“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 cro
wd 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?”
Autumn laughed at the thunderous approval. Friday night curfews were the biggest gripe of students living on campus.
“As you know, it’s a program versus program showdown tonight, with judging by a select panel of faculty. But more importantly, you’re all supporting research for Traumatic Brain Injury, a debilitating medical issue many people face, particularly soldiers returning from overseas. It’s a battle that doesn’t end when the uniform’s taken off.” Veronica paused, solemn. “I think all of us, in our own ways, have fought a war at some point in our lives. In the spirit of tonight’s cause, I’ve chosen a song I’d like to dedicate to all of us, self included, who’ve fought a war of our own.”
At this, her eyes locked with Autumn’s, staring intently.
Veronica gestured to the band, nodding slightly as each member signaled readiness. With a soft smile, she bowed her head low, and began to sing a cappella.
Autumn was immediately awed. Veronica had chosen Florence + The Machine, one of her top bands, but even more telling, she’d chosen one of Autumn’s favourite songs of late: “Shake It Out”. Given its enormous radio presence, the crowd recognized it immediately, enthusiastically welcoming the performance.
Her friend’s claims of performing a difficult number made sense now: the song demanded countless sustained notes, shifts in octave and an earnest emotion to be sincere. Veronica gave her all, dancing around the stage, urging the crowd to their feet as she insisted everyone shake off their proverbial demons. She bowed before Evan, who stood at the stage, blowing him a flirtatious kiss while singing of romance and pointedly directing a lyric at Autumn that resonated deeply.
Her life has been fraught with uncertainty and pain for over a year, but could she honestly wish to undo it? Without Chris, she would have never met Miraj, nor would she have switched to Casteel Prep. There would be no Veronica, no Evan… and no Andrew.
Chris had robbed her of many things, but in turn, she had been given love enough to buoy her through.
The song reached its crescendo, the stage lighting glowing a brilliant orange as Veronica hit the hardest part, a powerful sustained note lasting a good fifteen seconds that earned deafening cheers. There was no contest: Veronica would be the owner of a clunky trophy come the end of the night. She deserved it.
“Holy shit!” Evan exclaimed, clapping wildly. “I think Florence Welch should be very, very afraid.”
“She’s incredible. There’s no following that,” Autumn agreed.
“Hey, look at it this way: everyone will look inferior next to her, not just us.” Evan smiled as he headed back to his seat.
“I like your thinking.”
Evan had saved a seat for Veronica, who slipped from backstage as two guys Autumn had seen during the week at practice set up their acoustic guitars. Autumn immediately pulled her into a tight embrace, struggling to fight away tears that threatened to spill and ruin Veronica’s make-up handiwork.
“I love you so much, you know.”
Veronica nodded. “Love you too.” Pulling back, she gently shook Autumn’s shoulders. “Time to dance.”
Autumn nodded. Let it go. Shake him off and move on. Veronica curled up against Evan as they took their seats, enjoying a series of performances ranging from the mundane mainstream (Katy Perry) to the unexpected classics (Blue Oyster Cult). By the time Keenan’s friend from the football team hit the stage for a rousing rendition of Green Day’s “Basket Case”, Autumn and Veronica were dancing in the aisles, not unlike half the crowd. It was a wild and wonderful concert, where everyone was celebrated, even the Visual Arts student who strayed off key during her attempt at Pink’s “Raise Your Glass”.
“American Idiot is coming to Toronto in a few weeks!” Veronica shouted over the music. “Are we going?”
Autumn beamed. “Um, yeah! Over break?”
“Definitely!” With a twirl, Veronica suddenly paused, tapping Autumn’s arm. “Hey, isn’t that Andrew?”
Autumn glanced towards the stage, where Andrew was heading backstage, much to her surprise. What’s he doing? Confused, she jabbed Evan. “Hey! Is Andrew performing?”
Evan shook his head. “Don’t know. He plays guitar, though. Maybe he’s accompanying a Film student?”
Autumn frowned. Something was missing, a piece of the puzzle. Andrew was so shy. Would he really volunteer when the cabaret supplied a ready-made band willing to learn any song? Maybe someone’s using a film for their performance and he’s handling the tech? It made far more sense than guitar accompaniment.
The crowd cheered Mr. Green Day as he departed, leaving an empty stage, save for the band. With a glance downward, the guitarist left the stage, taking a bottle of water with him.
“Let’s sit down front!” Veronica suggested. “Evan?”
The three of them returned to their claimed seats, Autumn reaching for Evan’s abandoned program. Her finger slid down the page, counting the acts mentally. So he went… she went… yeah, them too…
“Hey Autumn! Evan!” Lucas called out. “This next act goes for two, then you’re on!” He waved his clipboard then slipped back through the curtains, headed backstage.
Meaning the next act is the one before us, so….Oh shit. How had she not put it together? Jax Daniels. As in Andrew’s last name. Waving the page at Veronica and Evan, her head spun.
“I’m an idiot,” she moaned.
Evan examined the sheet, eyes widening. “Oh geez! Jackson Wells is one of Andrew’s collaborators. I should have caught that.”
“I can’t sit upfront if he’s on s
tage,” Autumn insisted.
“You have to!” Veronica insisted, gently shoving her into her seat. “This is huge for him. You’re witnessing history.” Lowering her voice, she added, “Even if you’re not ready, I bet a friendly smile would give him hope. There is hope, right?”
Autumn nodded. Yes, there was. She wanted it to be hopeful, wanted life to be beautiful again.
The stage lights flickered as Jackson and Andrew walked out, earning shouts of “Team Film!” from the upper balcony. Jackson reminded her of Quentin Tarantino, wearing that same knowing smirk the director sported in so many interviews. He slid onto the bench at the electric piano, tinkling the keys playfully and nodding to Andrew. He plugged in his guitar, strumming a few notes and adjusting the microphone anxiously. The house drummer and bassist shuffled sheet music.
Lucas introduced them with a quick flourish and they counted into a pop melody that Autumn immediately recognized. A song the two of them had shared, once upon an evening in the editing suite.
“I love Jack’s Mannequin. There’s something so earnest and genuine in Andrew McMahon’s work.”
Andrew smiled. “Well, us Andrews are incredible artists.”
Autumn rolled her eyes. “What’s in a name, Shakespeare?”
By the chorus, Andrew had spotted her, smiling as he sang of a woman who could read his mind, with whom he sparred and yet loved all the same. Autumn’s face burned as Veronica poked her arm, beaming in delight and whispering, “See? See?” Even Autumn had to laugh as he playfully referenced stability not being a strength of his mystery girl, nodding coyly to their side.
“Can I say something?” Evan murmured.
“Uh-huh.”
“He loves you. A lot.”
Autumn shook her head in disbelief. “That’s not even remotely possible.”
“I concur,” Veronica chimed in.
It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t. But then he smiled again, and her heart fluttered in reply. The more she nodded along, the brighter he glowed. With a silent Fuck it! Autumn sang along, and Andrew strummed just a little harder, sang a little louder as Jackson played piano and echoed his vocals. The applause was warm and loud, many mumbling in confusion. The story of Andrew Daniels was the stuff of Casteel legend. What made him sign up? people wondered. He’s even hotter than before! two girls remarked a few rows back.
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