Autumn Finch

Chapter 3

Leo's POV

8:22, at school

The school was a ghost town. There was literally no other way to describe it. Empty corridors and eery silence broken only by the laugh of a lone kookaburra were my only companions. Was it just my imagination, or was it suddenly chilly?

I snorted to myself. It was Australia, for goodness' sake. Just because the weather forecast said it was going to be only 32°C didn't mean the morning was going to be cold.

I blinked in confusion at the halls around me, empty save for the occasional teacher.  Was I here at the wrong time? But no, I had checked and double-checked the school's website this morning. 

Perhaps I was just early. I checked my watch again, then squinted at the partially smudged reminder on my hand. 

School starts at 8:45, it read. Or at least, I thought it read. Thinking back to this morning, I smacked my forehead, groaning. 

The number I had mistaken for 8:45 was actually... 9:45.

Yep, I was way too early.

•••

10 minutes later, school library

Since - according to an old owlish librarian who was shelving books in a dusty corner - "kids these days are too lazy to bother waking up early", it was likely that no one would be at school for another half hour or so. Meaning I had plenty of time to pass. 

And I intended to do just that by getting my nose stuck in a good book.

After quickly scanning through the Young Adult section, recognising a few of the books but overall deeming it a time-waster, I ventured around to the back of the library, hoping to find another shelf of books. 

Well, apparently today was my day. A small shelf at the back of the library - arranged by a librarian perhaps? - had been labelled in neat, feminine handwriting as "favourites". Surrounded by unfamiliar books, some I had heard of and others by my favourite authors, I was in my element.

Two minutes and a whole pile of books later, here I was, sitting in a corner by the window, the smell of books a haven offering a retreat from the world.

Picking the top book in the pile, I smiled, recognising the author. This might just become a new favourite of mine. Shifting into a more comfortable position, I opened the book and started reading.

• • •

2 minutes later

The muffled sound of sobbing startled me out of my reverie. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I dog-eared the page, looking up to find a beautiful girl frowning at me, frantically wiping at the tears streaming down her face. Her rosebud lips were pressed together, and her delicate frame was shaking. 

Stunned, I must have looked like an idiot, staring at her. Thankfully she was too distressed to notice.

Clearing my throat, I rose to my feet, pushing away the butterflies in my stomach. She was crying. Now wasn't the time to gawk.

I reached out to lay a gentle hand on her arm, but she flinched, stepping backwards as if she had only just realised I was there. I winced. Great start, Leo, I thought to myself wryly. You're doing amazing.

Lifting my hands to show her I wouldn't reach for her again, instantly regretting my next words. "Are you alright?"

Her lips twisted in annoyance. "Go away. I'm fine."

I blinked in surprise, both at her words and the irrational urge to laugh. I couldn't help the hint of humour in my reply. "You don't say." 

A hint of temper sparked to life, frustration and annoyance warring in her features. "I said I'm fine. Leave me alone."

The girl sighed, the irritation vanishing from her face as abruptly as it had arrived. Wincing, she muttered "Sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. My name is Autumn, and... I'll be fine in a moment." 

I stared at her openly this time. Why had she apologised to me? Clearly, my questions weren't wanted or appreciated. As far as I was concerned, I was in the wrong, not her.

The girl - Autumn - smiled hesitantly, blushing under my scrutinising gaze. Her tears had stopped, although a single drop clung to her cheek. I clenched my hands into fists at my sides, shoving them in my pockets and fighting the impulsive urge to wipe it away.

"Um... who are you?" She asked, distracting me from my tumultuous thoughts. Curiosity shone in her green-brown eyes, and I had a feeling she wasn't just asking for my name.

I opened my mouth, knowing only that I was about to say something, not entirely sure what. But in the same instant, her line of sight flicked to the messy stack of books behind me. It was obvious she had forgotten all about her question.

I bit my lip to keep from laughing at her sudden distraction. Strange, how someone you didn't know at all could make you laugh.

A delighted grin transformed her features, prompting a kaleidoscope of butterflies to stir in my stomach. "Is that..." Autumn squinted at the cover of the book I set down earlier, nose scrunching adorably as she tried to make out the title. "Wait. Is that from my bookshelf?" She gasped in delight, the excitement on her face reminding me of a toddler opening presents on Christmas morning. 

I told her exactly that, and the outrage and disbelief on her face were just too hilarious. I couldn't help it. I burst out in laughter. 

Autumn joined in, and soon we were howling, collapsing on the floor and clutching our stomachs because once we started, we couldn't stop. "The look," I gasped in between uncontrollable giggles, "on your face," I gasped for breath again, "was priceless!"

I collapsed into another fit of laughter, and she followed suit.

Sometime later - when we finally stopped laughing long enough to breathe - she grinned at me, and I grinned back. "I never did get your name, you know," she asked, a subtle request.

I cleared my throat. "My name is Leonardo, but everyone calls me Leo. It means-"

"Lionheart or brave in Italian, right? It's a really nice name." She smiled sheepishly. "I learned a little bit of Italian back in middle school for a project I was working on." 

"Someone who knows their languages, huh?" I deflected, not wanting to let her see how much her words affected me. Memories flooded back, vague but treasured recollections of a shy 9-year-old affectionally calling out "Lionheart! Lionheart!" as we chased each other around the garden. My heart gave a thump, but I ignored it. Thinking of that girl would only bring pain. 

Time to change the subject. I didn't like talking about my feelings. 

"So, um, which of Cassandra Clare's books are your favourite?" I asked quickly, referencing the author of the book I was reading earlier.

Autumn was obviously confused at the sudden shift in topic, but she went with it, the hesitant smile on her face blossoming into an enshuastic grin as she began talking animatedly. "I'm super excited for The Last Hours series. I can't wait for Chain of Thorns, the third book, to be published."

I pushed all worries from my mind, finding it surprisingly easy to cast the pretenses I was so accustomed to aside. Finding it surprisingly easy to be myself. 

And so we chatted about books, the conversation falling into an easy rhythm like we had known each other for years.