A Million Miles Away (9 page)

Inside, a pair of ESPN announcers loomed over the dining hall on a flat screen. Girls and guys who had begun the day looking like they walked off the cover of a J. Crew catalog had dissolved into a red-faced gaggle of haphazard warriors, ties around heads, Oxfords unbuttoned, screaming obscenities at a shot of the Missouri student section.

Davis was among them. A T-shirt that he had made himself read,
HOW DO YOU GET A MISSOURI GRADUATE OFF YOUR PORCH? PAY FOR THE PIZZA
. The guys slapped their arms around him and the girls kissed him on the cheek. His plan to crash at the fraternity seemed to have been sidelined by actually enjoying the fraternity. He couldn’t help it, Kelsey knew. The only thing Davis liked better than making people laugh was making people laugh at parties, and there seemed to be a new one every other day.

As a whistle blew and the announcer shouted, the college students jumped together in a line, a soup of crimson and blue T-shirts with Greek letters.

“Lawrence, Kansas, and Columbia, Missouri. Two college towns, sweet and small, nice downtowns, just a few hours’ drive from one another across the Kansas River. Peaceful, right? Heck, I’ve heard this area called Flyover Country. But boy, if you could be here in Kemper Arena tonight, you’d never know it. The energy is practically visible in the hatred between these crowds, folks. Crimson and blue, black and gold, clashing in the air, and it is deafening. The Kansas Jayhawks and the Missouri Tigers meet in the middle for their Border Showdown, and this has gone beyond basketball. This is war.”

War. Kelsey was thinking of Peter. This was such a small, silly version of “war.” She took a large sip of her rum and Coke.

Kelsey was wearing a Jayhawks jersey she had belted into a dress. She joined in the fight song, clapping at the right parts.

A girl all in blue, her black hair in a bundle of braids, set her drink next to Kelsey’s. At a second glance, Kelsey noticed the words emblazoned on her warm-up jacket.

“Excuse me,” Kelsey said, raising her voice above the din.

The girl turned, revealing brown eyes and polished lips.

“Are you a Rock Chalk Dancer?” It made sense a few of them would be partying; not every dancer traveled with the team.

Though she was shorter than Kelsey, she had a way of appearing taller. Perfect posture. “I am.”

Kelsey stuck out her hand. “I’m Kelsey. I’ll be trying out in the spring.”

The girl cocked her head. “Are you? Then what’s that in your hand?”

Kelsey looked down at her rum and Coke, feeling her face turn hot. “I’m not drinking—I’m just here to watch the game. My boyfriend is—”

The students joined in with the blare of the Rock Chalk Chant through the TV, gaining volume with each verse.

The girl got closer, yelling into her ear. “Did I ask who your boyfriend is?”

“No, but—” Kelsey’s mouth fell slack, unable to form words.

The girl’s face broke into a smile, and then a full-on laugh. “I’m messing with you.”

“Oh.” Kelsey’s heart was still beating out of her chest, though she wasn’t quite sure why. She allowed herself a smile, and joined in another round of the fight song. Clap, clap, clap, clap-clap-clap. She and the girl paused conversation and dutifully yelled, “Go Hawks!”

“I’m Nicki.” She grabbed Kelsey’s hand and shook it. “Hey!” She gestured to another pair of girls in blue warm-up jackets. A redhead and a blonde approached them, holding drinks, filling the surrounding air with different perfumes. Their solid thighs filled their jeans and their lower abs were visible under their cropped shirts.
And I thought I was in shape
, Kelsey mused.

Nicki pointed at them one by one. “This is Missy, sprained ankle, this is Jen, pulled hamstring. Everybody, this is Kelsey. Cheers!”

The girls lifted their red cups. Kelsey felt the stares of surrounding partygoers and gulped the rest of her drink down.

Nicki nodded toward her. “Kelsey’s trying out.”

The redhead, Missy, gave a whoop. “Good for you! Are you ready?”

