Paleo

by Yvonne Navarro

  They did, however, know a few things about the woman. Her name was Alysa Bardrick, and while they’d never seen her, the guy who did the band scheduling for the Bronze said she did the calendar-dance for three or four of the bands he regularly booked. They were lesser known ones, but still; the number of bands on the music scene that had started out playing local gigs was astronomical. In this biz, everyone had to start on the bottom rung and claw his way up, and the members of Dingoes weren’t stupid enough to think they’d be any exception. There wasn’t anything easy about it.

  So if this Bardrick woman could help pave the way, why not? She might be just the person they needed, with contacts in the industry and in L.A. Oz still wasn’t sure being in a band was the thing he wanted to do with the rest of his life, but what if as their band manager she showed up with a contract for them to sign with a major label or something? Who knew how he would feel then?

  Sometimes, Oz thought as he studied the play of emotions across Kevin Sanderson’s face while the guy listened to Addison turn his subject more toward the concept of paleontology as a career, all a person needed in life was the right guide.

  “So, Kevin, how’d you like the talk? Was it interesting or just all info you already learned in like fourth grade?”

  On his way out of the classroom with the rest of the students, Kevin stopped and turned back when he heard Daniel Addison’s question. “Dinosaurs and paleontology are always interesting to me,” he answered honestly. “It doesn’t matter if it’s about sections I’ve already studied. I could still listen all day.”

  Daniel grinned and looked pointedly at Mr. Regis, who smiled faintly as he gathered up a pile of class papers. “Spoken like a true young paleontologist.” The dark-haired younger man swept his own materials into a fabric briefcase. “I know you told me you have classes, but would you mind if I walked with you for a minute?”

  Kevin blinked. Would he mind? In what lifetime? “Not at all,” he said.

  Daniel nodded, then he and Regis shook hands. “Thanks for having me,” he said to the teacher. “It’s always fun to come back to your roots now and then.”

  Regis nodded solemnly. “Yes, it is. And it wasn’t so long ago that I forgot when I had you in my class.”

  Daniel nodded back and waved good-bye, then he fell into step next to Kevin as the teenager pondered the expression he’d seen on his science teacher’s face. He could have sworn it’d been disapproval, but then, what did he know? He’d only been at Sunnydale a little over a week; Regis might scream like a gorilla when he got angry and Kevin wouldn’t have a clue it was coming until he saw the man actually in the act.

  “So these digs you mentioned,” Daniel said, cutting into Kevin’s thoughts, “where were they?”

  “A few in Montana,” Kevin told him, smiling at the memories. “Short ones sponsored by the university. I guess you’d call them summer field trips, a couple of weeks each. The full team stayed out there all summer, and then I got to camp out with them for about a month the year before last.” He hesitated, wondering again about the fine line between boasting and stating actual fact, then decided Daniel would want to know more. “Last year I really got lucky and they let me go on the dig in Australia with them.”

  But Daniel’s eyes were bright with interest and he sounded anything but put off. “Australia—no kidding. Did they come up with anything good? What was it like being out there?”

  Kevin nodded. “Oh yeah, they found plenty. The Australia dig was a heck of an experience, a lot different from Montana or anywhere in the States.”

  “How so?” They maneuvered around a gaggle of cheerleaders.

  “Well, they were both exciting, of course— especially when you actually find something—plus hot and pretty uncomfortable. But being on one in another country gives you this kind of . . . nervousness. It takes away the safety net of ‘home’ and makes it sort of dangerous, like everyone walks around fueled by adrenaline all the time. And this was in Dinosaur Cove, in Otway National Park. I can’t imagine how it would be in someplace like Mongolia or Argentina, where there’s a history of not being able to get equipment or supplies.”

  “I’ll bet it was great,” Daniel said, clearly impressed. “The museum’s sponsoring a dig in Dinosaur Cove this summer. So what did your team come up with in the way of fossils?”

