#2 When the Moon Turns Red
Chapter 1

Evie

“Not again.” I grumbled to myself, staring up at the building I had passed twice already. I clutched the strap of my backpack and looked around.

“You look lost.” A girl chuckled, walking up to me.

“Is it that obvious?” I laughed nervously.

“Your shoes give it a way.” She shrugged, looking down at my new boots,

“You’re in Lafayette, a whole five minutes from the bayou. Any self respecting Lousianaian would have mud on her boots.” The girl explained.

“Guilty, I guess.”

“I’m Molly.” She stuck out her hand and I shook it,

“Evie.”

“Where are you trying to go?” She asked me, gesturing around the university’s campus.

“The fine arts building.” I said in defeat. Molly laughed at me and pointed across campus,

“It’s clear on the other side.”

“That figures.” I dropped my head and started walking.

“I’ll show you the way, I don’t have anywhere else to be.” Molly said, walking beside me.

“So, where are you from?” I looked sideways at the tall, perky bernette walking next to me and decided that I shouldn’t ditch the only friend I’ve made since I moved here.

“I moved here from Masschusettes, but I’m originally from Hawaii.” I replied.

“Wow, a world traveler. I’ve never been outside of Lousianna.” Molly admitted,

“What brings you here?” she asked.

“Their folklore studies program.” I answered plainly.

“Really?” Molly sounded surprised. I looked over at her, slightly offended.

“What about you?” I asked her as we followed the sidewalks across campus.

“Oh I’m undecided. I’m a sophomore and I do not have my life together.” Molly laughed at herself.

“You’re telling me.” I said, mostly to myself. I was surprised Molly even heard me.

“I don’t know, you look pretty put together to me.” Molly replied, looking me up and down.

“I have a master’s in political science from Harvord and I’ve never once used my degree. Instead, I decided to go back to school for another masters. Trust me, being ‘decided’ doesn’t mean your life is together.” I said as we came to a stop in front of the fine arts building.

“Wow, that kind of makes me feel better.” Molly smirked.

“Thanks, Molly.” I sighed.

“Hey, Evie,” Molly grabbed my arm, stopping me from walking up the steps to the building,

“Let me give you my number. There’s gonna be a bonfire in the bayou tomorrow night. You should come.” Molly wrote her number in pen on the palm of my hand.

“I don’t know, it’s my first weekend here. I’m still settling in.” I shrugged.

“Please come! You need friends to survive, new girl.” She teased me.

“I’ll think about it.” I agreed before entering the building and settling into my class.

It was my first week on campus and I was still struggling to replace my classes. I was never good at directions. Even after my year of traveling the world, I still can’t replace my way out of a brown paper bag. My apartment was a few minutes off of campus, just far enough away to avoid the college student markup on rent, but close enough to catch the university shuttle.

I never expected to be back in school. When I graduated three years ago, I thought I was done. I would settle into a cushy career in politics, maybe be an ambassador and travel a bit. But, that wasn’t what life had in store for me. A few months ago, I decided to go back to school.

So, here I am, at the University of Louisiana in Lafayette attending the 18-month master’s program in folklore. Everyone thought I was crazy, including me.

After two more classes, I was back on the shuttle heading home. When I stepped off the bus, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. I nervously clutched my backpack in one hand and my apartment keys in the other. I looked around the brightly lit street, the sun just starting to set. It was nothing more than the normal hustle and bustle. The streets of Lafayette were never quiet. I shook my head, laughing at myself for being so dramatic.

I quickly made it to my apartment. It was a townhome settled in a nice community. It was gray and blue on the outside with a nice porch in the front and a medium sized deck out the back. I unlocked the navy blue door and flicked on the lights. I tossed my keys on the table I had situated by the entryway and kicked off my shoes. Hanging my backpack up on the coat rack, I fished my phone out of my back pocket just as it started to ring.

“Hi, mom.” I answered, plopping down on the sofa.

“Hi, sweety, how was your first week?” My mother’s cheerful voice immediately lifted my mood.

“It was good, nothing out of the ordinary.” I replied.

“Any big plans for the weekend?” She asked.

“I was invited to a bonfire by a girl I met in school.” I admitted.

“Oh, that sounds like fun!” My mother was the pep-girl, cheerleader type. She always encouraged me to get involved and make friends. I, on the other hand, took after my father. I preferred to be a loner and was a major homebody. I did just enough extra curriculars in highschool to boost my college applications and my entire 5 years of Harvard consisted of study groups and the debate team.

“Yeah, we’ll see.” I grumbled. I could practically hear my mother’s eyes rolling as she sighed,

“Evie,” here it comes,

“You already did the college thing once. This time, try to do more than study.” I swear, I had the only mother on the planet who told me not to study.

“Oh, your father wants to talk to you.” She said suddenly. There was a commotion on the other end of the phone, and then my dad’s voice cut through the static,

“Hey there, little fish.” I giggled at my childhood nickname. I grew up in Hawaii and the ocean was my favorite place on earth. We had a home right on the beach and my parents so often had to physically drag me out of the water well after dark.

“Hi, dad.”

“How are you?”

“Good, a little tired.” I confessed.

“Get some rest, honey. For the record, your mother is right about one thing. You work too hard.” My dad chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” I blew him off.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I ended the call and tossed my phone on the table. They weren’t wrong. I did work too hard, and I had done the college thing before. I wasn’t too worried about my chances of success in this program. School always came easily to me. Making friends? That was a whole different beast.

I looked at the number written on my hand, it was already faded. A few more swipes on my pants, and the number would be illegible and I would have an excuse not to show up to Molly’s party. I sighed. I came to Lousianna for a different life, to escape the life I had lived before. Maybe it was time for a change.

I plugged the number into my phone and sent Molly a quick text, knowing I would regret it in the morning.