Falling

Chapter 14: The Wreck of the Storm

Song of the Chapter: Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift – Listen to it when Autumn starts to hum to Bailey towards the end

November 25th

I did it May. I stole the files.

Well, actually, that's not true. It turns out that the hospital had never tried to hide them from us. We could've asked for it at any time, so when I did, they happily obliged to give it to me. I sent the first letter as soon as I got home, and I'm going to be sending the rest soon, all at once. When I finish with this one, in fact, I will do that.

But if the hospital hadn't been keeping you from me all these long years, then why would Mom and Dad tell us that? I pondered this question for the entirety of yesterday. I finally decided the only way I would find out is if I asked, but how? That's not a subject that could simply pop up in a conversation. So, no May, I haven't asked yet.

Also, in your file, I found out that they renamed you Emily. Quite strange if you ask me, as Emily is your middle name. May Emily Chere. I wonder if this is simply a coincidence, but then again, I've stopped believing in coincidences. It couldn't have been just a coincidence that when you were terrified of how terribly Austin and I were arguing you had your accident, ending our fighting days once and for all. It couldn't have been a coincidence that the family that took you lives in Florida, the exact place that you've been dreaming of going all your life since we went to Orlando. And it couldn't have been a coincidence that the one other person in the world that for some strange reason has your same face, from your red hair to your care free attitude, moved in right across from me.

But then again, what do I know?

I'm writing this letter on a hammock this time. Remember when I mentioned that the Pattillo's and our family always goes to a lake house for Thanksgiving break? Well, even with all that happened with Bailey, we still went. Bailey's out of the hospital, by the way, even though I couldn't go back into the room until way after she was conscious. She got released that day, the doctors made sure her arm was set and gave Mrs. Oray a neck brace just in case her head started throbbing. She's been right back to her normal shenanigans, not wasting a second and getting all of us to sign her cast and make it look pretty.

Luckily, I didn't have to ask my mom about inviting the Shindle-Oray's; she did it all by herself. Snoring softly, about ten feet away from me is Axel. His breathing is exactly as you would expect a healthy teenaged boy's breathing to be: Loud, long, and relaxed. It calms me down listening to it.

I'm actually glad that he hasn't asked me out yet, and also glad that Austin hasn't asked out Olive yet. I'm almost positive that if either of the boys would have spoken up, their moms wouldn't have allowed us to go on this trip together, even with the adult supervision.

It was nice to catch up with you. But that isn't why I'm writing this letter, risking my mom finding out about it. No, I'm writing because of what happened earlier today, when the storm came through.

I was outside with Olive by the lake, waiting for the boys to come back with the sunscreen. Olive and I were "gossiping" again over who would get asked out first and laughing when Olive mentioned how we sounded like Pepper and Peyton. We heard crunching coming from behind us and we turned expecting to see the boys coming through, but instead we saw Bailey's freckled-face peeking through the shrubbery. She seemed uncharacteristically timid and when she spoke, we couldn't hear her, her voice getting lost in the wind.

"What was that?" I asked, scooching closer to hear her better.

"I just..." she started, her voice barely louder than a whisper, her good hand holding her casted one behind her back, her toe drawing meaningless patterns in the sand, "I just...um...wanted to know if, um, I could, uh, well you know?" She looked up so hopefully, as if that jargon was enough to understand what she had just said. I looked at her, thoroughly confused, but not wanting to say anything so the bit of hope that had filled her gray eyes wouldn't go away.