  “More of what’s been found previously in that area—pterosaurs, plesiosaurs, a few incomplete Allosaurus skeletons, some . . . other stuff.” Was he running at the mouth too much, or—

  But the older guy was still listening closely, ignoring the students streaming around them. “That’s excellent.” He nodded, as if to reinforce his own words. “I bet you could be a big help to me, and contribute a lot to the museum. You’ve got a lot of hands-on experience.”

  “Yeah,” Kevin said, and this time he let his eagerness show. “I think I could. Plus I got . . . I mean, they let me keep a few souvenirs, from the, uh, dig.” Drat. He hadn’t really meant to say that, but he’d been so pleased at the good impression he was making on Daniel that he’d blurted out the recollection without thinking. He hoped the older guy hadn’t noticed the way he’d fumbled over his choice of words. “Let him” keep? That was way beyond a stretch.

  But Daniel was totally cool. If he’d picked up on Kevin’s hesitation, he gave no sign of it; instead he ran a hand absently down the front of his tee shirt and for the first time, Kevin noticed the design, a fleshed-out pterodactyl separated from a proportionately-sized man by an italicized VS. Beneath the picture floated two straightforward words: No Contest.

  “That’s great,” Daniel said now. “So what are they— the souvenirs?”

  Kevin swallowed, then decided to go for it. “Well, from the Australia trip, I really only got one thing worth mentioning,” he hedged. “An egg—small, of course. Nothing that remarkable.”

  “What kind?”

  “Timimus,” Kevin said, his heart suddenly pounding. Daniel Addison wasn’t a stupid man. He had to realize that . . . well, Kevin had swiped the fossil from the dig site. It was no big deal, really; there had been a nest of the things, almost a dozen unbroken ones in the pile. No one had seen him do it so no one had cared, and now he had a memento of the trip that would last well beyond his own lifetime.

  Next to him, Daniel smiled widely. “Kevin, that’s excellent. Could I take a look at it? I could send someone by your house to pick it up—”

  “I’d rather keep it with me,” Kevin said quickly. “Just because it’s so rare.”

  Daniel held up a hand. “Of course. What was I thinking? But when you come by the museum—you’re coming by tomorrow, right?” Kevin nodded and he continued. “Good. Bring it so I can take a look, all right? I wasn’t aware they’d ever found a nest for that genus.”

  “It’s not something they ever made a big announcement about,” Kevin admitted nervously. “The Australian team’s discoveries kind of got eclipsed by a trip to the Sahara by the head paleontologist there. Still, we thought it was pretty good and they put up an exhibit in the department highlighting the trip. I’ll bring the egg with me.”

  “That’d be super,” Daniel told him. He seemed a little-distracted for a moment, as though he were thinking about something else. Then his gaze refocused on Kevin and he smiled. “Yeah,” he said, as though making sure Kevin had understood him. “Definitely bring it. And, hey, in return, I’ve got something I’d like to show you that I’ll bet you never even thought existed.”

  “Really?” Kevin was fascinated. “What is it?”

  Daniel shook his head, then glanced at his watch. “Nah—I don’t want to spoil the surprise. And anyway, you’d better get to your next period. I wouldn’t want old Regis accusing me of leading his students astray. You just come by tomorrow like you said, okay?” He clapped Kevin companionably on one shoulder, then turned and headed in the other direction.

  Kevin stared after him, even more excited about tomorrow than he had been at the start of class. What could Daniel have
to show him that he believed was so different? Either it was something truly spectacular, or Daniel had no idea the range of stuff that Kevin had seen in his past involvement in the realm of paleontolo g y .

  Kevin’s grip tightened on his books and he doublechecked his class schedule before hurrying to his locker to pick up his completed geometry homework. At first he’d felt stressed about admitting that he had the Timimus egg, but now he was okay with it, totally chilled. In fact, he actually thought he might have just made his first real friend here in Sunnydale. Daniel’s slap on the back definitely pointed in that direction. The fact that Daniel was someone with whom Kevin had so much in common was nearly too excellent to be true, but he wasn’t going to complain if for a change the universe wanted to smile down on him a little.

  After all, it was about freakin’ time.

