Change Of Season (58 page)

THIRTY-ONE

Oakville; January 11th, 2012

Another day running on three hours’ sleep had only just begun and already, Autumn was debating ditching classes for the afternoon.  The dull headache lingering into the late morning wasn’t helping her irritable mood, nor was the ongoing discussion of their current Prime Minister in Politics.  If only she felt healthy and rested, she could take apart the classmate lying through her teeth about the man
not
having a war on women on his party’s agenda!  Instead, she rested her head on her crossed arms, listening only when Andrew spoke.

Andrew Daniels: a candidate for Boyfriend of the Century, as far as she was concerned.  Rousing her thirty minutes before wake-up call, he’d smuggled her out of Trudeau Hall without capture – but only just.  Amar had noticed her lingering in front of Ashbury and questioned her, but her complaint of being unable to sleep passed muster with Lorraine, ending his tantrum.  They didn’t dare risk a repeat performance, but she was grateful for a night of true sleep.  Veronica’s company wasn’t enough to assuage her panic anymore, judging from last night’s sleeplessness. 

Class was apparently over: students were walking out, laughing and jostling each other.  Rubbing her temples, she groaned and packed away her unused books in her bag. 
Never should have bothered to unpack
them
. 
Like
anyone was buying her pseudo-attempts at learning, anyway. 

"We have a paper due next week," Andrew informed her.  "Opinion piece."

"Oh, lovely.  I’ll add that to the pile of things I haven’t bothered to do thus far this term." 

She was being unnecessarily sour, but the lack of sleep was taking its toll.  Besides, hadn’t he insisted he could handle her as she was?  Today was a bad day, and he was welcome to steer clear, but she wouldn’t sugarcoat herself.  She didn’t have the willpower to do so.

"There has to be a way to get a room change," he mused aloud as they crossed the quad.  "Even moving into the junior dorm."

"Oh, that’ll help my reputation as the campus crazy!"

"Autumn, at least you’d sleep.  If bunking with me was an option, I’d happily suggest it."  His arm wrapped around her shoulder, steering her through the crowds lingering outside the dining hall.  "Maybe we could ask?"

Autumn rolled her eyes.  "Logan would never do me any favours.  Face it, Andrew:  I’m trapped until June."

If I live that long
, she added silently.

He paused briefly, kissing her cheek.  "I just hate not being able to fix this for you."

"I know, but we’re screwed.  All I can do now is find a way to manage." 

The thought of food was off-putting for some reason.  Nothing smelled as it should nor appealed to her shrunken stomach, save coffee.  With a grimace, she excused herself to the bathroom, asking Andrew to grab her something light and bland.  Relieving herself, she splashed water on her face, wincing at the bass drum holding court inside her skull.  Advil was powerless in its wake, the nerves sniggering at its pitiful efforts to rule them. 

The rings around her eyes were worse than the day of her arrival at Casteel.  Her parents were going to lose it if she didn’t get things under control.  Her father might even withdraw her from Casteel Prep altogether, no matter how hard she protested. 

Get a grip
, she ordered herself. 
Pull it together.  This is pathetic
!

Returning to the dining hall, she scanned the tables, seeking Andy’s face among the hundreds chattering around her.  The din made concentration difficult but she was at last able to zero in on him.  He was seated at a table in the far corner with Veronica, the two of them in deep discussion.

Oh, hell
.  It was beyond obvious:  they were talking about
her
.

Meandering through the crowd and ignoring one jock’s pointed jab about her mental health, she maneuvered herself within earshot, picking up bits and pieces of the exchange.

"...hard to know what to believe...," Andrew  was saying.

"I know, but...  it’s what
she
says and believes, and we can’t...," Veronica said.

"It’s so frustrating!’ Andrew complained, reaching for his coffee and, in the process, spotting Autumn.  "Hey, there you are!  Come sit."

