Autumn

by Sierra Dean

  “This is the paper mill,” he told her, glancing up at the building through the windshield. “Employs about seventy percent of the adult population in town. Behold the majesty of our economic overlord.” He leaned on the steering wheel, and Lou followed his gaze up, staring at the big emission stacks and seeing absolutely no beauty in the hulking structure.

  “It’s…great.”

  Cooper smiled. “It’s a hideous monstrosity. Uglier than the Walmart, even. But it keeps the town alive.” He started the truck again and backed out of the lot. Turning down the first side road they met, he went one block over until they were on Starling, and started back in the direction they’d come from. They passed the elementary school, where a few kids were making use of the outdoor play structure even on a Saturday, and beyond that was a red brick fire station, side by side with a brown brick building labeled Sheriff’s Department.

  “That’s where my mom works.” Cooper pointed to the row of patrol cars parked out front.

  Lou wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say anything, so she just nodded. Her own mother hadn’t begun to search for work in town, making it impossible to compare notes on parental jobs. Sounded like the paper mill was looking likely, which was a heartbreaking idea since her mom was more the creative type than the worker-drone type.

  Cooper didn’t stop at the station, continuing their brief tour of her new hometown. They drove past an outdoor basketball court, a library and a small, sad-looking bar, then last but not least was the big white church. Aside from the school, it was the most impressive building she’d seen in Poisonfoot. The paint was brilliant and white, and the flowerbeds were neatly organized with red and white petunias.

  The truck turned away from the church and back towards Main Street. Cooper glanced at her and gave a small shrug. “I told you it wasn’t very impressive.”

  “It’s nice,” she said. “I think I might like it.”

  He laughed, a bright, warm sound. “You think?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, it’s a start. What do you want to do now?”

  Lou shrugged, her flirtatious bluster lessened by his closeness to her. “What do kids do for fun around here?”

  “Leave.”

  She chuckled at him, but his serious expression stopped her. “Leave where?”

  “If you’re not old enough to vanish completely? There’s a little lake about twenty minutes from here.”

  “Is it, like…the parking spot?” She put some extra emphasis on parking, hoping he wouldn’t make her spell out what she meant.

  “Yeah, I guess. But it’s a lot of things. Swimming hole, picnic place. There’s a nice gazebo. In the summer you can rent canoes and stuff, but they shut that down the last week of August.”

  “Oh, so it’s an actual hangout.”

  “Did you think I was going to drive you up to the make-out spot after knowing you less than a week?”

  She hoped he was too focused on the road to notice the slight choking sound she made when she forgot how to swallow. Her cheeks felt hot, so she leaned towards the window to let the fresh air waft over her. “No, of course not.”

  Cooper turned off the main street and onto a dirt access road leading into a stand of trees. She figured he was going to take her to the lake in spite of no official plan being made. She liked that he was decisive and didn’t wait for her to ask outright.

  “So you were talking to Archer,” Cooper said after a long pause. Since it wasn’t exactly a question, Lou wasn’t sure if he wanted her to respond.

  “Yes?” She turned from the window back to him. “What’s up with him? He seems like the All-American cowboy prototype. Like…too perfect.”

  Cooper laughed. “Too perfect? I think you might be the first person to ever say the word too in front of it. Usually he’s the poster child. Other parents say stuff like can’t you be more like Archer?”

  “Your mom says that?”

  “No. I think she’s the only parent in town who isn’t madly in love with him.”

  “Isn’t that a bit weird? The sheriff not liking the town’s golden boy?”

  “Maybe it’s a women’s intuition thing?” He smiled at her and turned the car down a second, smaller road. “I tend to think my mom is a bit too judgmental, but she’s usually right. I don’t know what Archer ever did to make her not like him, but she’s not a fan.”

  The truck bobbled along, rattling on the dirt and gravel as they bumped their way towards the lake.

  “You didn’t answer my question though. What’s his deal?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His story. Like…who is Archer?”

  “Senior. Captain of just about every sports team.” Cooper’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he spoke, and Lou watched as his knuckles turned white. “You could say he’s a popular guy.”

  “Just not with you.”

  Cooper cast a glance in her direction then returned his attention to the bumpy road. “No one really cares what I think.”

  “I do.”

  He slowed the car down, making the jostling sensation harsher, and Lou bounced in her seat as they progressed towards the lake. The trees around them were thicker, blocking out most of the sunlight and turning what made it through a bright green color.

  “I don’t like him,” Cooper confided.

  “No kidding? I really thought you guys were BFFs for sure.”

  He snorted and held up his crossed fingers. “Oh yeah, we’re like this.”

  “I could te—” Her sentence was cut short when Cooper slammed on the brakes, sending her forward in her seat, the old seat belt digging into her shoulder and stealing her breath.

  When Lou shook off her stupor, she looked at the road in front of them to see what had caused Cooper to stop so suddenly. A slim, reddish-brown coyote stood in the middle of the dirt road, staring directly at them.

  She turned to Cooper to say something, but the words died on her lips when she saw his face. He wasn’t scared or nervous. There was a look of recognition in his eyes, and his lips were pursed in a sad grimace.

