With evening classes already underway, there weren’t many graduate students in the student union. Which suited Jack fine. He wasn’t in much of a mood to talk with anyone. Loading up his tray with a hot turkey sandwich, potatoes, a Coke and a piece of cake, he shuffled to the cash register.
It wasn’t until Jack reached for his wallet to pay for his dinner that he remembered his pockets were crammed full of greenbacks. He wondered if Doctor Nelson had noticed the cash. That would explain the physician’s questions about drug dealing. The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became. Unfortunately, knowing the reason was not a solution. The money suddenly weighed very heavy in his jeans.
Cautiously, he looked around for the campus police. If Nelson relayed his suspicions to the security officers, they could be searching for Jack right now. And explaining how he obtained all that money would be awfully difficult.
Feeling extremely paranoid, Jack marched to the far end of the cafeteria. Dinnertime had the place packed with underclassmen. Finally, after a frantic survey of the room, he spotted a small table isolated from the flow of traffic. With his back to the cafeteria wall, he could keep a watch on the whole room.
With a sigh of relief, Jack sat down and started eating. Hungry but worried, he wolfed down the food without tasting a thing. The sooner he hid the money, the safer he would feel.
Gulping down his Coke and gobbling the last bite of cake, he pushed back his chair, ready to leave. And found himself surrounded by a half-dozen undergraduates, all talking at once. To him.
Preoccupied with his troubles, Jack had not noticed them approaching. Four women and two men, the group consisted of his extra-help class in Freshman Calculus. Escaping them was not going to be easy. Groaning, he settled back in his seat.
Tutoring was something new at the university and one of Jack’s least favorite chores. Unfortunately, as a Ph.D. graduate assistant, he had little choice in his teaching assignments. He did what he was told. Needless to say, graduate assistants were always given the courses none of the regular professors wanted.
All freshmen attending the school were required to take at least one math course. Calculus 101 was the bane of the mathematics department. Though they had mandated the requirements, the Board of Regents had made it quite clear that they would consider it quite disturbing if very many of the incoming students, paying tuition that the university desperately needed, flunked the course and dropped out of school. Thus, not only did graduate assistants teach an extremely watered-down calculus course, they also conducted extra-help classes after normal class hours for those students who were so bad at mathematics that they needed a continual shove to keep them even with their classmates.
Jack, born with a gift for calculation and logic, found the tutoring sessions incredibly depressing. All his life, he had labored under the impression that anyone could learn mathematics if taught correctly. The calm, precise nature of the subject seemed as natural as breathing. He never imagined people existed who were unable to perform even the simplest of calculations without breaking into a cold sweat. Until this semester, when he encountered his extra-help group.
Not that they were stupid. The six students were among the brightest young men and women in the university. They all wanted to learn. They struggled desperately to understand. But they were incapable of solving basic equations, much less genuine calculus problems.
In desperation, Jack finally followed the lead of several other graduate assistants struggling with the same headache. Before the most recent exam, he reviewed the entire test with his tutorial. Step by step, he dissected each question, proceeding through it to the correct solution. Though he balked at telling his charges that these were the same problems they would face the next day, he strongly hinted to them that knowing how to solve these practice equations would make the test a snap. And, despite everything, all six flunked the exam.
“You weren’t in your office this afternoon, Professor Collins,” Sandra Stevens declared angrily, yanking Jack back to reality. The co-ed had a voice like chalk scratching over a blackboard. “We waited for over an hour.”
“Yeah,” said Gil Neumann. An architecture major, Gil could not grasp the fundamentals of trigonometry. Some time back, Jack had made a sacred vow that in the distant future he would never enter a building designed by Neumann.
“Quite boring,” added Simon Fellows. An exchange student from England, Simon’s voice betrayed only the slightest accent. Of all Jack’s extra-help students. Fellows was the most frustrating. An English major, he scored phenomenal grades in all of his other courses. But, though he could recite the most difficult facts without blinking twice, Simon seemed incapable of understanding basic logic.
“Sorry,” said Jack. “I had a job interview that took a little longer than I expected. Then, afterward, I wasted more time by allowing myself to be mugged.”
“Mugged?” said Sandra, her voice so loud that half the cafeteria turned to see what was going on. “You were mugged?”
“You do look a little more worse for wear than usual,” remarked Simon, eternally cheerful.
Nothing ever bothered the exchange student. He laughed at misfortune, though Jack wasn’t sure if it was from sheer bravado or abysmal ignorance. Though handsome, intelligent and charming, Simon was not a very popular person on campus. He was just a bit too weird for most of the students.
Jack never realized how weird until he glanced at the Brit while scanning the hall for campus security. Jack’s eyes narrowed in amazement. He shook his head, not sure he believed what he was seeing. Or not seeing. Simon had no aura. The exchange student wasn’t human. He was magic.
“Uh, Professor Collins, is something wrong?” asked Sandra. “You look kinda… funny.”
Jack squeezed his eyes tightly shut, then opened them again. Nothing had changed. The other five students had auras. Simon did not. It was definitely time. Jack decided, to have a word with the Brit.
“I am feeling a bit dizzy,” said Jack. “The doctor warned me to take it easy for the next few days. Why don’t you all attend Professor Gleason’s extra-help classes for the time being. They’re scheduled the same time we held ours, so it will fit right in with your free time. If you explain the circumstances to Pat Gleason, I’m sure he won’t mind you sitting in.”
Gleason would have a fit, but too bad. Jack felt no remorse. Based on Gleason’s conduct at the faculty Christmas party last year, the other graduate assistant deserved to suffer.
“Do you need some help getting back to your apartment?” asked Gil Neumann, his tone of voice making it quite clear he wasn’t overwhelmed with the idea.
“I’ll be fine,” said Jack. Then, as the students turned to leave, he quickly added, “Simon, would you mind sticking around for a few seconds more? I wanted to ask you something.”
“No problem,” replied the Brit.
The others departed, casting suspicious looks at both of them. Jack was at a loss as to what chicanery they might imagine. He couldn’t be supplying Simon with test answers. He had done that for all of them to no consequence.
Tomorrow, if things continued on their present course, they would probably assume it had been a drug deal. He had to get back to Dr. Nelson and explain all that cash. Somehow.
“If it’s about that last test,” said the Brit, “I can explain everything…”
“Forget the test,” said Jack, not exactly certain how to begin. Then, before he could say another word, he spotted two campus security officers on the other side of the cafeteria. Beads of sweat popped on Jack’s back. The policemen were probably just there for a coffee break, but he dared not risk it. Not with the cash still crammed in his pockets.