Autumn complied, her mind toying with the fragments she’d been privy to.  It was a matter of belief and reality, the running theme of her life these days.  Filling in the blanks, and given their hushed tones, it had something to do with the invisible roommate and her runaway compatriots from the land of the dead.

Andrew nudged a tray in front of her as she sat.  "I got you a bagel with cream cheese and chocolate pudding.  Bland enough?"

"Much better than Veronica’s mega-meal force-feedings," Autumn declared, unwrapping the bagel.  "Where’s Evan?"

"Cramming for a Physics quiz," Veronica replied.  "How was Politics?"

"Infuriating," Autumn grumbled.

"We have people in our class who like Stephen Harper and Rob Ford.  Needless to say, I was not amused," Andrew elaborated.

"Ugh!  How?  Why?  Wait, don’t bother trying to explain them.  I’m still trying to understand how Harper won a majority."

Idle chatter batted between the two of them and Autumn disengaged, chewing slowly on bites of bagel to keep her consorts content.  What had they been discussing behind her back?  Belief – and disbelief – were on their minds before she’d been spotted.  Specifically, Veronica mentioned how it was about what
she
believed – and they were unconvinced about.

They don’t believe in the ghosts
, Autumn thought suddenly, the pieces interlocking.  Andrew had never witnessed anything to sway him in either direction, left only with the history of coincidences and Autumn’s recounted experiences.  For all of her gusto and research, Veronica had witnessed the sheet and chair debacle and heard crying once through the walls.  She was an ally, supportive and believing – or was she?  Had she begun to question the veracity of the haunting?  Autumn sipped at her customary Vitamin Water, her heart sinking.  She couldn’t blame Veronica; she, too, wondered what was real and what was mere hallucination.

You didn’t imagine the failed webcam footage
.

Maybe I set it up wrong after all.

The message?

I could have typed it in my sleep.  Maybe "Miraj" did it
.

Therein lay the crux of her paranoia:  if she’d managed to conjure up an entire person, complete with personality traits and excursions together, what else was she capable of?  Maybe she was completely delusional now, Emma’s kind "talking to yourself creatively" hypothesis be damned.

It still stung to realize she was being humoured and coddled by those she loved and who loved her.

"Autumn?  You okay?"  Veronica asked.

"I have the worst headache today and nothing’s curing it," she replied, picking at her bagel.  "I might go see the nurse and head to bed early.  Get some rest."

"That’s probably a good idea," Andrew said.  "I’ll add the Math homework to that pile of undone you have going.  Want me to walk you over?"

The spiteful half of herself wanted to shun him for doubting her, even if she, too, doubted.  The rational side of her nodded weakly.

"Did you want to finish eating first?"  He wasn’t really asking if she wanted to; he was asking if she
would
eat.

"I can’t abandon chocolate in any form," she joked weakly.  "Finish your lunch.  No rush."

Insert spoon, toy with pudding.  Half of this should satisfy their concerns, give or take.  Even chocolate had a weird metallic scent today.  This anxiety-induced eating disorder by proxy had to end, and soon:  if her jeans grew any looser, they’d slide off her hips.  One spoonful, then two, dutifully swallowed.  Rinse with Vitamin Water and repeat.  Maybe she was anemic from not eating.  Didn’t that cause headaches?

A blink and time escaped.  Andrew held out his hand to her, struggling to conceal his worry.

"Nurse’s office?"

The pudding was gone. 
Huh. 
"Yeah, let’s go."

Losing time... Losing her mind...  What would she lose next?

***

Arming her with iron supplements and awaiting blood test results, the nurse had excused her from classes for the remainder of the day, urging Autumn to rest and drink plenty of fluids.  She had an appointment slotted for the next day with the campus doctor to evaluate her headaches further, made more to appease than out of faith in his ability to fix her.  What
would
fix her was alleviated stress and sleep and she took advantage of her early day, indulging in the latter.  Collapsing into bed at two, she’d passed out until eight, when her phone had rang several times.  Seeing her mother in the call display, she’d ignored it, turning instead to her next task at hand.

