Change Of Season (39 page)

Veronica skipped past the librarian’s desk, beaming as she tapped the pages against her thigh.  With a wave to a friend of hers whose name escaped Autumn, she led the way to the reserve room, where all school publications were kept. 

“Now, let’s get this done quickly and get back to your room.  I have candy and Netflix has new episodes of
Mad Men
.  How hot is Christina Hendricks, by the way?”

Autumn giggled.  “Big rack, curvy hips.  Definitely not your mother, V.”

Veronica winked.  “I told you, natural is sexy.  Okay, let’s see…. 1980...  Hold this?”  Passing the pages, she dragged over a step ladder, ascending quickly as she read the blue leather spines.  “1980, 1980.… Bingo!” 

“You’re far too cheery about this,” Autumn said.

“I’m on five Pixy Stix right now.  Sorry.”  Settling in at the research table, she flipped open the yearbook. “What name am I looking for?”

“Mary Kennedy.  She was sixteen, so grade ten, eleven maybe?”

Veronica nodded, thumbing through the classes.  “Eight… Nine…  Did Ben say what happened to her?”

“Suicide.  Bathroom.”

“That’s cheery,” Veronica mumbled.  “Maybe she’s an eleven…. Wait, Kennedy- Oh,
fuck
.”

“V?” Autumn leaned over her shoulder anxiously. 

“Look,” Veronica whispered, her finger tapping a photo.

Autumn’s heart skipped a beat as she recognized the young woman.  Loose auburn curls framed her grinning face, her pouty lips painted crimson.  Creamy complexion, immaculate save a tiny beauty mark above her lip. 

It was the Polaroid girl.

TWENTY-TWO

Oakville; December 9
th
, 2011

“Autumn, I swear I will get Evan to forcibly carry you downstairs if you don’t hurry up!”

Autumn growled, dashing on lip gloss for the third time and scrutinizing the shade. 
A little more bronze than I’d like
, she lamented.  Lightly tousling the large curls tumbling to her shoulders – Veronica’s handiwork – she stepped backwards, smoothing her dress in a huff. 
I’ll never look perfect enough
, she thought. 
I wouldn’t know perfect if I saw it staring back at me, anyway.

“Wifey, we need to jet.  You’re hot, you’re awesome, and you and I have a date with Keenan behind Athletics.”  Veronica’s hands seized her bare shoulders, steering her out of the bathroom.  “Now, the dress is fabulous, but you need a coat in December.  Chop chop!”

“Alright, alright!” 

There was no arguing with Veronica before a performance.  Slipping into her nicer coat, she admired Veronica’s look:  long, silk halter dress in a blue and white tie-dyed pattern; kitten heels; blonde hair in loose ringlets.  She was, as always, a star.  Her own dress, handed to her by Veronica, was basic black, with a low back and a healthy dip in the cleavage department.  The asymmetrical hemline skirting Autumn’s knees was kind of cute, if she were to be honest.  But she’d never tell Veronica that.  It would only encourage her.

“Knock-knock!” 

Evan was outside her door. 
She really was going to have him carry me
!

“We’re coming!” Seizing her hand, Veronica led Autumn to the door, throwing it open with a grin.  “Hello, handsome!  She’s dragging her feet.”

Evan’s eyebrow raised.  “Oh really?  It’s very hard to perform a duet with
one
person.”

“So have Veronica take my spot,” Autumn replied.

“Nuh-uh!  It’s program versus program!” Veronica admonished.  “We just need to de-sober her, stat.”

How had she ended up consenting to this annual fundraiser?  Oh, right: after discovering that a bloody photo under her floorboards featured another suicide from the 80s, Autumn had needed desperate distraction.  Working up two songs with Evan was the perfect solution:  now, her anxiety stemmed from performance, not the paranormal.

Besides, I used to love to sing
.  Shivering as she followed her friends into the frigid air, she frowned. 
Yet another thing that he – Chris, Autumn; he has a name – took from me
.  Her ex from hell had forced her to quit choir.  It interfered too much with his time with her, he’d said.  Foolishly, she’d obeyed. 

