Odin's Murder

He looks around the room, eyes the clutch of teachers in the back, and takes a deep breath. “I think I’ve discovered something. Something big.”

“About Ethan?”

He sloshes coffee on the table. “Have you talked to him today?”

“Not really, why?”

“This isn’t about him.” He grabs at the napkin I brought. “It’s about the—”

“Shhh!” The girl at the next table has her finger to her lips.

A boy with shaggy brown hair takes the stage and recites a poem about the government being corrupt, using mice and cats for imagery. As the crowd claps and the poets change, I scan the darkened room. Ethan left the dorm as Julian and I met in the grass between the buildings, but I haven’t seen him since.

I can’t picture him having a good time with this crowd. I push aside the thought of him, cozy with Danielle, kissing without thunderbolts frying their brains.

“Where is Faye?” my twin asks, again.

“She’s in the back, with the others. She had to come early to sign for a spot.”

“What is she doing?”

“She wanted it to be a surprise.” I say to Julian. “I just hope everyone is fully clothed in it. That girl is impossible to predict.”

My brother snorts at my comment and fidgets with his cup again. I catch Jeremy’s eye, as he leans against the door near the kitchen. He winks and makes a gesture to his watch and signals the numbers three and zero, his estimated time before we can meet. I flash him a cool smile. I’ll catch up with him when I’m ready, though I hope it’s soon.

“I’m not sure how much more of the I-can-save-the-world-through-my-mental-vomit I can listen to,” I mutter. “I just came to see her.”

“I think she’s next. They just lowered the microphone a foot,” he says. Then he groans as the MC announces a break for coffee refills. “Look, we need to talk about the project. And the book.”

“Really? Now? Can’t you give it a rest for a minute?”

“Can’t you just listen to what I have to say? It’s important.” He glances at the stage, then glares back at me.

“Supporting Faye is important! That’s why we’re here.”

“Right. You’re supporting Faye by making eyes at Jeremy all night,” he says. “Does he know his ‘use before’ date is almost up? He’s got, what, at most a week left?”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bad idea? You could really get him in trouble, and remember what happened last summer with—”

“Please don’t say his name.”

He sighs. “Can’t you just focus on the project, and not your libido?”

I flick his wadded napkin at him, “Look. You’re here to do your thing. But art schools don’t give a flying crap about extra academic credit. I’m here so you can have a chance at that scholarship, and yeah, maybe I do feel somewhat guilty about Marcus giving you all that shit, but his actions were his own doing, not mine. So here’s the tradeoff: you leave me alone and I help you get your geek on.”

“How am I supposed to do that when you—”

“Just shut it, Jules. This is the last summer we’ll be here. Maybe next year you can come back as a teaching assistant, but after this I’m done. And yeah, I’m going to have fun while I’m here. I’ll do my work, but you need to lighten up.”

The MC moves to the microphone and announces the next reader.

“Faye isn’t too busy to have a good time while doing her studies. See? Check her out.” I place my fingers between my lips and let out a loud cat-call. “Doesn’t she look amazing?”

She looks like a 1930’s world traveler, Amelia Earhart scarf at her neck and coat belted tight to show off her curves, stopping mid thigh for a short show of skin at her knees, and then those sexy boots. Her makeup is glamorous, sultry eyes and glossy nude mouth. Julian stares at her hard, like most of the boys in the room, but then he turns and shoots me a look of pure horror.

She steps up to the microphone, petite but confident. “Just to be clear, I didn’t write this, but I did help translate it. It’s a children’s teaching rhyme from the ninth century AD, from a runestone found near the Gamla Upsala burial mounds. It’s called the Hrafnafodr, which means ‘Raven-Father.’”