Odin's Murder

“No idea.” He packs his camera away. I’m glad. I’ve forgotten my sunglasses and I don’t want any photographic evidence of my bloodshot eyes. “He was already gone when I woke up. He had some kind of idea rolling around in his head last night, about Anders’ book.” He sips from his own cup. There’s no lid; he drinks it black. “He probably went to the library the second someone unlocked the door.”

“Faye was going there, too.” We enter the dining hall, heading straight for the donuts. “Something was eating his brain last night. Probably why he was such a jerk. I hope he doesn’t make her cry again.”

He laughs. “I think they’ll be okay.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Faye’s not you, wrapped up in vanity.”

“So now I’m a slut and vain, too.”

“I never called you a slut. Trust me. I like the look.” His eyes roam my body, head to toe. “I appreciate you wanting to look that hot.”

Over his perverted shoulder I see Jeremy waving at me from a table. I fight a sigh, force a smile on my face and wave. Ethan looks over his shoulder and scowls.

“See you in group,” I say, powdered sugar-sweet. That’s what he gets for calling me vain. Even if he did say I was hot.

*

“I texted him twice,” I tell Faye, with a shrug, though I’m not surprised that Julian hasn’t texted back. My messages weren’t particularly nice. My brother never showed up to study group, which was fine by me. I didn’t even forge his name on Zoe’s sign in sheet; he could come up with his own excuses. I check the time on my phone again. Professor A. is usually late, but my brother never is, and class starts in one minute. “Did either of you see him at lunch?”

Ethan shakes his head.

Faye says, “I saw him in the reference section this morning. He was pretty caught up in what he was looking up. I left the library before he did.”

“He goes on knowledge binges sometimes,” I tell her. “Like he gets all manic about it. Practically inhaling information. You should have seen him the week before we took the SAT’s.”

“Good afternoon, class.” Professor Anders drops a stack of papers and books on his desk. I swing around so I’m facing forward, and the rest of the class does the same. Julian’s empty seat next to me has me drumming my fingernails on my desk, but if he gets in trouble for being absent, that’s his problem. “Sorry I’m late.” Dr. A waves a bandaged hand in the air. “The bookshelf in my office collapsed this morning, but all is well. No books were harmed.”

The class laughs politely as he writes the words ‘Oral History’ on the whiteboard with a green marker.

Someone behind me snorts. “See that, Memory?” he whispers. “He’s talking about you!”

I turn around and glare at Marcus. “Grow up, asshole."

“Today we will discuss how folklore comes about,” Dr A. continues. “How a seed of truth grows into an accepted mythology.”

“Like an urban legend?” Danielle asks.

“In modern terms, yes, exactly. Anyone have an example of one?”

“I’m not sure if this counts but my mother always told me if I swim after eating I would get a cramp and drown,” a boy in the back says.

The class laughs but most of us nod.

“Perfect example. That’s what we call a ‘wives tale’.”

“I heard that if you take LSD more than seven times you can be declared mentally insane.”

We all glance at the girl who says this. Given her colorful appearance, I suspect she’s asking for personal reasons.

“That one is also false.” The teacher smirks. “The literature and legends surrounding drug use is an excellent study in propaganda on both sides, from the counter-culture that encourages use, to the prevention groups that hope to prohibit.”

The windows in the room open horizontal ly . Three black birds sit on one, peering into the room. They touch beaks on occasion, as if discussing the professor’s lecture amongst themselves. I think back, flip through memories, but spoken words don’t embed like images.

“Hey, didn’t Faye say she had five—” I whisper over my shoulder, before I remember that Julian’s seat is empty, but two more join the three on the ledge. They are small, with shorter beaks, Southern Crows, native to this area.

A light wind eddies into the classroom, a premonition of a summer thunderstorm. I hope it lasts long enough to take some of the sweaty heat out of the air. I lift my ponytail off my neck with hands, and my spine pops, muscles still stiff with the lack of sleep last night.