Odin's Murder

Julian, in his typical obsessive habit, is organizing the ridiculous number of books he’s brought with him. Under his breath he mutters the author’s names. “Saki, Salinger, Steinbeck, Shelly....”

“You really had to bring all of those?” I peer into the mirror on the back of the door, and apply another layer of kohl liner under my eyes.

“I may need them for reference,” he says, plucking Frankenstein out by its spine and shifting it before Grapes of Wrath. “Not all of us have a photographic memory.”

“You need fiction? For reference? Besides, we have laptops. JFGI, Julian.”

He ignores me, but he’s my twin, and I can read him like a Dr. Seuss book. He doesn’t know what it means, and it serves him right, since he hasn’t read anything published in this century. Right now, he’s so anxious to get his books organized before our first classes tomorrow, he’s twitching.

“So what happened in the cafeteria?” he asks.

“It’s your fault, you know,” I say to his back, just to bait him. “If you hadn’t been late none of it would have happened.”

He scratches his spine with his middle finger.

“Marcus was being a dick. I was about to go off on him, but that kid with the shaved head, the big one, came out of nowhere and started beating the pulp out of him.” I’d stood there, watching them fight, fascinated by their raw, feral movements and the way the guy from the serving line’s back flexed as he pummeled my mistake from last year. His quick feet and powerful punches stirred something dangerous in the pit of my stomach even now, just thinking about it.

Satisfied with the mirror’s display, I flop down on my back on the other bed, but then frown at my hands, and pick at the chip in my nail polish. “I hope he doesn’t get kicked out. I’d like to thank him.”

“Well,” Julian gestures to the closet across the room. “His stuff is still here. Wait around and you can either thank him or say goodbye.”

“He’s your roommate?”

“Yeah, Ethan something,” he says. “I only met him for a minute though. Seems quiet enough. Didn’t bring much with him.”

“Not all of us pack our entire room for a month-long college seminar.”

“You know what I mean. Look, hardly any clothes, no books. I think I saw him unpack a camera and stick it in his desk drawer. Nothing else.”

“At least you only have one roommate to deal with. The girl we’re stuck with is freaky little. I mean tiny. And weird.”

“She’s a freak,” he says. “Pot meet kettle.” He gl

ares at my hair, freshly dyed to blue-black, and my shoes, red platform mules that give me an inch on him. He may travel with an entire library, but I carry style like a high school girl collects emoticon apps.

I roll on my side. “She’s squirrely or something. Too much junk everywhere. Piles of crap. Rocks and shells.” I gesture to his bookshelves. “Kind of like you.”

“And are you sure rooming with Sonja is such a good idea? I heard she was in Burnett’s office so much last year they were going to let her bunk in the admin building. Where is she anyway?”

The door swings open and the boy from the cafeteria appears, without the counselor who had escorted him from the dining hall. His lip is swollen and fat. I want to press my finger against it, to see if it would hold the print, like an overripe plum.

“You,” he says.

“Me,” I say, artificial bright, because he’s staring at me with a look harder than ice, and I realize I’m on his bed. I sit up. “So they let you go, huh?”

The boy shrugs and tosses a jacket on the chair by the little desk. “For now. What are you doing here?”

I cross my legs, and my skirt rides up higher. His eyes are glued to them, and he doesn’t care that I know he’s looking, so I pretend not to notice.

“I’m Memory, Julian’s sister.” I hold out my hand. “Thanks for kicking Marcus’ ass.”

“Ethan,” he grunts. “No problem.” He ignores my hand.

I’m stung by his rudeness, as most guys are receptive to that smile, but I don’t show my irritation. I stand, smoothing my palms over my hips, straightening my skirt, and he follows the movement with his eyes. He steps away, letting me move past, and takes my place, lounging back. He’s too huge for the dormitory bed, shoes hanging off the end. His feet are big, too.

I raise an eyebrow, but Julian just shrugs. “Well, I’ve got a another roommate to wait for, and—”

“And clothes to shrink?”