Change Of Season (10 page)

“Book smarts don’t matter in the streets, Red.” 

Autumn drew her hood tighter around her crimson hair, immediately thinking,
Little Red Rock Hoodie
.  Miraj’s words struck hard, highlighting what had always been the key divide between them, ever since the day they’d met:  she was the scholar of the system, but Miraj knew strategy and stealth.  Miraj never would have found herself in the chaos of last December.  Autumn startled as her friend’s hand cupped her cheek, skin soft and cool in the night air.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Miraj insisted.

“But you never would have-”

“And he never should have put you in that position,” Miraj interjected.  “You’re not a victim – victims are weak, pitiable.  But you are not the villain, either.  You understand me?”

Autumn shrugged sadly. 
But I am culpable
.

“Look babe, I gotta jet.  Early shift tomorrow and I need the cash.  But I’ll come back soon.”  Miraj sighed, biting her lip.  “And stick with Drama Girl, alright?”

“Okay.”  Autumn embraced her tightly, inhaling the musky spice of her perfume, jasmine and cinnamon. “I miss you.”

Warm arms gripped her tightly as Miraj nodded against her shoulder.  “I know.  But hey, whenever you’re stuck, ask yourself the mighty question:  what would Miraj do?  Then do it.”

They pulled apart, Autumn forcing a smile to reassure her closest ally. 
I have to be tough.  She can’t always protect me.  She shouldn’t have to
.  With a wink, Miraj mimed a pair of scissors with her right hand, clunky silver rings reflecting the scant moonlight.

“Let the shrink help,” she whispered, then spun on her heel and darted off into the night.

Heavy feet echoed a heavy heart as Autumn slipped back into Ashbury through the propped open stairwell, her fingers stiff with the night’s chill as she slowly closed the steel door.  Cutting ties was the point of sending herself away, wasn’t it?  Wasn’t that why she’d punished herself, sacrificing her beloved feline friend, her access to the beach and her adoring yet somewhat oblivious parents? 

Emma was a tool.  A sharp knife.  It was time to put her to use – but cautiously. 

Her sneakers squeaked just outside her dorm room, Autumn’s heart leaping into her throat as she fumbled with her key.  She rammed it into the lock, turning quickly and propelling herself into her chosen prison with a panted breath. 
Safe
.  If anyone came by, she’d claim sleepwalking.  Nurse Ratched thought she was disturbed; why not play into her vicious biases?

Flopping lazily onto her bed, Autumn kicked off her sneakers, unconcerned with the muddy droplets cascading from their soles.  The tunnels were a complete success: she could sneak up to the editing floor whenever she wanted now, burrow away and write when the clock’s face glowered mercilessly.  Dodging a single, lazy security patrol would be easy enough.  She’d managed so much more under Miraj’s guidance.  And she had her friend again, to steer her when her racing thoughts carried her off course. 

Her eyes fluttered close, a sense of peace settling over her for the first time since she’d arrived.  She could survive Casteel Prep easily.  She just needed to cut the cords.

Snip snip
.  The room itself seemed to sigh in agreement.

89

Change Of Season

SIX

Oakville; September 23
rd
, 2011

“So what’s the homework this time, Freud?” Autumn asked lightly, gathering her bag from Emma’s couch.

“Take a week off,” Emma replied, leaning back.  “We’ve had a good couple of weeks.  Consider it a reward for letting me shrink your head.”

“How very kind of you,” Autumn commented, giggling.  “Next Friday, then?”

“With bells on!  And I do mean actual bells.  Cowbell, ideally,” Emma quipped.  “Have a wonderful birthday, Autumn.  I’m sorry Elise wouldn’t let you go home, but at least your parents are coming out for dinner.”

Autumn shrugged.  “You tried.  And thank you.”

The gesture alone of requesting Autumn’s campus restrictions be lifted for her birthday was enough to assure her that Dr. Stieg was a friend at Casteel, and not slave to the machinery of Headmistress Logan and her pristine academic institution.  It had made confiding her fears over uprooting her life much easier in therapy which had, in turn, made their sessions far more pleasant.  It wasn’t the deep, secretive undercurrents of her problematic behaviour that were surely the ultimate prize, but Emma never rushed her, for which she was grateful.  Her parents were coming later in the evening to take her for sushi, which was the best compromise her therapist had managed.  In Autumn’s mind, it was better than nothing.  Veronica was even coming along, opting to stay on campus for the night in honour of the occasion. 

Miraj had been right about both of them – as usual.  Tossing her bag over her left shoulder, Autumn was oblivious to the shadow following her until it gripped her arm roughly, spinning her around as a scream lodged in her throat.

“Happy birthday!” Veronica shouted, throwing her arms around Autumn’s trembling frame. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, V!  You trying to kill me?” Autumn gasped.

“And let you die a minor?  No way, girlfriend.”  Veronica stepped backwards, grinning widely.  “I saw you and thought I’d deliver one of your presents now before I swing off to Vocals.  Where are you going?”

