kid’s head snapped back around in a hurry and he slouched down in his chair like he was trying to hide.
Shit , Felix thought regretfully, instantly feeling terrible.
Allison stared at him, her worried eyes traveling over his face. “You all right?”
He nodded, embarrassed. It wasn’t like him to do something like that.
“Anyway,” she said in a low voice, “that’s why Grayson’s the first freshman to be president. The administration kisses his ass and lets him run the school. He’s only a sophomore now, so he’s gonna be here for a while, so whatever you do, don’t make enemies with him.”
Felix shrugged. He wasn’t planning to make enemies with anyone. Then again, the kid he’d growled at probably wouldn’t want to hang out with him.
Grayson placed his hands on the podium and began speaking into the microphone without even a hint of nervousness. He oozed confidence, and clearly relished the opportunity to speak to such a large and captive audience. He made a few jokes (the quality of the cafeteria food got the brunt), and spoke about community involvement, philanthropy, and the importance of appreciating PC’s academic traditions. Felix caught some of it. But mostly he was beating himself up for snapping at the poor kid in front of him who hadn’t moved a muscle in ten minutes; maybe he figured Felix couldn’t see him if he kept perfectly still.
“In conclusion,” Grayson said, and Felix’s ears perked up. Then Grayson raised one arm over his head, made a fist and shouted: “Once a Sturgeon, forever a Sturgeon!”
That got the biggest laugh of the day.
PC’s mascot, the Sturgeon, was unquestionably the lamest school mascot in the entire country. And the unofficial school motto— Once a Sturgeon, forever a Sturgeon —was too ridiculous for anyone to take seriously. It reminded Felix of the Monty Python movies his dad made him watch to prove that his sense of humor was still, as his dad used to say, ‘with it’.
And so ended freshman orientation.
Chapter 5
Dirk
“Heroin?” the man with the soft, sunburned face complained to Dirk. “If I’d known there was going to be heroin in the room I wouldn’t have signed up for this. I definitely wouldn’t have called the police.”
“You signed up for this, David,” Dirk told the man, “because I’m making you rich.” David was Dirk’s agent. David’s agency had signed Dirk right out of high school and landed him the role—‘Scab’ in Alien Armageddonator —that launched his career. Now he was David’s biggest client. By any measure, Dirk was enormously successful. Sprawling symbols of that success could be found in Maui, New York City, Italy, and in Malibu where Dirk was presently sitting with his agent beside the infinity pool at a palm tree shaded table on the lower terrace of his oceanfront retreat.
David said nothing, reclining uncomfortably in his chair, appearing stiff, as if his back was bothering him.
“Lighten up,” Dirk said, nodding at a bottle of bourbon and two glasses with ice cubes floating like clouds of crystal in an amber sea. “You’ll feel better about this after you have a drink. C’mon. Humor me. It’s a beautiful day.”
David’s face remained tense as he looked out at the whitecapped waters shimmering beneath the glowing warmth of the sun. “I’ll grant you that. Every day’s beautiful here. But just for the record, I was rich long before I discovered you brewing cappuccinos at Starbucks. Salud.” He smiled thinly and tipped his glass to Dirk, then let the smoky liquid slide down his throat. “God that’s good! You know your bourbons. Pappy?”
“Yeah.” Dirk poured three fingers for David and three for himself. “Michael sends me a case every year. Look—I didn’t know about the heroin until I was in their room. I swear. But it’s actually working in my favor. Now the media thinks I’m not only a beast in bed—thanks to your concerned citizen’s call about women in
Shit , Felix thought regretfully, instantly feeling terrible.
Allison stared at him, her worried eyes traveling over his face. “You all right?”
He nodded, embarrassed. It wasn’t like him to do something like that.
“Anyway,” she said in a low voice, “that’s why Grayson’s the first freshman to be president. The administration kisses his ass and lets him run the school. He’s only a sophomore now, so he’s gonna be here for a while, so whatever you do, don’t make enemies with him.”
Felix shrugged. He wasn’t planning to make enemies with anyone. Then again, the kid he’d growled at probably wouldn’t want to hang out with him.
Grayson placed his hands on the podium and began speaking into the microphone without even a hint of nervousness. He oozed confidence, and clearly relished the opportunity to speak to such a large and captive audience. He made a few jokes (the quality of the cafeteria food got the brunt), and spoke about community involvement, philanthropy, and the importance of appreciating PC’s academic traditions. Felix caught some of it. But mostly he was beating himself up for snapping at the poor kid in front of him who hadn’t moved a muscle in ten minutes; maybe he figured Felix couldn’t see him if he kept perfectly still.
“In conclusion,” Grayson said, and Felix’s ears perked up. Then Grayson raised one arm over his head, made a fist and shouted: “Once a Sturgeon, forever a Sturgeon!”
That got the biggest laugh of the day.
PC’s mascot, the Sturgeon, was unquestionably the lamest school mascot in the entire country. And the unofficial school motto— Once a Sturgeon, forever a Sturgeon —was too ridiculous for anyone to take seriously. It reminded Felix of the Monty Python movies his dad made him watch to prove that his sense of humor was still, as his dad used to say, ‘with it’.
And so ended freshman orientation.
Chapter 5
Dirk
“Heroin?” the man with the soft, sunburned face complained to Dirk. “If I’d known there was going to be heroin in the room I wouldn’t have signed up for this. I definitely wouldn’t have called the police.”
“You signed up for this, David,” Dirk told the man, “because I’m making you rich.” David was Dirk’s agent. David’s agency had signed Dirk right out of high school and landed him the role—‘Scab’ in Alien Armageddonator —that launched his career. Now he was David’s biggest client. By any measure, Dirk was enormously successful. Sprawling symbols of that success could be found in Maui, New York City, Italy, and in Malibu where Dirk was presently sitting with his agent beside the infinity pool at a palm tree shaded table on the lower terrace of his oceanfront retreat.
David said nothing, reclining uncomfortably in his chair, appearing stiff, as if his back was bothering him.
“Lighten up,” Dirk said, nodding at a bottle of bourbon and two glasses with ice cubes floating like clouds of crystal in an amber sea. “You’ll feel better about this after you have a drink. C’mon. Humor me. It’s a beautiful day.”
David’s face remained tense as he looked out at the whitecapped waters shimmering beneath the glowing warmth of the sun. “I’ll grant you that. Every day’s beautiful here. But just for the record, I was rich long before I discovered you brewing cappuccinos at Starbucks. Salud.” He smiled thinly and tipped his glass to Dirk, then let the smoky liquid slide down his throat. “God that’s good! You know your bourbons. Pappy?”
“Yeah.” Dirk poured three fingers for David and three for himself. “Michael sends me a case every year. Look—I didn’t know about the heroin until I was in their room. I swear. But it’s actually working in my favor. Now the media thinks I’m not only a beast in bed—thanks to your concerned citizen’s call about women in
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