Page 84 of The Sound of Harmony

“No, it’s some kind of sorority and fraternity thing. Today is dare day.”

“Do I even want to know what that is?”

“You don’t,” Gwendolyn assured him. “Be careful walking home. The dares get dumber every year.”

“Noted.”

Halfway home, Kendrick wished he’d gotten a more thorough explanation of the sorority dares from Gwendolyn. He was walking across the pedestrian bridge over the Scobal River, taking his time, admiring the fall colors in the trees that lined the shore. The rest of the bridge was empty and he stopped in the middle, enjoying the sound of rushing water and the wind stirring the trees. Below him, the college crew team glided by—eight rowers and one in the front calling out commands. Their movements were perfectly synchronized and it was almost hypnotic to watch them act as one.

He heard a disturbance behind him, but it was far off, so he didn’t worry about it. That is, until a short girl in jeans and a sweatshirt emblazoned with Greek letters darted in front of him holding a large yellow squirt gun. “Don’t even try it, bitch.”

“What?” Kendrick held up his hands.

“Not you,” the girl snarled. “Her.”

He turned and the girl ducked behind him. Another young woman, this one tall and willowy like a dancer, charged toward him with a high-capacity squirt gun of her own.

“Ha!” The second girl declared, breathless from running. She had spots of color on her cheeks and her bangs were plastered to her head with sweat. She took aim. “You think that will stop me?”

“Whatever this is, take it elsewhere,” Kendrick growled. He tried to get out of their way, but the smaller girl held onto the hem of his jacket, turning as he turned. “No, stop it. Get off,” he said. “This has nothing to do with me.”

“We warned you,” the tall girl told him. “We told you to get out of the way.”

“You did not.” He swatted his arms behind him, trying to dislodge his hanger-on. She squealed and laughed and moved with him, delighted that she’d found a human shield.

The tall girl feinted left, pivoted right, and fired. Her stream of water missed her short friend entirely but soaked Kendrick’s shirt, jacket, and part of his pants. When he tried to turn away, she got him again, a sharp stream of water down the back of his pants and onto his socks. His staff paper had taken a direct hit as well. A jagged line of anger ripped through him, ringing in his ears.

The short girl danced out from behind him and fired back, but she missed her friend and somehow got him again, right on the crotch. It was too precise to be an accident. They were deliberately targeting him.

Both girls laughed and yelled and squirted his hair and his face until water ran down his collar and onto his neck.

“Enough!” Kendrick roared. He flailed and tried to grab for one of the squirt guns, but they were too quick for him. He resorted to using his already-soaked notebook as a shield until they ran out of water.

“What is going on?” he yelled “Why me?”

“Well, we did tell you to move,” the short girl pouted.

“Bullshit,” Kendrick said. “You would have gotten me anyway.”

“Go, go,” the short girl told her friend.

The tall girl hefted her weapon and backed away toward campus. The short one sent a mildly apologetic look Kendrick’s way before going after her friend. “I have to do what the Kappa Gammas tell me to do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do if I want in.” She darted away. “Sorry, mister!”

Kendrick seethed the rest of the way home. He might, possibly, be able to save a few sheets of manuscript paper from the middle of the notebook, but he doubted it. Stupid college kids.

He replayed the incident on the bridge, wondering if he could have avoided it. Had those students tried to warn him? Told him to get out of the way? He’d thought he’d heard a disturbance, shouts and laughter, but he’d assumed it was far off. Were they right behind him the whole time, without him noticing? Was he an easy mark? That thought bothered him as much as the wet clothes did.

He got dressed in fresh clothes, thinking about Gwendolyn’s dislike of students. He was starting to see where she was coming from. Why was he living in Cannondale anyway? He was alone in this giant house a few steps from campus, like he was some kind of professor or artist-in-residence or someone else who had a connection to the university. He had nothing to do with the place.

Columbus had more of what he needed—doctors, musical opportunities, maybe even some kind of full-time job. It also had less of what he didn’t need—students. Columbus was a city that happened to have a university in it, not a town that revolved around its college.

Maybe, instead of trying to live here and have a life there, he should move. Selling his house would give him enough cash to keep him going for several years. And the house would sell in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t even need to stage it, since Emma had it looking flawless.

Emma.