is just as boringly normal Texan
as you can imagine.”
“You ever come to my house when the
whole family’s there, you’ll appreciate boringly normal,” Anson said.
Erick liked Anson already. He left
the unpacking and wandered through the hall, looking for Dale. He ran into
Boylan, the little kicker, and three of Crocker’s D-line seniors, but no Dale.
When he came back to the room, he said, “Damn, I wanted you to meet Dale. Wide
receiver. He’s a fun guy, lived on my floor last year.”
“If you go to the lounge, the RA
has a list of everyone in the hall. Maybe he’s on a different floor.”
Erick went to check the list. Dale
wasn’t on it at all. His disappointment muted by the time he returned to the
room; maybe Dale and Lowell were rooming together in Harris. The nicer rooms
were over there, anyway. He wanted it to be true even if he felt left out --
and whose fault was that, he snarled at himself. Anson finished unpacking, they
walked over to Harris, and Erick pointed out various landmarks along the way.
Harris Hall move-in was as chaotic
as Hopkins. Erick spotted Ken Wotoa carrying a large box inside.
“Hey, Ken.”
Ken stopped and smiled at him over
the heavy box. “Erick. Hey, I was following your posts. What happened after
Madrid?”
Erick faltered. Europe was the last
thing on his mind right now. But of course, people were going to ask about it.
He dimly wondered where Kinney and Yates were, if they were back in Hopkins. He
should stop by and see them.
“Hiked around Spain for a while,
then went to Paris, ran out of money, and came home.”
Ken smiled. “Sounds chill. Good to
see you, Erick.”
“Oh, Ken. This is Anson Dempsey.
New tight end, freshman. I was looking for Lowell. Is he here this year? You
seen Dale?”
“I haven’t seen Dale, but Menacker’s
here. He’s on the fourth floor, rooming with Kryzinski in one of the quad suites.
I’m not sure who else is in there, if it’s our guys.”
“Great, thanks.”
Erick and Anson found Lowell’s
suite -- two double rooms connected by a small common room and a shared
bathroom -- but only Kryzinski and one of the other roommates, a guy from the
track team, were there. They hung around talking to Kryzinski for a while, but
Lowell never showed. As they were leaving Harris, in the disorder of the first
floor, Erick heard someone say, “And there is Erick West, I don’t believe it.
Dude, how the hell have you been?” right before he was crushed in a bear hug
from behind and lifted an inch off the floor.
He turned around and there was
Lowell, his hair mowed into a military buzz-cut, grinning at him. A whoosh of
emotions swept through him; Erick hadn’t been sure of the greeting he’d get --
he’d been kind of a jerk to Lowell right before summer. He gave Lowell a
touchdown hug in return, and they started talking over each other, trying to
catch up, before Erick remembered Anson was standing and waiting to be
introduced.
As Erick expected, Lowell was glad
to meet a new tight end. They went to dinner in Harris Hall’s dining commons,
and instead of catching up, talked offensive line with Anson, who had done more
than memorize the roster, he’d read up on every Crocker game from last season.
“This Dale you’re looking for,” Anson
said. “That’s Dale Lennart, the freshman wide receiver?”
“Sophomore now,” Erick said. He
looked at Lowell. “Dale’s not in Hopkins this year. Did he move to Harris?”
Lowell got an odd look on his face.
“He’s living off campus now.” He seemed about to say something else but
stopped.
“Oh,” said Erick, puzzled. When
they left to return to Hopkins, Lowell hung back with Erick and said quietly, “I’ll
tell you about it later, okay? If you got time tonight, come over and we’ll go
see Dale.”
Back at Hopkins, Erick introduced
Anson to some more guys, then Anson said he had to call his parents before it
was too late back east. Erick had promised to call Candace, but this
as you can imagine.”
“You ever come to my house when the
whole family’s there, you’ll appreciate boringly normal,” Anson said.
Erick liked Anson already. He left
the unpacking and wandered through the hall, looking for Dale. He ran into
Boylan, the little kicker, and three of Crocker’s D-line seniors, but no Dale.
When he came back to the room, he said, “Damn, I wanted you to meet Dale. Wide
receiver. He’s a fun guy, lived on my floor last year.”
“If you go to the lounge, the RA
has a list of everyone in the hall. Maybe he’s on a different floor.”
Erick went to check the list. Dale
wasn’t on it at all. His disappointment muted by the time he returned to the
room; maybe Dale and Lowell were rooming together in Harris. The nicer rooms
were over there, anyway. He wanted it to be true even if he felt left out --
and whose fault was that, he snarled at himself. Anson finished unpacking, they
walked over to Harris, and Erick pointed out various landmarks along the way.
Harris Hall move-in was as chaotic
as Hopkins. Erick spotted Ken Wotoa carrying a large box inside.
“Hey, Ken.”
Ken stopped and smiled at him over
the heavy box. “Erick. Hey, I was following your posts. What happened after
Madrid?”
Erick faltered. Europe was the last
thing on his mind right now. But of course, people were going to ask about it.
He dimly wondered where Kinney and Yates were, if they were back in Hopkins. He
should stop by and see them.
“Hiked around Spain for a while,
then went to Paris, ran out of money, and came home.”
Ken smiled. “Sounds chill. Good to
see you, Erick.”
“Oh, Ken. This is Anson Dempsey.
New tight end, freshman. I was looking for Lowell. Is he here this year? You
seen Dale?”
“I haven’t seen Dale, but Menacker’s
here. He’s on the fourth floor, rooming with Kryzinski in one of the quad suites.
I’m not sure who else is in there, if it’s our guys.”
“Great, thanks.”
Erick and Anson found Lowell’s
suite -- two double rooms connected by a small common room and a shared
bathroom -- but only Kryzinski and one of the other roommates, a guy from the
track team, were there. They hung around talking to Kryzinski for a while, but
Lowell never showed. As they were leaving Harris, in the disorder of the first
floor, Erick heard someone say, “And there is Erick West, I don’t believe it.
Dude, how the hell have you been?” right before he was crushed in a bear hug
from behind and lifted an inch off the floor.
He turned around and there was
Lowell, his hair mowed into a military buzz-cut, grinning at him. A whoosh of
emotions swept through him; Erick hadn’t been sure of the greeting he’d get --
he’d been kind of a jerk to Lowell right before summer. He gave Lowell a
touchdown hug in return, and they started talking over each other, trying to
catch up, before Erick remembered Anson was standing and waiting to be
introduced.
As Erick expected, Lowell was glad
to meet a new tight end. They went to dinner in Harris Hall’s dining commons,
and instead of catching up, talked offensive line with Anson, who had done more
than memorize the roster, he’d read up on every Crocker game from last season.
“This Dale you’re looking for,” Anson
said. “That’s Dale Lennart, the freshman wide receiver?”
“Sophomore now,” Erick said. He
looked at Lowell. “Dale’s not in Hopkins this year. Did he move to Harris?”
Lowell got an odd look on his face.
“He’s living off campus now.” He seemed about to say something else but
stopped.
“Oh,” said Erick, puzzled. When
they left to return to Hopkins, Lowell hung back with Erick and said quietly, “I’ll
tell you about it later, okay? If you got time tonight, come over and we’ll go
see Dale.”
Back at Hopkins, Erick introduced
Anson to some more guys, then Anson said he had to call his parents before it
was too late back east. Erick had promised to call Candace, but this
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