The Best of Fools (Jane Austen Book 2) Read online

  "Hello," I chimed in. "Other people exist in the world."

  They laughed and turned to us while holding hands.

  "Oh, Donovan," Mom said. "You're back. How was your trip?"

  He leaned back on his heels. "It was good, thanks."

  "Missed you around here, son," Dad said. "I had a project and could've really used the extra hands."

  "Oh yeah? What project?"

  Mom interrupted, "It's a surprise for Janie."

  "Mom, don't call me Janie."

  She laughed. "You're still my baby Janie."

  "Okay, okay," I said, walking toward the stairs. "Come on, Donovan, before they brainwash you and sweep you into a BBC film."

  They all laughed. Donovan followed me to my room and sat on the bed. I pulled the box out of my closest and sat beside him, staring at the ... the thing in my lap.

  He glanced at the box, then me, then the box, me, the box. "Want me to open it for you?"

  I waved his hand away and opened the top. Then stared at it. And ... stared some more.

  "Uh." He reached for it. "Let me handle this for you."

  I swatted his hand. "Patience, my friend. Patience."

  I stared.

  "You're kidding, right?" He reclined on my bed. "I'll just take a nap. Wake me next month when this is finished."

  "Do you ever feel like you're in a glass box?" I ran my finger along the inside and lifted the hidden compartment. "There on the other side is everything you want and it seems so easy to touch, but when you reach out with a smile on your face, ready to wrap your fingers around it ... you hit glass. "

  He sat up and looked at me, but I didn't look up, only felt his eyes on me as he cleared his throat and said, "What are you reaching for?"

  I shook my head, not wanting to tell him. Or myself. I didn't want to admit what my dreams were. They seemed so childish. So stupid in a world full of starving families and destitution beyond my wildest imagination.

  My dreams were petty. And I knew that. Which is why I shoved them in the box and buried them years ago.

  I flipped it open and took a deep breath.

  Donovan peeked inside. "It's ... a paper? A note of some kind?"

  I lifted it in my hand. The paper shook like the last fall leaf on a sleepy tree. I fanned myself with it, inhaled again, then handed it to Donovan.

  "You want me—“

  I nodded.

  "Okay."

  The paper crinkled as it unfolded and the Polaroid slipped out on to his lap. I looked away, embarrassed to even have it. What would Mom and Dad think?

  Mom and Dad.

  Donovan lifted the photograph and turned it to the back side. No writing.

  "She looks like you," he said. "What is it?"

  He looked over the paper for some kind of hidden note, but there wasn't a note. Just the picture. The picture I buried, but never forgot.

  "It's my mother," I said, finally exhaling.

  "Your...."

  I pat his knee. "Yup."

  This is the point where Autumn would ask for every last detail in the known universe. She'd stop at nothing and ask questions I never knew the answer to and probably never would. And she'd try to convince me that I knew, somewhere deep inside, if only I just thought harder. For her sake, you know, because she liked stories and she liked to turn everyone around her into one.

  But honestly, I didn't always know.

  And sometimes what you need isn't a friend who wants details, but a friend who sits there, in the opaque silence, listening to you breath while feeling—yes, feeling so deeply and so intensely—every last good or bad emotion coursing through your mind and heart.

  That is why Donovan would forever be my best friend. That is why I wanted him there when I saw the picture for the first time in over a decade.

  He set it on my lap and I touched her face, then my eyes rested on her stomach. My first home. The place where it all began.

  No matter how many times I played the situation over in my head. The fifty thousand possible scenarios that could have been the story of why. Why? Why didn't she want me?

  "See, Don," I said shyly. "I'm not really Jane Austen anyway."

  Chapter 3

  Autumn and Donovan sat next to each other in Honors English and I sat right behind them, next to Joey, our ultra strange class clown. I secretly hated sitting next to him because he would randomly stand on his chair and blurt out weird random movie quotes no one could figure out. Not that I cared much about that, but he did it so fast that he'd jerk my desk and I'd end up with a huge line of ink down my paper or a notebook with the rings popped open as it hit the floor. Not really my idea of funny, but the guy had some kind of major ADHD going on and I kinda felt bad for him so I'd laugh even if it wasn't funny.

