The stream of people was steady and exuberant, yelling across campus with fist pumps and high fives whether they knew one another or not, like churchgoers under some blind, divine light. It was infectious.
Davis turned to where Kelsey and his mother walked side by side, buttoning up the blazer he always wore when he was with his parents, and pointed to a giant brick fraternity house with white columns.
“There’s the smart frat!” He walked backward, like a tour guide.
Kelsey wrapped her coat around her, against the chill, and smiled to herself. Davis was full of it.
“And what does that make Delta Sig?” Anna, Davis’s mother, asked, turning up her manicured hands. “The handsome, intelligent, gentlemanly frat?”
Davis rolled his eyes. Fraternities, especially in his parents’ eyes, were supposed to turn out lawyers and CEOs and politicians. Once he made pledge, his future was set. Davis’s father, George, was one of the most generous alumni to the University of Kansas. Generous enough to have lifetime courtside tickets to KU basketball games, for example.
“Delta Sig is the anti-frat frat,” Davis said, turning around. “They did, like, reverse-psychology hazing on us. They just treated us super nice for two weeks. At first it was cool, and then you realize that it is kind of traumatizing to eat cupcakes for breakfast every day.”
George looked at Kelsey over his shoulder, and slapped his son on the back. “Such a hard life my boy has.”
Kelsey tried to keep herself from giggling. Unbeknownst to his parents, the Delta Sigma house was just a “place to crash” until Davis could find his footing elsewhere. He went to some fraternity events, frequently enough not to get kicked out, but spent most nights in Kansas City, trying out jokes he wrote on notebook paper. Kelsey had always known how much he enjoyed making people laugh. He liked to quote comedians he saw on Comedy Central specials, or reenact ridiculous scenes from the animated shows. But now he was getting serious. He told Kelsey he wanted to go to every open mic in the area, following his true dream: to be a stand-up comedian. Michelle never liked that he was going to be a frat boy. She would have been proud.
Oh, there it was. The inescapable thought. Michelle. A little rip in the wound that she would have to restitch over and over.
“You excited for the game?” Anna put her arm around Kelsey in a quick squeeze as they walked, her bangles clinking together. Since the funeral, Anna had been sending her a card in the mail every week. Not a cheesy Hallmark, just a square piece of thick white card stock. Sometimes they simply said “Thinking of you.” Sometimes there was a quote, like the last one. “Death ends a life, not a relationship.” It was weird, but Kelsey kind of liked that her support came in small doses, unlike her parents, whose new group slogan was LET US HEAL.
Kelsey took a breath, letting the hole in her stomach fill with air. She glanced up at the two men, now debating the starting five. She kept her voice low. “Is it bad that I’m more excited for halftime?”
Anna threw her silver hair back and laughed. “Not in the slightest. That’s going to be your future after all!”
Every time Kelsey went to Allen Fieldhouse, she worried that the pure energy of the people inside would bring the fifty-year-old building down to a pile of bricks. The walls and metal seats and wood of the court—everything literally vibrated. As she joined the sold-out crowd bathed in crimson and blue, Kelsey felt herself lifted. Whether she had wanted it or not, the tradition of this place had soaked into her skin.
By halftime, KU was beating Nebraska by twenty-two points. At any other court in the country, fans would probably be sitting down, smugly checking their phones, making plans for after the game. But not here. A win was a win was a win, whether it was down to the minute or an easy blowout. They would be there to the end, standing.
“And now, please welcome to the court… the Rock Chalk Dancers!”
Kelsey turned her head, her blood heating up as the volume increased, the student section whooping and catcalling. The dancers’ steps were as matched as their deep blue sequined sports bras. Each girl, regardless of color or height, had loose, shoulder-length curls, intimidating abs, and bright red lipstick.
The routine mirrored the volume of the blaring bass behind it, a lot of bends, body rolls, and beckoning hands. It was also flawless. Like a machine.
Davis watched the dancers, his mouth slightly open. Even Anna couldn’t take her eyes off them.
They were hot, sure. But they were even hotter because they loved what they were doing. Kelsey knew exactly how they felt.
The dance ended, the girls standing with their hands on their hips, legs spread apart in a power stance. Through the waves of cheering, Davis put his lips next to Kelsey’s ear, his breath tickling her neck.
“I can’t wait until my girlfriend does that.”
Kelsey felt an electric jolt of pride, watching their perfect walk back to the locker room.
With two minutes left in the game, KU had put in their bench. The fresh-faced boys added layups and three-pointers to their thirty-point lead. The crowd chanted, “Freshmen! Freshmen! Freshmen!”
Then, in the final seconds, the crowd began their haunting, serene battle cry. Kelsey, Davis, Anna, and George filed out. The Rock Chalk Chant sounded more like a Gregorian choir than a fight song.
Michelle had told Kelsey it made everyone sound like they were in a cult.
“Yeah, but it’s a fun cult!” Kelsey had said, and they had cracked up.
Kelsey pushed the memory away. The night had gotten colder. Davis huddled next to her as they walked back down the hill to the car.
Anna called up to Kelsey, using George for balance. “Have you gotten your application in yet, Kelsey?”
“Not yet,” Kelsey said. “I still have to write my personal essay.”
KU applications were due at the end of January. She was putting it off as long as possible. She wished there was Google Translate for personal essays. Like, here are my experiences, please translate them into what I’ve learned.
“I know your parents are busy, so if you’d like, I can take a look at it.”
Kelsey’s parents never looked at her essays for school. Her mom was too harsh, and her dad was too easy. That was Michelle’s job. Write how you would speak, she had always said. And it usually worked, too.
Kelsey managed a grateful smile. “Thank you. I would like that.”
“Do you know what you want to study?”
Kelsey was suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. Her heart had started beating hard without warning. Walking through campus, the very true part of next year was descending upon her. This place was her future, and she had always thought it would be so happy and easy and exactly like she imagined it. But it would not be. Not only because Michelle was gone—she would have been gone anyway, across the country—but also because Kelsey was different. She wasn’t herself. No matter how much she tried, she wasn’t sure she would ever be herself again. The next phase in her life seemed impossible. It was impossible.
She stopped, almost causing Davis’s father to run into her from behind.
“You okay?” Davis asked.
She nodded, and kept walking forward. Sometimes she knew she was secretly pretending Michelle was just on vacation. Or busy. Or asleep.
Another deep breath, looking into Anna’s kind eyes. “I’m not sure what I want to study. I’m not sure about anything, yet.”
“Of course,” Anna said quickly, touching her arm.
They continued in a moment of silence. Breaking the quiet, Davis clapped his hands. “Well, I’m tired of this talk. It might be time for Kelsey and me to retire.”
“Retire, sure,” Anna said. “I think you mispronounced ‘victory party.’”
“Don’t ‘retire’ too hard,” George said, elbowing his son.