Autumn's Kiss Read Free

Earl!”
    “Real men name their cars after women,” Jack says.
    “Real men don’t keep their
Star Wars
Legos,” J.J. shoots back.
    “It’s an X-wing fighter,” Jack says. “Vintage 1999, the first year for official
Star Wars
Legos. Plus, it comes with Luke Skywalker, Biggs Darklighter,
and
a Rebel technician.”
    “You do know you’re talking out loud, right?” Taylor asks. “We can all hear you.”
    “Especially me,” Reenzie sneers. “And you just lost riding privileges in my car.”
    “Ergo,” J.J. declares to Jack, “you’re in the back of Earl. Earl Yimmidy. Which is an anagram of?”
    “My daily ride,” I say.
    I know it because I came up with it. At least, I came up with the
my daily ride
part. J.J. figured out the anagram. Anagrams are J.J.’s thing. He’s a freak for them.
    “Branching off, Tee.” Reenzie rolls her eyes. “These people are weird.”
    She and Taylor peel off toward Reenzie’s car while the rest of us keep walking to J.J.’s. Even though we all drove in at the same time, J.J. insisted we park an eternity away so he didn’t have to park Earl Yimmidy next to any other vehicle that might dent it in any possible way. He’s a little insane about the new car.
    “Are your hands clean?” J.J. asks as I reach for the passenger-side door.
    “Shut up,” I reply.
    The car
is
nice. Cars aren’t my thing, so I know absolutely zero about it, even though J.J. has given me the full rundown about a zillion times and even offered to lend me the manual in case I needed some reading material.
    Like I would (A) ever need reading material—I’m dyslexic, which J.J. knows, and the stuff I have to read for school is more than enough—or (B) ever in an eternity dream of reading a
car manual
for fun.
    What I know about his car is the important stuff: it’s sleek, it’s black, I can adjust the passenger seat so it’s completely comfortable, and as long as I take off my shoes and use one of J.J.’s car wipies before I get out, he lets me lean back and put my feet up on the dashboard, which is what I do now…after I choose one of the Sirius XM radio stations J.J. let me preset.
    “Hey, Autumn.” Jack leans forward from the backseat. “When are you getting your license?”
    “This time next never,” I shoot back lightly.
    “Why not?” he asks. “Everyone wants to drive. It’s un-American to be in high school and not want to drive.”
    “I don’t need to drive,” I say. I hear my voice getting a little tighter, but I try not to let it show. “You guys all drive, my mom drives, I can take the bus….”
    “What about after graduation?” Jack persists.
    “What if I go to NYU?” I snap back, wheeling to face him. “No one drives in New York, right?”
    “What if you go to FSU?” he asks. “Everyone drives in Florida…except you.”
    “At least Autumn would get into FSU,” J.J. says. “How’d that PSAT go for you?”
    Jack’s face goes bright red. We only took the PSATs last week and won’t know our scores until December, but Jack’s pretty sure he completely bombed it. I don’t even know that firsthand. He told J.J. in confidence because he was totally freaked out, and I know he’s got to be furious and mortified that J.J.’s talking about it in front of me. Normally, J.J. wouldn’t. I mean, yeah, he’d tell me because we kind of tell each other just about everything, but he wouldn’t bring it up in front of Jack. He’s doing it on purpose because he knows the real reason I won’t drive, and he knows I don’t want to talk about it, so he had to do something big to shut Jack up.
    I meet J.J.’s eyes and smile so he knows I get it. He smirks back at me. Say what you will about my lanky friend J.J. with the skin as vampire-pale as my own, but he has a great smirk. I enjoy it for a second, then lean forward and turn up the music so we can all stop seething and just rock out.
    Deerfield Beach isn’t far, and when we’re almost there, I say to J.J., “Hit