by Emily Knight
Peter raced down the alley and the few blocks to the university grounds. The center of higher learning was filled with century-old brick buildings mixed with concrete creations from the last three decades, and all were connected by concrete paths the scholars hardly used. They made their own path and the grass and bushes were filled with their shortcuts.
Peter ran into one of the older buildings, a four-floor long brick structure with drafty windows and yellowed halls. The school had plenty of money to build new buildings, but little patience in keeping up what they already managed. He clamored up the first two flights of stairs and slid across the linoleum tiles to one of the doors close to the stairwell.
The door was open and he slid into his seat a second before the professor walked into the room. He leaned back and sighed.
The student in the desk beside him was dressed in full camo gear. Marcus grinned and leaned over the divide between them. "You look like you caught that girl last night."
Peter tilted his head so he faced Marcus. "It's not what you think."
Marcus winked. "Sure it isn't. And you didn't find a body last night."
Peter straightened and frowned. "I didn't find a body last night. The guy was, and is, still alive."
Marcus shrugged. "Fine, so you didn't find a body, but you got the girl, right?"
Peter couldn't stop a crooked grin from slipping onto his lips. "Yeah, I got her."
Marcus laughed and slapped Peter on the back. His strength shoved Peter's gut into the desk and air was forced out of lungs. "Thatta way!"
"Mr. Orion, is there something you wanted to share with the class?" the professor spoke up.
Marcus sat at attention and solemnly nodded. "There is, sir."
The professor arched an eyebrow. "And what is that?"
Marcus wrapped his arm around Peter's neck and pulled them together. "I just want everybody to know that my friend Pete here finally got a girl."
Titters of laughter filled the room. The professor pursed his lips. "How every exciting for you. Now could we please continue ours studies without any more interruptions for your delightfully stimulating information?"
Marcus released Peter and nodded. "Sure thing."
The professor bowed his head. "Thank you. Now if everyone will get out their books and turn to chapter two."
Peter coughed and rubbed his neck. He reached down for his bag and his hand brushed against the newspaper that stuck out of his pocket. He pulled it out and clasped the paper in both hands as he looked over the details. His heart dropped into his stomach as he thought back to the meeting with Ana's dad. He'd been a tough customer, and it wasn't going to be easy to tell Ana about-
Peter jumped when a ruler slapped the top of his desk. He whipped his head up and into the face of his annoyed professor. "Recreational reading ended in middle school."
Peter shakily smiled and tucked the paper into his bag. "Sorry."
The next few hours flew by in a haze of worried thoughts and books. It was barely past the beginning of the school year and the professors were already in a race to see who could assign the most homework. Peter arrived back at his home at noon with his bag filled with packets of homework and his books doggy-eared with chapter headings.
He stepped into the kitchen and winced. Val had her back against the counter and Rich was pressed against her. Their wet, sloppy kissing and groping was one step away from being a full-blown porno. Peter coughed into his fist.
Val jumped and, seeing their roommate, shoved Rich away from her. "Hey, Peter. We didn't hear you come in."
Peter smiled as he dumped his bag on the kitchen table. "You two were loud enough I'm surprised the neighbors haven't complained."
Rich frowned. "Come on, Pete, give us a break. This is my goodnight kiss. Val's gotta work late in the lab again."
Val checked her watch. "Speaking of that, I should go."
Rich grinned and wagged his eyebrows. "What's the hurry? Your test subjects aren't going anywhere."
Val rolled her eyes and pushed him away. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"You're right. I've been selfish all my life." Rich stood at attention and saluted her. "I would be glad to donate my body to science in the hopes of finding out how someone this handsome could possibly exist."
Val shook her head. "Science is never going to explain what you are."
Peter grabbed the handle on the fridge and smiled. "Besides, they'd spend most of their time looking for his brain."
Rich's face fell. "It's no fair ganging up on me. Besides-" he turned to Peter, "-we've got a problem. We might need to do something about the attic. I swear I heard something up there last night."