Before Kelsey could answer, Jen, the blonde, leaned toward her and touched her hair in its bun. “Whatever you do, make sure you do your hair.”

“Totally,” Missy said. “I got a blowout last year. Completely ruined by sweat the first routine. It was worth it, though. The girls wearing plain ponytails might as well have not even been there. The captains, like, barely looked up from their clipboards during their dances.”

Kelsey found her voice, feeling the hot rum travel to her belly. “What else do I need to know?”

A flood of voices came at once, bouncing back and forth around her.

“Everything’s intense.”

“You can’t just coast by on looks.”

“But it’s a big part of it.”

“We’re the distraction, you know? We’re the eye candy.”

“If you have a decent pair of splits, you’ll be fine.”

“You look the part.”

“You just need to smile a little more.”

“Yeah, smile!”

Kelsey smiled.

Nicki cupped Kelsey’s chin. “There you go.”

Missy and Jen gave her hugs from either side. Their smiles were wide and real, and Kelsey worked hard to match them.

Soon, the girls were joined by more Rock Chalk Dancers, who took it upon themselves to climb on the Delta Sigma pool table and perform pom-pom routines during commercial breaks.

After a while, Kelsey was sweating. She couldn’t keep up with all the names they shouted, the places she didn’t know, the inside jokes.

When the fight song started up again, she had to move away. She found Davis among a sea of sorority sisters, refilling his drink.

“It’s my baby,” he sang in a made-up song. “My baby gi-i-i-rl.”

She straightened his collar as he swayed in front of her, not sure if he was actually moving back and forth or if her vision was wonky. “Hi,” Kelsey replied, her tongue heavy.

He bent close to her ear. “Are you having fun?”

“You are. That’s for sure.”

“I love these guys.” He said it again, shouting at his brothers. “I love these guys!” They shouted and pointed back. “And I love you.”

He kissed her, warm and wet, and bundled her in his arms.

“I love you, too,” Kelsey said. The sight of him bobbing through all these people, electrified and red-cheeked like a little boy, made her happy. But Kelsey was feeling hot and dizzy. She needed air and silence.

“I’m tired, baby,” she found herself saying into the folds of his shirt.

He brought her out, holding her by her shoulders. “But we’re winning!”

“I know!” Kelsey used her last bit of party energy to high-five two sorority sisters on either side of Davis. They looked so tiny and perfect, like My Size Barbie dolls.

“And everyone’s here!”

“I know,” she continued, and finally, Davis paused, looking into her eyes.

He put his arm around her. “Let me drive you home.”

“Ha!” Kelsey let out. “No way. You’ve been drinking.”

“I can give you a piggyback ride? Or maybe call a taxi cab? Does Lawrence even have cabs?”

Kelsey laughed at his confusion.

After convincing him that the well-lit, friendly streets would be fine to walk, and a long, kiss-filled good-bye, Kelsey zipped up her coat and started down the hill and into town. Streetlights pulsed in her tipsy vision, and the cold wrapped her exposed skin. Soon, she was on Massachusetts Street, weaving between the celebrators, hearing cheers erupt from inside the bars as she passed. She felt a pang of envy. She wondered if she should have stayed. When she realized she couldn’t feel her fingers or toes, she slipped into La Prima Tazza. Michelle used to practically live in the coffee shop, especially during finals.

The place was dim and a little busted, with cherry-brown counters and mismatching lamps at every table, empty except for two middle schoolers playing a fantasy card game in a corner and the barista, a skinny college-aged man. When she got closer, Kelsey couldn’t help but notice how big and luminous the barista’s eyes were compared to his face. He was singing along to an indie song on the radio as he worked. His T-shirt, which was too small for him, had a Campbell’s soup can on it.

“We don’t sell beer,” he intoned from behind the rows of flavored syrups, cleaning a cup.

Kelsey realized he must be referring to her KU gear. The place was probably mistaken for a bar because it was open late. “Good,” she said. “Because I want the opposite of beer.”

