My hand wasn’t up anymore, but I know my answer anyway. Mr. Laughegan usually calls on me first to get discussions started.
“I knew there was something strange going on, but I didn’t expect what happened. I seriously almost dropped the book,” I say. “And then I was so upset that I couldn’t sleep. I kept waking up so mad at Mr. Rochester—”
“I was so upset I couldn’t sleep?” Alexis says behind me. Several people, including Sylvie, laugh. Mr. Laughegan gives them a look.
“I’m not sure if I should still want Jane to end up with Mr. Rochester anymore,” I continue, “but I do anyway.”
“Why’s that?” Mr. Laughegan says. I pause for a moment, struggling to put the feeling into words.
“Because everyone always says that you never get over your first love. She loved Mr. Rochester first, and she loved him so much. Even if she fell in love again, I think part of her would always be wishing she was still with him.”
“And what is it Mr. Rochester did that upset Autumn so much? Alexis?” he says. I look over my shoulder. Alexis flushes and stumbles over her answer.
Everyone always says you never get over your first love. I imagine myself with someone else and longing for Jamie, my first love. I take a deep breath and remind myself that that will never happen; Jamie says he’s going to marry me.
“Never leave me,” I say to Jamie as we walk out of the classroom together.
“I won’t,” he promises.
25
It snows for Valentine’s Day. I put on the snowflake tiara for school; it’s my new favorite, and I wear it every day that there is snow on the ground. I’ll have to retire it when spring comes, but like all winters, this one lasts forever.
At the bus stop, Todd the Junior gives roses to Katie the New Girl. They’re dating now; I like to think I helped make that happen. Because Finny and Sylvie no longer talk, the three of us listen to them every morning instead. It isn’t as bad.
Katie smiles and looks at her roses as she talks. I know that Jamie will be waiting for me at school with a similar bunch. Jamie always gives me roses, usually red. Sometimes I wish he would be more creative, but it is ridiculous to complain about roses. Lots of girls at school wish they were the ones Jamie was bringing roses to.
Jamie is taking me out to dinner tonight. His gift is at home, waiting for me to give to him. I collected for him an assortment of little things I thought he would like; a CD I burned of songs that make me think of him, the action figure of his favorite anime character’s wife, some candy, a little rubber turtle, a love letter I spent forever on.
When we hear the bus rumbling down the road, I realize that Finny isn’t here yet. I look down the sidewalk toward our houses. He isn’t running to get to the bus stop on time; he isn’t anywhere I can see. The bus begins to slow in front of us.
“Is Finn coming to school today?” Sylvie says. It takes me a second to realize she might be talking to me. I look over my shoulder. She is looking at me.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Is he sick?”
“I don’t know,” I repeat.
“Oh.”
We line up to climb onto the bus.
I slide into the seat next to Sasha. She’s wearing an army jacket that she bought at a garage sale we went to last fall. I envy the jacket. I know which tiara I would wear with it, but Jamie told me he wouldn’t like me in it. He said it works for Sasha because she’s boyish, but he likes me feminine. I think about telling Sasha that Sylvie asked me about Finny; she would be surprised that she spoke to me, but something makes me hold off.
“I know what Jamie got you for Valentine’s Day,” Sasha says. I think I probably do too.
***
In the afternoon, I get off the bus thinking of my date with Jamie. We’re going to a new Italian restaurant. I’m excited to give him my present. When I get home, I’m going to take a nap and then a shower. My outfit is already lying out. I wonder if I should wear a different tiara for dinner.
“Autumn?” Sylvie says. I stop and turn. She is standing behind me, looking directly at me. Still, if she hadn’t said my name, I would have had a hard time believing she was talking to me again.
“Yes?” I say. I wonder if she can hear the suspicion as well as the surprise in my voice. She looks nervous.
“Could you give this to Finn for me?” Sylvie says. She holds out a square, pink envelope.
“Okay,” I say. I gingerly take it from her. Our fingers do not touch.
“Thanks,” she says. I look at her to see if there will be something else. She looks at me silently. After a while, I turn and walk down the sidewalk. A second later, I hear her follow behind. I do not turn my head when she crosses the street. I’ll do as she asks, but she doesn’t need to know that I’m curious, that I care.
Finny’s car is in the driveway; his mother’s is not. Even though I could just open the back door and call his name, I go to the front door and knock; something about this transaction inclines me to formality. A moment after my knock, I see the curtains rustle, and I catch a glimpse of his hand.
“Just a sec.” His voice comes through the door too muffled for me to judge the tone. I wait on the other side. I hear him mumble something as the door creaks open. I start at the sight of him, and the part of my mind that is still thinking hopes he doesn’t notice.
Finny’s chest is bare, his arms, shoulders, and stomach all smoothly exposed to me. His skin is hairless except for a patch around his navel that trails down to the band of his boxer shorts, barely showing above his jeans. His blue eyes are sleepy, circled in gray, and his blond hair is tussled every which way. His nose is red, but it’s hard to judge against the blush that is spreading across his face. I realize I have been standing here silently staring at him.
“Um, Autumn?” he says. I can hear now how scratchy and stuffed up his voice sounds. I swallow and take a breath, my first one since he opened the door.
“Sorry,” I say. “You just look awful.” He looks beautiful.
“I feel awful,” he says. He shifts his weight to his other foot. “Are you supposed to be checking on me?”
“No—well, maybe, I don’t know.” I reach into my back pocket and hold out the pink envelope. His expression is startled, then confused. His eyes are cautious as he takes it from me. He looks at me suspiciously. “Sylvie asked me to give this to you,” I say. He is startled again.
“Sylvie?” he says. I nod. “Oh. Okay.” His voice is strangely monotone. He looks at the envelope and then at me. “Did she say anything else to you?”