Their children, a blond Chanel-bag and pearls-wearing girl and disinterested-with-the-world boy with black eyeliner and a lip ring hang back and watch as their parents elbow each other for Katie’s attention.
Luke raises his chin in their direction and says, “Helicopter parents.”
“Seriously. They look like the kind of parents that call and yell at HR when their kids don’t get chosen for an internship,” I reply with a laugh.
“Internship! I wouldn’t stop there,” Luke says as we watch Katie frantically try to answer their incessant questions. “They probably call the hiring manager at whatever hedge fund they want them to work at when they don’t get hired in their late twenties.”
“Poor, poor preppy princess and emo kid,” I say with a sympathetic smile. “Maybe if they both go here, they’ll bond over that and date.”
“That guy looks like preppy princess’s parents’ worst nightmare,” Luke replies as we turn and walk toward the other side of campus where Luke’s truck is parked.
“You’re probably right,” I answer. Our conversation falls into a comfortable quiet as we walk down Middle Path, its pebbles crunching under our feet. Middle Path is Templeton’s main artery and runs the length of the entire campus. On either side of the path, trees, thick with the passage of time, hold tight to leaves that are so orange and yellow and red, they look like they’re on fire.
“If heaven has seasons,” I say, my face tilted up, soaking in the vibrant colors, “this must be what fall looks like.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Luke replies, his gaze matching mine. “It’s beautiful here.”
My head nods in agreement. Templeton is like nowhere I’ve ever been, with its monstrous gargoyles, pointed arches, and peaked roofs. This part of Ohio is all rolling hills and forests and cornfields. Its “downtown” consists of a family-run grocery store where students pick up chips and energy drinks, a post office, a coffee shop, and a school bookstore. It’s the type of place where people don’t lock their doors and nothing bad happens. Very different from the life I have in front of me.
“So what’s the verdict?” Luke asks as Templeton’s one-hundred-year-old church bell rings, its heavy, alluring clang announcing a new hour. I look up and down Middle Path and think about all the students who have loved that bell and suddenly my body aches for memories I haven’t even had.
“I love it,” I reply, which is not a lie. Templeton feels like home or something. Or at least the feeling I think people mean when they say it feels like home. I’ve moved around so much, I don’t think I know what that feels like. But I think it’s when your heart knows before your head that this is where you belong.
“Good,” Luke says with a relieved smile. “West Point is only a few hours’ drive. I’d miss you if you were on the other side of the country.”
His words, always uncalculated and sincere, twist my stomach into a million little knots and I can feel my heart constricting under the weight of agony and hope.
“Me too,” I reply, my voice quiet.
“Hey,” Luke says, grabbing my arm. “I dare you to belly flop into that pile of leaves.”
Luke points toward an enormous mountain of leaves on the edge of Middle Path, waiting to be bagged up.
“Luke, you know better than to dare me to do anything,” I reply, a slow smile creeping up my face. In the last year I’ve done a series of pirouettes in the middle of AP bio, meowed at complete strangers in the mall, and stood up and licked my plate clean in the middle of the Cheesecake Factory, all on dares. This one is child’s play. I rock back on my heels, then take off running and leap headfirst into the colorful pile. Crimson, burnt orange, and gold leaves explode around me, then float back down, covering my face and body. I laugh and blow at a yellow leaf that landed on my lips.
“I give you a nine-point-five.” Luke cups his hands around his mouth and calls out to me from down the path.
“A nine-point-five?” I reply and sit up as best I can in the shifting pile. “What the hell? That was a ten.”
“Your technique was good but you lost some style points,” Luke yells, shaking his head with a smile. “You didn’t point your toes during entry into the pile.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” I ask and slap the massive pile next to me. “Show me a ten.”
Luke’s smile cracks even wider. The pebbles on Middle Path scrape loudly against his shoes as he runs toward the pile of leaves. He leaps, arms outstretched like Superman, legs spread, toes pointed, next to me, and the colors explode like harvest fireworks.
“A definite ten,” I say and laugh, picking a red leaf out of his blond hair. “Only you could make belly flopping into leaves look so good.”