“Keenan!” Veronica exclaimed.  “Fix her!”

A football player when he wasn’t studying Film, Keenan was a huge man.  A living wall of muscle.  He also was a gentle giant, tamed by his chronic use of
chronic
.  With a smile, he produced his trusty Vapor Genie.  Its near odorless intoxicating technique was a main reason why he’d evaded capture by Casteel administrators. 

“Stage fright?” he teased, passing it to Autumn.

“Ha, ha, ha.  Just give me the herbal medication before I hyperventilate,” Autumn grumbled.

It didn’t take long for a wave of calm to kick in – scant minutes of passes and chatter about looming finals were enough to steady her.  She was going to do this.  She
had
to do this.

It was the first step towards taking her life back.

“Babe, it’s quarter after seven,” Evan murmured.

“Crap!  We’ve gotta go!”  With a kiss on his cheek, Veronica handed Keenan’s illicit item back.  “Thanks for the usual party favors.”

Keenan laughed.  “No sweat.  Can’t wait to see how tonight goes down.  You Drama majors better be afraid.”

“Please!  Like Film can take us!” Veronica scoffed.

“Hey, I’ve heard our representatives!  You’d be surprised.”

“Screw you both,” Evan countered, taking a jab at Keenan’s arm.  “It’s all about Writing.  Autumn and I have got this!”

The playful jousting continued as they crossed the quad to the Media Studies building, where a rather large line of students waited to purchase tickets.  Veronica’s throwdown idea had been embraced enthusiastically, and every program had multiple entrants, vying for a ridiculous trophy and, more crucial, bragging rights.  Normally a two-hour cabaret in years past, the school had consented to extend curfew to accommodate the three-hour show. 
After all,
Autumn thought,
Logan would never miss an opportunity to shine, and what better way than a charitable event
? 

The cause had also drawn Autumn into the mix:  the coordinators had chosen Traumatic Brain Injury this year.  Her great-grandfather was a veteran and had returned with such an injury, passing away soon after his homecoming.  She wore his old silver ring tonight, a tribute to him and a talisman for courage.

“We’re in the front row, as performers,“ Veronica explained, leading them past the lines into the building.  “No specific seats, we all just rotate in and out of them throughout the night.  Your guitar’s backstage, right Evan?”

“Dropped it off after dinner,” he said.  “Who’s coordinating order?”

“Lucas, of course.  He lives for being the boss.” Veronica giggled, waving to him.  “The program also lists order.  I have to get backstage for the opener, but I’ll see you soon.”

Autumn blushed as her friends shared an intense kiss in full view of several faculty members.  She was truly happy for them, but their public displays were frequent enough to get them chastised between classes.  With a quick hug for Autumn, Veronica headed backstage.

“Seats?”

“Definitely, Loverboy.”

“I’d shove you, but you’re in heels and that’s just cruel.”

Autumn laughed.  “Please.  Like you could do damage, Aquaman.”

Snagging a program from a nearby usher, Evan swatted her arm.  “Go.  Let’s see how long we have until we show up my beautiful girlfriend.”

Autumn was relieved to see they were neither early nor too far in: Lucas had slotted them in between the band Jax Daniels from Film Studies and Elizabeth Grand, a grade twelve from the Visual Arts program who hung out often with Veronica’s roommate.  They had an hour, give or take, before their stage debut. 

“We’re going to be alright, aren’t we?”

Evan nodded.  “Girl, we’re the next Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel: musical and ridiculously lovable.”

Autumn laughed, leaning against him.  “You do know how to instill false confidence, Kowalczyk.  But I think Veronica’s the Zooey around here, not I.”

“You just bring those pipes and it’s all good, Brody.”  Evan craned his neck, glancing behind him.  “Wow… This is crazy.”

Autumn followed his gaze, her stomach plummeting at the rapidly-filling seats behind them.  It seemed as if the entire upper class was in attendance, laughter and cheers ringing out from all sides.  Hundreds of people watching her tonight. 

