“Aw, sweetie, what’s wrong? Did something happen at school today?” Her voice is soft and I’m flooded with memories of my mom comforting me when I was little after I’d fall and hurt myself. Scraped-up knees and scratches on my arms are nothing compared to the pain in my chest I’ve been feeling this afternoon, though. I couldn’t concentrate at practice today. I kept messing up and my coaches were getting annoyed with me.
“Yeah.” I nod and close my eyes tightly, like that’s going to stop the tears from flowing. Side note—it doesn’t stop them at all. “Is it wrong to insult someone’s dead father when you didn’t know his father was dead in the first place?”
Mom’s arm is around my shoulders again, her hand rubbing my arm. “What are you talking about?”
I’m almost afraid to tell her. I don’t want her to yell or worse, tell me she’s disappointed in me.
“There’s a boy at school,” I start, my voice shaky. I clear my throat, hating how nervous I sound. “He’s awful.”
“Awful in a bad way or awful in a good way?”
I frown as I pull out of her hold and sit up straight, meeting her gaze. “Is there such a thing as a good awful?”
“Yes. Definitely,” Mom says firmly. “He could be annoying you and it makes you angry, yet you also like him a little bit, which makes the entire situation worse. Is that how he’s making you feel?”
I don’t know how to think of Ash. He’s awful, but I don’t think I could call it a good awful. He’s not very nice to me. It always feels like he’s mocking me, as if he thinks I’m a big joke. But today I stooped just as low as him, and I said such a terrible thing.
I hate myself for it.
“I don’t like him,” I tell her. “He’s not nice. And he made me so mad during class…we have chemistry together and Mr. Curtin said we have to be lab partners, honestly I don’t know how I’m going to survive it. He wouldn’t stop making fun of me, so I finally said something…not so nice in return.”
Mom frowns, that defensive mother look crossing her face. She doesn’t like it when anyone messes with her kids. Of course, what mother does? “Who is it?”
“Asher Davis,” I say, my lips twisting around his name.
“Ahhh.” Mom nods, her expression turning pensive. “You do know he’s had some—trouble in his life.”
“What sort of trouble?” I remember what Dad said, and how he couldn’t reveal anything. “What did he do?”
Mom sighs. “It’s not what he did. It’s what’s been done to him.”
I drop my gaze to my lap, staring at my hands as I link my fingers together. “Was he abused?” Maybe by his dead father?
“It’s not my story to tell.” She pats my knee and I glance up to find she’s already watching me. I see myself in her face. We share the same green eyes, our facial structure is similar, same mouth shape, same nose, though I have darker hair than her, which I got from Dad. I’m short and stacked, just like she is, which kind of sucks, if you ask me. I hate it when the boys stare at my chest, which they used to do a lot in middle school. I mean, they still do it, but it’s not as bad as it used to be.
Or maybe they got better at hiding it.
“What exactly did he do that made you so angry?” Mom asks when I still haven’t said anything.
“He made fun of my name, which hurt my feelings. So I tried to get back at him, and when he told me he was named after his father, I said their name wasn’t Ash, it was more like ass.” I shake my head. “And then he told me his dad was dead and made me feel terrible.”
Mom actually…laughs? Not a full-blown laugh, more like a discreet chuckle. She even covers her mouth with her fingers. “Oh Autumn.”
“I’m a horrible person,” I tell her morosely, hating how my voices cracks. I feel ready to crack. Like my heart is going to split open and spill out all my misery everywhere, soaking me with it.
She slips her arm around my shoulders again and gives me a shake. “No, you’re not. He was making fun of you, and you lashed out, which is normal. How were you supposed to know his father’s dead? And honestly? That was kind of a good one, trading ash for ass.”
A shocked laugh escapes me and I cover my mouth just like she did, trying to stop myself. “It was mean.”
“But a funny play on words, not that I’m condoning you making fun of someone.” She gives my shoulders another shake. “He’s defensive, and I’m guessing when it comes to him, you are too. Just know, he’s had a tough life, and he puts on a tough persona, but he’s…vulnerable. Losing a parent, especially when you’re so young, is hard. I know what that’s like.”
“Right, because of your mom.” I can’t imagine my mother having anything in common with Ash Davis, but I also know Mom had a rough childhood, not that she’s told me much about it.
“My mom was a drunk who couldn’t keep a job. She did drugs too. Slept around, had lots of boyfriends she’d bring home and try to get us accept as our new dad or whatever. It was—bad. She didn’t care about me, and she didn’t care about your Uncle Owen either.” Mom stares off into space, lost in her memories. She told me she had to take care of her little brother before, but never offered up many details until now. “I had to grow up fast and take care of Owen and our apartment. I had to get a job to help pay the bills, and I barely graduated high school. I’m still not quite sure how I did it.”
“What do you mean, you barely graduated?” I lean away, her arm slipping off my shoulders. I’ve never heard this story before, and I have to admit…
It’s fascinating.
“I was never at school, especially the last couple of years. I missed a lot of class because I was working all the time. I got my diploma, but barely. I didn’t even go to the ceremony; they mailed it to me. My grades were absolutely terrible.” She turns to look at me, really look at me. “School is so important, Autumn. You need to get good grades so you can get into a good college.”
I become defensive at her quick subject change, as I usually do when my parents start talking to me about college. That’s so far away, I don’t know why I have to worry about it now. “My grades are fine.”
“I know.” Mom smiles gently. “Your father and I, we push you all because no one pushed us. At least, not one of our parents pushed us in the right direction. We just want the best for you and your brothers, and your sister.”
Ugh. That reminds me… “Ava won’t stop going through my makeup.”
“I’ll tell her to stop,” Mom promises, amusement tinging her voice, but it never seems to matter. Ava goes through my stuff all the time.
“What should I do about Ash?” I ask, my voice small.
Mom sighs. “Tell him you’re sorry.”
I make a face. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Her brows rise, and she’s got that total Mom face going on. “It’s pretty simple, Autumn. Just approach him and say you’re sorry for calling him an ass.”
I think about what she said. I think about it for the rest of the night. While I’m doing homework, while I’m FaceTiming Kaya and she’s encouraging me to go after Ben Murray, that she thinks we’d make a cute couple. I laugh and agree, but deep down, I’m still thinking about Ash and what I said to him, and that flash of pain in his eyes when I said it. It was there and gone, not even for a second.
But I saw it. I hurt him. And that made me hurt too.
I don’t understand why.
Five
I’ve never told Asher Davis I was sorry. I couldn’t work up the nerve. It’s been a month since our conversation on the first day of school, and we never spoke about it again. We don’t really talk ever at all, beyond about school stuff.
It’s mid-September, and Ash and I have come to an unspoken truce. After I insulted his dead father, he stopped taunting me. Stopped smirking at me. I guess I should be glad he’s leaving me alone, but I still feel bad about what I said. Was his dad nice, or was he mean? Is that why Ash is so mean to me? Mom said it doesn’t matter how they treated you, we always love our parents.