  It looked like he recognized the animal.

  Like he knew it.

  Chapter Eleven

  The coyote stared at him.

  Cooper stared right back.

  The coyote sat on his haunches and fixated on the truck, effectively blocking their path. He nipped at his own leg, satisfying an itch, then looked at Cooper again.

  “Cooper?” Lou placed her hand on his arm, and he jerked away involuntarily. She pulled her hand back, and he could feel her gaze on him. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s a coyote.”

  “I can see that. Is it normal for them to just sit there like that?”

  The animal looked from Cooper to Lou and cocked his head to the side, observing her carefully.

  “I’m not sure.”

  She trembled, her shiver vibrating through the bench in the truck. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining her heartbeat pounding or if he was hearing his own throbbing in his ear.

  Without thinking, he reached out and took her hand. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “We’ll back up. He’s not going to hurt you.”

  “What’s with the coyotes here?” she asked, her breath light, voice high. She seemed to be calm, but her tone gave him a glimpse at what she was really feeling. Fear.

  “What do you mean?” He pulled his hand free to shift the truck into reverse. The road was too narrow to turn around, so he would need to back out the entire way. Once he was in gear, he took Lou’s hand again, her fingers cold against his sweaty palm.

  The coyote was still staring at them, even as they backed away from him. When he was nearly out of sight, he got back on all fours and plodded off the road, disappearing into the brush. Cooper stepped down on the brake and looked at Lou, who was still focused on the empty spot where the animal had been.

  “Lou?”

  She started as if waking from a dream, then turned her attention back to him.
“What?”

  “What did you mean? What you said about coyotes? Have you seen him before this?”

  “Him?” Her eyes widened, and a pallor cooled her skin tone from sun-kissed to ashen.

  “One. Have you seen one before this?”

  “Oh. Yeah. There’s been one coming into my yard sometimes. My grandma yells at it like it understands her or something, but it just keeps coming around. It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. Until this.” She pointed at the vacant road. “Are people feeding them? They don’t seem afraid at all.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” He eased up on the brake and continued reversing until they reached the dirt highway and he was able to turn them back towards the main road. He had a few ideas about the coyote in Lou’s yard, but none of them would help him explain things in a way she’d understand.

  He barely understood.

  “I’ll take you home.” He angled his truck onto the real highway and turned in the direction of her house.

  Lou didn’t argue.

  Once Cooper had dropped Lou at the foot of her driveway, he went back the way he’d come. The sun was dipping low on the horizon by the time he arrived at the patch of road where he’d seen the coyote. Through the twined boughs of the trees overhead the light was dim, making it seem darker on the road than it had been in town.

  He pulled over as far as he could, his truck tipping towards the ditch but still planted firmly on the road. There was enough room for a small compact to pass but little else. Cooper didn’t expect to see anyone else on the road though.

  He got out and stumbled, slipping halfway down the slope and ending up with his shoes full of stagnant water. After climbing up the opposite side, he found himself standing between two thin-trunked trees whose bark was covered in damp, spongy moss.

  Ducking under a branch, he made his way deeper into the woods, soon losing sight of the road and his truck and lapsing further into darkness.

  “I know you’re here,” he bellowed, once he was certain no one else was around. Anyone overhearing him would go from thinking he was a waste of space to assuming he was out of his mind. Maybe he was crazy, considering he was out in the middle of nowhere yelling into the trees.

  Creeping forward quietly a few steps, he took several short breaths through his nose, sniffing the air. He froze on the spot when he realized what he was doing, his whole body going cold, and not from the temperature in the air.

  He’d just smelled for a sign of the coyote.

  The tree behind him served as a suitable rest to hold him up when he slumped backwards, bracing his hands on his knees and taking several deep breaths to calm himself.

  “I’m supposed to have more time,” he whispered, this time speaking to no one but himself. The wind muttered soothing, meaningless words into his ear, and he matched his breath to its tempo, urging himself to calm.

  When he righted himself, the coyote was there, standing in the woody duff, staring at him with shining brown eyes. It yipped, a short, high sound that was similar to a dog’s bark yet totally unique. It wasn’t sitting like it had on the road, but it stood in place, regarding him like an old friend.

  Cooper straightened, and where a normal animal would have run off at the sudden movement, the coyote only tracked him, keeping a watchful eye on the motions without budging an inch itself.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Cooper said.

  The coyote shook his head and made a huffing sound like a sneeze. Then he sat back on his haunches and his tongue lolled out as if he were nothing more than a wiry, happy dog.

  Cooper wanted to move forward. He wanted to embrace that stupid furry beast as if he were still the person Cooper once knew. It wasn’t until that moment, meeting the warm brown eyes he would recognize anywhere, that he was really willing to admit that his own fate was sealed.

  He slid back down the tree until he was sitting in the damp leaves, and resisted the urge to cup his face in his hands. He didn’t want to look away, didn’t want to risk the coyote vanishing. It had been a long time, and Cooper had given up any hope of ever seeing him again.

