Autumn Leaves

"Mum, please don't make me do this." I say, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of the car window. I blow a strand of choppy black hair out of my face and glance over at Mum, "I could just stay at home. I wouldn't let strangers in or answer the phone or anything. Please?"

Mum takes a hand off of the steering wheel to push her wispy brown hair out of her face, tucking it neatly behind her ear, "Autumn sweetheart, you know I can't. We've been through this before."
My Mum sounds tired and I don't press further. If I go to this summer camp, she can go on her business trip without worry. And she really doesn't need any more worry. My actions have ensured her a life of stress and bills.

Well done me.

I sneak another glance at Mum. She has lines on her forehead where there weren't any before. Her hair is lanker than it used to be, and even if she hides it with bubbly optimism, I know she's tired.
My tongue probes at my lip ring. It's still fairly new, but I've already developed the habit of fiddling with it when I'm thinking. It's just a simple silver hoop, but I like it. It's the sort of thing Chloe hates. Which is a bonus.

Mum flashes a quick smile at me, "Hey. You might make friends. I'm sure you could patch things up with Chloe if you tried."

"Chloe is going to be there?" Fuck. Chloe used to be my best friend. We were the two most popular girls in school. Both of us were loud, demanding and mean. One of us is still loud, demanding and mean. The other has squashed that part so deep inside, sometimes I forget that it's who I used to be.

In the days that lead up to my incident, I let her down. It was a stupid thing- not even that major- but after my incident, Chloe wasn't there to support me. She visited me in the clinic only to tell me how big a freak I was. She didn't spread it all around the school as I thought she would, but I should have known that Chloe was far too smart for that. Blackmail is indeed an ugly word, but it is the only word to describe what she does with my secret.

As well as my secret being in Chloe's hands, my friendships happen to rest in her power as well. People I'd thought were my best friends deserted me as soon as Chloe told them to.
I never liked them that much anyway.

But the important thing is, she knows my secret, and she'll tell everyone if I don't do what she wants. Which basically sucks, and I'd hoped to be able to escape her for the summer at least. Apparently not.

I gaze out of the window at the English countryside flashing by. Stupid countryside. Every field we pass means we're one field nearer to Farington Summer Camp, my special summer hell, designed to make my life a misery.

Cheers Mum.

Now I feel guilty. It isn't Mum's fault, and even if it was, she deserves to do this to me. I ruined her marriage, nay, her life. Nothing she will ever do will repay that debt.

"Sweetheart," starts Mum, "will you try to make friends? It isn't healthy for a fourteen year old to be alone all the time."

I click my lip ring against my teeth, "I'm not alone. I have you. I have Cousin Alex. I have my sketchbook. I have Dr Parker."

"Inanimate objects, therapists and family don't count."

I smile at Mum, the afternoon sun shining on my face, "That's cheating."

My smile aches with lies. I'm not happy. I don't want to joke around, and I also really don't want to be alone. A bad, squashed down part of me wants to scream at Mum, tell her how much I really don't want to do this. But that would be what the old Autumn would do, and I'm not her. Not anymore. I have to be a good daughter, to try and make up for it.

A few minutes later, our car is trundling along a dirt road, following the rotting sign that says in peeling letters:

★ Farington Summer Camp ★

I swallow, and straighten my black t-shirt nervously. My hair falls in my face again, and I flick it back. My cousin, Alex, calls it "emo hair". I actually get called emo a lot. I'm not, honestly. I just like black, my hair is choppy and layered, I have a lip ring and- oops I do sound emo.

Not joking, I don't think of myself as emo. Sure, I like the look, but that's as far as it goes.

We enter into a courtyard with three old stone buildings clustered around it, looking like friendly, but ominous, guardians. A small fountain bubbles away to itself in the centre of the gravelled space, cars parked along the edges. I have an urge to draw the scene, and a part of me wonders if I'll have a bed by the window.

Mum parks the car and I get out slowly, hauling my backpack after me. She gets my small grey suitcase out of the boot. I haven't brought much- clothes, toothbrush, deodorant et cetera. I did bring my sketchbook though, and my drawing pencils. Dr Parker is a big fan of my drawing. She says it's a focal point of my therapy- drawing what I feel. I actually have a sketchbook which I bring to sessions. I draw what I feel while I'm there, and we talk about it.

