The Serpent King(44)

Lydia read The Diary of Ana?s Nin.

Dill popped out one of his earbuds. “Hey, Lydia, any chance you could upload some videos to YouTube for me tonight? I tried, but the school’s got YouTube blocked.”

“Sure. What?”

“Some videos I made of me playing my songs. Five of them.”

“Five? I gave you that, what, two days ago?”

“I had a bunch saved up.”

Hunter Henry, Matt Barnes, and DeJuan Washington, three football players, walked by their table.

“Hey, Dildo, the police know you’ve got a computer now?” Hunter asked. His friends snickered.

“I think the school blocks kiddie porn,” Matt said. More snickers.

Dill popped his earbud back in and ignored them. Travis visibly tensed up, but he kept reading, also ignoring them. Dill and Travis knew the drill.

Lydia set down her book with a smile. “Yeah, we informed the police at the same time we put your names on the National Micropenis Registry. Don’t be surprised if you have trouble at the airport. Among other places.”

“I’ll show you my dick,” Hunter said.

“Remember, I wear glasses.” Lydia picked up her book.

“Yeah, how could we forget because they make your face so butt-ass ugly,” Matt sputtered.

“You could forget because you lack the ability to form semantic memories, which is why Tullahoma High humiliated you guys by running the same play twice in a row last time they beat you in the fourth quarter,” Lydia said, without looking up from her book.

“What do you know about football, bitch?” Hunter said.

“Well, that you’re supposed to score more points than the other team, and that’s hard to do when you—and specifically you—fumble in your own end zone like you did against Manchester last year, allowing a game-losing safety.”

Hunter turned red.

“Leave it, bro,” DeJuan said. “She ain’t worth it. She’s trying to make you do something stupid.”

“I never have to try very hard,” Lydia said.

Hunter slapped Lydia’s book out of her hands, onto the floor, before the three stomped away.

Dill popped out his earbuds, picked up Lydia’s book, and handed it to her. “I didn’t know you were a football fan.”

Lydia leafed through her book to mark her place. “I’m not. I only keep track of our team’s losses and individual humiliations and shortcomings. I put them in my mental file on every player who gives us shit. It’s really more fun than actual football. Anyway, I gotta run to class. Give me your computer; I’ll take it home tonight and upload your videos.”




Chloe & I have been scoping apartments for fun. What’s your budget? We found a cute place for 3K/month, Dahlia texted.

I can swing 1K/month, no prob, Lydia texted.

LOL I wish. 3K each.

Well, she thought, looks like I’m about to become the Dill of my new group of friends—financially at least. Forrestville dentist and real estate agent money wasn’t much of a match for Chic editor-in-chief money and actress money. She’d have to start thinking of ways to make being the “poor girl” part of her charm and appeal. The way Dolly did, in fact.

Oof. Maybe out of my budget, Lydia texted. Plus haven’t gotten accepted to NYU yet, so.

You’ll get in.

As we say in TN, don’t count chickens, etc.

Lydia felt anxious for no specific reason. Not just about the rent situation, although that contributed. Her head ached from filling out college and scholarship applications, revising her admission essay, and working on a lengthy blog post critiquing the designs shown at Paris Fashion Week. Time for something different.

She pulled out Dill’s computer, went to YouTube, and set up an account for him. Password: LydiaisaBenevolentGoddess666. She found the folder with Dill’s videos and opened one.

What she heard stopped her short. Whoa. That’s Dill? He had so much confidence and poise. He was mesmerizing. Singing transformed him. She realized that she had never seen Dill play and sing one of his own songs. And it was an exquisite song. She started uploading the video and opened another. Again. Mesmerizing. Haunting. Soaring. And another. Until she’d watched all of them. Her anxiety melted away completely.

Whatever else he had inherited from his father, he had inherited a dark charisma. The sort that makes people want to follow and confess. The sort that makes people feel saved. The sort that makes people want to pick up venomous snakes and drink poison to be nearer to their God. He sang like a river of fire flowed in him, like music was the only beautiful thing he owned. His songs made her heart ache. Watching him, in fact, she felt a little…she took a deep breath and shook her head. Okay, that’s quite enough of that sort of thinking.

While she was visiting colleges with her mom, during the time she and Dill weren’t speaking, he’d weighed heavily on her mind. She imagined him stuck in Forrestville, unhappy, unfulfilled. This changes things. I can use this. I can work with this. She began to formulate a plan.

“Lydia?”

Lydia jumped and turned in her chair. Her mother stood in the doorway.

“Sorry to startle you. What were you listening to? It’s beautiful.”

“Oh…this guy I came across.”

“It’s nice.” Lydia’s mom began to go on her way.