Autumn Leaves and Teenage Dreams

1. It's Autumn Again

It's autumn again. The trees that line the streets on my walk home from St. Joseph's College Preparatory School are bursting with bright reds, yellows, and oranges. The leaves on the sidewalk are crisp enough to crackle under my feet, and the air is so cold that it bites against my skin and causes me to shiver.

On days like these, I think it's refreshing to walk home alone and stare up at the trees or step in a puddle or two. When the streets are quiet, the air is cold, and the clouds gray, autumn easily becomes one of my favorite seasons.

Unfortunately today, I have two friends pulling on each arm as I begin my short fifteen minute walk home from school.

"Callie, what dress are you going to wear to the Homecoming dance tomorrow?" Abigail asks.

I have known Abigail Zhang since she entered our 5th grade class. I remember that hot day of August clearly, when a shy Asian girl with two pigtails awkwardly made her way to the desk next to mine. I watched her fidget with her plaid skirt and glance around as our classmates reconnected after a short summer. Noticing her anxiety, I introduced myself, and from that moment forward, we became inseparable. Now, I consider her to be one of the kindest people I know. She's still a bit shy and sometimes makes me do all the talking, just like she did back when we were eleven, but she's grown into a loyal friend over the years.

"What color is your corsage going to be?" Hazel wonders on the other side.

Hazel, on the other hand, has been my friend since Kindergarten. I remember her wavy, dark brown hair flipping against her shoulder as she turned and marched toward me on that first day of school, when she adamantly declared that we were going to be friends forever. That's how it's been since. Hazel is sassy and spunky, and in our younger elementary school days when I was bullied for being heavier than some of the other girls, she defended me with her heart and soul. She doesn't need to defend me much nowadays since I can handle myself, but she still makes a statement wherever she goes, especially for being one of the few Jewish girls that attends our all-girls Catholic high school.

"Didn't I send you a picture already?" I ask Abigail. "It's that dark green one. You were with me at the mall the day I bought it."

"Colton's going to die when he sees you in that outfit. You're going to be drop-dead gorgeous at the dance tomorrow. I can tell," Hazel states.

"I don't think it'll really matter..." My voice trails off as I recognize a familiar figure in the distance. It's Isabella Sandoval waving good-bye to her friends before she departs for the day. Her long, wavy dark hair flows down her back as she clutches her books to her body. A part of me wants to reach out and wave too, though I know she won't notice.

Isabella was in my lab group in Chemistry the year before. I had never known her that well prior to that class. But from the moment I first introduced myself to her that rainy day sophomore year, I surprisingly kept wanting to learn more about her. She seemed so cool, confident, and she looked absolutely stunning even on days she admitted she only got a few hours of sleep. And sooner or later, I realized that I—

"What time do you think we should get to the restaurant tomorrow?" Abigail wonders.

"We'll have to do pictures around five o'clock, and reservations aren't until six thirty, so maybe seven?" Hazel suggests. "Callie, what time are you picking Colton up?"

"Colton?"

"Your date," Abigail reminds me.

My eyes dart away from Isabella. When I look again, she is gone, having found her way to her car by now. "I think I'm picking him up around four thirty," I answer, remembering that I'm suddenly in a conversation. Zoning out has become too common of an occurrence for me these days, especially whenever Isabella Sandoval passes by. My friends have not seem to noticed. I hope they don't. And I wish I would stop looking so they never do notice.