Running Home – Chapter 1 (Penn and Sword series)

Tonight, 2024

I settle a cardboard box on my hip, straighten my green checkered skirt, and hold my chin high as I follow my new roomie inside. The prominent dorm, affectionately dubbed Excalibur, sits just on the edge of campus. It used to be an old staff building, supposedly, that caught fire and was renovated on the cheap to make room for more students, with a vacant room that opened up right before the start of semester on Monday. I snagged it without question, signing paperwork minutes after seeing the ad online. Anything to put a roof over my head. And at this low rate? Even if it’s crawling with bugs, how could I pass it up?

“Welcome home!” my new roomie shouts. He’d insisted on helping carry my boxes, balancing the two largest in his arms.

I paste on a smile and hold open the door with a foot. “Got ya.”

“Thanks,” the young man says, pale cheeks reddening. His blue eyes flash up at me, a pleasant clear color, pretty even, then down to his feet. “Guess I bit off more than I could chew.”

“Hell yeah you did,” a voice agrees from inside. “Hey, hey, who’s this fox?”

I startle, losing hold of the door. It swings back and smacks my helper, top box smooshing him square in the face.

“Smooth, Simon, real smooth,” the same voice jokes from the couch. I find the source easily. He’s tall, long legs bent sharply at the knee to accommodate his resting elbows. His welcoming grin sends pleasant tingles down my back. “Already got him carrying your things. Very nice.”

Under his approving wink, I smirk. “Might as well take advantage of chivalry when it rises from the grave, don’t you think?”

“I, for one, believe chivalry is sexist.”

“But ever so useful.”

The flirting boy snorts a low laugh.

At his side, another young man, presumably another one of my roommates, nudges his arm. “Game, Landon.”

Landon whirls around. “Shit, slow down!”

I suck in a deep breath and drink in the room. Here they all are. My new roommates, all crowded into a cramped living space. The two boys, flirting Landon with his curling black hair and a pale student with messy locks and glasses, clutch controllers, playing out a video game car chase across a TV screen. A focused blonde girl lounges on a loveseat, eyes flickering across a scrolling feed on her phone.

My final roomie, another girl with tightly wound twisting hair, brightens and springs to her feet from a lumpy beanbag on the floor. “You’re here!” Her curls bounce in time with her animated words. “I’m Bethany.” Her energy pulls a smile onto my lips. “This is Jordan.” She gestures to the phone girl, who gives a short, no-eye-contact wave. “And Harry.” She prods the bespectacled gamer in the shoulder. He just grunts in response. “And Landon.” Bethany flicks the flirtatious boy in the neck.

“The shit!” Landon whips around with a glare. “Cut it out, Beth!”

She giggles. “New roomie, hello!” Bethany skips closer, nodding a head toward the guy helping me move in. “Oh, and Simon, of course. Fearless leader.”

Simon joins us, recovered and carrying the boxes with renewed strength. “We’ve met. This morning.” He stands straighter, as if proud of knowing me the longest. “Uh, Beth, did you order the pizza?”

“It’s on the way!”

A tsk sounds from the loveseat girl. “Pizza? Again?”

Simon shrugs. “Unless you want to put on an apron and cook, we’re doing pizza.”

She rolls her eyes and crowds closer to her phone.

Bethany beams. “You’re taking Sarah’s room?” Her lined eyes sparkle wide, imploring. They’re pretty and warm, like melted brown sugar.

I shrug. “If she used to live in the vacancy, then… I guess so.”

From the couch, Harry asks, “You gunna have a nervous breakdown, too?”

“Harry!” Bethany hits his arm.

Landon glances my way again, studies me up and down, black leggings to my tidy forest green sweater. The way many attracted eyes have shamelessly appraised me in the past. The tip of his tongue pokes out over his lip, and he throws me a wink. “Eh, she looks stable. Enough.”

“Thanks,” I say, chin raising under his attention. “I think?”

Landon grins.

“Warm welcomes, not our strength,” Simon says, stepping between us. Pointedly.

