Meet Me in the Graveyard
Chapter 2: A Place to Belong
Emmy Zane jostled her bin of writing supplies, trying to balance it against her stomach. The sharp plastic edges cut into her upper arms, but if she put it down now, she’d never pick it up again. She reached the entrance to the white cinderblock stairwell and took a quick glance over her shoulder. The pretty boy who was so amused by her struggle was still standing there gaping at her, completely unhelpful. At least she’d managed to wipe the smug smile off his face.
Asshole.
She took her time on the stairs, padding each white-tiled step with her toes before trusting her weight there. She had no chance of seeing her feet over the bin, and the last thing she needed on her first day at college was to slip and crash down the stairs. She could already picture the headline: FRESHMAN CO-ED FALLS TO GRISLY DEATH, CRUSHED BY STUBBORN NEED FOR INDEPENDENCE.
By the time she reached the third floor, her breath was reduced to heavy, pathetic gasps and her thighs were burning. She rested the bin atop the bannister and glanced down the stairwell she would have to climb who knew how many times every day for the next year.
At least she wouldn’t have to worry about exercise.
She lifted the bin and picked up her pace through the right wing of the third floor. Her dorm room came into view at the end of the hall, the door propped open and sunlight streaming through the windows like a beacon on the corner. Her mother appeared in the doorway and spotted her down the hall.
“Emmy! I told you we would go back for that!” Nadia Zane rushed out and tried to take the bin.
“I’m fine, Mom.” Emmy angled the box away, refusing to release it. Never mind that her arms felt like they might have detached from her shoulder sockets. She set the bin on her desk and surveyed the room. “Wow. It looks great, you guys. Thanks.”
Her bed was made with fresh white sheets. Her new quilt, a bright patchwork of turquoise, yellow, and green, brought some much needed color to the dull, beige room. Her clothes were hung neatly in her closet, the shirts organized by sleeve length; Emmy resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the obvious evidence of her mother’s anxiety. She didn’t open the dresser drawers, but she knew when she did she would find neat rows of socks, underwear, bras, and pajamas.
A new cork-and-dry-erase-board combo was tacked on the wall beside her desk, turquoise push pins and magnetic dry-erase markers already attached. And a framed poster of her favorite Shakespeare quote hung over her bed: “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”
Nadia glanced from the corner window to the door. “It’s quite small.”
Emmy nodded patiently. “It’s a single, Mom. It’s supposed to be small.”
“I know, but bigger universities offer more spacious rooms. Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable—”
“I don’t need more space,” Emmy said, surveying her new home. “It’s cozy. I like it.”
“You need a comfy chair.” Her father, Owen, gripped the back of her school-issued wooden desk chair and wiggled it. “This thing will bruise your butt in no time.”
Emmy chuckled but didn't respond. They wanted to take her shopping again. They were excited, and nervous, and so was she, but at some point they’d have to leave her. She could see them actively searching for more reasons not to.
Emmy didn’t reserve much patience for people, but she did for her parents. They’d earned access to the softer side of her personality. She was their only child, after years of failed attempts and two miscarriages. Not to mention the medical hell she’d put them through when she was growing up. Nadia still looked at her like she was a miracle. But being a miracle was a strain sometimes.
“Now, this is the last thing, I promise…” Her mother snatched a full, straining plastic bag from the desk. “I picked up some big bottles of your vitamins, and more hand sanitizer for you. I got the large size for you to keep in here, and a few travel-size for your bookbag and purse—”
Emmy accepted the bag, staring warily down at the bottles of clear, greenish-hued goo. At home, they all sanitized their hands regularly, so the gesture shouldn’t rub Emmy the wrong way. She dutifully set the large bottle on her nightstand. “Thanks, Mom.”
Her mother smiled. “I know it’s a lot, but I worry about you running out and not having time to get to the store. The nearest shopping center is so far away.”
Emmy laughed. “It’s maybe fifteen minutes. I do have a car, you know.”
“Yes, parked in that absurd freshman lot on the other side of campus! University of Maryland has plenty of parking all over—”
“UMD’s dining hall is also a twenty-minute walk from the dorms,” Emmy said.
“But you wouldn’t need to—”
“I think,” Owen said, placing a gentle hand on Nadia’s shoulder, “it’s time to let this college student get acquainted with her new home.”
Emmy smiled gratefully at her father. “Yeah, I guess I should start leaving notes on people’s doors about meeting on the quad and going for a pint–”
“You don’t have a quad,” her father said at the exact moment her mother said, “You’re too young to drink.”
“Guys, I was kidding. Come on.”
They all released a breath. Emmy held out her arms and pulled her parents into a group hug. “I’ll be fine. I told you, something about this place just feels right. I know I belong here.”
Her parents pulled away, and Nadia wiped at the moisture beneath her eyes. “Don’t come with us to the car, or we might never leave.”
Emmy laughed and followed them to the door. It was only five feet away, but it already felt like she was walking them out of her house.
Owen gathered up the flattened cardboard boxes, surprisingly few considering they’d held her life, and the lone black trash bag. “I’ll take these to the trash and recycling bins.”
“Honey, please stop and wash your hands after,” Nadia said. “Before you get in the car, just in case—”
“Yes, my love,” he called, his teasing tone barely hinting at frustration.
Nadia turned back to Emmy. “Text me every morning to check in. And you have Dr. Blake’s number if you need it.”
“Yup.” Emmy pulled her mother into one final hug. “I love you.”
“I love you too, my darling girl.”
“I love you too, Eminator!” Owen shouted. Emmy laughed at her childhood nickname, and for the first time, emotion clutched her throat as her parents disappeared into the stairwell.