  Like, oh I don't know, right now as he jumped on top of his desk and yelled, "Badges? We ain't got no badges! We don't need no badges! I don't have to show you any stinking badges."

  I held my desk in place as Mr. Granger lowered his glasses and huffed.

  "Joe, please have a seat."

  Joey took a bow and landed back in his chair.

  Yes, my friends, this is Honors English I'm talking about.

  Donovan slipped me a note. I pulled my notebook onto my lap and propped it against the desk, unfolded the note, and smoothed it over top of my notes from class.

  TWO THINGS, well, make that three actually.

  1.) Ready for finals tomorrow?

  2.) Go to prom with me?

  3.) Busy tonight? I have an idea.

  I wrote back:

  1.) Ready as I'll ever be.

  2.) I'm going with Autumn. You don't have a date??

  3.) Meet me at the ice cream place. 5pm.

  I tapped his shoulder and his hand twisted behind his back, grabbed the note, and disappeared. A few seconds later he handed it back.

  No date. Guess I need to find one. Any ideas? Ice cream place it is.

  The bell rang. Everyone stood as Mr. Granger tried to speak above the squeaking chairs and yapping faces. Not a clue what he said. Something about tomorrow's finals that I dreaded.

  Donovan had taken off and vanished. His next class was at the complete opposite end of the school, three floors up, and being the good boy that he is ... he just couldn't be late. So Autumn and I walked to our next class together. She had Psych in the same wing that I had theatre. Worked out well. She went on about prom dresses and prom song and prom prom prom.

  "Glorified homecoming." I popped her bubble. "Chill out. It's not that special."

  "It is though, if you want it to be."

  "Eh."

  She shook her head. "And the award for most cynical of all goes to...."

  "Funny." I laughed. "Does one need to have an affinity toward dancing to be considered optimistic?"

  She smiled. "Nice come-back."

  I stopped at the door to the theatre. "I'll see you tomorrow. Mr. McShea wants me to stay after class today for some reason so I won't be out right away."

  "Kay. Love you. Text me."

  "Will do."

  Oh. My. Delights.

  The ice cream melting in my mouth and running down my fingers could not have been more amazing. I mean, imagine the deepest, richest, creamiest chocolate you've ever had in your life, times that by, oh, about seventy million, then top it off with swirls of crispy caramel bits. Heavenly delightful mess.

  "I have never in my life seen a girl your age eat ice cream like a two-year-old," Donovan licked the peach ice cream as it dripped down his pretzel cone. "And I mean that as a compliment."

  I smiled and licked my fingers. "So. Good. How's yours?"

  "I'm guessing not as good as yours." He handed me a napkin. "So, I've been thinking."

  "Ladies and gents, he's been thinking!" I held my finger in the air and laughed.

  "It's miraculous, I know." He shoved my finger back to the table. "How about we take a road trip this summer? I was thinking, if you're up for it, we could try to meet your, um, y
our biological mother." He crunched into his cone and watched me for a response, but I didn't give one. "So...?"

  "I don't know, Don. Really? Is that a good idea?"

  "Why not? You obviously still think about it. I don't know what you're thinking or feeling, but you have to be curious. It couldn't hurt, could it?"

  I wiped my face. "That's just the thing ... it could hurt a lot."

  "It could." He crunched again. "But it also could hurt to never try."

  "Ladies and gents." I held up my finger. "He has a point!"

  He laughed. "You and that finger pointing."

  I finished the last of my waffle cone and wiped my face. "Did I get it all off?"

  He shook his head and dabbed my chin with his napkin. "There."

  "How would we find her anyway?"

  "Well, you probably need to ask your parents what her name was. From there it should be easy, especially if they know which state she lives in."

