Page 3 of Blood Moon
They shared an awkward dap handshake, and I saw the flushing in Bobby’s neck as he took a step back to rest his hands on his hips before quickly removing them. He wasn’t normally this inept, but he seemed displaced for a reason I couldn’t figure out.
Bobby shook his head. “You’re the dean of students now, I hear? Congrats on the accomplishments, man.”
Duke stood behind the check-in desk, handing out packages with folders and keys to the Resident Director beside him. These were the first people we’d greeted—mostly because it was required to get into the dorms—and already Bobby was being recognized, by a faculty member, at that. It was precisely why I didn’t want him in uniform.
Duke smiled. “Right back at you, Chief,” he said, sharing a wink.
I collected my dorm room key and fob for the building. There was no chance to get away before Bobby pulled me over. “Duke, this is my daughter, Mira Owens. Mira, this is Duke. I don’t know if you remember him, but back in the day, we played ball together. Our private schools were in the same league, but this guy wiped us out every single time.” Bobby snorted at himself as Duke and I exchanged greetings.
“That’s right. I remember you, Mira. Time flies, man,” Duke said with a glistening white smile.
“I could have sworn you were going pro. We were all rooting for you out here.”
“You know how it is—sometimes life has other plans for us. Speaking of, my boy is here this year, too.”
“Oh, no way. Which one? Playing basketball, too?”
“The youngest, believe it or not, and football actually. Second-string quarterback.”
Bobby rocked back on his heels. “What? You’ve got to be kidding. I’ll have to check out one of the games.” Bobby nudged me. “Do you remember Seven? When you were younger, our graduating class had a reunion game, and you played with him in the bleachers.”
I pressed my lips together as a few memories resurfaced. I was eight or nine. We connected because we were in the same grade. Even at that age, he was taller than me, and I remembered his springy brown hair, his heterochromatic eyes. Seven had laughed at my jokes, and it was the first time I truly felt funny. We’d spent three hours together that day, and by the end of it, I’d developed my first crush.
A gripe rose from behind. Upon looking, a white woman with a beet red face widened her eyes at my glance. It was the heat. The waiting. The extra conversation that wasn’t particularly needed. I huffed, slightly annoyed but understanding.
“We’re kinda holding up the line.”
Bobby looked behind him, flashed a grin and apologized in his sheriff voice. Then he turned his attention back to Duke. “Good seeing you, man.”
As we walked away, Duke followed, asking Bobby to step to the side. They were still in earshot when he leaned in. “Maybe I can give you a call later to talk about some of the animal attacks close to the city? Precautions, you know?”
Bobby nodded. Gave him a firm shake.
Duke stepped back after, waved at me. “Welcome to LLU, Mira. We hope you love it here.”
We thanked him and headed to the truck to unload.
“And you said it wasn’t a uniform.” I smirked.
Bobby shook his head and laughed under his breath.
“Why were you so nervous around that guy anyway?”
Bobby scratched his chin, released a breath of air. “He was freakishly good at basketball. His team never lost a game. And you’ve seen me play.” Bobby gestured toward himself, a dapper smile pinned to his brown face. “You know I’m great. Butthatguy …” He looked back to where Duke stood under the tent and whistled. “That guy played on the level of gods.”
Bobby grabbed the last box from the bed of the truck as I held onto a bag. He followed me up the sidewalk, through a foyer, and into a long corridor with fluorescent lights.
My room was three doors down, with white cinder block walls and pale blue carpet that desperately needed to be covered with a rug. It was long and rectangular, with a double-paned window overlooking a lush forest.
There were two of everything: twin-sized beds, dressers, closets. Also present was a lingering smell I couldn’t place. My senses had always been a little more hypersensitive than the average person, I’d say. Rena used to tell me it was a gift I should lean into. So far, it had saved Bobby and me from an expired tub of yogurt and an old package of bologna. Incredibly important stuff.
The smell wasn’t necessarily unpleasant, but it was a reminder that this building was old and lived-in. Hester Hall was full of memories from those who came before me, and while it was dingy and a bit jail-like, it came with freedom.
One of the beds was already claimed, made with a white duvet and a handful of fluffy pillows. Next to it were personal belongings and unpacked boxes. My roommate, Stevie McClure, was from Saint Louis, Missouri. A month ago, the university sent an email informing us that we’d be roommates for freshman year. Stevie and I friended each other on socials after that, and we shared pictures upon pictures of decoration ideas for our dorm before finally settling on an overall comfortable and inviting atmosphere.
I was unsure when I’d see my roommate. She’d moved in a couple weeks ago due to required practice for the dance team, but she’d left a small note on my bed that said, “welcome home,” followed by three hearts.
Bobby set the last box on top of the beige dresser that wasn’t in use, and I plopped onto the empty mattress, taking a breath.
