I shake my head and smile as we approach the Villa. It has been a long and somewhat stressful trip, especially from Pete’s insistence to visit the Big Easy, but it is finally done. Turning to Pete, driving even though he is visibly getting tired, I ask, “Are you planning on using the truck today?”
Pete cocks an eyebrow as he pulls into town. “Not really, why?”
I shrug. “My stuff is in the trailer, for moving in. I want to know whether or not I’m going to disconnect it once you park.”
Pete’s brow furrows. “You aren’t planning to move in quick?”
I give him a blank look. I have business to attend to, there’s no chance I could move all my stuff in before night and do what needs to doing. No, I would simply move in tonight. Taking a whiff of myself, I quickly decide that I can afford to take a shower before getting to work. So, I’ll bring the mesh bag with the toiletries up.
Pete continues his curiosity. “Aren’t you afraid your stuff will be stolen, or something?”
My blank stare continues. Beyond the question of who would want anything of mine in the trailer, it’s not like anyone who knows me would risk stealing from me. And, anyone who doesn’t know me would see a bunch of worthless clothes, beaten up books, and random piles of paper, then pass it over for Isaac or Pete’s more valuable looking things.
Pete rolls his eyes. “Of course you don’t. You know, at some point you’re gonna have to answer a question.”
“No,” I joke. I’m also fairly certain he isn’t sure whether or not it’s a joke. That makes for the best kind.
With a heavy sigh, Pete pulls into the lot by the dorms, and says, “You’re waking up Ike.”
I sigh quietly right back, then turning around, slap Isaac across the face. “I’m awake,” he insists, knowing well that we both know that wasn’t true. Not entirely, in any case.
“Don’t make me dump water on you, Isaac,” I state calmly.
“I’m up, I’m up,” he replies, and without opening his eyes, he starts to sit up. “Such cruelty,” he murmurs to himself, then opening his eyes, he changes his tune. “Oh, wait, we’re back already?” he says much louder, “You could’ve just said that.”
I shrug. “I could have,” I reply coyly, and climb out of the truck.
“What’s your plan, Ter?” Isaac asks as he, too, climbs out of the truck.
I cock my head at him. “You do love tempting fate,” I say, not answering his question, “What do you plan on doing?”
“The whole League of Evil are meeting up, once Nat and Ali are back. You want to join in?” he asks, mostly to be polite, though also because he knows I am somewhat friendly with Jason and likely because he knows at least the heart of my answer.
“I’m busy,” I reply, telling the truth. He nods, his likely assumption that I would decline the invite affirmed. I grab my smaller mesh bag and, throwing it over my shoulder, head up to my new dorm room.
Outside my room, Abeni is waiting, with Batu pleasantly standing beside her. “Therese,” she says with a smile as I approach.
“Abeni, nice to see you again,” I say, a cordial smile on my face.
Abeni extended a bottle forwards, “I got you a welcome back gift.” A handle of scotch, 100 proof flat. A good gift.
“Thanks,” I reply, “Now I feel bad about not bringing you anything.”
She chuckles. “Tell you what, keep on giving me coffee, we’ll call it more than even.”
I nod. “Deal,” I say, “I would invite you two in, but I smell awful after the car ride, so I’m heading in to clean off.”
“No worries,” Batu says, “We were just heading out.” They aren’t, at least not based on their plan. Their plans, in all likelihood, don’t start until half past. But, I make Batu uncomfortable, so he would rather not spend any more time in my presence than necessary.
Abeni looks over her boyfriend, then nods. “Of course. Have a good afternoon, Therese.”
I give her a nod as I head into my new, empty dorm room. Dropping my mesh bag on the floor, I pull out the smaller bag inside it, with my toiletries. I set up my part of the bathroom, and take a quick shower.
That taken care of, I need to figure out my next moves, long term. To figure that out, there is an empty spot on my not yet set back up board. With Amanda out, I will have a new advisor. I want to know everything about them.
We aren’t supposed to know who the replacement is, not yet. They know us, and will send us an email, likely around when the newer class gets here. That was when Amanda sent an email to everyone about our first group meeting, the language indicating it was her first email to the others since summer. Since the new advisor has likely already been assigned. I need to get into the administration offices. If I’m quite honest with myself about security here during the day, that’s easier done than said. Well, to be specific, the protection systems on campus tend to protect from the mystic, not simple exploits of physical security. Once inside, I can get the name of my advisor. With that, I get their files. With all that information, following them, figuring out what makes them tick, it’ll be a breeze.