But this one is personal. It's full of fanart- Sherlock, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Doctor Who, you name it. I post a lot of it on tumblr, but some I keep for myself. There are also a couple of sketches of my bedroom, an attempt at drawing my own eye and a weird scribble I did when I was bored. But I don't talk about those.

I gently pat my trusty backpack. I can feel the spiral-bound edge of my sketchbook, and it comforts me. Unfortunately there isn't any Wi-Fi here, but as long as I can draw I'll be okay.

I don't like calling the things I enjoy "focal points of therapy" or anything like that, because it sounds so clinical and indifferent. I draw because I love it, and generally I find that doing things you love makes you feel better.

Still. Dr Parker may be professional and slightly scary, but I trust her. And I have to admit that she knows what she's doing.

Mum looks up at the stone buildings. They're square, and old. The stone is kind of sandy, except for an archway leading out of the courtyard. The stone around that is grey and pockmarked. There's an odd window poking out of the building on my right. It looks so out of place. Kind of like me at school.
A woman comes through the archway, brushing flour off of a pink apron tied around her pudgy middle. She smiles warmly at me, and shakes Mum's hand, saying, "Welcome to Farington Summer Camp! I'm Julie, and I'm one of the camp leaders."

Her cheery manner feels kind of tinny and fake, but I smile at her, as warmly as I can manage.
Mum relaxes, "I'm Angie Wrenshaw, and this is my daughter Autumn."

Julie clasps her hands together, "Oh, Autumn- we've been expecting you! Your Mum needs to fill out a few forms, and then you can get settled in."

I fail to point out that I really don't want to "get settled in". I want to leave. Now. I want to be far away, in my room, on tumblr. I want to be lying on my bed, trying once again to draw a rose. I'd even rather be sitting awkwardly downstairs with Mum, or talking to Dr Parker. But no. Because Mum needs to go on this business trip. She'll likely get a promotion if she does this, and when she has extra money, she can stop worrying. And it's my fault she worries in the first place.

I stare down at the cobblestones and trail after Mum and Julie through the archway. It leads to a grassy area, where I see two forlorn football nets and a set of crochet hoops leaning against a small shed. Mum and I follow Julie around the side of the building to a bright blue door. With my suitcase trundling behind me, I step inside.

We're in a foyer. There's a desk at one side with two threadbare sofas opposite. A flight of varnished wooden stairs are at the back of the room. Julie leads Mum over to the desk, where she starts digging out papers from the filing cabinet beside it. I sit gingerly on one of the sofas, trying very hard not to compare the colour to cat puke.

After a few minutes of awkward sitting, Mum comes over to me. I stand, and give her a hug, but I can see Julie watching us intently. That woman gives me the heebies. Mum says goodbye, kisses me on the cheek and leaves, waving cheerily as she walks away. Of course she's cheery. She's just got rid of you for the holidays.

Shut up.

I hate that voice in my head. It's me, but it's not me, and I hate it. I know everyone has their own little annoying voice in the back of their mind, but I swear mine truly makes an effort. It's a shame that I know the little voice is telling the truth.

Julie brushes more flour off of her apron. It floats down onto the floor in little puffs of swirling snowflakes. I click my lip ring against my teeth and re-adjust my backpack.

"So. . ." I say, trying to break the silence.

Julie smiles widely, and bustles over to the desk, "Not everyone's arrived yet, so why don't you go up to your dorm and unpack. We'll meet in the Sitting Room at about four o clock, alright?" She sifts through some papers and holds one up triumphantly, "You are in the Blue Room. It's upstairs, first door on the left. The Sitting Room is just along there-" Julie points to a corridor on the left side of the room, "- and if you have any questions, come down here and ask me."

I nod, smiling awkwardly, and pick up my suitcase. I hadn't thought about dorms. I mean, I'd kind of known, but I'd not actually realised the implications. Who was I going to have to share with? My stomach churns as I walk up the stairs. The banister is sticky from being varnished, so I rub it off on my jeans. Classy.

The first door on the left had the words "Blue Room" embossed in gold. I set down my suitcase and creak it open. I walk inside, bringing my suitcase in afterwards. There are four beds, all with white and blue striped duvets. On the two rightmost beds sit two girls. Chloe and. . . . Kaylee. Kaylee is my replacement. After I had my incident and Chloe dumped me, it was surprising how many girls wanted to take my place at Chloe's side.

Possibly a testament to the stupidity of teenage girls.

