chrissy,” the girl offered. “M.K’s been hanging around me forever and keeps pestering me to do my makeup. I don’t wear makeup though.”
“I wear only a tiny bit,” I admit. “Just concealer, eyeliner, and mascara. I need to get to my class before I’m late.”
“Well, talk to you later,” Chrissy smiles, running her hand through her hair.
“Bye.”
Chrissy’s in my Teen Living class, and we talk for a while. Chrissy made her own clothes because she wanted to. She complained about how the world didn’t care about handmade stuff anymore. Her dark blue shirt was really detailed and fancy, much better than M.K or Ashley’s wardrobe.
“You should start your own business,” I said. “Everyone would want it.”
“Really?” Chrissy said.
“Really,” I assure her.
“Thanks,” Chrissy said, smiling.
Chrissy runs her fingers through her hair, which was a pretty shade of light brown. “I wish I had your hair.”
“Mine?” I asked, surprised.
Chrissy nodded. “It’s such a pretty color and is wavy. Mine is always tangled and frizzy. You could be a model.”
“Do you mean it?”
Chrissy nodded. “I still wish I had your hair.”
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “Your hair is beautiful. I like how straight it looks. I wish my hair could be like that.”
“When’s your birthday?” Chrissy asked.
“September twenty-seventh. When’s yours?”
“May twenty-first,” Chrissy said. “Do you have any siblings?”
I winced. “A sister named Skye.”
“How old is she?” Chrissy asked.
“She stopped aging March fourth,” I said flatly.
“Stopped aging?” Chrissy looked into my eyes and saw the pain before the realization hit her. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I breathe. “I think I just expect the pain to go away, but it never does. And I can’t just forget that Skye ever existed.”
“I lost my mom when I was eight,” Chrissy said quietly. “My dad died last year in a bad car crash. I ran away from my stepparents two weeks later and now live with my aunt and uncle.”
“Oh.” We both lost people that we loved.
“My mom, she died right in front of me,” Chrissy’s brown eyes were filling with tears. “I could have called the ambulance. But I freaked out, and well. . .”
There’s an awkward moment of silence before Chrissy wipes away her tears. “Dad blamed me for her death, even though they divorced when I was four, and when he died last year, I don’t think he ever forgave me. My step parents didn’t want me, so I ran away. Mom had remarried when I was five to Keith and Dad married Sue the following year. After Mom died, Keith remarried a woman named Olga. A week after Dad’s funeral, Sue married a man named Brent, and they already adopted two kids.”
“Do you like your aunt and uncle?” I asked.
“Aunt Esmeralda and Uncle Evan? Yeah, they’re really nice. They treat me like their daughter and my cousins are nice enough. There’s three. Jennifer, Jackson, and Lily. It’s a little crowded, I don’t have my own room, and money is always a little tight, but everyone works around to try and earn a little more money.”
“Oh,” I said. “Are you happy with where you are now?”
Chrissy paused for a second. “I don’t think anyone is ever happy with where they are and always want more. But right now, I’m satisfied.”
Austin walked me home, after picking me up by my locker. I had changed the combination in mid-March, and now a note fluttered out. It was typed.
STAY AWAY FROM AUSTIN! HE’S TOO GOOD FOR YOU AND DESERVES A BETTER GIRLFRIEND WHO WILL GIVE HIM MORE THAN YOU EVER WILL! AUSTIN’S NOT HAPPY WITH YOU AND WANTS ME! JUST WAIT!
I head into the girls’ bathroom, calmly tear up the note into little shreds, run water over the strips until the ink starts to bleed, crumple it into an extremely wet ball, and toss it into the trash can. Who cares about what M.K or Ashley think? Because right now, even after everything’s that happened, I have my own perfect little corner of the universe.
I went over to Rosemary’s the following Saturday with two boxes of tissues, girly pampering, a box of gummies with gummies that said stuff like, “Men are pigs,” and “There are plenty of other fish in the sea,” and a few boxes of chocolate and candy.
Mrs. Fossett hugged me and offered me cinnamon rolls before letting me go upstairs to Rosemary’s room.
I hadn’t been in Rosemary’s room since the graduation party that she held for surviving middle school. I expected it to still be purple. Purple sheets, pillows, curtains, and rug, all lavender. Except, Rosemary’s room was nothing that I remembered it to be. It was winter themed, but it was extremely messy, crumpled up dresses on the floor, drawers hanging open, and closet doors open with more clothes spilling out. Definitely not perfect and neat Rosemary. Rosemary was lying on the bed, her computer in front of her as her face was hidden under the hood of her sweatshirt.
“Hi,” Rosemary said miserably.
“I came for moral support,” I said. “To make you feel better.” More tears.
“We were together for two months,” Rosemary said, as I searched for her hair sprays and hairbrush. “Two months! He was my very first kiss.”
I listened, as I brushed out Rosemary’s blue hair, straightened it, and braided it. Then I did her nails, gave her a face mask, painted her toenails, and organized her closet the way she liked. Once I was done, Rosemary had finished one pack of tissues and was halfway through the next box. I picked up the used tissues and tossed them in her trash can. I put on soothing music, as Rosemary chewed on a pig gummy after I was sure that Rosemary would stop crying.
