1. Autumn

CHAPTER 1

Autumn

" T hat's what you're wearing?" Andy says, trying to hide a sneer.

"I think I look cute," I tell him, nervously swooshing the poofy green skirt around—almost as if I'm trying to show it off.

As far as brothers go, he's the only one I've got. Actually, he's the only family I've got. Our parents died in a fire when I was a kid, so he's been brother, mother, and father all in one ever since.

He's also the reason I'm going to this Halloween masquerade ball. Andy's always been a little bit of an asshole, but it's just because he values honesty.

"I was thinking you might meet someone at the ball," he says. "But who's going to want to date a pumpkin head? It's not like the rest of you is much to look at."

Sometimes his idea of honesty could be a little cruel.

"The right kind of person, I hope," I say, trying not to take it too personally. "We know I'm not everyone's cup of tea."

I was someone's cup of tea, once upon a time. But I've got the shittiest luck, because the love of my life thought it would be a great idea to go smashing pumpkins with the boys, slipped on some pumpkin guts, and cracked his head open. He always was a little brainless, but it doesn't make me miss him any less for dying because of something stupid. Maybe the pumpkin head thing is my way of honoring Teddy. I like to think he'd want me to move on with life.

Andy shakes his head and smiles back at me, "Sure, sis. Hey, I got you something."

He digs through his pockets until he pulls out a small black jewelry box.

"Andy, what?!" I squeal, reaching a hand out cautiously. Sometimes he would play tricks on me, but this didn't feel like one of his tricks. "Why?!"

He shrugs. "You've been real sad lately."

My eyes welled up as I stepped forward and hugged him.

He laughed me off, pushing the box towards me. "C'mon, you gotta open it first."

I nodded, trying to hold back the tears. When we were kids, he would always tell me tears won't bring back the dead, they're useless—so why waste the effort? Crying always makes me feel weak. He never cried back then, and he hasn't since. So I shouldn't either.

Inside the box is a beautiful necklace, vintage and antique with a red gem in the center, in a similar style to the one I wear every day. I swallow, holding back my emotion.

"C'mon, take off that dumb head and I'll put it on for you," he says.

I nod so I don't accidentally weep in front of him and pull off the pumpkin head. He drapes the necklace over my head and does the clasp for me. When I turn around to look at him, he looks on, his gaze now approving.

"Much better," he says. "It'll give them a reason now."

"Give them a reason?" I ask.

"C'mon, sis, we have to get going," he says, checking his watch.

Andy is never late. He always arrives precisely when he means to, and that means I am beholden to his schedule. We run a bakery together, the family business. People say our food is bewitching. Andy does all the front of house stuff and I get to do all the baking. It's the harder job, but I've never been particularly good with people.

That's why he's dragging me to this ball. He thinks that if I put on a mask and get outside of myself, that maybe I'll finally meet someone. I've been trying not to take it personally that he seems so keen on pawning me off—he just wants me to be happy.

I keep telling myself this as he drops me off. As I slip into the giant gothic mansion and make my way through the crowd. I don't know anyone here, or if I do, I don't recognize them in their masks. I guess that's the point of a masquerade.

I wish I could just let things happen to me. Be charming and sweet as some hot stranger walks up to me and whisks me off my feet. But that's just not me. I'm used to being a doormat. Perfectly hot strangers don't come up to doormats and whisk them off their feet. They grind their dirty shoes into them.

So I flit across the ballroom, never staying in one place long enough to let anyone think it's okay to talk to me. Instead, I pass strangers engaged in conversation, try to laugh when they laugh before realizing I'm utterly insane and run off to hide behind another group. Dancing seems far too difficult. At least the food never engages in conversation.

But I can't keep doing this. I came to this masquerade to meet people. The stupid pumpkin head was supposed to help me do that. I march over to the closest mirror and pull it off, readying myself for a pep talk. And a little bit of fresh air—it gets stale breathing in my own breath in there.

"C'mon, Autumn. Do it for Andy. And do it for Teddy. We can do this. Just talk to people. And if they think you're weird, just walk away and talk to someone else. Eventually your weird is gonna match someone else's weird."

With a big sigh, I smile at myself in the mirror, try to think confident thoughts, and pull the Jack-o-lantern back over my head.