I stifle a smirk at both of the boys’ obvious interest in me.

Bethany rolls her eyes, noticing the same. She leans close and stage whispers, “Do not fall for their wiles. Especially Lan.”

Landon smacks the arm of the couch. “Hey! I have no wiles!”

“Sure don’t,” Simon jokes, then nods for me to follow. “C’mon, I’ll show you up.”

“Chef Mate in five!” Bethany calls.

“Yeah, yeah.” Simon sighs, hurrying away from the group.

I cast them all a long stare, worry needling a path between my lungs. I would have preferred to live alone at all costs, but costs are the problem. The shared house’s rent can’t be beat this close to campus. But if I just stick to my bedroom between classes and work, then no one will even know I exist.

Pressing a palm to my chest, I calm my strained breaths.

The trek to my new room becomes an impromptu tour of Excalibur. Simon shows off the long black and white tiled kitchen with every manner of thrifted pots and kettles and spoons. I keep my head low, diverting my eyes from the stove and sink and knife block, as if standing in the kitchen for too long will manifest my not-distant-enough past. I hurry him along to the creaky, stained carpeted stairs with a rickety railing. Landon was supposed to fix it days ago, Simon points out. On a positive, he proudly presents their expansive collection of movie posters decorating every available wall. Some original release, some artful recreations.

On the second floor, Simon shows a long hall of rooms and where everyone lives. “I’m right here at the top of the stairs,” he says, knocking an elbow against a whiteboard sign on his door, reading CLASS STARTS MONDAY in black marker. “If you ever need anything.”

I refrain from an impatient foot stomp and paste on a polite smile. “Cool.”

His own smile broadens with a nervous laugh. “Uh, you’re one more up.”

The third floor opens into a loft overlooking the second. More beanbags huddle close to a small TV in the corner with shelves of DVDs. Clearly a house of movie fans. “Bathroom’s there. Jordan’s got the room right by the stairs. And you… are here!”

“Wow. Big place.”

“Yeah, completely gutted admin building. Fire took out a lot of the back of the house. But worked out for us! Better to split rent than live alone. Gotta survive crippling student debt somehow.”

I struggle to maintain a poised mouth.

Simon leads the way to the last door behind the bathroom.

I scan it, chest tightening once more. That door means this is all really happening. New roof, new path, new life. The shiny painted finish still has tape corners from the previous tenant’s posters or door decorations. “Previous girl left in a hurry, huh?”

“Uh, yeah.” Simon adjusts the boxes in his arms. “I mean. She’s fine. She just… had to go back home, you know? Some people can’t handle college life.”

“The semester hasn’t even started.”

“You know how it is. First time out on your own. It’s scary. She had nightmares. Constantly. Said she couldn’t sleep here anymore.”

“So, my room is haunted?”

“What? No! No, no, no, nothing like that. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Simon, I’m joking.”

“Oh, right. Ha…”

Across the hall, another white-painted door stands empty of decorations or whiteboards, like everyone else. It almost seems dusty with disuse. “I got a neighbor?”

Simon turns. “Oh yeah, that’s um, well… We call him the Ghost.”

“Excuse me?” I laugh once.

Simon brightens at the sound. “I mean, he’s not a ghost ghost. He’s just never really here. That’s all. Pays rent, quiet as a mouse. Door’s always locked.”

I raise a brow, noting the blue lanyard of keys hanging around Simon’s neck. “A haunted bedroom and now a ghost. Don’t tell me you’re a vampire or something.”

Simon guffaws loud, cheeks going red again. “A vampire… ha, oh my god, you’re hilarious.”

I take my new doorknob and open up to a small, carpeted room. Someone shoved a twin mattress and thin metal frame in the back right corner under the rectangular window. A cheap set of wooden drawers presses against the wall on the left. The roof angles upward toward us, shrinking the room with every step in. Together, Simon and I have enough room to drop my boxes on the small square desk by the door, but that’s about it. There’s not even enough room to roll out a full yoga mat, I realize with a heavy heart.

