Her Autumn Song by Tremy Woods (english novels for beginners TXT) 📕

Then it hit me. Of course, lady problems. As in--lady problems.

Exclusively. I covered my face, sure to be flushing right now. I could not believe how stupid I was. Enzo stood over me, smirking. “Oh my god,” I told myself, my head in my hands.

“You’re a funny girl, Amabelle.” He said. I smiled a little bit into my hands. I didn’t like to show people when I was pleased.

“Thanks,” I spoke into the little curtain covering my face. “Considering I only mess around at home, thanks.” Easton stared at me.

“Well, stop messing around at home, then. Mess around at school. That’s what Enzo did, and look at him now. Abs and everything.” The little brother said. Didn’t look so little now that I was on the floor.

“And girls,” I added, smirking.

“Heck, he has guys drooling too.” Easton retorted. We both started laughing, but silently. You don’t laugh loudly when you have, er, lady problems.

~*~

You know those idiots who like to pay thousands of dollars for people to tell them what they already know, i.e. that they need to get a life? I always laughed at those people until a few periods (as in, a class) later, Easton’s words slapped me in the face like a fish I had just caught from the sea. If I hated being pathetic so much, why didn’t I just go and do something? I sat there staring at my notebook like it was my lifeline as one of the teachers started talking about how they were recently married. The whole class was happy: we never liked her much, and in a few months, she was probably going to ask for a pregnancy leave. It was the cycle of single teachers at our school. At some point, it happened.

“Look at that girl trying not to cry.” I heard Yolani whispering to her friend. I looked around the classroom. I didn’t see anyone crying. I continued to stare down at my notebook until pretty soon, the whole classroom quieted down. Silence like this was just short of a miracle. I looked up again. They were all staring at me, everyone from Macy, who had her head glued to the phone keyboard hidden under her desk, to Harold, who slept in class 110% of the time.

“Amabelle, are you okay?” Yolani snickered. I blinked.

“Yeah,” I said hesitantly, “why do you ask?” Yolani smiled. It was a slow, cautious, I’m-basking-in-the-moment kind of smile.

“Well, you were staring quite intensely at your notebook. And--you have tears running down your face.” I touched my face. Sure enough, there were tears. Did Easton move me enough to cry?

Or was it because I’d been looking at the notebook too long without blinking? Deciding it was the latter, I soon became flushed. Red. In the middle of class with 37 pairs of eyes staring at me. “I’m having problems.” I grumbled.

Yolani leaned toward me. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I growled.

“I’m having lady problems!” I yelled. That was the wrong thing to say, but unfortunately, I had been thinking of my second encounter with Easton Turner, and it had come out. No one looked me in the eye for the whole period after that.

But of course, they had enough class to laugh at me with their eyes. And in Macy’s case--I saw her hand moving slowly to press the “End Record” button, as if intentionally showing me what was going to happen. I frowned. Stopped. Thought about Easton’s words again. Remembered that we had a girls’ lacrosse tryouts today. I was an okay runner, with okay reflexes (thanks to a shady past with video games), and I’d already had experience with that type of thing. I stopped moping. I smiled at Macy Rogers.

And I gave her the middle finger. For those of you thinking of how daring I am, don’t. This is not the end of the story, you know. Thankfully, Macy had stopped recording after that, but after I gave her the rude gesture, Yolani caught a glimpse of it and reported me.

Which was how I ended up in the office again. “So, Ms. Mercedes, care to tell me the reason for this visit?” The secretary raised her left eyebrow. I smiled sheepishly.

“I’m supposed to see the principal for misconduct in class,” I told her. She sighed, and she guided me to the door and let me in. Mr. Shepherd was sitting with the back of his chair facing me, tufts of hair hair floating over the head. He wasn’t actually short, or balding, either. The chair was huge. 6 feet, even. I sat down in the chair, waiting for him to turn around. Eventually, the hulking--thing--did turn around. I have been to his office multiple times, but never for something like this. It was always good things, like for good grades or being a good role model or something along those lines.