Headphones in, I walk in through the front of the administration building like I know what I’m doing. The one security guard on duty during the day doesn’t even look up from his crossword. Walking up to the third floor, I find it basically empty. With so few people at work today and so many people with housing complaints and requests, the entire admin staff currently on campus are down on the first floor. All six of them. Walking over to the registrar’s office, I open the unlocked door. Mister Iverson, the Villa’s registrar, is a very trusting man. He also takes the week before school starts up off to fish up in Canada. He will be getting back the day after tomorrow. Until then, this office is empty. Standing behind his desk, to avoid messing with the room, I turn the computer on. His computer’s password is ‘am-vVilR3g1officec0mp’. I learned it with a series of mirrors the third week of first semester. In, I check his files. His desktop is a mess, and his actual file organization is even worse. It takes a solid half hour to find the single document that has the new advisors’ assignments. Scrolling through the document, I find our group. It seems there’s only two freshmen joining our crew. Our new advisor is Sierra Leyten. I quickly jot down her name in my phone, as well as the freshmen names. Best to be thorough. I close out of everything without saving and shut down the computer. Taking a tissue, I wipe the computer power button, the mouse, and the keyboard, then blow some of the dust from the desk onto the keyboard and mouse, making it a more even, though thinner, layer. Carefully, I slide right back out of the room.
Next step is a little harder. Not much, but there is at least some physical security protecting the records room. Fortunately, I know that, and brought along my disposable camera. I pull the film out of its cartridge, fold it in half and, feeding the folded end through the top of the door frame, I open the door from the inside. Once inside, I take the time to feed my film back into the cartridge. I’m in no rush, after all. The files are alphabetical by year of acceptance. Looking at the most recent cabinet, I find Sierra’s file. Sitting on the floor and opening the folder, I scan through the document. In my phone, under her name, I add things I decide are significant: the topic of her senior project, her address, her key diction in the essays, her class rank, her phone number. She’s smarter than she wants to seem. Interesting, I muse. I do that, too. She studies historical magic, a common thing to study in the Old World. The fact she is here means one of a few things. First, she didn’t get in anywhere else, so she’s here by necessity. Very possible, but unlikely with her class rank. Second, she wants to do something weird with it, comparative mysticism or the like. Again possible, but of the three American Villae, this isn’t the best for that purpose. Too far from any sources of native and/or coven mystic knowledge. The one up in Maryland, north of DC, would be better, purely based on the number of covens around there. Third, she has aspirations unique to this Villa. I don’t know what those may be, but it has me worried that as far as I can figure, it’s the most likely scenario. Putting her file back, I check the Apprentice section of the same cabinet, curious about the pair. Neither are pre-trained, good. I decide that moment that I may well take one under my wing, depending on who they are. May be useful long term, and will be a good low pressure test of the whole mentorship thing. Closing up the cabinet, I walk out of the records room. It’s about dinnertime, and I need to figure out where I’m going to eat.
Sierra’s apartment is across the river. Near where Gregory generally sneaks off to. From her diction, that dive was not likely my new advisor’s restaurant of choice. Too run down, too dirty. From the remaining nearby restaurants, I strike the one that is far too expensive. As I’m walking across the river, I lock eyes with someone fitting Sierra’s description. Crap. I give her a polite smile and nod, as I walk past, locking eyes doing the same with one of the locals, who recognizes me and waves back. Turning back around is out of the picture. There are better walking trails on the east side of the Run. The only reason to cross the Run is going somewhere on that side of the river. The closest place to my advisor’s new apartment is Gregory’s favored bar. I decide that I’ll post up there.
As I enter, I very unsurprisingly see Gregory, nursing a beer and sitting at the bar. It is Monday, after all. I walk to the bar myself, posting up a bit off from him, with a view of the intersection. I can just barely spot the corner of my new advisor’s apartment building. Unlike Amanda’s nice apartment, this seems to be just a single unit in a relatively new building meant for students like Sierra. I never come on Mondays, but I have come to the dive before. The bartender sees me and excuses herself from conversation with Gregory. “Hi there, dear,” she says to me, patronizingly, “What can I get for you?”
I look up at her. She must be a major reason Gregory comes here on Mondays pretty exclusively. Interesting. “Just a plate of sliders and a bourbon, neat.”
She looks a tad surprised by the drink order, but takes it in stride. “I’ll need to see ID, of course,” she says. I hand her my ID, as well as the money for the order. She looks over the ID, checks the seal, then hands it back to me. “Sorry, you just look young. Cash, I take it?” I give her a single nod. She takes the cash to the register, gets me my change, pouring and bringing me my bourbon along with the change. “Burger will just be a moment.” I nod again. She heads back and talks with Gregory some more. I ignore the terrible country music, facing into the bar but watching out the window from the side of my eye.
Moments later, Gregory walks over to the seat beside me. “Why are you here?” he asks. He doesn’t trust me, even though we haven’t had a single class together.
“I just love the music,” I lie. Though, he knows well it’s a lie, this band would be awful even if I liked country music, it hardly counts as one.
“Are you planning something against me?” he presses.
At this, I finally turn and face him. “Trust me, if I were moving against you, you would never see me.” I give him a slight smile, then sip my bourbon as I turn back to face the bar.
Gregory heads back to his seat, and the bartender comes over with my sliders. “So, you know Greg?” she asks.
“More we know of one another,” I correct her assumption. She waits for more. I don’t give her any more. She can learn anything from Gregory, if she really wants to. Otherwise, it really isn’t her business. I return to watching the street from the corner of my eye, slowly eating my sliders and sipping my bourbon. And I wait.
Comments