“He’s just making a big mistake,” I said. “Stephen doesn’t deserve you. You’re so much better than him.”
Rosemary nodded her head, as I started doing her makeup, using a makeup remover wipe, spread clean and clear moisturizer all over her face, before putting bronzer on, then Maybelline powder. Finally, I started with the eyeshadow, putting a bright green that would make Rosemary’s eyes pop, used an eyelash curler, added a thin layer of mascara before doing her eyeliner. Next, I started fanning peach blush across her cheeks, then two layers of lip gloss.
“Thanks,” Rosemary said. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
I smiled before my phone pinged with a text.
Can you come home? It’s lunchtime. Please get home ASAP. Love, Mom
“Sorry, Rosemary, but my mom needs me,” I said. “I’ll text you later.”
Rosemary’s pink glossed lips smiled. “It’s okay. Mom wants to take me clothes shopping to cheer me up.”
I left without another word, and walked home, where Mom was waiting for me, with a plate of ravioli stuffed with cheese and spinach with a glass of Mountain Dew.
“How was Rosemary’s?” Mom asked, slicing her the last bits of her steak into smaller chunks.
I shrugged, running my fingers over the cold glass. “Okay, I guess. She was having a hard time, breaking up with Stephen and all that.”
“Skye, how was. . .” Mom then stops herself when she realized that she no longer had an older daughter.
“I’ll be right back,” Mom mumbled, before taking off, and climbing the stairs, before a door upstairs slammed.
I finished the rest of my Mountain Dew before washing Dad’s, Mom’s, and my dishes, setting them neatly in the cabinets before heading upstairs to my room, where I could hear Dad was talking to Mom.
“It’s like she’s still here,” Mom said. “But I know she’s not, but I just want and expect her to be so alive.”
“Mary Ann,” Dad said. “We all miss her. No one could forget Skye, and losing her was probably the worst moment of my life, too, but we have to move on. Do you really think Skye would want us to be in such pain for so long?”
“She wouldn’t want us to forget about her, either,” Mom said. “I’d rather remember her and suffer than forget her.”
I enter my room, where I just stand in the doorway, remembering when Skye had helped me paint the walls, roll out the rug, make my bed, and hand me my birthday presents, from the Barbie dolls to the new iPod, to even a hug. She even listened to my terrible days and painted my nails here.
I curl up, not crying, but letting the memories flow back, so strong and alive, but the main person in them gone.
Landon. Poor Landon. She never broke up with him and probably suffered a lot when he remembered all the times she laughed and kissed him. Was he already dating someone else? Of course, he probably would date someone and marry her. But, would he forget Skye that easily? Skye would never turn eighteen, graduate, and go to Harvard College. She would never marry someone, have a nice house, or have kids.
I knew Landon’s number from the times Skye had called him from the home phone. I took out my phone, and dialed it, before hitting call. I didn’t know why I was calling, but I needed to talk to someone who had known Skye somewhat the way I did.
A few times, it rang, no one picking up.
“Hello? Who’s calling?” Landon’s familiar voice asked.
“Hi, Landon, you probably don’t know who I am, but,” I take a deep breath, “Skye’s sister, Autumn Allen.”
“Oh, hi,” Landon said politely. “Skye talked about you.”
“I’m really sorry about what happened between Skye and you,” I said. “She really did love you, more than you probably will ever know.”
“I loved Skye so much,” Landon whispered.
“She loved you. Skye never wanted to leave you, but there were different plans for her. Are you dating anyone?”
Landon takes another deep breath. “No. I don’t think I’ll ever date again. My heart wasn’t broken by her. I won’t ever let Skye be told as a villainous person. What I miss is her. Her laughs, smiles, tears, and personality.”
“I really miss her,” I wiped my eyes, but a tear slipped out.
“She really is amazing,” Landon said. “I feel really lucky that I got to know and love such a wonderful person.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” I said. “Remember this, Skye’s life ended, but not your relationship.”
“Bye.”
Silence, as the tears kept coming, and coming, and coming, not being able to stop. Once the tears were gone, I lay there, trying to bring back the memories of Skye and me playing tag in my drying room that had been painted pink.
“Autumn, wait up!” Skye shouted.
I laughed and kept running. Mom had left for another author visit, so Dad was in charge, but he was painting my room. No one was watching us.
“Catch me if you can!” I called behind my shoulder.
I was four. Skye was seven. We were playing tag.
Skye was catching up with me, so I ran into the closest room. My room. But I was going too fast, and barely missed crashing into Dad, stumbling over a paintbrush, crashing into the wall.
I broke my nose that day and cried so much. Skye held me, telling me funny stories and happy stories about princesses as I pressed the ice against my nose. I didn’t want to, but Skye promised we would play Barbies later.
Skye had cared for me, feeding me, playing with me, and even sleeping with me, because I was afraid of the dark.
But since she left this world, the fear has come back, creeping through me and filling me with fear.
And it never left.
ritwit 