The Serpent King(72)

“Yeah. I know.”





There were rules, explicit and implicit. Mostly Lydia’s.

Explicit: they kept things a secret. They didn’t need hassling from Dill’s mom or classmates. Also, it helped Lydia promote Dearly’s music on her blog—so that she didn’t look like she was plugging her own boyfriend. Closely related to this was a strict rule against public displays of affection. And referring to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend.

Implicit: no losing themselves too completely. They were still going their separate ways in a couple months. They didn’t forget.

Dill began his long, slow climb out of the abyss. He had good days and bad days. He quit his job at Floyd’s Foods and Dr. Blankenship hired him to work twenty hours a week filing and cleaning his office. He made more money (which mollified his mother), and better yet, all of Dr. Blankenship’s employees, even the part-timers, were on the group health plan. Dill finally had health insurance and was able to see a real therapist and get on a good antidepressant medication. Those things helped a lot. His music started to come back, bit by bit. The good days began to outnumber the bad.

And then one warm day in late April, Dill came home from school to find an acceptance letter from MTSU. He called Lydia, who turned her car around and insisted they make an immediate random road trip to the MTSU campus so that Dill could see where he’d be studying.

Lydia queued up a mix for the drive. “So when are you going to tell your mom you got into college?”

“What day is the day before fall semester starts at MTSU? Then.”

“I recommend doing so sooner, since, you know, she’s your mom.”

“We’ll see.”

Dill sang along with the music as they entered the city limits of Murfreesboro, with its strip malls and chain restaurants. It felt huge to him. They rolled down the windows and let the sun-scented wind buffet their faces. His heart beat with the richness of potential.

Lydia parked in a neighborhood near MTSU. Dill’s pulse quickened as they walked the couple of blocks to campus. The four-story brick-and-glass library loomed. He stared at it in awe. He had seen larger buildings, but never one that had any connection to his own life.

Lydia turned to him. “That alone would be the biggest building in Forrestville by a wide margin. You getting excited yet?”

“Yes. I can’t believe how many people there are.”

The campus bustled with activity. Young people were everywhere. They walked past three people sitting on a bench, speaking what sounded like Arabic. A girl with purple hair, talking to a boy with numerous facial piercings. Students on skateboards and riding bikes. Assemblies composed of wildly differing social groups held animated discussions. Of course, there were plenty of the sort of people who probably would have tormented Dill and Lydia at Forrestville High, but they didn’t seem to enjoy any special status.

They passed two tattooed girls—one with a shaved head—strolling and holding hands. “There’s a decent sign that college will be a lot different from Forrestville High,” Lydia said.

“I couldn’t be happier about that.” He was trying to play it cool and not stare, but.

“You should see the look on your face. You look like a kid at Disneyland.”

“I’ve never been on a college campus before.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. It’s amazing.”

Lydia stopped walking and smacked her forehead. “Are you saying that I could have convinced you much sooner if only I’d dragged you out here?”

Dill half-smiled. “Maybe.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

She grabbed his wrist. “Campus bookstore. You need an MTSU hoodie as an I-got-into-college-and-will-be-escaping-the-oppressive-smallness-of-where-I-grew-up present.”

After buying the hoodie, they passed a bulletin board covered with announcements for various activities. “Hey, Dill, check it out.” Lydia pointed to a flyer for an open mic night at the student union. “I think you’ll make a lot of friends fast here.”

Dill pointed. “Here’s one for a band that needs a guitarist.”

Lydia took a picture of Dill standing in front of the bulletin board. “When you get here, don’t wait around. Jump in. Start doing stuff and meeting people.”

“That thought makes me nervous.”

“Remember the talent competition? You’ve played in front of the shitlords of Forrestville High. Plus you finally put the moves on me. Nothing should make you nervous anymore.”

“Good point.”

They turned to leave. “I know what you’re thinking,” Lydia said. “You’re whoever you say you are here. You get a new start. No baggage.”

“But anyone who Googles my name will see a bunch of stuff about my dad.”

“So? Cool people will get that you’re not your father. You won’t be living in a shitty small town anymore, where people try to make themselves feel better by making other people feel smaller.”

“You think?”

“Of course I do. Don’t get me wrong, there’ll always be a few lame people who make your father’s sins your sins. But for the most part? Clean slate.”

They walked out of the bookstore and sat on a low brick wall, where Lydia snapped a selfie of the two of them. “I mean, you might even find people who think it’s romantic. You can go ‘Yeah, babe. I’ve had it rough. Dad in the state pen,’?” Lydia said in a tough-guy voice. Dill laughed.