Simon nods. “I figured, since you’re single, should be enough space?”

The fish for my relationship status doesn’t slip by. “It’ll work.”

“Great,” Simon says. He leans against the doorjamb. Lingering. Obviously wanting to say something.

I bite back an amused smile. He’s cute. But I don’t have the energy to handle more awkward flirting.

Simon licks his lips. “We usually do reality TV hour most nights. If that’s your thing.”

“I think I’m good. Got an early morning anyway.” I point out the window to the darkening sky.

“Right. Job. You said you had a job.”

I pointedly focus on the door. “Thanks for helping bring up my stuff.”

“Do you have more? I can—”

I grip the doorknob. “Gunna pick up the rest tomorrow.”

“Need a ride? I have the only running car in the house—”

“I’ll manage.” I force another polite smile. “Bathroom next door?”

“Oh. Yeah. Guess you wanna settle in, huh?”

I nod once.

“Right, well,” Simon says, clapping a hand over a fist. “Night then, Acantha.”

“Night, Simon.” I close the door after him.

Once his footsteps pad away, I release a tired breath and press my aching back against the door.

Alone. Finally.

And… a home?

Shoved at the top of a shared house called Excalibur, already thick with heat and musty air, filled with emotionally buzzing people, but… a home. Right?

The word feels sticky, too loaded. No, this place is just a roof and four walls, a residence, a reprieve. Temporary.

My true home died three weeks ago.

Chest tight, I push off the door, needing a distraction from my sizzling nerves. I set to work unpacking boxes. Notebooks and index cards will live on top of the dresser with my extensive collection of red gel pens. A red felt blanket spreads out over the bare mattress. School things hide under the bed. My few pajamas, athletic leggings, and work polos only fill up two drawers. It takes mere minutes before I’m unpacked. Upper spare room, claimed.

Compared to my old bedroom in the small apartment above my family’s diner, it feels empty. Too pristine. I’d gotten so used to seeing two beds, two dressers, two piles of dirty clothes growing on the floor. The walls should be pinned with movie tickets and travel magazine articles and endless pencil-scratched recipe cards. The air should buzz with sisterly giggles and plans for the future. Every breath should be heavy with spice or sugar or mouth-watering buttery scents.

I’d never had my own room before. Had never wanted one. The idea of living alone, even if better overall, still bristles the hairs on my neck. Like tiny feet creeping along my shoulders, down my spine.

I shake the tickle away and scurry to the bathroom with my toiletries to brush teeth and comb hair. I avoid my reflection’s gaze in the mirror, not ready to face the purple under my eyes or the downturn of my lips or the cascade of freckles contrasted against malnourished, sallow skin. I finish as quickly as I can, protecting my hair in a silk scrunchie-tied bun, then slip back to my new room before anyone corners me in another conversation.

I plug in my phone to set an alarm for six hours from now. Cheesus. I wish I could sleep a week. With a sigh, I dress in red-checkered pajama bottoms, lay out tomorrow’s work clothes on top of the dresser, then lie back on the mattress to clutch my red blanket tight.

Panicky pressure pulses in my sternum, but I let out a slow breath. I push the diner and my sister’s sparkling eyes and my entire previous world to the back of my mind in a small, vacuum sealed icebox. This place, Excalibur or whatever, will work. I can make it work. There’s no turning back now, anyway. Not after that floor-shaking fight at the diner. After holding a shivering, crying Eudora. After waking up alone in our shared bedroom and finding the goodbye note…

I shove the echo of police sirens and my roaring sobs into the ice as well. At the bottom of my skull. In the dark. Locked away.

It takes the rest of Excalibur’s residents another two hours to relax below, doors closing, goodnights exchanged across hallways. When the house settles in its creaks, and I finally decide I’ll be here at least a semester, given my two jobs and now empty savings account, I close my eyes and try to accept it. Ready for any sliver of rest I can catch.

Until a creak wakes me.