  Rupert Giles recognized Buffy’s footsteps as she entered the library before she actually came into his view. She might be the Slayer, but as her Watcher he had a few talents of his own, all utterly unappreciated, of course. She was standing there expectantly when he glanced up, looking quite charming in a lightweight pastel sweater and skirt and probably thinking she’d sneaked up on him. Not hardly. Still, the summery outfit gave him a pang. Was it really that warm outside already? What had happened to the bulkier jackets of winter? Sometimes he felt like he stayed inside this library as much as Angel stayed inside the night.

  “Good morning, Buffy,” he said, and closed the Glossarium de Vespertilionis et Daemonis that he’d been skimming—boring stuff anyway. He already knew most of the text and frankly, he’d just been looking at the etchings. Repetition and all that. Still, he mustn’t look distracted or, God forbid, sound uninterested. Buffy Summers was a teenager, and as her Watcher, he needed to present a steady figure, a constant role model for her. Sometimes, Giles knew he fell abysmally short of recognizing the problems she had to deal with; the truth was, without children of his own, he found most of the so-called difficulties of teenaged life exceedingly trivial. Ridiculous clothes, abominable music, patently obscene dancing—really, what was the point? There was also Buffy’s relationship with Angel, which existed in a realm of the complicated that even Giles found mind-boggling and, at times, had had devastating consequences to all concerned. Still, he liked to think of himself as intelligent, and therefore Giles recognized that admitting his thoughts on any of these matters probably wouldn’t win him any points with his Slayer.

  “Anything happen on your patrol last night?” he asked now. “Difficulties, or . . . ?”

  “Two vamps,” Buffy replied cheerfully. “If anyone wants them, they’ll have to pick ’em up with a Dustbuster.”

  Giles frowned. “A what?”

  “Think of it as a motorized dustpan.” Buffy glanced around the library, her gaze touching on the piles of books and papers scattered here and there, the general chaos that always seemed to happen anytime the librarian was left alone with his books too long. “Maybe I’ll get you one for Christmas.”

  “No, thank you,” Giles said. “You may not realize it but I know exactly where everything is in this room.”

  “Really.” Buffy put her hands on her hips. “Face Odyssey.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Face Odyssey,” she repeated. “By Howard Alberts.”

  “I . . . well, what kind of book is it?”

  “Hairstyles,” Buffy said perkily. “I believe it was called a ‘coiffure collection.’ ”

  “Yes,” Giles said. A book . . . a real one, of hairstyles? Good Lord, Americans would immortalize anything. “Hairstyles. Well, I imagine that would be in Modern Culture, or perhaps Photography—”

  “Actually,” Buffy interrupted, “Cordelia found it in the Careers section.”

  Giles grimaced. “Careers?” “

  Modeling, Giles.”

  He must have still looked blank because she tilted her head to one side, her expression one of exaggerated patience. “You know, that thing where women paint their faces and put on pretty clothes, and then get paid massive green?”

  Giles folded his arms and regarded her. “Really. I always thought that was the ritual before tribal warfare.”

  “Touché!” chortled Xander from across the room.

  “Don’t you have class?” Giles asked sternly as Xander swaggered up to them, then dropped onto one of the chairs at the nearest table. The librarian looked back at Buffy. “In fact, don’t you both have class?”

  “Of course we do,” Buffy said, “but the entire class thing is way overrated.”

  “Class as in of the educational variety,” Xander put in. “Not to be confused with the upper and lower—”

  “—type of Cordelia’s imagination,” Buffy finished smartly.

  “That’ll be enough,” Giles said. “I won’t have Principal Snyder breathing down my neck again, claiming I’m setting a bad example. Buffy, I’m well aware of your schedule, and I believe you’re late for English literature, isn’t it? I don’t know what your morning looks like, Xander, but I’m quite convinced it doesn’t include lounging about in here.”

  “Wow,” Xander said, sounding hurt. “Check out the taskmaster.”

  “Off you go,” Giles said briskly. “Believe it or not, there is knowledge out there meant for the spaces in your brains. In addition, I have actual library duties to which I must attend.”

  “Duties?” Xander asked. “Here?” He seemed completely befuddled.

