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Chapter 1: Jude
My feet pounded on the gritty country road, bright pink shoes blurring against the gray of the pavement. I had woken this afternoon determined to clear my head of the shit storm my life had become, but not even the endorphins created by my exertion were doing the trick.
I couldn’t outrun all the problems that plagued me.
Up ahead, the turnoff for the small farmhouse I was currently living in came into view. I slowed to a walk, pausing to grab the mail from the dented box posted beside the gravel driveway. From here to the house it was another half-mile walk, perfect for a thorough cool-down.
I slogged along the rutted drive that was more a trail than anything remotely acceptable for a vehicle, enjoying the feel of the late autumn sun on my skin. The days were already starting to grow shorter and darker earlier; it wouldn’t be long before fall and then winter set in with a vengeance. I’d have to find somewhere to run inside when that happened. My asthma made running in cold weather an exercise in pain.
As I walked, I flipped through the envelopes in my hand.Bill.Magazine—they obviously didn’t know we weren’t paying the subscription any longer.Letter from Dad’s attorney. That one made me grit my teeth. I was so sick of hearing about Dad, from Dad, from his lawyer… he needed to leave us alone and let us try to pick up the pieces, already. He’d done enough damage.
The next envelope paused my forward motion.Chandler University’s housing department.I’d applied for grant housing on campus to go with my academic scholarship; this would be the notification one way or the other. I held the envelope tight to my chest, and closed my eyes.
God. It’s me, Jude. If you’re still up there, I could use something good right about now.
Finished with my impromptu prayer, I opened my eyes, fixing them on the house standing several yards in front of me before walking forward slowly and sitting down on the top porch step.
Up until around six months ago, we’d lived in our family home in Manhattan. I’d been about to start my final year at Columbia and my sister Eleanor had been enrolled as a freshman in one of the city’s finest secondary academies. We’d lived in a penthouse and had a driver and a cook. We had taken it all for granted.
Until, that is, our Wall Street mogul father ended up being indicted for money laundering and embezzlement, and the city of New York taught us a thing or two about the fleeting nature of wealth and the longevity of a New Yorker’s memory.
Dad went to prison, Mom disappeared, and since tuition hadn’t been paid, Eleanor and I were both relieved of our school acceptances. I had lucked out enough to find this place, which while short on glamour was good enough to be considered ‘home’ by child welfare services when the time came. Eleanor was currently being fostered by an uncle that gave us both the heebie-jeebies, but I knew I needed to get her out of that place as soon as possible.
Despite this place being a dump compared to the luxury my sister and I had come from, it was home sweet home at the moment, and something about its rough edges appealed to me. It reminded me of an aging woman in dishabille. Still beautiful, but timeworn, with wrinkles and scars to testify to the life she’d lived.
I wanted to restore it to its former grace, make it a home. Make the kitchen its heart, fix the wraparound porch so there was a place to sit in the evening and watch the sunset. And I’d need to find some routine pest control. Just this morning I had come face to face with one of those huge wolf spider creatures hanging out on my kitchen floor. Apparently they liked to come inside when the temperatures at night grew cooler and the days were still pleasant.
No. Just…no.
Jude Tiernay didn’t do spiders.
Spiders were evil, wicked, creepy looking things and just thinking about the one this morning made me shiver in repulsion. I’d looked for a blow torch to kill it, but since none were handy I’d had to use a shoe attached to the end of a broomstick. I’d stood on my kitchen table and brought the shoe down upon it as though I were spear-fishing a shark, gagging when I heard the crunch. The shoe was currently in my yard and I wasn’t planning on bringing it back anytime soon.
Even with the spider, I loved the potential of the little house. I sighed and tapped the envelope on my knee, afraid to open it and read its contents. I only wished it was closer to my new university.
The envelope in my lap basically held my future. I had transferred to Chandler to be near Eleanor. It was both the closest university to where our uncle lived and the only one offering me a scholarship. It was still, however, more than an hour away. For the past month, I’d been driving three hours daily to go to school in the morning and my nearby waitressing job at night. I arrived on campus early in the morning for my first class of the day, stalked the cafes and library all day, went to work at Sugar Babes, then returned home late at night, usually arriving well past midnight. Then I’d get up the next morning and do it all over again.
I gripped the envelope tight in my hand. I couldn’t keep it up for much longer. The grant would make it feasible for me to live on campus during the week and come to the farmhouse on the weekend. I wouldn’t be available to Eleanor as much during the week, but we could make that work.
My fingers trembled as I slid one beneath the flap and peeled it up. Nausea roiled in my belly, the product of a chronically nervous stomach. damnit, I was going to puke before I read it at this rate.
Determined, I opened it all the way and removed the single sheet of paper, scanning the paragraphs swiftly.
Dear Ms. Tiernay,
We are pleased to offer you the Chandler University Housing Grant for school year 2021-2022.
Yes! My fist shot into the air and I happy-danced my feet on the wooden step beneath them. I’d gotten it! Relieved tears spilled over to my cheeks.
This grant provides for housing in the Bueller Dorm consisting of a private room within a quad with the roommates listed below. The grant is contingent upon grades remaining consistently in the top ten percent of all university attendees, standards for which are listed on the reverse.
There were several other paragraphs concerning my access card and amenities, but I skimmed over those to study the names of my roommates.
Galen . Ezra . Baron .
Was it just me, or did these look like guys’ names? A low throb of anxiety started in my chest.Nononono…there had to be some mistake! Why was I in a men’s dorm?
The answer struck me almost as quickly as I asked myself the question. My name. Jude was not a typical name for a female. The housing department had just… gotten their wires crossed. Easily fixed.