Chloe looks me up and down, giving me a sneer that even Draco Malfoy couldn't have rivalled. She raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow and says, in a disgusted tone, "What are you doing here?"

I make my way to the farthest bed on the left- away from them, "Being forced to spend my summer here. You?"

She didn't mean it in that way, and she knows I know that. Her piercing blue eyes narrow slightly, "No choice. But I plan to make the most of it, and you had better not get in our way."

I could have laughed. Me, get in her way? The thought was absurd. I stay out of Chloe's way, as much as is humanly possible. I could also have cried. I'm now stuck in a dorm with Chloe and Kaylee for the whole summer. I wonder who the fourth girl is, and whether she'll be nice.

Even if she is nice, Chloe has a gift of making people do what she wants. And if she doesn't want this girl to be nice to me, this girl won't be nice to me. Simple as.

I start to unpack, neatly folding away my clothes in the tiny set of drawers by my bed. I leave my sketchbook in the backpack and shove it under my bed. It feels safer to hide it that way. I can hear Chloe and Kaylee gossiping as normal, and I try very hard not to listen. I used to want to know everything about everyone, because in high school, knowledge is power. And if you're manipulative like I was, knowledge can be used in terrible ways. Now, I try not to hear stuff. I don't want that power anymore.

I finish unpacking, but I don't know what else to do, so I stay by my suitcase and pretend to unpack more. Eventually, Chloe and Kaylee get up and walk off, talking about "seeing the dump they were staying in". I flop onto the bed. It smells of lemons and starch and the sheets are slightly stiff from vigorous cleaning. It's comforting.

The door creaks open, and I sit up quickly, in case Chloe has come back. It's not Chloe, thank God. An olive-skinned girl with a mane of dark brown hair pokes her head into the room, "Hey."

"Hey," I say back. I point to the bed that separates me and Chloe, "That's the only free bed left."

The girl heaves her suitcase in after her and dumps a battered-looking bag on the bed, "I'm Tanushri."

"Tanushri. Unusual name," I say without thinking. As an afterthought, I add, "Sorry."

Tanushri shrugs, "It's fine. My parents are Hindu."

"I'm Autumn," I say awkwardly, "My name isn't exactly normal either."

Tanushri laughs, "It's nice to meet you. I've just moved to Farington actually. We used to live in Devon, but Dad's work relocated."

That would explain why I'd never seen her before. I smile, genuinely, "Will you be going to St Mary's?"

St Mary's is my high school. It's a little bit of a dump to be honest, but the teachers are good enough.
Tanushri lets out a groan, "Yeah. Don't remind me. I don't want to think about a new school. And new people. Mum sent me to this summer camp so I could make some friends before term starts."

"Same," I say, again without thinking, "I mean, I've been at that school since Year 7, but the other. . ." I realise I've said too much and close my mouth. I hardly know Tanushri, and it might be a good idea to get to know her before divulging how much of a loner I am.

Tanushri doesn't say anything about it. Instead she asks, "So. Who are we sharing with?"

It takes me a second to work out that she means the dorm, "Chloe and Kaylee. They're the two most popular girls in school. Just don't get on the wrong side of Chloe and you'll be okay."

I want to say more, but if Tanushri turns into a wannabe popular girl, I don't want Chloe hearing I bad-mouthed her. However the look on my face seems to have betrayed my feelings because Tanushri whistles and says, "Wow. You do not like them, do you?" I shrug non-committally. Tanushri makes a face, "Popular girls annoy me. They all seem so fake and mean."

They are. I was. A wave of relief, mixed with fear crashes over me. If Tanushri doesn't fall under Chloe's spell, then maybe she could be my friend. I like her more and more the longer I talk to her. The fear is that she'll discover who I used to be. The fear is maybe I'm still that girl, inside.
I glance up at the small clock. It reads five minutes to four.

"Tanushri," I say, "I think we have to go down to the sitting room or something."

Tanushri looks up at the clock, "Yeah, we'd better go. But please Autumn, just call me Tana."

We walk down the stair and find our way to a large airy room, filled with blue padded chairs, like the sort you see in teacher's staff rooms at school. We take seats at the back, and wait for everyone else to file in. There are about thirty kids, most of whom I know from school. Julie and a few other adults come in after us, carrying bundles of paper. I sink down in my chair. Already, I can tell this will be tedious.

Julie starts to speak when the door swings open, and the hottest boy on the planet walks in.

Maybe this summer won't be so bad after all.