Whatever Happens Page 6

  It’s silly and makes absolutely no sense, but I want to hold on to the belief for a little longer that Luna was with me in that moment.

  I arrive home and my dad’s car is already in the driveway. I pale, realizing I didn’t tell them I’d be staying late. Since I hadn’t made up my mind if I was going to do it or not I didn’t bother saying anything, and then when Mr. Rochester spotted me and I ended up in the auditorium I never thought to text my mom.

  I’m the fucking worst.

  I open the garage and wheel my bike inside, grabbing my smoothie.

  The door swings open before my feet touch the stairs leading into the house.

  “Violet! Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!” My mom admonishes, a hand to her chest. She looks visibly upset and I feel even worse than I did a moment ago.

  “I’m so sorry.” I inject as much emotion as I can into those three words so she knows I mean it. “I stayed after school, my English teacher suggested I join theatre club so that’s where I was, and then I picked up a smoothie when I left.”

  She exhales a heavy breath. “You scared me. I thought something bad happened and I called the school, but the office people were already gone, I didn’t know who else to call, and—”

  I cut off her tirade with a hug. “I’m truly sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to worry you. Forgive me?”

  I pull away and give her puppy dog eyes and a pout, which has its intended purpose in making her laugh.

  “Stop that. I’m mad at you.”

  “I know, but I really am sorry. I just got caught up and didn’t think to text you. I hadn’t planned to stay or I would’ve let you know this morning.”

  She lets out a weighted breath. “I understand, but that doesn’t take away my hours of worry.”

  Guilt settles in my stomach as we head toward the kitchen and I drop my backpack to the floor.

  “I just … didn’t think.”

  Before Luna, this wouldn’t have been an issue, but now my mom is overly worried and paranoid. I don’t blame her for it either. She lost a daughter, that’s not something she’s going to recover from easily.

  “We’ll be meeting every Friday for the next few weeks, and then it’ll be a few times a week. I’m not sure the days yet, but I promise to let you know.” I take a sip of my smoothie and she eyes me skeptically. “Where’s Dad?” I ask, looking around.

  “Walking the neighborhood on foot. We thought you could be in a ditch.”

  I wince, because she’s being serious and not at all joking with me.

  “I need to call him,” she mumbles to herself, looking for her phone.

  I slide it across the counter to her and she calls him.

  “Babe, she’s here. She just walked in the door. Mhmm. I know. I know. But I was worried. Okay. Love you, too.”

  She hangs up and looks at me. “I want to ground you, but I’m glad you’ve decided to join a club, so … just please let me know when you’re staying late or going out. I can’t…” Her voice cracks. “I can’t lose another child. I won’t survive it.”

  “Mom.” My tone is guilt-riddled and I stand, wrapping my arms around her. She cries into my shoulder.

  “It’s the worst kind of loss imaginable.” She tightens her hold on me, like if she squeezes me tight enough she’ll never have to let me go.

  “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You can’t promise that.” She pulls away and grabs a tissue from the box on the counter and dries her face.

  She turns away, and I exhale a breath, because she’s right. I can’t make a promise like that. Nothing is guaranteed in this world.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After dinner I slip up to my room and shower, changing into a pair of cotton pajama shorts and a tank top. I gather my damp hair on top of my head in a messy bun and brush my teeth. Padding into my room I pull Will Ferret out of his cage and cuddle him in my arms. He lets out happy little noises and I smile, kissing the top of his head.

  “You’re a good boy.” He looks up at me and I scratch under his chin. Luna loved Will. Sometimes, I swear he misses her.

  I let him down on the floor to play and spread my books across my bed. I got most of my homework done at school this week, but I still have a few things to finish up. I grab my computer off my desk and sit down on my bed, getting to work. I play music softly from my laptop for background noise. Some people need complete silence to work, but I’m not one of them.

  I open up the document I’ve been working on and try to finish my essay. I only need another page on it, but my brain gave out earlier and I couldn’t seem to finish it when I had the chance.

  This time, things go smoother and in no time it’s done. I submit it through the online portal and breathe a sigh of relief that it’s one less thing I’ll have to do next week.

  There’s definitely no way I could’ve survived this kind of workload and cheered at the same time, but I don’t regret choosing to take dual credit classes this year. Cheer was my life for way too long and there are more important things.

  Not that cheerleading is bad, or all the girls are snobs, because that’s not true. It’s a hard ass sport and you build a family with your team, but it became more important to me than my family or school.

  But it was also the middle school cheer team who bullied my sister incessantly, all because she had the “audacity” to try out in the first place.

  Luna bursts into my room, tears pouring from her eyes. My mouth parts and my phone slips from my hand to my bed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my sister cry like this before, like her whole soul is shattered.

  “Lun—”

  I can’t even get the question out when she dives onto my bed and wraps her arms around my middle.

  “What is it, Lu-Lu-Bug?” I stroke her hair, the same shade of brown as mine.

  She sniffles, rubbing her wet face against my chest. “They laughed at me.”

  “Who laughed at you?” I tug her away, which is difficult considering the sloth hug she has me in.