Calm down.  You used to perform at assemblies of five hundred students
, she reminded herself. 
It’s going to be fine
. 

She thought back over the week, smiling at images of Evan snapping guitar strings and microphone feedback squeals that sent them covering their ears in agony while cursing the tech crew.  There were also the talks between practice, the ones she simply couldn’t have with Veronica.  She couldn’t understand what it was like to be the one supporting the broken girl, but Evan knew.  She’d spilled her woes with Andrew over Skittles and coffee, kicking herself for dragging him into her misery, only to earn a swift lecture from Evan that rebuked her every regret as being natural.

“Autumn,” he’d endlessly repeat, “You’ve been through hell.  You’re still in the middle of it.  You need to protect yourself, and rebuild your trust in people.  If he’s a good guy, he’ll wait.  If not, I’ve got your back.”

She was almost ready.  Therapy was hard, physically draining and terrifying, but she was making progress.  Emma gave her freedom to scream, to cry, to lash out at the world.  She reminded her of what safety used to feel like, tugging its warmth around her, nourishing her soul.

I wonder if he’ll be here tonight
. 

It was unlikely.  Andrew avoided socializing, avoided crowds.  That was his cross to bear, his battle scar.  But maybe…

The lights overhead dimmed, startling her.  An unfamiliar face slipped into the seat to her right – someone from another program, she assumed – and Evan leaned forward in anticipation.  The Drama program was opening with a group number, as was their annual custom.  The curtains slid open with a velvet whisper and there stood Veronica and ten of her classmates, poised around a long folding table.

"La Vie Boheme"
! Autumn thought happily as the band kicked in with the opening notes.  It was a perfect beginning to a showcase of artists from all perspectives, a celebration of creation itself.  Reprising her role of Maureen from
Rent
, Veronica frolicked around the stage with her compatriots, saluting beer and individuality, friendship and love.  The crowd lapped it up, many singing along at the top of their lungs.  It was a relief to Autumn, as she and Evan had chosen a popular song for their pair of performances.  Hopefully, the audience would drown her out.

“Group numbers don’t count,” Evan whispered with a grin.  “Cheaters.”

Autumn snickered, hooting as Veronica and Lucy declared their sisterly closeness, much to the feigned dismay of Greg.  The table took a hell of a beating, actors jumping on and off without care.  Veronica was in bare feet, a wise choice in light of the heels she’d chosen to wear for the night.  She still had no idea what solo number Veronica had planned – she’d insisted on it being a surprise, saying only that it was the hardest song she’d ever attempted. 

Wild applause broke out as the song wrapped, several members of the Drama group taking hold of the table and quickly moving it off stage.  The first official entry in the charity showdown was Matt, the grade twelve who’d recently played the lead in
Spring Awakening
.  Backed by several others from his program, he belted out a stunning version of “Walking Wounded” by The Tea Party, leaving Autumn nostalgic for the band.  Murmurs of a possible new album and full reunion graced her Facebook feed and she only hoped they were true.  The sudden appearance of a violin on stage was a perfect touch.

“When’s Veronica?” Autumn whispered to Evan, tapping the program in his lap.

“Next.  I wonder what she’s doing.”

“She didn’t tell you either?”

Evan shook his head.  “Said it was a surprise.  I haven’t a clue.”

More applause as Matt finished his number, the collective backing him remaining on stage as Veronica strutted out to the microphone stand at centre stage.  Whistles and hoots of approval lent a flushed glow to her friend’s cheeks as she adjusted the height and spoke to the crowd.

“Good evening, Casteel!” she exclaimed.  “Thank you for once again coming out for our annual charity cabaret!”

“Hell yeah, hotness!” an unknown male voice shouted over the din.

“Thank you, but I’m happily taken,” Veronica replied coyly, earning a grin from Evan.  “I don’t have the final count yet, but I’m told we’ve raised well over four thousand dollars in ticket revenue and donations, which beats our previous efforts.  It’s truly awesome!”  More cheers and applause answered her, and she waved them away.  “Can we also show some love for the administration, who have granted us an extended curfew to enjoy the talents of our school?”