“So, Amabelle,” Mr. Shepherd said flatly. I fiddled with my fingers. “I see you’re being quite the mischief-maker today.” I shrugged. It was a little disrespectful, but I was cranky. I couldn’t help it; nonexistent lady problems had followed me all day.

“I’m sorry.” I told him. He smiled.

“You have an exemplary record, so I’ll be light on you. I’m giving you a fair warning not to cause any stir like this ever again, okay, Amabelle?” I was surprised that in a school of two-thousand people, he still remembered my name. But I guess if you’re a good student with no life, they’ll like you, especially when you make an effort to talk to teachers (They were my lunch-eating buddies, sadly. I had about three friends, total). I nodded.

“Sir, is it too late to register for the lacrosse tryouts?” I asked. Mr. Shepard looked at me with the most animated expression I had ever seen on his face in the three years I had been a student under his care.

“Umm-no, I don’t believe so,” Her coughed. “You may go now, Amabelle.” I jumped out of my seat to head off for lunch. The bell rung right about then, and students of all kinds rushed out of the doors. For the first time in history, I, Amabelle Mercedes, the girl who usually ate lunch with the teachers, was first for the hot lunch line. It was usually either Oscar something or other and Shaina something or other. And everyone knew that if you were first in the hot lunch line, you had your picture posted up on the “Hot Stuff” Wall, where all the people first in the hot lunch line were made known. I gulped.

This was the most excitement I’d ever had. I misbehaved once in my life, and I was suddenly on the “Hot Stuff” wall which in my opinion, was quite a silly school tradition. But it was also a tradition for a reason. Usually, Oscar and Shaina were first in line because no one ever went in front of them.

But today, I heard both of them were absent, so--I held onto my tray tightly. I could feel the glares. I sat at the closest table I could find, seeing as my three “friends” were probably at the library. Honestly, I relied on Dreidel more than anything, and realizing that, I wanted to hide in a hole.

I was obsessed with a boy I saw five years ago. I never ventured away from home, and my friends probably didn’t even know that just a few days ago, it had been my birthday.

“So--who are you?” I heard a voice say. I looked up. I was looking at the face of an athlete, one I didn’t know the name of, but a girl who I saw all the time running around the track with her group near my house. I always watched people hang out at the park next to my window, but honestly, I never thought to join them.

“I’m Amabelle Mercedes,” I squeaked. She started laughing. I instantly envied her laugh. It was a nice one, the kind that makes you smile. I smiled.

“Nice,” She said, “You scored your place on the wall. Even I’ve never done that.” I looked down at my lunch.

“Honestly, I don’t even know what the lunch lady gave me,” I admitted, poking the goo with my fork. It smelled good, but it was goo.

“Trust me, it’s good,” The girl told me. “It’s usually gone after the first fifteen minutes, so if you’ve never tried it, I kind of feel sorry for you.” I cringed at that; this was about my tenth time trying out school cafeteria food. I scooped a spoonful of the gunk, and shoved it into my mouth.

I chewed and swallowed, and after that, I vowed that trouble was right in looking for me today. The goo was heaven--solid-liquid heaven. “Yeah, I thought so.” She chuckled. Soon enough, some of her friends started sitting at the table too. I felt like an intruder.

“I’m kind of new at sitting outside of the classrooms,” I informed them all. The girl who had first talked to me smirked.

“I could tell, but hey, welcome to the brothel of me and my friends,” She remarked. “My name is Lydia Howard.” I almost choked onto the delicious goo.

“Do you--um, know what a brothel is?” I asked them all. One of the girls immediately started looking it up on the phone, never mind that that was against the rules. Lydia started blinking.

One of the girls started whispering in her ear. They all started coughing. “Thanks,” One of them told me. I grinned.

“So, how is our school’s lacrosse team?”

~*~

Publication Date: 07-09-2013

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
to people who are lost, you are made of stardust and will find your way.