Puzzle Pieces (formerly Reach for the Sky)

Chapter 24

Grandmother and Father are fighting again. It seems they fight a lot these days, which is especially unusual considering my father rarely used to speak at all, even to her. Sometimes, I creep up the stairs to listen, but I've been doing it less, recently, because usually the fighting is about me and I can't stand to hear it. Today, though, I find myself eavesdropping at the door again.

My father is talking, softly enough that I can't hear what he's saying. I tiptoe closer to the door, just enough to catch a few words.

"Perkins School for the Blind... Best school for people like her... In Boston..."

I stand in shock, rooted to the spot. It feels like someone just dumped a bucket of icy water over my chest. The frozen feeling slides slowly over my heart to settle in a deep pool of dread in my stomach.

Suddenly, the spell freezing me down is broken, and I turn and run down the stairs. I don't care if I trip over something I can't see, I don't care if they hear me, I don't care, I don't care. I barely even resister the fact that Grandmother is actually shouting. Well, whisper-shouting, because Angelina is asleep, but I don't think I've ever heard her speak in a voice other than calm. I don't wait to hear what she says, though. I run down the stairs and out the door into the cool night air.

Immediately, I know exactly where I want to go. I turn around and run into the woods behind my house, not waiting to take Hope. I know these woods well enough on my own, having run through them to train dozens and dozens of times.

Still, though, I'm being reckless. I trip over a root and fall, hitting my chin on the ground and tasting blood as I get up. I move to run again, but I realize I have no idea which way is which anymore— I got disoriented in the fall. Panic seizes me for the second time this night as I realize I could be stuck here all night, unable to find my way back.

Stupid, stupid, I berate myself. You know you should have brought Hope. But I can't change what's already done. Think, Autumn, think.

Carefully, I feel to the edge of the path, and realize the path is not going in the direction I was facing. I turn until I think I am facing away from home again. Home, or forward into the woods?

I can't go home yet.

I begin picking my way further into the woods, a little more carefully now. Even with my extra caution, though, I fall twice more and stumble off the path more times than I can count. Eventually, though, I find the fence that marks the other side of the woods. I run my hand along it until I reach the gate, then step through it. Into Maria's yard.

We discovered the shortcut a couple weeks ago, in the summer, when we were both running in the woods and bumped into each other. Through the woods, it's less than a half mile between our houses.

Maria's room is on the first floor, the one above the edge of the porch. Praying nobody else can see me, I feel my way over to just below her room, then reach up and tap lightly on the window.

After a few moments, the window opens and Maria whispers, "Autumn? How did you get here?"

"Through the woods," I whisper back. I must look like a mess, with leaves in my hair, dirt on my clothes, and blood on my lip, but I'm grateful she doesn't point it out.

"Put your foot on the porch railing to your right and climb through the window so we can talk."

I do as she says, while she continues to whisper out footholds for me to use until I'm safely on the floor of her room.

"What happened?" she asks. Bit by bit, I manage to tell her the whole story. When

I finish, she hugs me, not caring about the dirt and leaves and other bits of the woods still stuck to me from all my falls.

"You know he can't make you go, especially if you don't want to and your grandmother is angry at the suggestion," she tells me.

"I know," I say, sniffling a little. I didn't realize I had started crying, but I guess I must have at some point.

She passes me a tissue. "He can't make you, especially if he won't even talk to you." I'm pretty sure I'm not imagining the dark anger I heard in her voice for that last sentence. "You're staying right here." She sounds so confident and calm that I calm down, too.

"Too bad for East River," I say, laughing a little through my tears. "They would have loved us to not have a full team anymore."

I can hear the grin in her voice as she responds, "At states this year, they're going down," emphasizing the "down" in a way that is really only funny to me because I'm recovering from being a bit hysterical.

"So, you still didn't tell me how you got here," she says, serious again.

"Yes, I did. Through the woods."

"Alone? Without Hope?"

She sounds so worried I feel ashamed as I respond, "Yes."

"You can't go back like that. I'll walk you home."

"But what about your parents?" I ask, surprised.

"Dad's out on a business trip and Mom went to bed early with a headache. They won't miss me. Come on!" We walk quietly out, through the door this time, and head back into the woods, my left hand on her right elbow, like always.

We come to a stop as we emerge in my backyard. "Are there any lights on downstairs?" I ask Maria quietly.

"Nope, just one on the third floor," she whispers back. Are Grandmother and Father still arguing? At least I know they haven't discovered my absence, or Grandmother would surely be downstairs, calling the police or something.

Maria guides me to the door, then turns. "It's going to be okay," she tells me.

"I know," I say, and I really believe it this time.

It sounds as though she wants to say more, but then she's disappeared back into the night, her barely audible footsteps fading away into the woods.