  “The girls,” she wipes her snotty nose, “the popular ones.”

  “What did they laugh at you about?” I probe, wanting to get to the bottom of it.

  Anger simmers inside me, at those vicious kids who don’t understand my autistic sister and how beautiful, special, and unique she is. But I hide that emotion, because if Luna sees it she’ll think I’m angry at her.

  “B-Because…” She hangs her head in shame and it breaks my heart. She has nothing to be ashamed of.

  “Because? You can tell me anything.”

  “I-I know, but I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.” Her crooked teeth dig into her bottom lip.

  “Done what?” My brows furrow in puzzlement. I can’t imagine Luna doing anything she shouldn’t have. She’s too shy, too wary of strangers.

  “I-I,” she stutters and hiccups, more tears brimming her eyes. “I tried out for t-the cheer t-team. I-I wanted to be like you. But they laughed, Violet. They called me dumb. I’m not d-dumb am I?”

  My heart shatters for my little sister. She just wants to be like everyone else, but all those kids can see is her autism, as if it somehow makes her less than them or that she carries some flesh-eating disease they’ll catch if they come too close. Growing up with Luna I didn’t even realize she was different for a long time. She was only my sister, she still is. I don’t see her autism, I see her.

  I grab her shoulders in my hands, and she doesn’t want to meet my eyes. I know she’s afraid I’ll scold her just like they did.

  “You did a very brave thing trying out and I’m so proud of you for that. Don’t let mean girls like that ever stop you from pursuing your goals. They’re mean, catty, and don’t deserve someone like you. You shine brighter than all of them.”

  “I just wanted to be like you, Vi.”

  I hug her close against my chest, resting my chin on top of her head. “Moon, the only person you need to be in this world is you. Your uniqueness is a
gift to the world, not a burden.”

  Shouting breaks me from the memory and it takes me a moment to reorient myself. At first I think my parents are arguing, but I quickly realizes it’s too muffled to be them—besides, even after Luna passed they never argued, not like this. Some couples fall apart in their grief, but I think it brought my parents closer together. They needed each other more than ever.

  The shouting continues and I stack my books on top of each other, leaving my laptop on my bed as I get up to investigate. I look out the window beside my bed and see Finn in his room. He’s having a complete meltdown and his mom is crying, trying to hold him, but he won’t let her. I can’t hear distinct words, but I see him push her away, out of his room and slam the door. He falls to the floor, his back against the door and his hands over his ears. He keeps flinching and it makes me think she might be knocking on the door.

  I don’t know why he’s upset, but clearly something has happened.

  Finn rocks back and forth and I touch my fingers to the window.

  As if drawn by the movement his eyes look out the window, finding me like a ghost across the street. He looks away quickly, burying his face in his hands, and even though I don’t want to, I walk away, giving him privacy.

  I try to finish a worksheet for my Government classes, but my brain is useless and can only think about the boy next door. I pack up my school stuff and pile it on my desk to finish tomorrow. I put Will Ferret back in his cage, slipping him a few treats and freshening his water. He squeaks happily in response.

  I climb into bed, turning out the lights and roll over.

  I doze off for an hour, but like always sleep is short-lived. The clock shows it’s after eleven as I slip out of bed and climb onto the roof. I hold my legs against my chest, looking at the stars, searching for the brightest one.

  When I find it, it sparkles like it’s winking and I feel warmth spread through my body. “Hi, Luna.”

  The night air is getting chilly and when Goosebumps dot my skin I start to climb back inside, but movement catches my eye. Finn marches out the backdoor, but instead of going to his giant round telescope he jogs down the deck steps out to the meadow beyond. He looks angry, or maybe just upset, I can’t quite put my finger on it.

  I watch until he’s a fair distance away and then I hear him scream.

  It’s a scream of frustration and desperation. Of pain and heartache.

  He drops to the grass, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He breathes heavily before lying back in the tall grass, his body all but disappearing.

  I climb inside and lock my window. I debate for all of two seconds before I grab a sweatshirt and slip it on. I snag a pair of flip-flops and carry them in my hand as I sneak down the hall, past my parents bedroom, and down the stairs.

  Out the backdoor I go, hoping the beep of the alarm isn’t loud enough to wake them.

  I finally put my shoes on and head through the yard and to the window.

  “Finn?” I call softly. It’s harder now that I don’t have an eagle-eye view to see where he is.

  Grass stirs and his dark head pops up. “Violet?”

  I hurry over to him and sit down. Unlike at school when we share lunch, there isn’t much space between us.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him. “You were upset earlier and I saw you leave your—”

  “Why do you care?”

  I blink at him, taken off guard. “Uh … I don’t know what you mean.”

  He collapses back into the grass, looking up at the starry sky. The moon is low and full. After a moment, when he doesn’t answer, I lay down beside him.

  “You should stay away from me,” he says after a while, his voice a soft murmur. He sounds beaten down.

  “Why?” I turn my head toward him.

  He does the same. “I’m no good for you. For anyone. Look how I treat my mom,” he exhales a humorless laugh, “I’m the worst kind of guy around.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Behind his glasses his eyes are the same color as the sky above us.

