The Ghosts of Dearheart: Book I

Chapter 1

Tieran thought a lot about head injuries lately. How hard you had to get hit for it to qualify as a genuine injury, how long it took to fully recover, how serious any blow to a helmet-protected head could ever truly be. Maybe that was weird, but maybe not when considering the statistical rate at which most football players accumulated concussions. Or maybe it had just been seeing Keenan Gershwitz slam face-first into a goal post so hard last year during practice that he rag-dolled into a ten-minute coma. Now he always seemed to be just subtly off. Even now, as Tieran observed him from across the fraternity house living room nursing a drink, his mouth seemed to be missing the straw a lot. He looked on with a narrowed eye and took a few pulls from his own can of Pabst.

"Barba," a voice to his left called, just before a hand clapped his shoulder.

Tieran turned his head to see the shorter frame of Bo Smithers. He hadn't changed much since they last met. Still a little pudgy for an athlete, still a little acne-scarred, and still sporting that same crooked hairstyle that made him look like his mother had dropped dead in the middle of giving him a bowl-cut. "Smithers," he muttered in greeting.

"Good to see you, bro," Bo said, sidling up to him to join in on surveying the party from the beer pong table. "Looking pretty cut. Guess you haven't skipped any workouts."

"Shit nah," Tieran confirmed.

"Yeah, well I have. Not gonna lie. This freshman fifteen's becoming a sophomore fifty." Bo took an obnoxiously loud gulp of his Truly.

Tieran looked over at him judgmentally. "A seltzer, man? Seriously?"

Bo shrugged. "Gotta do a cut—coach'll bawl me the fuck out if he sees me pack on any more pounds before the season starts. This shit's low cal. Wanna try one?"

Tieran grunted, turning his head away from the drink held out to him. "Get that shit out of my face. It tastes like perfume and castration."

"Doesn't really taste like anything to me. Anyway, you've never been wasted 'til you've been white girl wasted." He clinked his can against Tieran's before drinking again. "Mm. Shit, check it out."

Tieran followed Bo's hand gesture to see another group of party guests arriving in the already over-crowded space. They were mostly girls. Very, very hot girls, some of which he recognized. The most notable among them was a petite blonde of immaculate proportions whose ass could probably raise the dead. In high school, he seemed to remember her dressing down to shy away from that, but outside the reach of her parents' puritanism, it appeared she'd found the confidence for booty shorts and crop tops. Now entering her first semester of college, that girl was no doubt about to hit celebrity status around here.

"Jesus are they ever ripe this year," Bo salivated next to him. "Look at that blonde. God damn, the shit I'd do to her."

"Why don't you go offer her a Truly?" Tieran suggested snidely.

"You're joking, but that might work. Bet she'd tell me her name, at least."

Tieran took a drink, still scanning the room. "Her name's Fay Daniels. We went to the same high school."

"No shit?"

"None whatsoever."

"Fuck," Bo marveled. "Well damn, that's even better. You can introduce us."

"Why? She's never done anything to me."

"Man, come on."

Tieran rubbed the base of his skull slightly. Too much fixation on head injuries had given him a headache. "We didn't really hang with the same crowds. She probably doesn't even know me."