“Pit stop at Kearney’s office to drop off that booklet for the Psych thing, then Creative Writing,” Autumn replied.  “And you didn’t get me a present, did you?  You shouldn’t have.”

For extra credit in Social Studies, Professor Kearney had asked them to volunteer to participate in the studies of his Post-Graduate Psychology students.  Given her dismal grades the previous term at Jarvis Collegiate, Autumn thought it was an easy way to pad her GPA. 

“Kearney’s on the way to the music room; I’ll come with.  And shut up, it’s a gift without a price tag,” Veronica admonished. 

With a beaming smile, she cleared her throat, winked – and began to sing at the top of her lungs.

Autumn flushed crimson as students spun to watch Veronica, a natural performer who skipped along the pathway in dramatic fashion, never missing a note as she did her best Stevie Nicks impression.  “
Edge Of Seventeen
”
… for her seventeenth birthday.  It was a sweet gesture, and Veronica was gifted with musical talent, making her impromptu concert even more special.  Hiding her face behind her palm, Autumn scurried towards the faculty offices across the street, Veronica in tow.  Just ahead, a scruffy guy in a leather jacket with an acoustic guitar on his lap smiled wryly, then began strumming along, roughly matching the chords, much to Veronica’s amusement.

Autumn laughed as Veronica stressed the line about poets, a reference to her Writing major.  A group of seniors hooted across the way, and Veronica blew them a kiss, returning to spinning in circles around her friend.  Scampering up the stairs, she threw open the doors, startling an exiting teacher with her serenade. 

“What in the world!”

“It’s my birthday. She’s in Drama,” Autumn explained sheepishly as Veronica persisted.

The teacher shrugged and smiled. “It’s Friday.  Happy birthday, dear.”

As they reached Academics II, Veronica’s voice crescendoed, the hallways echoing with the song’s title and a titter of gossiping girls. With a flourish, Veronica ended her song with a curtsey. 

“You said you wanted to see me perform.”

“I meant on stage, spaz!” Autumn laughed.  “But you were wonderful.  Thank you…  Although I’m not on the edge of anything.  I’m seventeen today, you ass.”

Veronica glanced at her watch, shaking her head. “You were born at 1:37 pm.  It’s 1:28. 
Edge
of seventeen.”

“Your memory is frightening,” Autumn mused in disbelief.

Veronica shrugged.  “How else would I survive on stage?  I gotta jet, but do you want to meet me in Media Studies after class?  I need to work on my audition for the Fall production, and it’s a musical, or so the grapevine says.  You’re my fellow Broadway slut.”

“It’s a date,” she conceded happily.

“Ooh, next comes birthday sex!  Now you’re getting your
Lost and Delirious
on!” Veronica teased.  “See you in a few!”

Autumn shook her head, chuckling to herself.  If she was restricting herself to one friend at Casteel, Veronica was the perfect choice.  She just hoped her parents approved of the free-spirited blonde – and that she didn’t perform an encore at dinner.

***

Veronica was literally bouncing off the walls of the theatre when Autumn arrived after class:  her body checked off the exposed brick behind her as she rambled breathlessly to one of the many Drama majors whose names Autumn couldn’t keep straight, waving around a booklet of pages.  Tucking her bag near Veronica’s trademark tote, she approached cautiously, wanting to keep her eyes free of paper cuts.

“I can’t
believe
she got this past Logan! 
bare
was hard enough to slide by.  Then again, why am I shocked?  Of course she got it through!  She’s a fucking London stage legend, and- OH MY GOD, AUTUMN!  AUTUMN!”  Veronica shrieked, pushing past her classmate and stomping her feet excitedly.  “WE’RE DOING
SPRING AWAKENING
!”

Autumn’s jaw dropped.  “What?  No freaking way.  Logan approved
Spring Awakening
?”  Suddenly, Veronica’s whirlwind madness made perfect sense.

“Hurst pushed it through.  It’s the student version, so it’s a bit toned down, but she’s saying we should just go ahead and do it by the book.”  Veronica squealed and tugged Autumn over to the adjoining row of seats.  “You have to help me with my audition.  I have to get this right.”

Autumn’s brow furrowed.  “Veronica, you get every single lead.  You have an amazing voice.  Of course you’ll get Wendla.”  Wendla was the lead role, and considering Veronica could trade vocal jabs with Lea Michele – the original portrayer – it was a given.

“NO!  That’s the fucking problem,” Veronica groaned.  In a hushed tone, she said, “I don’t
want
to be Wendla.”

Autumn stared at her.  “Um, why the hell not?”

“Look, I know Hurst loves me.  But she always wants me to be the lead.  You know
bare
?  I auditioned for Nadia, not Ivy. I wanted to play the mouthy sister, not the idiot bimbo.  But Hurst slid me right into Ivy because of my voice.”  Veronica sighed deeply. “It sounds like I’m ungrateful, but I’m not.  I just want to play roles that will challenge me, and in this case, I want to play my favourite role.”

Autumn thought for a moment, her eyes widening.  “Of course… Ilse.  But because Hurst likes your voice, she’s gonna stick you in the Wendla role.”

