Change Of Season (65 page)

Evan turned into the parking lot of Sound Academy, unhappy to find himself lodged in the rear of the lot.  "Getting out is going to be hell tonight."

"So we’ll make out in the car to kill time!" Veronica exclaimed.  "Shut up and smile.  You’re about to see an amazing band!"

In her own way, Autumn felt closer to the music of Jack’s Mannequin than before.  She’d come face to face with death, felt it breathe down her neck.  Their songs of survival and appreciation for life resonated deeply with her experiences, and while there was a great deal to still resolve, her soul felt lighter.

After arresting Professor Kearney, Professor Grant had been able to lead them to the room Autumn described, where the jarred hearts of the missing girls, coupled with a blood-smeared rag traced to Nikki Lang, sealed the case against him.  He was expected to plead Not Criminally Responsible, but Autumn was assured that his work showed far too much planning to be due to mental illness.  As for the skipped year in his pattern, Kearney had been on sabbatical for the winter term of the previous year – motivated by Professor Grant prying into his life, suspicious after Nikki’s death. 

Andrew, having realized that Grant was
seeking
the killer, had rushed to Faculty Housing the night of her abduction, enlisting his aid in tracking her down.  For all of his attitude throughout the year, she owed Grant her life, and afforded him respect accordingly. 

"He really is our Snape," Andrew had said, keeping her company in the hospital.  "Redeemed."

In a strange coincidence, Chris Miller had finally been apprehended the day she left the hospital, busted attempting to cross the border into Washington State with a fake passport.  He was being held without bail as a flight risk – which meant Autumn could actually sleep at night. 

Her ghostly roommates had vacated the dorm, appearing the night she returned to school, smiling before walking through the walls. 
Message received
.    She didn’t speak of this with Veronica or Andrew, simply noting she hadn’t been haunted since her ordeal.  They didn’t know of Miraj, didn’t know of how Nikki had saved her beneath ground, but that was okay.  Like Veronica had once said, what mattered was what Autumn believed – and she believed that Nikki and Mary had ultimately wanted to protect her.

Her attention was drawn back to the present by the barking security guard, hand outstretched for tickets.  Pulling the strip from her pocket, she handed them over for scanning, letting Andrew separate and distribute them among their group.  Her left hand was still weak, the hairline fracture just above her wrist radiating pain through her fist.  Most days, she suffered on half the dose of painkillers, refusing to spend her life in a haze.  She’d lived that way for over a year, and didn’t care for an encore.

"I wonder what they’ll play tonight," Andrew mused.  "Think my favourites will be in the mix?"

Autumn grinned.  "Yeah, your favourites match up well with the overall fandom.  It doesn’t matter all that much:  Andrew McMahon is a musical god."

His arm wrapped around her waist as the four of them navigated their way into the heart of the venue, quickly maneuvering towards a vantage point in front of the mixing board.  As much as she loved being front and centre for a show, her arm was too fragile to risk being jostled in the throng of fans pushing towards the stage.  They’d opted to show late instead and hang back in safety.  With the fence behind them, they were safe from being pressed forward.

"This view is still awesome!" Veronica gushed over the din, swaying side to side.  "We also have room to dance."

"Don’t think I’ll be doing much of that this time, V," Autumn lamented, holding up her arm.  "Even half a pill makes me wobbly."

"That means you’re screwed, Evan," Veronica replied, leaning against his chest.  "We have practice dancing together though, don’t we?"

"That we do, beautiful." 

Commence make-out session
.   Autumn grinned as they gave the sound crew a show, Veronica’s short skirt hiking up to graze her buttocks.  She no longer minded their constant displays.  Life was far too short to waste time being self-conscious and doubtful.  Instead, she turned to Andrew, her good hand reaching up to run through his hair.

"Thank you for this – again," she said. 

Andrew smiled in that way that sent her heart racing.  "You deserve everything and more."

"I might be starting to believe that," she admitted shyly.

"I’ll just have to keep working at convincing you," he murmured, pulling her closer.

His kiss ignited her, the lingering aches and pains lost in the intoxicating feel of his body pressed against her own.  She would never doubt the depth of his devotion again, not after the four days he’d spent at her side in the hospital, leaving only when dragged out by her father to sleep – at her house – and returning first thing in the morning.  Not after he’d saved her life.  With every touch, every kiss, she healed from the bruises – both visible and unseen. 

"Aww!" Veronica cooed, shattering their reverie.

Autumn giggled, glancing over at her friend.  "Hey, you can’t complain!  I learned from you two."

"Happiness suits you, that’s all," her friend said. 

"It really does," Andrew whispered.

"Suits you too, Mr. Daniels," Autumn replied.

The lights dimmed, sending the crowd into a frenzy as one by one, the band ventured onto the stage, joined last by their beloved front man.  He launched enthusiastically into their first number, a song from their most recent album, and Autumn felt the familiar joy bubble up within her.  Music was her oxygen and language, and always had been, but live music embodied something far deeper.  It was cathartic, rejuvenating and salvific.  Baptized by the dank scent of sweat and booze, awash in a rainbow of light, Autumn always found herself, no matter how lost she’d felt walking into a venue.  Tonight’s show was not only this, but also a celebration of living, of evolving into the woman she’d thought forever out of reach.  Her hips swayed, feet tapping along as the band ripped through setlist staples and new additions with gusto. 

I’m alive
.  She was grateful for this, each and every day, and reminded herself often. 

It was a giddy moment when her three companions all joined the crowd in shouting along with one of the band’s biggest hits, Veronica persuading her to dance in silly circles in their alcove.  The song didn’t lie:  this was the embodiment of "Holiday From Real".

