“Autumn—beautiful!” I said, my brain too focused on studying to remember to keep my secrets. “What?” Sylvie looked at me over the cards. “Beautiful, right? That’s what it means?” “Yeah,” she said. “But you said—” “Oh! Autumn, like my birthday! Fall leaves and stuff. You know how I like the leaves changing color.” Sylvie knows I love fall leaves. It’s my favorite season, my birthday, etc., etc., but I honestly don’t know if she believed me.