  “Oh, Jer,” he said, his voice loaded with sadness.

  The coyote yipped.

  His brother was saying hello.

  Chapter Twelve

  Once Lou saw Cooper’s taillights vanish around the bend, she reversed her track and walked away from the house, back towards the road. It wasn’t as bright as it had been when she’d made her way to the football field earlier that day, but town wasn’t far, and the late-summer light would linger a bit longer.

  She hoisted her bag up on her shoulder and plugged her iPod headphones into her ears, turning up the volume on Priss’s mix tape. The Cars started singing “Just What I Needed”, and Lou couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Cooper. What was that boy doing to her? The more people who told her to stay away from him—himself included—the more she wanted to get closer.

  When he’d taken her hand in the front seat of his truck, she thought she was going to choke on her own heart. It would have been easier to blame the nerves on that stupid coyote, but the truth of the matter was it was Cooper. He made her dizzy and lightheaded and so nervous she sometimes wanted to throw up. But at the same time she’d never felt so at ease around another person in her life.

  He was making her crazy, and she liked it.

  But she couldn’t figure him out. The way he willingly backed away from her, how he seemed to accept his fate being loathed by the whole town. And what was up with that anyway? As far as Lou could tell he was a good guy, he respected his mother, and nothing she’d seen of him so far had given her any indication of why people disliked him so vehemently.

  She picked up her pace to match the tempo of the song, wanting to be out from the cover of the woods. Another thing bugging her was the way Cooper had looked at the coyote on the road. And she hadn’t misheard when he’d said him in regards to the animal, as if he knew the thing personally.

  Maybe the coyotes in Poisonfoot were really friendly, but it was still bizarre for someone to use a human pronoun to describe one. That sort of familiarity was reserved for pets that functioned as an extension of the family.

  The trees gave way to bright, wide-open sky, and Lou’s pulse slowed along with her speed. Something about being in the woods made her uneasy with the sensation she was constantly being watched.

  The highway rounded a bend, and a sidewalk appeared out of nowhere. One step there was nothing but gravel shoulder, the next there was a paved sidewalk. Lou continued her journey back to Second Street, where she’d noticed a small library on Cooper’s tour of the town. She would have missed it entirely if she’d glanced away, the building was so tiny, but she’d spotted it nestled between the elementary school and the outdoor basketball court.

  If no one was willing to tell her what was going on with Cooper Reynolds, she was going to have to find out herself. Granny Elle still lived in a world that predated the Internet, and Lou figured it was going to take at least another month of coaxing before her aging grandmother agreed to get high speed installed in the old Victorian house. They were far enough out her cell’s data connection was spotty at best, which meant if she wanted to Google anything, she’d have to do it at school or somewhere else with a free Internet connection.

  The library seemed like a safer bet than the high school. The last thing she needed was someone snooping over her shoulder while she searched Cooper’s name. She didn’t know why she cared so much if people knew what she was doing, but given how crazy people were about the Reynoldses, she thought it was best she kept her searching on the DL.

  She’d really hoped Cooper might give her some insight into himself during their drive that afternoon, but the most Lou had gotten was more questions.

  It took her almost half an hour to walk from Granny Elle’s house back to the library, and in that time she’d listened to everything from eighties pop to early aughts boy bands. Priss had no attention span whatsoever, but the tempo of the
songs had kept Lou moving at a good clip.

  She arrived at the library with the sun still hanging low over the horizon, a big orange ball on the pinkish backdrop of the sky. The dim lights of the building gave her pause, and she realized she should have looked up the hours before walking all this way. She didn’t even know if the place would be open on a Saturday, let alone so late. But when she got to the door, a small, hand-drawn sign listing the hours said it was open until nine, giving her several hours before she needed to worry.

  Lou sent her mother a quick text, telling her where she was and that she’d be home later. Her mom was a born worrier, but it was hard for a parent to fret too much about their child spending time with a bunch of old books.

  A reply asked, Do you have your kit?

  Lou rolled her eyes at the message. She’d been diabetic since she was ten. In those six years she’d learned the hard way to never leave her house without her meds. Now that she was practically an adult, she’d have figured her mom would start letting up, but a mother was still a mother, and apparently moms never stopped fretting.

  Yes, don’t worry.

  As she was opening the door her phone buzzed again. Have fun. I love you.

  Lou wanted to find the affection smothering, but she appreciated that her mom took the time to say it, even in a text.

  The door creaked shut behind her, blotting out the dying light of the afternoon and leaving Lou in a dimly lit corridor, blinking to adjust to the sudden brightness shift. The room came into focus slowly, rows and rows of old brown bookshelves, some sagging beneath the weight of literally hundreds of books. Motes of dust floated in the air, caught in narrow light shafts from the tiny windows at the top of the walls.

  Three heavy wooden tables sat in the center of the room with the bookshelves fanning out around them like the petals of a flower. On one table were two relatively new-looking computers with flat-screen monitors, and a small printer. The other two tables were empty but for two green lamps on each, like the ones Lou had seen in old movies.