Page 90 of The Serpent King

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.

She thumbed around on her phone. “Okay…this way.” She pointed. “Let’s go see where the music recording nerds like future-you hang out.”

They strolled the short distance to the mass communication building. It was dark and cool inside. Plaques, awards, and photos covered the walls. The sheer amount of glittering visual information overwhelmed Dill. Everywhere there were groups of the sort of people who probably weren’t popular in high school. My kind of people.