Sleep was a necessity, but impossible at night due to Nikki’s sobs and shenanigans.  If Veronica’s presence no longer soothed her and Andrew’s room was impossible for refuge, that left her one more option to attempt:  a spiritual cleansing of the space.

The process seemed simple enough, from the website Veronica had found:  burn sage, light candles, anoint windows, mirrors and doors with a protection symbol.   Her materials had been assembled days prior, but her afternoon slumber had finally recharged her enough to actually do the ritual. 

Well, if she could summon the courage for it.

Autumn sat on the stone walls of the garden that ran along the rear of Ashbury, her foot pumping nervously as she stared up at the moon for guidance.  It was nearing curfew, but she remained in the chill of night, waiting for her nerve.  Autumn had never considered herself religious per se, but she did believe in energy and good wishes.  A cleansing was a shift in energy, which she could believe in, but having never done anything of the sort, she was filled with dread.  What if she did it wrong?  What if she made matters worse somehow – unleashed a new set of ghosts to torment her day and night?

She longed to call Veronica for her help, yet remained pissed about the sneaky talk she and Andrew had shared about her delusions.  Anger won out every time she reached for the phone.

"You’re up awfully late," a familiar voice observed behind her.

Her head spun and she managed a small smile for Professor St. James.  "Slept all day.  Little stir-crazy tonight.  What’s your excuse?"

"Hot date off campus, of course," he quipped, sitting down beside her.  "Are you feeling any better?"

Autumn shook her head.  "Not really.  Everything seems off somehow, and my head won’t stop hurting.  They’re checking my iron and other things, but who knows?"

"Stress takes a heavy toll on the body.  You need to try and take care of yourself." 

"That’s what everyone tells me.  Easier said than done."

He nodded thoughtfully.  "Yeah, I got that a lot when my brother passed.  Try to be kind about it – everyone means well.  Is anything resolved yet?"

Autumn sighed.  "The cops are pretty useless.  I’m pretty sure they’re avoiding us because they haven’t a clue where to find him."

"Astute inference.  I’d put money on it.  In the meantime, remember that while you can’t change what’s happening out there, you can work on what’s inside your head and heart.  It’s a realm where you can always seize back control."  He rose slowly, tapping his watch with a smile.  "Three minutes to.  Try and rest some more.  If you’re not feeling well tomorrow, I’ll bring by the new novel study, okay?"

"Thanks, George.  Really." 

"Anytime, Autumn."

With a rolling of her shoulders she rose as well, glancing once more at the moon overhead. 
I have to focus on what I can still control
, she repeated as she headed inside. 
Starting with my room
.

She waited twenty minutes past ten, lest Lorraine actually check the floors for a change.  Closing her blinds tightly, she lit her candles with a tiny lighter, basking in the warmth of their glow before continuing.  Lighting the bundled sage next, she began to whisper.

"Nikki, I know something horrible happened to you here.  I’m so sorry you’re not alive anymore.  You didn’t want to die.  But I can’t sleep, or eat, and it’s because you don’t leave me alone.  You need to cross over and move on.  You need to leave."

She began to move through the room slowly, moving the smudging sage up and down as directed.  The scent was soothing, relaxing her as she walked and repeated the words of cleansing she’d rehearsed.  She moved methodically from the door to the spare bed, crawling onto it to cleanse the space above it before moving to the window, then her own bed. 

It was when she moved beneath the ceiling fan that Nikki began to resist.

The candles began to flicker wildly, as if caught in an unseen draft of air.  The curls of smoke from the desert sage also danced through the air, yet Autumn felt nothing, save a lightheadedness that she couldn’t shake away.  Frozen beneath it, the blades began to slowly move counterclockwise, drawing her eyes to the ceiling.  Her vision blurred as if she were spinning in circles like a child, the sage nearly slipping from her shaky fingers as the candles extinguished.