Change Of Season (56 page)

If only home were an option.

Today’s prescribed lunch from Doctor Veronica consisted of a fruit bowl, a small yogurt and a slice of pizza.  It was more food than she normally ate on a good day at lunch, but Veronica had caught on to her skipped dinners last week and had taken to compensating for them.

"I can’t eat this much.  I’ll hurl."

"Try, please?  For me?"

Autumn sighed, reluctantly taking a bite of pizza.  "Guilt trips aren’t cool, V."

Veronica shrugged, unapologetic.  "You’d do the same for me.  Don’t try to deny it."

Damn her.
  She wasn’t wrong.

"Did you talk to Andy?"

Autumn shook her head.  "No, and I don’t really care to talk about him."

Veronica speared a large bite of poutine, chewing it thoughtfully as she scanned the hall.  Evan would inevitably be here to join them, being as he was next on the babysitter schedule.  He’d whisk her safely to Contemporary Literature, sit beside her and crack a few jokes, then shuttle her to Math.  Autumn’s head pulsed at the thought of a second round of rejection from Andrew.  Maybe she’d cut out early, lie down in the clinic.  She could count the pockmarks in the ceiling, invent constellations of nothingness as fluorescents burrowed into her cerebral cortex via optical torment.

"There he is!" Veronica exclaimed, obviously relieved.

Big brother Evan crossed the crowded room, juggling a tray loaded with food to fuel his swim practice at four.  It reminded Autumn of the scene in
The Breakfast Club
where Andrew – God, she couldn’t escape that name! – unpacked a small load of groceries for a lunch.  Today’s feast: two servings of pizza, a turkey club sandwich, a spinach salad garnished with cherry tomatoes and bocconcini and a pudding cup, proving all men remained children at heart when it came to school lunches.

The pudding actually did look pretty tasty, but she wouldn’t admit it aloud.

"My two favourite women!" Evan declared, kissing Veronica’s cheek before plunking down his tray.  "Don’t tell my mother that or she’ll beat me with her soup ladle.  How was the morning?"

"It was fine.  Senior Biology bites," Veronica replied, swiping a tomato from Evan’s salad.

"I slept with my eyes open," Autumn chimed in.

Evan, as usual, rolled with her pessimistic punches.  "I wish I could master that skill.  If Lafleur spots me snoozing in Physics one more time, my ass will be in Logan’s office and you know she’ll ban me from the next meet."  

"Someone needs to feed her a winning lottery ticket so she blesses us with her retirement," Veronica grumbled.

"She’d just buy the school to exert even more control," Autumn grumbled, absently plucking a cherry from the bowl in front of her.  "She’s a sadist."

"She’s right, babe.  Logan won’t leave until she finds a new torture chamber to oversee.  Autumn, you’ve read this book for Lit before, right?"

She nodded weakly, popping a second cherry in her mouth.  "A favourite of mine." 

Huh.  Crazy woman book is a favourite.  Well that isn’t telling or anything
!

"Can you help me with whatever the hell happened at the end?  I was up until one and I suspect it’s not sleepy reading."

Autumn shrugged.  "Sure, I guess.  After class?"

"Don’t you have Math?" Veronica asked.

"Not today." 

Vectors while sleep deprived?  How about no
?

Evan nodded, cutting off Veronica quickly.  "Great, thanks.  Practices are killing my study time."

Practices and your couple time
, Autumn corrected silently.  She loved Veronica and supported their relationship wholeheartedly, but this was a time that called for single, bitter friends to lean on.  To their credit, Evan and Veronica were nixing their usual obnoxious PDA, which was a large gesture.  Not kissing every five minutes?  Unheard of with these two under normal circumstances.

"I have to jet for Drama.  Did you want to study later?" Veronica asked casually.

"V, seriously?"

Her friend smiled, tying her hair back loosely.  "Study, watch Netflix and ignore the books – synonyms.  Maybe grab something from Keenan?"