  "I can't ask my parents. No way."

  "How else will you find her name?"

  "I won't." I picked apart a sugar packet. "My parents have never talked to me about her. There's no way I'm bringing it up."

  "Never?"

  "Never."

  "How'd you find out?"

  "Overheard them talking one night when they thought I was sleeping."

  "But the picture...."

  "Found it in a box in the basement that was stuffed with baby clothes and toys. I'm not even sure it's her, but I look a lot like her so I just assumed. Kept it tucked away in my room for years after that. At first I hid it under a corner where the carpet came up from the floor a little. When I got older I wanted to stop obsessing over it, so I buried it in that box."

  "And then tried to dig up the entire woods in an effort to find it again?"

  "Thanks." I laughed. "I guess there's still a part of me that wants to know. It's weird."

  "Normal."

  "Find a date to prom?"

  "I think I'm going to stay home. What's the point?"

  "Don't say that around Autumn."

  "Yeah, she's freakishly into the whole thing."

  "She has more friends than we do. Probably counts for something."

  "Hey, speak for yourself. I have plenty of friends."

  Donovan offered to come over on Saturday to be there when I asked my parents about ... my parents, but I told him I'd rather be alone. So alone I was, and kinda regretting it, as I approached Mom in the kitchen. She finished drying a dish with a towel, set it in the cabinet, and turned to me. With that look.

  "How do you always know when something's wrong?" I tried to smile.

  "I wouldn't say that," she said. "Something isn't wrong right now, it's just not right."

  "Yes, and it's even weirder that you know that."

  "Mother's intuition, I guess." She put her arm around me and led me to the table.

  I sat. She sat next to me. And she waited.

  Mother's intuition.

  I cleared my throat. "Um...."

  "What's bothering you, Jane?"

  I slid the picture on to the table because I had no words to give. She touched it with the tip of her fingers, held my knee with her other hand, and looked at me. I stared at the table, but she pulled my chin up and forced me to look at her as her eyes reddened and tears pooled near her lashes. She blinked and one fell.

  "I didn't mean to upset you. I found this a long time ago after I heard you and Dad talking about her."

  She covered her mouth with her hand and leaned into it.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and sighed. "I'm sorry. I should've left it alone."

  "No, honey." She took my hand. "You have every right to ask and to know."

  "Why didn't you guys tell me before then?"

  "It's ... complicated. There's a lot to it and we wanted you to be old enough, but then time slipped through our fingers and I never knew what to say or how to say it."

  "So, you're not my mom?"

  Her shoulders lurched forward and she let out a soft whimper.

  "I mean...." What did I mean?

  I put my hand on her shoulder and she covered it with her own. Dad walked in, contorted his eyebrows, then caught the photo on the table. He knelt down between us, one hand on my back, the other on Mom's thigh. Mom stared at him while sucking in her lips. I stared at both of them. Dad nodded his head and stared at the floor.

  Can we say awkward?

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to start something. I just wanted to know the truth about myself."

  "The truth is you're our daughter. I've never thought any differently about it."

  "But why was I adopted? Who was she?"

  Mom squeezed my hand. "Honey, I know it's going to eat away at you until you know the details, but it's complicated. We don't know where she went."

  "Why did you adopt me? Is Eddie adopted too? Can you have kids?"

  Dad finally stood, then leaned against the kitchen counter. "We adopted you unexpectedly. The opportunity arose and we felt the need to take it, but yes, we can have children and Eddie is our biological child."

  "So it's just me then."

  "It's not just you," Dad said. "It's all four of us. We're a family, Jane. Whether or not you came out of Mom's womb or another woman's doesn't change the fact that she's your mother and I'm your father. Eddie is your brother. We're a family. There's more to it than blood."

  "What's her name?"

  Mom handed me the picture. "Her name is Julia. The last we knew she was living in Boston."

  "How old is she?"

  "Younger than us."

  "Who's my da—I mean, who's my biological father?"

  "We don't know."

