sudden move to New York had been a fairytale of good luck. Having gone to the city to audition for a theatre program, she'd stumbled onto an Open Casting Call on the bulletin boards and shown up on a whim. Despite being non-Equity (and therefore sitting at the bottom of the list to be seen, if time permitted), she'd been lucky enough to be seen. She'd performed a two-minute song—the same one she'd used in her school audition—and gone back to her hotel, thinking if nothing else, she'd survived her first casting call in the Big Apple.
Two weeks later, she'd been called back to do a cold reading of a monologue from In the Garden , the brainchild of renowned lyricist and composer Samuel Schatzman. Written twenty years prior, it had never been launched as a formal production, despite die-hard theatre fans clamoring for it. Veronica had been cast as Johanna, a critical secondary character as beloved as Éponine in Les Miserables. Her schooling had been completed with a private tutor around the rigorous rehearsals.
A small price to pay for living the dream , Autumn mused.
Leaning back against the wall, Keenan urgently tapped her arm. "Hey, what's going on with that actor guy? TMZ had some story on her last week."
"Drop it, Keenan," Andrew cautioned.
Too late: Evan's face blanched and he mumbled an excuse, rushing back into the Media Studies building. Autumn slugged their thoughtless friend in the arm, shaking her own fist in pain.
"Absolutely nothing! Why are you bringing that up in front of Evan ? Don't you think the distance is hard enough?” At least, I hope it's nothing , Autumn added quietly. She hadn't been able to reach her friend all week, and the photos were a little... intimate.
Brain engaged, Keenan pocketed his vaporizer. "You mean, they didn't break up? He’s been avoiding me, but I swear, Evan said something the other day that made me think they were Splitsville."
Autumn exchanged a worried glance with Andrew. "What? Veronica hasn't... Is it possible? Poor Evan!"
"One minute," Andrew warned them. "Let's go back inside. We'll check on Evan after the ceremony, okay?"
The trio plastered on innocent smiles, slipping back into line just as teachers arrived to escort them to their seats. Ducking her head around the students between them, Autumn blew a kiss to Andrew.
"Tease!"
"Ms. Brody!"
Autumn glanced over at the grinning face of Gretchen Frey, the head of the Film Program. Youthful and sarcastic, she was something of an adopted mother for Andrew, which meant she took endless joy in embarrassing the couple.
"Hello, Gretchen. Any last words of wisdom for Romeo and Juliet?"
Gretchen smirked. "Screw his bit about sparks and powder kegs. If you're not lighting up each other's lives and setting the world on fire, what's the bloody point?"
"My thoughts exactly," Andrew chimed in.
"And that's why he's my favourite: he listens to my every word. Good boy. Now, march!"
Line by line, row by row, the graduating class made their way to their seats, preparing for one last farewell to Casteel Preparatory Academy.
* * *
The day was a blur of speeches, awards and the traditional music of convocation. Laughter was shared, songs elicited tears, and friends embraced tightly with promises to stay in touch. While Autumn often found such yearbook message fodder phony, boarding school was a different world. She believed it when Azure Amaya, her classmate from Creative Writing, hugged her with a cheery good luck sentiment. She knew that Jackson Wells, Andrew's long-time collaborator, would be in touch. Autumn wished the latter well, planting a kiss on his cheek, much to his surprise.
"What was that for?"
"For helping him get through to me," she replied, thinking back to the charity concert where Jax Daniels had performed two of her favourite songs.
It had been the final push she needed to let Andrew into her life. Her world was infinitely better for it.
"Hey, that's my lady-friend," Andrew protested lightly,
Two weeks later, she'd been called back to do a cold reading of a monologue from In the Garden , the brainchild of renowned lyricist and composer Samuel Schatzman. Written twenty years prior, it had never been launched as a formal production, despite die-hard theatre fans clamoring for it. Veronica had been cast as Johanna, a critical secondary character as beloved as Éponine in Les Miserables. Her schooling had been completed with a private tutor around the rigorous rehearsals.
A small price to pay for living the dream , Autumn mused.
Leaning back against the wall, Keenan urgently tapped her arm. "Hey, what's going on with that actor guy? TMZ had some story on her last week."
"Drop it, Keenan," Andrew cautioned.
Too late: Evan's face blanched and he mumbled an excuse, rushing back into the Media Studies building. Autumn slugged their thoughtless friend in the arm, shaking her own fist in pain.
"Absolutely nothing! Why are you bringing that up in front of Evan ? Don't you think the distance is hard enough?” At least, I hope it's nothing , Autumn added quietly. She hadn't been able to reach her friend all week, and the photos were a little... intimate.
Brain engaged, Keenan pocketed his vaporizer. "You mean, they didn't break up? He’s been avoiding me, but I swear, Evan said something the other day that made me think they were Splitsville."
Autumn exchanged a worried glance with Andrew. "What? Veronica hasn't... Is it possible? Poor Evan!"
"One minute," Andrew warned them. "Let's go back inside. We'll check on Evan after the ceremony, okay?"
The trio plastered on innocent smiles, slipping back into line just as teachers arrived to escort them to their seats. Ducking her head around the students between them, Autumn blew a kiss to Andrew.
"Tease!"
"Ms. Brody!"
Autumn glanced over at the grinning face of Gretchen Frey, the head of the Film Program. Youthful and sarcastic, she was something of an adopted mother for Andrew, which meant she took endless joy in embarrassing the couple.
"Hello, Gretchen. Any last words of wisdom for Romeo and Juliet?"
Gretchen smirked. "Screw his bit about sparks and powder kegs. If you're not lighting up each other's lives and setting the world on fire, what's the bloody point?"
"My thoughts exactly," Andrew chimed in.
"And that's why he's my favourite: he listens to my every word. Good boy. Now, march!"
Line by line, row by row, the graduating class made their way to their seats, preparing for one last farewell to Casteel Preparatory Academy.
* * *
The day was a blur of speeches, awards and the traditional music of convocation. Laughter was shared, songs elicited tears, and friends embraced tightly with promises to stay in touch. While Autumn often found such yearbook message fodder phony, boarding school was a different world. She believed it when Azure Amaya, her classmate from Creative Writing, hugged her with a cheery good luck sentiment. She knew that Jackson Wells, Andrew's long-time collaborator, would be in touch. Autumn wished the latter well, planting a kiss on his cheek, much to his surprise.
"What was that for?"
"For helping him get through to me," she replied, thinking back to the charity concert where Jax Daniels had performed two of her favourite songs.
It had been the final push she needed to let Andrew into her life. Her world was infinitely better for it.
"Hey, that's my lady-friend," Andrew protested lightly,