"Maybe.  I’ll text you," Autumn promised. 

"Later, lovelies!" 

Watching Veronica stroll towards the far doors, pausing briefly to gather Meg and Matt from another table, Autumn made a promise to herself to repay her friend’s loyalty somehow.  Gifts, candy, tremendous favours – whatever it took.

If I live long enough
...

"So, no Math today?"

Evan sunk his teeth into his sandwich, staring her down.  Big brother mode had engaged.

"Nope."  A bite of pizza, buying time.

"What happened between you two?  Should I go ream him out?"

Autumn shook her head.  "No, don’t make it worse.  It’s better this way, for him anyway.  I can’t take any chances with Chris in the area, so I might as well embrace this separation."

Evan frowned.  "You know that’s bullshit, right?  You’re treating him like a child, and that’s insulting after the support he’s given you."

"A child?  I’m not doing anything of the sort!"  Frayed nerves and the drummer practicing in her frontal lobe were combining in a burst of energy spawned by her annoyance.

"Autumn, you’ve basically decided that an eighteen-year-old man doesn’t know what risks he’s taking and must therefore be shielded from things ‘because you say so’.  You can dress it up as protecting him all you like, but by cutting him out of the decision-making process, you’re infantilizing him."

She slumped in her chair, feeling rather infantile herself.  So what if she was?  Wasn’t that better than having to lose Andrew for good?  If he were alive when the dust settled, there was a chance of reunion.  Death was a permanent severing of ties.

Finishing his sandwich, Evan cracked open a can of Sprite and gulped it before continuing.  "You’re shaken up, probably emotionally exhausted.  Anyone can see that.  It’s okay to need help.  You let Veronica and I help you.  Why not Andrew?"

"Because he’s the one in my life with a huge bullseye on his back, if Chris finds me here," she replied.  "He’s had access to friends at home and done nothing to them.  You two are safer."

"Did you tell him this?"

She shook her head.  "He implied I was crazy, and I got pissed and left it at that."

Evan sighed, mulling this over as he picked at his salad.  From the furrowed brow, she could tell he was placing himself in Andrew’s shoes, picturing Veronica rejecting him in similar fashion.  He wasn’t impressed.

"Look, some guy advice?  We’re not emotional thinkers, not like women.  There are exceptions to every rule, but in general, we see facts and events more than underlying feelings.  I can promise you that Andy believes you are not interested in talking to him because he pissed you off, and feels like a complete failure as a boyfriend.  He is not extrapolating to the Chris factor at all.  If you’re waiting for him to approach you, you’ll probably wait weeks.  He’s trying not to anger you further, in hopes he can make amends."

Friday night came into focus, memories of Andrew leading them to safety.  He’d so readily cared for her, defending them against his house leader’s acerbic tone.  He was, in his own words, socially awkward.  Maybe he did care, after all.

"I can’t see him get hurt because of me," she whispered.  "Is that so wrong?"

Evan shook his head.  "You care about him.  Thing is, you either keep hurting him with a rejection he can’t reconcile, or you risk losing him, but also embrace the time you have.  Or, and I hate this third option, you can keep him at a distance, but you owe the true reasons to him.  I can’t make you give him a say in his own life, but you could at least give him something to wrap his head around."

It was grating, how right he was. 

"I still can’t deal with Math today.  My head’s killing me."

"Skip.  Just consider what I said, alright?"

Autumn nodded.  "For an annoying brother, you’re pretty great at sorting my shit out."

"I know."  Packing up a few choice items of his lunch spread, Evan jerked his head towards the window.  "Lit?"

"Let’s go."

As she rose, Evan pointed at the table.  "Nice try.  Bring the yogurt and fruit."

"Yes,
Mom
."

Typical freaking older brother of another mother.  With a huff, she packed her uneaten lunch and joined Evan on the frigid walk to class.