  “I’m autistic,” he whispers like a broken confession.

  I hesitate and reach out, brushing my fingers against his cheek. It’s smooth, but there’s the barest hint of stubble forming. He closes his eyes at my touch and I swear his lips twitch into a smile for a second.

  “I know, Finn.”

  His eyes open in surprise. “You do?”

  I nod. I’m sure most of the kids at school know he is. They use it as an opportunity to judge him, to stay away, to not even bother to get to know him or try to include him in anything. People are scared of differences, but they forget none of us are the same.

  “You’ve never said anything,” he accuses.

  “Why would I?” I skim my fingers over his chin. “You’re still you.”

  “Most people don’t like me.”

  “They don’t know you.”

  “You don’t know me,” another accusation.

  “I want to—when you’ll let me.”

  “Why? I-I don’t understand.” His dark brows knit together, wrinkling as he tries to puzzle it out.

  I let out a soft laugh. “I just do. You remind me of my sister,” I admit. “She was autistic.”

  “Oh.” His face falls and he pulls away, my hand falling to the ground between us.

  “What?” I ask as his body goes rigid and cold.

  “That’s why you talk to me. I remind you of her because I’m autistic.”

  I shake my head. “Finn, that’s not why you remind me of her. There’s just something about you, this aura, she had the same thing. Sometimes I thought I was the only one who could see it, maybe I am. But…” I bite my lip and his eyes reluctantly return to me. “I never saw her autism. I saw her, just like I see you. I’m sorry no one else does.”

  “Some people are nice to me,” he muses, rubbing his lips together as his eyes drift back to the sky. “But…”

  “They’re not your friends,” I finish for him.

  “I’ve never had friends before.”

  His confession breaks my heart.

  “I’m your friend.”

  He rolls his head to the side, his eyes drifting over my features. I wonder what he’s thinking. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” I grin at him.

  “You’re my friend so I’ll be your friend too.”

  I let out a soft laugh. “Thanks, Finn.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He takes everything literally, not catching onto my sarcasm at his casual decision to be my friend. For him, it’s not based on a feeling, it’s just something he chooses to do. But I hope, one day, he will feel something. I want him to know what it’s like to have a real friend, someone he can trust and confide in.

  “Why were you fighting with your mom?”

  He scowls and looks away. His fingers twitch at his side and he sits up, running his hand through his unruly black hair. He lifts one leg up, resting his foot on the ground and his arm on his knee as he looks at the trees. I sit up and I itch to touch him again, but I don’t want to push him too much too fast. My question already seems to be causing him distress.

  “She wants to fix me,” he finally murmurs.

  He rips a wildflower from the grass before tearing it into pieces.

  “Fix you? What do you mean?”

  He wets his lips. “She’s always trying to get me to eat these weird foods, or try this new pill, or see a therapist or something. I don’t want to do those things.”

  “You don’t have to.” His chin dips as he angles his head toward me. “But she is your mom. Maybe she’s not trying to fix you, just help you, and she doesn’t understand you don’t want that kind of help.”

  He shakes his head back and forth, then exhales a heavy, weighted sigh.

  Tilting his head, he gazes at the stars. “One day, I’m going to touch the stars, leave this whole place behind. The whole universe is out there and I’m going to float aw
ay in it.”

  Most people might dream of visiting Paris, or Greece, or any number of other places.

  But not Finn.

  He wants to get lost in the stars.

  And me?

  I think I want to get lost in him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Exhaling a heavy breath, I raise my fist and knock on the door.

  I wait a moment before knocking again. It swings open and I get my first real look at Finn’s mom. She’s short, he definitely inherited his height from his dad, with the same dark hair he has and blue eyes.

  She looks confused seeing me, and offended I’m knocking on her door.

  This is off to a great start.

  “Hi, can I help you?”

  She sounds like she wants to take my order at a drive-thru.

  “Um … hi. I’m Violet. From next door.” I point. “I wanted to see Finn.”

  She looks taken aback. “You’re here for Finn?”

  My eyes shift around awkwardly. I can’t tell if she’s pissed, confused, or happy.

  “Yeah—I thought he might want to go get coffee. Or … something.”

  I’ve never sounded so inarticulate in my entire seventeen years.

  A huge smile breaks across her face. “That’s wonderful, come in, come in.” She ushers me inside with the swish of her hand. She looks ready to pull me into a hug and spin me around. “Finnley’s room is upstairs, second door on the right.”

  “Thanks.” I give her a small, awkward wave and take the stairs slowly, feeling her eyes on me as I do.

  I reach the door she told me is his, but even if she hadn’t I would know. There are stickers of stars, planets, the moon, and rocket ships stuck to it.

  I knock softly and there’s no reply.

  “Finn?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Violet?” he blurts, his surprise blatant.

  A moment later the door swings open revealing him on the threshold in a pair of tan pants and a gray t-shirt. It’s tighter fitting than what he normally wears, the sleeves hugging his shoulders and upper arms.