Minutes flew by, song after song beckoning her to dance, to sway with slower numbers, to sing along with raucous choruses.  The crowd was a wonderful, joyous bunch, thoroughly into the show, which only enhanced each moment.

"I never want this to end!" Veronica gushed as she twirled Autumn in a circle.

"Me neither!  Let’s kidnap the band!"

"Evan!  We’re taking the band back with us, okay?" Veronica shouted, much to the amusement of the fans in front of them.

He shrugged, grinning.  "Babe, if you can fit them into the car, you can do whatever you want."

Veronica hooted and pulled Evan into a dance, leaving Autumn to lean against Andrew and rest.  Adrenaline was overpowering prescribed narcotics, but only just.  As the band sang of being alive, she cut loose and sang along with them, audience be damned.  This was her anthem now.  Andrew kissed her neck and murmured appreciatively, making her blush. 

Moments blended together in euphoria, minutes flying by in melody.  Laughter, embraces, ridiculous attempts at coordinated movement.  Perfection.

"They’re playing our song."

Andrew announced it happily as Jack’s Mannequin launched into "My Racing Thoughts" – the song he’d performed for her.  It seemed so long ago, that benefit concert.  It was a night of beginnings, of tentative steps back from the abyss she’d sunk herself into.  Her voice reclaimed, her heart taking flight.  It was he who sang along this time, snickering as she swooned and melted into his arms. 
I love you, famous Andrew, but I love my Andrew more
. 

"I almost threw up that night," he admitted.  "But it was worth every second of anxiety."

Definitely
, she agreed silently.

They danced to "Hammers and Strings (A Lullaby)", slowly swaying without hesitation to one of her favourite songs.  “Practice for the Valentine’s Day dance,” they both joked.  It was her next step out of her self-imposed exile, one last awful memory from her time with Chris to replace.  They’d probably leave early, but it would be a victory all the same.

Capping off the show was a song about friends standing by in bad times, and Autumn cheered loudly.  Pulling the three of them close, she said, "You can pretend I requested this because it’s about all of you."

Evan hugged her close, his usual brotherly squee
ze
.  Andrew smiled knowingly, kissing her forehead and whispering his love for her in her ear.  Veronica pulled her away into a rowdy dance and she
ignored her broken arm, shimmying
and spinning until she nearly fell.  She couldn’t stop laughing, and Evan busting out the Robot on the floor didn’t help matters.

It was the best night of her life.

Tumbling out into the drizzle and darkness, meandering through the rows towards the car, Autumn found herself wanting to skip, not walk, through the lot.  She wanted to sing at the top of her lungs as they sped along the highway towards her house, where they were all staying for the night.  It was hard to restrain herself, hard not to soar towards the stars when she felt so weightless.

Was her life perfect?  Not at all:  she faced two trials in the future, testifying against the men who’d harmed her.  She was still a solid week behind on schoolwork, and she couldn’t sleep without a painkiller to dull the agony of her arm.  Her therapy sessions left her sobbing and shaking as she relieved her escape from a delusional professor obsessed with his first childhood love.  All the same, the clouds
had
lifted.  The storms were abating, leaving a rainbow in their vicious wake.

"What are you thinking?" Andrew asked quietly. 

That I love you.  That I am so grateful for all of you.  That I would take a bullet for any of you happily.  That there’s a light at the end of this misery now, an escape into the sun. 
So many thoughts swirled inside of her, but one stood out as important to share.  She pressed her lips to his lightly, then leaned to whisper her revelation in his ear.

" Winter’s over at last."

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book would not have been possible without the support of the following
individuals
:

The informal cheering squad of Twitter, who've helped me procrastinate just enough, while still encouraging me to finish this book.

L. Hogarth and L. Kearney, the English teachers who inspired me to write and instilled in me a love of grammar.  I've come a long way from ridiculous stories scribbled on notebook paper in b
inders, and I am grateful to both of you
.

Each and every person who reviewed my previous works, shared in the public realm: your kindness and love for my characters made me believe in Autumn, Veronica and Andrew, and their ability to move others.

My family –
particularly my father, who didn't hesitate to feed my growing hunger for books and trusted my maturity to handle Stephen King before my teens.  Thank you for the gift of literature.  I hope this makes those times when you couldn't scam your way out of reading my bedtime stories as written worthwhile.

My friends and first fans:  Joseph, Ashley, Shannon, Allie, Aimee, Jared, Alison, Karebear, Courtney, Suze, Sabrina and Raheena.  Much love and gratitude for all of you.

My Lizzie-twin, Jenna, who inspired me to attempt a scr
eenplay that I abandoned... which
became this novel
, years later
.  Your love, laughter, eloquence and creativity are a privilege to share in.

My "wifey", Mary:  I wouldn't be here today to write this book and send it out into the world without you, nor would I have the confidence to trust in the story and share it.  You are grace and beauty in the eye of a storm, a constant in chaos. You're the best friend anyone could ever know, and your words can still make me feel talentless. 

My beautiful furbabies,
Gravity and Kali, who remind me of what unconditional love is
with feline finesse
.  This book is also dedicated to the memory of Karma, whose dainty ways and troubled past were
the inspiration for Pandora.  I
t was a privilege to love you, care for you and help you heal.

Without music, there would be no soundtrack to the films in my mind.
  Thank you, fellow creators.

Last, but most certainly not least, my loving husband, Dan:  there are no words that could ever express my gratitude for your presence in my life.  You make me laugh, infuriate me, and love me more genuinely than anyone else ever could.  You're my rock to which I return after floating off into the fantasy world of my work.  I love you fiercely and without fear.  Thank you for your persistence.