Emmy walked back to her bed, sank onto her mattress, and collapsed with a huff, listening to the bustling voices and periodic crashes of Move-In Day.
She’d done it. Officially moved in as a first-year student at St. Mary’s College of Maryland. Nadia had been better than expected; organizing the shirts by sleeve length and buying five gallons of hand sanitizer wasn’t a huge deal. At least she hadn’t sprayed the whole place with antiseptic.
Emmy propped herself up on her elbows and took a good long look at her single room. No roommate drama. She hadn’t met any of her hallmates yet, but she didn’t worry about all that the way her parents did. If she didn’t make friends… well, then she’d have basically the same social experience she’d had for the last nine years. At least here she would have her own space to escape instead of listening to other kids’ bullshit while every adult in sight told her she needed to “open up” and “get involved.”
She already loved St. Mary’s; she had since the instant her foot touched the ground during her first campus visit. A spark like electricity had filled her entire being, as if this place she’d never seen was welcoming her home. The school was beautiful and quirky, and she knew she belonged. She didn’t need anyone else to confirm that truth.
She had fared better than most of her classmates during the COVID pandemic for specifically that reason: being alone didn’t bother her. She only had about a year and a half in middle school before the pandemic hit, but that year and a half was quite enough for Emmy. She’d been perfectly content to keep up with her virtual classes from the comfort of her bedroom, cozy in her cardigans and leggings and socks, detached from the drama of social interactions she could never anticipate or navigate without pissing someone off. But the quarantine was long over now; her high school years had been in-person, and more of a shock than she cared to admit. The four walls of her little room didn’t feel small; they felt like a sanctuary.
She stood up and crossed to the corner of the room. Both of the two outer walls had windows. Most dorm rooms only had one, making this single on the corner prime real estate. Her view angled west over The Hill, and she could just make out flickering sunlight on the river, far in the distance.
“Hi! Can I come in?”
Emmy jumped and turned.
The girl in her doorway was a few inches taller than Emmy, with tightly curled black ringlets, warm, dark brown skin, large-framed gray glasses, and a calm smile. She was looking at Emmy like one might study a tricky jigsaw puzzle that required patient determination and critical thinking.
Emmy fought the urge to grab for the ends of her ponytail, her preferred nervous habit. Could she simply say no? It would certainly be a step in the right direction of establishing her reclusive reputation. But this girl seemed harmless enough, merely curious for an introduction. Emmy couldn’t sense any of the over-the-top fake friendliness she’d learned to guard against in high school.
“Sure. I’m Emmy.” A sufficient response. Not particularly loquacious, but normal nonetheless.
“My roommate and I live next door. I’m Beatrice, but everyone calls me Bee.” Bee joined Emmy at the windows.
“There was a star danced, and under that was I born.” Emmy eyed her neighbor as she quoted the line. Reciting Shakespeare plays from memory was probably not on the list of normal college student activities, so if this Bee girl wanted a chance to bail, Emmy was happy to provide an opening.
Bee gave Emmy a quizzical look.
“It’s from Much Ado About Nothing.” Emmy pointed at the Shakespeare poster above her bed. “The main character is called Beatrice. It’s my favorite of her lines.”
To Emmy’s utter astonishment, Bee’s confusion cleared, and she smiled. “You speak Shakespeare?”
Bee’s expression didn’t suggest judgment, criticism, or disinterest, so despite every gut instinct, Emmy continued, “Yeah, my mom loves him, so I grew up learning his plays. She likes to say that there’s a Shakespeare quote for every situation.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. I’m a biology major, so Shakespeare’s not exactly my forte.” Bee turned and looked over Emmy’s room. “Your set-up is nice. You’re lucky to get a single.”
“Yeah, I like having time alone.” Emmy winced internally. Bee hadn’t become annoying or annoyed yet, so there was no reason for Emmy to put her off. “I don’t mean that I want to be alone, just–”
Bee moved to sit on the desk chair. “Personal space. I get it. Have you met anyone else?”
Emmy sat on the end of her bed. “Just some jerk downstairs who was blocking the entryway while I was moving in.”
Bee’s quizzical expression perked with amusement. “A guy? What’s his name? What did he look like?”
“I didn’t get his name. He looked like an asshole.”
Unexpectedly hearty laughter erupted from Bee’s tame expression. “What does that mean?”
Emmy released a smile of her own. “You know, tall, cocky, kind of shaggy, dirty-blond hair that probably always looks good without any effort.”
Bee grinned. “So, he was hot?”
Emmy scoffed. “Yeah, and he knew it.”
“We should find him tonight at convocation and give him a talking to.” Bee stood up and moved toward the door. “You want to come over and hang out in our room? My roommate is a little hyper but she seems nice.”
Emmy paused. She should go. “Thanks, but I need to go through my stuff. My parents unpacked everything for me, and I have no idea where they put it all.”
Not true. But it sounded plausible.
“Okay, well feel free to come over when you’re done.” Bee smiled and disappeared into the hall.
Emmy sighed and slumped back on her bed. Bee was nice. Genuinely nice, not nice-to-your-face-so-she-can-bash-you-behind-your-back, as if St. Mary’s magic was serving up friendship on a platter. So, why was Emmy still sitting in her room alone?
“There you are!”
She shot up at the male voice.
The voice’s owner leaned lazily against her door frame. His broad chest and muscled arms filled out a large, gray St. Mary’s lacrosse hoodie, though wearing a hoodie in Maryland’s summer heat was obviously insane. Beige shorts ended at his knees, showing off tan, toned calves and white running shoes, but no socks. His sandy-brown hair hung over brown eyes warm with humor, his smile revealing dimples on both cheeks.
Of course, the hot asshole would have dimples.