Page 206 of Wrath

Ezra

If he's with his friend Daniel, Miller's at a big, brick frat house at the bottom of a sloping hill about a block from campus. The driveway is a thin ribbon of concrete rolling like a red carpet alongside a thick wall of pine trees. Out to the right of the driveway, a cloud-covered moon reflects pale light off the flat surface of a pond.

It didn't take me long to find this place; it’s the house Mills has been at for a few months.

Before I left my car, I pulled a ball cap over my head and threw on a hoodie. Now I'm one of maybe two dozen shadowy figures walking down the driveway toward the bumping bass of party music. As I walk, my heart racing and my hands stuffed in my pockets, someone lights some tiki torches around the pond one by one.

I blink at them with tears in my eyes. Then I swallow, blink again, and lock my jaw up.

Might not even be here, I tell myself.

I curl my hands into fists and flex them in my hoodie pocket,spreading the fingers out. Maybe I shouldn't surprise him—if he is here. I’m pretty sure the apartment complex next door is his. I could probably find him if I looked hard and was willing to ask around. I could wait there.

But the thought of that makes my blood run cold. What if he didn't come home tonight? What if I can't find him?

I want to check out every lead I have. I thought of calling...and I guess I still could. But I don't want to do this in a phone call. Ten bucks says he won't even talk to me. Not after what happened.

Tears again.

Keep it on lockdown, dude. You've got this.

I'm just gonna find him. Try to. If I have to pull my hat off and use my face to get people to talk to me...I'll do it.

Deep breaths.

The driveway flattens out. There's a bunch of people on the lawn, some girl doing a handstand. I see some stuff glint near the pond and realize...it's kegs? I try to picture myself chilling as an Auburn student, drinking beer and sitting by this pond—but I can't. Football is my world.

Football and Miller.

Bass is bumping somewhere behind the house, making the humid, cold November air vibrate. As soon as I get to the porch, two guys spill out the door, talking loudly. I'm trying to look nonchalant as their eyes swing to my face. One of them opens his mouth like a fish out of water. The guy beside him laughs.

"Well holy shit. What have we here?"

I tip my hat at them. "Just looking for a friend."

"You got no friends here, Masters."

Then they both start laughing. A third guy comes out the door, making my stomach lurch, but they fill him in without getting overly loud about it, and that guy says, "Who ya looking for, Bama? Fuck you for running it in at the end of second."

I ignore that bit and just say, "My friend. Josh Miller?" My voice is raspy from how nervous I am.

The one in back nods. "Yeah. Miller's one of our new guys. He should be around here. You guys know each other from high school or something?"

I nod. "Same town."

Two of the guys nod, but the one in front frowns. "I know,” I explain. “My press stuff says Virginia, but I lived down in Fairplay for a year with my dad."

"I saw those sick reels, bruh. Fairplay Tigers," the tall one in back drawls.

I nod.

"This dude's modest," one of them laughs.

For a second, all three of them talk about how I seem like a normal guy. They ask if I'm drinking.

"Not tonight."

"I thought y'all all ride back together after games,” the middle one says.

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