“Oh.” He stopped cleaning and looked up. Then he narrowed his eyes at her. “Stop,” she heard him say. Kelsey met his gaze. He was biting his lip in serious thought. “Holy shit.”

“What?”

“Just a second.”

He glided around the counter and pulled her into a hug.

Kelsey didn’t move her arms inside of his skinny ones, wrapping her tight. Then he returned to his position, smacking his hands on the counter. “You look just like Michelle.”

“Yeah—” Kelsey started.

He put up a hand, shaking his head in disbelief. “No. It’s freaky. There are twins, and there are
twins
.”

Kelsey nodded. “We were twins,” she said, because that was all she could think to say.

He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m being dramatic. I’ve had a long day. Espresso?”

“Lay it on me,” Kelsey said, rubbing her numb hands together.

While he pressed the grounds, his eyes kept flickering in her direction, searching for something. He set a tiny cup on the counter with a flourish.

Kelsey shuffled in her purse for her wallet. She put out a five to pay for the drink, but he pushed it away. She looked up at him, his large eyes blinking.

“Honey, please,” he said. “Your money’s no good here.”

“Thank you,” she said, and inside, she felt a trace of the first real laugh she’d had all night. She giggled and took a sip of her espresso. “You are dramatic.”

“So?” He leaned on the counter, watching her. “What’s the point of experiencing life if no one else takes notice?”

“Like, if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, did it really fall type of thing?”

“Exactly. I’m Ian, by the way.”

“Kelsey. So you knew Mitch?”

“Yes. She came in here to draw late at night. Sometimes we went to parties together.”

Kelsey searched her memory, but she couldn’t remember him among Michelle’s boyfriends. “I wonder why she never brought you home to meet us.”

“Not together together.” He smiled wryly. “Michelle’s not really my type.”

It appeared girls in general were not his type. Kelsey clicked her tongue and pointed a finger gun at him. “Got it.”

“I should have just told you I was a dancer, like you.”

“How did you know I was a dancer?”

He furrowed his brow. “Michelle talked about you all the time. You think I would just hug a stranger because she looks like my friend?”

Kelsey felt a smile come on. “No, but you know who would do that?”

They said it together: “Michelle.”

After they laughed, they sat in silence, remembering. Finally, he spoke. “She said that your parents pretended to approve of you both, but secretly they were afraid you would grow up to be starving artists.”

Kelsey felt her mouth drop open. “Michelle said that? That’s funny, because I’m no artist. Michelle was the artist.”

Ian made a
psh
sound and pretended to be offended. “You’re saying dancers aren’t artists?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Just that I don’t do any modern dance. Nothing that expresses, like, feelings.” He was still staring at her with those all-knowing eyes. She threw up her hands. “I’m not a tortured genius! I want to be a Rock Chalk Dancer with the hair and the uniform and the crowd. I just like to shake my ass.”

Ian threw his head back, laughing. “Hey, me, too. Me, too. But don’t sell yourself short. You don’t have to be tortured to be an artist. I’m happy. Michelle was happy.”

Kelsey paused, thinking. “I think she wanted to be a genius, though. She wanted to be original. I don’t care about any of that. I like being a part of something bigger than myself, something that everyone can understand.” She pointed to the Jayhawks logo on her jersey. “Like this.”

In response, all Ian did was point to the soup can on his T-shirt.

Kelsey recognized it from the poster in Michelle’s room. “Warhol, right? Yeah, he was her favorite.”

He turned away from her to the sink, back to his task. “You want to know why Michelle called you an artist? Look up Andy Warhol.”

Kelsey didn’t know Michelle even talked about her when she wasn’t around. She didn’t know Michelle was worried their parents disapproved. She hadn’t even had a conversation with one of Michelle’s friends lasting more than “I’m the other twin,” or, “Michelle’s upstairs.”

Kelsey put her hands around the tiny cup, soaking in the warmth. “God, there was so much I didn’t know about her.”

Ian shrugged. “Maybe it never occurred to you to ask because you didn’t have to.”