Val snorted. "It was probably just your hangover."
Her boyfriend shook his head. "No, I'm serious. We might need to get an exterminator if the cheap-ass owners don't want to foot the bill. I was thinking your parents could help out."
Peter winced. "I'm not sure. They're not really made of money."
Rich shrugged. "Then you're lucky. Whenever I hug my mom I get jabbed by her credit cards in her purse. Shaking my dad's hands gets me cut by his nails because I swear he files them on gold coins."
"Well, while you rich boys talk about rolling in dough, this middle-class working girl has to go to her part-time job," Val spoke up. She snatched her purse from the kitchen table and waved to them. "Don't get into too much trouble, and no drinking!"
Rich stretched out his hand to her. "Wait! One more goodnight kiss!"
Val turned to walk backwards and waved to him. "Bye." She walked out of sight. In a moment the door opened and shut.
Rich's shoulders slumped. He turned and shuffled over to his chair at the kitchen table. "Why do we put up with girls again?" he wondered as he plopped himself into the seat.
Peter leaned into fridge in search of food that hadn't cultured past the medieval period. "Sex."
Rich sighed and nodded. "You're right." He furrowed his brow and straightened. "Speaking of sex, you still owe me some info from this morning."
Peter took out a plastic bowl and opened the lid. Cotton spores floated from the pile of what used to be spaghetti. Or lasagna. Or maybe even a pork chop. "There's nothing else I could tell you that you won't read in the paper. I found the guy just laying there."
Rich leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. "Val told me you were out there looking for a girl."
Peter winced and snatched a pop before he shut the door. "Yeah."
Rich watched his friend seat himself in the chair opposite him. "And?"
Peter opened the pop and shrugged. "So I found her."
Rich set his arms on the table and leaned over the top. "And?"
Peter rolled his eyes. "And nothing. I met her, we talked, I met her dad, she-um, I walked her back to the park. End of story."
Rich squinted an eye. "And?"
Peter's face fell. "And we had hot, steamy sex all night long until I dragged myself back to the park where I found the guy lying there."
Rich slapped the table. "I knew it! You dirty dog, you!"
Peter took a sip from his pop and shook his head. "Except those last parts didn't happen."
Rich frowned and lowered his voice. "Is it because she's as ugly as a dog?"
Peter was half threw with a sip on his pop. The drink burst from his lips and sprayed Rich. "What? No!"
Rich grimaced and wiped his face. "You didn't have to get all wet on the subject. I was just teasing. On that topic, though-the guy in the park, not your girlfriend-"
"She's not my girlfriend," Peter argued.
"You got a date with her?"
"Yeah, tonight, but-"
"Then shut up, she's your girlfriend. As I was saying, I was wanting a raise."
Peter blinked at him. "Come again?"
Rich jerked his head toward the land-line phone against the wall between the fridge and rear door. "I've been answering that d
amn thing all day. The papers keep calling for you asking for an interview. If I'm going to be your secretary than I want a raise."
Peter cringed. "What'd you tell them?"
Rich shrugged and grinned. "I told them you were too busy pushing cocaine on the frat boys to talk to them." Peter spat out his coke and the spray hit Rich on the face. Rich cringed and wiped it off. "That's sick, man."
"Please tell me you did not tell them that," Peter pleaded.
Rich snorted and shook his head. "No. I just said you weren't around and you'd get back to them if you wanted to talk. There's a whole list of phone numbers on the pad if you want to see how popular you are."
Peter swigged down the last of his pop and stood. "Maybe later. Right now I need some rest." He tossed his can into the recyclable bucket which held an assortment of beer and strode from the room.
"Whadda you want me to tell them if they keep calling?" Rich called out to him.
Peter paused on the steps with his hand on the railing. He thought about Ana's dad's bright eyes and sharp teeth. "Tell them I'm dead. Later."
And with a wave he shuffled up the steps to some sleep.
CHAPTER 8