  I looked at Dad. He shook his head and shrugged.

  "Does Julia even know the father?"

  "I believe she does," Mom said, then pulled me into a hug. "I understand your need for answers and I'm here if you need anything."

  "Does Eddie know?"

  "No. We thought it would be best if you talked to him whenever you found out."

  I pulled away from her hug. "You could've told me. Earlier, I mean. You know, save me from the emotional breakdown that happens when you find out you aren't who you think you are."

  Dad laughed. "You always have been one to exaggerate. Even when you were a toddler."

  "I'm serious. Not about the emotional breakdown, but I don't know who I am anymore."

  "This doesn't change who you are, honey," Mom said. "Or who we are."

  I knew that, in essence. My mind totally understood what she meant, but still. My heart couldn't come to terms with it. Was I always Jane Austen? Or did my parents change my name? Does my anti-sensationalism thing come from my other mom, since it obviously didn't come from my parents?

  I wanted to know.

  I excused myself from the table. As I started up the stairs I stopped and heard Mom say, "See."

  See what? I wondered.

  I sent a quick text to Donovan, asking him if he liked Boston. He shot a response back within seconds, Boston it is!

  Chapter 4

  I held the railing as I walked down the stairs. One of those typical prom moments, except I was walking down to Autumn who stood by the couch looking amazing. Then he appeared with a smile on his face, wearing a dirty Adidas t-shirt and shorts with holes in them.

  I was most definitely not going to blush.

  "Look at you," Donovan said. "Blushing and everything."

  I touched my face as I stepped off the stairs and he pulled me into a hug. "You look incredible."

  "So do you. Even a little sweat to compliment the outfit." I laughed. "And Autumn. Wow!"

  She spun in a circle and Eddie's jaw pretty much attached itself to the floor. I walked over and lifted it back to his other lip. "Better watch that thing. Someone might trip."

  Mom wrapped her arms around me and sniffed.

  "Oh, no, not again," I teased, then turned to hug her. "No crying. It's just a dance."

  "So
on you'll be married and have children and I'm just going to miss all of this." She held my shoulders and moved one of my stray hairs back into place. "You look beautiful."

  Someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to Dad's glowing face. He pulled me into him and held me there longer than the others, then whispered, "I'm so proud of you. You look so pretty, darling, but what I'm more proud of is the beautiful woman you've become. I couldn't have asked for a better daughter."

  "Thanks, Dad."

  Mom took a few pictures of Autumn and I together by the fireplace mantle, then outside by the garden.

  "Can I jump in?" Donovan asked. "I didn't get dressed up for nothing."

  He stood between Autumn and I for a few pictures, then asked for a few with just me.

  "Remember homecoming?" he said.

  "Yeah. When you talked me into taking pictures with you on my back."

  "Wanna try that now?"

  "No. You'll break me in half now."

  He laughed. "How about you jump on my back?"

  "Are you guys done?" Mom said.

  "One more, Mrs. Austen." He turned his back to me. "Come on. For the sake of old times and good memories."

  "I'm in a dress."

  "Oh, come on." He pretended to whine. "It won't hurt anything."

  "Fine." I placed my hands on his shoulders and jumped up. He grabbed my legs and .... RIP!

  "Donovan!" I yelled and slapped his shoulder. "I told you!"

  He lowered me back to the ground.

  "Um...." Autumn said. "Your dress is completely exposing your naughties now."

  Donovan laughed. "Naughties?"

  "Guys!" I snapped. "This isn't funny. I have nothing else to wear and I spent so much time working on this dress."

  "Don't you have something somewhere?" Autumn whined. "We need to leave within thirty minutes or we'll be late. Can you fix it real quick on your sewing machine?"

  "Seriously, Donovan. I told you!"

  He looked at the back of my dress. "It's not that bad."

  Mom put her arm around me. "Donovan, it's not gentlemanly to look."

  Could this get any worse? "Okay. I'm going to try to fix this."

  "Just put on something casual and I'll go with you like this."