Is he for real right now?
“It’s supposed to be good for luck,” I carefully explained. It was also supposed to guide people in the right direction in life when stuck between a rock and a hard place. Another jab from the crystal gift giver, Celeste. “Sort of.”
“Like a lucky charm?” he asked.
I lifted my gaze to stare at him. “No.”
“Huh. Do you have anything that could fix this?” Ryan gestured down toward his leg.
On another one of Vadika’s university experience excursions to one of the first football games of the year, I had seen what caused the injury to happen firsthand. Still, I expected the damage to be worse. Ryan was carted off the field after everyone in the stands sucked in a sharp breath at the hit. A pained expression marred the black swipes of paint over each of his cheeks. Still, he had given a thumbs-up to the crowd before disappearing into the locker rooms.
A heavy brace now circled his knee. Crutches leaned against the uncomfortable woven chair beside him.
His shoulders drooped.
Before I could say anything, the door creaked open behind us both.
“Luella Pierce?”
Immediately, I stood, turning on the edge of the short heel of my boot. “That’s me.”
“Come into my office.” The dean waved me inside. He shut the door almost completely behind me, leaving a small gap between the frame and handle.
Glancing back as I found the chair across from the dean’s desk, I could still see the side of Ryan Gardner’s leg stretched out.
“Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you some water or anything?”
I needed to focus. I’d never met the dean before. I was sure I must’ve seen him somewhere on campus; still, when I had been sent to the big, old building, I’d expected someone older. I’d thought I would be pleading my case to someone who was more set in his ways than this one, clad in a loose polo that matched his dark, slicked-back hair. The pleated pants also looked like something forced on him by his wife, according to the freshly shined gold ring on his fourth finger.
A fresh wave of confidence grew. Maybe this whole thing wouldn’t turn out so bad. He might be new to Barnett. He might want to shake things up here and make his mark—at least slightly.
“I’m good, thanks,” I answered his question, continuing to look around the office.
The cohesiveness was hard to ignore from the spirited green-and-white cooler of mini water bottles for the taking to the wall of Barnett sports memorabilia. To top it off, I saw the bachelor’s degree that looked very similar to the one I would hopefully receive next year.
“You went to Barnett?”
“I did.” The dean flashed his overly white teeth. He joked, “I consider myself one of the most involved alums. So, what is it that I can do for you?”
I cleared my throat, feeling as if something were lodged in the center of it.
Maybe this would be more difficult than I thought now. I tried to cover the sound as I lifted my binder from my tote bag, setting it on the edge of the large mahogany desk. Opening it up, I twisted it around to display its contents. “Well, I started a project of sorts for campus. I brought it to the student life department specifically, but since I’m not a club, they directed me here.”
The dean slowly looked over the plans I’d spent hours on, flipping back and forth between three-hole-punched pages of photographs and lists. A cost spreadsheet was included. The entire event in and of itself—once he got over the type of event I was promoting exactly—turned out to be very reasonable after I’d gotten a bit creative and enlisted the help of my coven on whether or not they’d volunteer.
“A fall festival?” the dean clarified, saying each word slowly, as if he were the person trying to explain the idea to me. He continued to look over the next section of details and cocked his head to the side, one page after another.
Before he could say anything else unintentionally degrading, I spoke up. “Not exactly a festival. I’ve been thinking of it as more of a gathering surrounding the holiday. It would be more put together than the parties that happen on campus.”
His dark eyes flickered up from a page held between his thumb and pointer.
“Safer as well,” I added. Why did I sound so meek?
“Of course. You do know that Barnett has a September pep rally and homecoming day, correct? It coincides with fall and the first weekend in October.”
I blinked. Fall started this Tuesday, but either way, I knew what he was getting at. That was correct. I, however,stillwasn’t talking about fall or the equinox sneaking up on us. I was talking about Samhain.
Then again, I was also not talking about Samhain.