  “Yes,” Giles said. “Sunnydale High School does actually require something of me, for which they even occasionally reward me with a paycheck.” He slipped off his glasses and wiped at them with a handkerchief. “You may have even heard of it—the checking in and out of books?”

  “Oh.” Giles frowned when all Xander did was shoot Buffy a lopsided grin. “Does that include guessing what Sunnydale’s evil-of-the-week is?”

  “Xander—”

  “All right, all right.” The teenager held up his hands and slipped off the chair. “You’re right. I just know Mr. Regis can’t wait to pump something into my head!”

  “Out!”

  Xander scurried toward the door as Buffy picked up her book bag and prepared to follow. Giles saw him pause and allowed himself a mental sigh; he should’ve known the boy wouldn’t be able to resist a parting shot. And never one to let down a potential audience, Xander fairly beamed from the doorway. “I’m his favorite student, you know.”

  Giles took a step toward the door, but Xander was gone before the older man could say anything more. Instead, he turned back to Buffy and raised his eyebrows. “English literature, am I correct?”

  “Got it,” she said, looking chastised. “Go forth I to England. Figuratively speaking, of course.”

  He nodded as she left, then looked up just as she started to push out of the library. “Buffy?”

  The Slayer turned back. “What’s up?”

  Giles opened his mouth, then shook his head. “It’s nothing. Go on to your class.”

  She studied him. “Are you sure? Because you’ve got this huge blinking question mark hanging over your head.”

  He frowned at her. “Buffy—”

  Buffy grinned. “Would you look at me? I’m not even here!”

  The door swung shut behind her and Giles stared at it blankly for a few moments, then turned back to the library counter and began sorting through the book returns that had piled up through the morning. He’d wanted to ask Buffy if she’d thought he was doing a good job in his guidance of her, but really, what kind of a question was that for the teacher to ask the student? The recipients of knowledge always seemed to want to gain it the easiest way possible, without realizing that easy wasn’t always best.

  He couldn’t admit it, but sometimes he felt totally overwhelmed by this job. With him, there was no hidden agenda, nothing personal to be gained such as riches or power or, heaven help them all, immortality. He just wanted to be the best Watcher he could, for her and for . . . well, everyone, himself include
d. Thanks very much, but he’d like not to see the world end in a blaze of fire as much as the next bloke.

  But was he truly a good leader for her, the best example he could be? He tried to get her to do her studies, but the slaying seemed to always interfere; the girl barely got any sleep or time to read beyond poring over demonic research. He also tried to present a model figure as far as motives and moral standards, so that even if her friends were stumbling a little, he hoped Buffy would always see the path to right, or as close to it as he could illuminate.

  Feeling rather depressed about the entire thing, Giles sat on the chair Xander had vacated and looked around the library. Others might call it dim, but he liked the way the room was never truly bright. To him it always kept a kind of warm, golden glow about itself, a beauty carried through every nook and cranny by the abundance of natural wood banisters and shelves and, of course, the thousands of books. Where there were books, on any subject, he believed there would always be a soul; surely no vampire could ever take that away. Books gave life and instruction. There was even the Watcher’s Manual, which told him, and others like him, how to properly perform their duties. And there were other Watchers he’d contacted on occasion.

  Still, Giles wished there was a living, breathing example of a Watcher and surrogate parent for him to follow, a mentor for the Watcher, so to speak, so he could at least have a clue if he was doing this correctly.

  Chapter 5

  IF THE MEMORY OF THE TERRIBLE DAY THE MOVERS HAD come to their house in Chicago and loaded up his family’s belongings hadn’t still been fresh in his mind, Kevin would have thought that today was the longest day of his life. It wasn’t Mr. Regis’s fault, of course; there were probably plenty of people who thought that the evolution of mammals was the most interesting thing next to the truth behind how they made blue M&M’s. And maybe it was, but he had covered this a long time ago. It wasn’t that he was any smarter than anyone here; it had to do, obviously, with dinosaurs. If you wanted to know about them on the level that Kevin did, about how they’d evolved and existed and ultimately become extinct over the course of millions of years, you had to cover the biological arena of the theory of evolution early, a long time before the rest of your friends and classmates.