Veronica nodded furiously, twirling her hair anxiously.  “Someone else should get a turn.  We have a lot of talented people in the program, and it’s Meg’s last year… Plus, Ilse has the better songs.  ‘Blue Wind’, anyone?”

“So true… And playing Wendla would be like playing Ivy again.  So what can I do?”

Veronica’s legs swung up onto the seats in front of them, slender and tan.  Autumn envied that natural glow of hers.  It wasn’t a salon or spray-on, but the sheer evidence of Veronica’s summer job at an arts camp.  She propped her own feet against the seat back before her, curling her knees into her chest.  Thinking position.

“I’m going to appeal to her on the whole same role twice thing, but the audition has to embody Ilse.  We do a reading from the show, a song from the show, and another song of our choosing.  You’re a music guru, right?  I need a contemporary song that screams Ilse, or at the very least
doesn
’
t
scream Wendla.”

“Well, that kills anything from
Glee
,” Autumn joked.  “Avoid anything Lea’s touched, without a doubt… Wait!  I think I have a solution.  Veronica, who was the first Ilse?”

“Lauren Pritchard, of course, and you
know
I know that –
Oh
!”  Veronica’s eyes widened in understanding.

“Isn’t it obvious now?”

“Autumn, if you were into women, and I were not blissfully in lust with several men, I would propose marriage
right now
.”  Veronica’s hand dug into her bag, pulling her iPhone free.  “Now, which song?  I have to hear them all before I decide…”

Autumn toyed with a loose strand of hair as she dug for her own iPod, scrolling to Lauren Pritchard’s debut album,
Wasted In Jackson
.  If Veronica was dead set on being Ilse, what better way to hook her instructor than with an original song by the cast member who performed her?  Lauren’s songs were bluesy and rich, with pop hooks – a perfect complement to the songs of the production.

“So many songs are great on this album…  What about ‘Stuck’?” Veronica asked.

“Hmm… It’s a happy love song about a dysfunctional relationship.”

“Too Wendla.  Scratch it.”

“I want to suggest a song, but see, it depends which song from the show you’re going to do.  It’s too like one of them, which could either hammer the point home-”

“With Hurst, it would be uncreative,” Veronica cut her off.  “And I’m doing ‘The Dark I Know Well’, because I also love Martha’s character and it’s one of the best songs.”

Autumn nodded enthusiastically.  “I love that one, too.  Which means you can scratch ‘When The Night Kills The Day’, because it’s the same ‘afraid of what comes in the dark’ vibe.  ‘Painkillers’ is different, but it also has that vibe of survival mode.  ‘Not The Drinking’?”

“Oooh…  And it has that high-note bridge that she belts!  I think it’s the safest bet.”

“It’s also got that playful vibe, like the monologue before Blue Wind,” Autumn added, tucking her iPod away in her bag.  “I think you have a winner.”

Veronica nodded furiously, staring down at the screen in her palm and biting her lip.  “I need this role.  I really need to be Ilse.”

“Then you will be,” Autumn promised. 

“I’ll have to find sheet music, or an instrumental.  And I’ll have to book some time for practice here… And an outfit…”

Veronica’s words were tumbling absently from her lips, her eyes glazed over.  She was lost in her fear: it crept along her face, spider-leg lines of worry furrowing her brow.  Autumn’s hand reached for her friend’s, squeezing it gently.  Veronica startled slightly, then smiled nervously in her direction. 

“I’m fine.”  Veronica was trying to convince herself of this, her words flat.  The jiggle of her left foot, the Morse code tapping of her index finger upon the arm rest – it all told a rather different story.

“It’s okay not to be fine,” Autumn mused. 
For short periods, anyway
, she added silently. 
I’ve taken it several months too far
.

“I know,” Veronica whispered.  “It’s just… I’m remembering how upset I was last year, when I saw the casting sheet, and-”

“Miss Brody.  A surprise, to find you here.”

Autumn winced, glancing behind her, her fears confirmed:  Headmistress Logan stood next to the row behind them, her Prada heel tapping lightly against the floor. 
Nurse is on her rounds
, she quipped to herself. 
Is it time for my meds
?

“Hello, Headmistress Logan!” Veronica greeted her cheerily.  “And how are you on this lovely afternoon?”

“I’m very well, Miss St. Clair,” the stuffy administrator replied.  Her designer suit was a rich chocolate hue, accented with a copper bracelet upon her slender left wrist.  “I didn’t know Miss Brody was in Drama. I was under the impression she was in the Creative Writing division.”

The message was clear: 
You’re not supposed to be here
.  Autumn stifled the urge to lash out with a few creative words punctuated by obscenities, her heart racing in fear. 
She won’t let me have dinner out.  Just because she can stop me
.  The silence filled her throat, cotton balls and sandpaper. 

“Autumn is a writer,” Veronica asserted, rising to her feet and turning to face the perfectly coiffed predator.  “But she’s also gifted with an extensive knowledge in popular music, so I explicitly asked her to assist me with my audition for the Fall production.  I’m sure you’re aware of it,” she added, her voice sticky-sweet.