***

A quick call to Emma had relieved her of Math class for the day, Autumn returning to her room for a cat nap beneath several blankets.  Her mental batteries recharged, she packed up her ereader and set out for the Media Studies building, taking care to watch for Andrew or other familiar faces.  She couldn’t dodge him forever, true, but she needed alone time to decompress after the hellish weekend.  On tap was a re-reading of
Hamlet
, tucked away in some dark corner where she wouldn’t be found.

The theatre itself was deserted, a peculiar sight after months of rehearsals and performances.  With some debate, Autumn ascended to the balcony seating, tucking herself into the very back row and sinking into Shakespeare’s prose.  For all of the Bard’s flaws – and Autumn could write an essay on them, particularly his romances – his work was comfort food for her mind.  Iambic pentameter was precisely what she needed to clear her head of emotional static.

She’d only just reached the arrival of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, one of her favourite scenes, when a noise below jarred her concentration.  Glancing down, she spied perhaps the last two people she’d predict:  Professor Matthew Ross, strangely naked without his omnipresent Bible, and Professor Paul Grant, the potentially murderous Biology teacher who seemed to have a problem with straying into school buildings after hours.  From their body language, she could tell they were having a heated discussion, but from her perch, it was impossible to hear.

Wait a minute:  Ross was wandering around during the fire alarm
.  Had he seen something Grant didn’t want him to?  Suddenly intrigued, Autumn tiptoed down the aisles, straining to hear them while still safely cloaked in shadows.

"... no business being here!"  Grant angrily said, pointing a finger at Ross.

The Math professor, innately soft-spoken, was far too quiet to hear, but his face was one of indignation as he retorted.

"I’ve been at this school for...  Don’t tell me what to..."  Grant’s words faded in and out, the meaning lost.

Professor Ross spun around to depart, only to be grabbed by the wrist and yanked towards Professor Grant.  For a moment her hand hovered near her cell phone, wondering if she should call for help.  Would Grant hurt him to silence him?  Ross was a little too eager to preach to his classes, but he was a friendly teacher, kind to all students.  An innocent man didn’t deserve to get hurt.

Abruptly he pulled free, shoving Grant forcefully before storming back towards the main foyer.  Disgruntled, Grant stood alone, muttering beneath his breath before heading backstage at a brisk pace. 

Okay, time to bail
.  She packed up her belongings quietly, no longer at ease with her hideaway.  If Grant planned to linger, this was the last place she ought to be.  Taking the steps gingerly to ground, she was relieved to escape undetected into the night.

Where to?  She couldn’t impose on Veronica’s roommate Dora again, no matter how kind and accommodating she had been the night before.  The prospect of another night in her room sickened her, but aside from sleeping in the tunnels, her choices were slim. 

Maybe Veronica could sleep over
?  Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her phone and began to text her.  Company for the night might keep the hallucinations at bay.  Hitting send, she jumped as her phone vibrated in her palm.  Incoming text message alert.

Can we talk?

Andrew...  He’d broken the silence.  So much for Evan’s theory of weeks.  Then again, maybe
he
wanted to end things permanently.  Nervous, she tapped out a reply.

When?

She hesitated near Ashbury, glancing towards the Athletics building.  It might be worth checking in back for Keenan for an herbal remedy to her anxiety.  Without Ativan, she was a jittery mess. 

A voice spoke behind her:  "Now?"

Spinning around, she found Andrew scant feet away, hands thrust deeply into his pockets to guard against the freezing temperature.  His face was haggard: the look of insomnia she’d come to know well over the last year. 

"How-"

"I saw you leaving on my way to the vending machine.  I figured one more text couldn’t be too awful, not if you..."

"If I what?"

"Cared.  About me.  I mean, you did, right?" 

He hesitated, eyes averted.  She winced at the past tense of it: 
cared
.  As if she could ever stop.

"I care.  Why would you ever think I didn’t?"

He shrugged, unwilling to look at her.  "You didn’t answer me for days.  What else could I think?"