The Fire In My Eyes (5 page)

“Thanks.” I stifled another yawn and sat at his desk, staring at his laptop.

“It's all right, you're still new to the game here. Check the weekly schedule display,” Max said, pointing at the screen after I logged in. “You're taking mostly basic freshman classes, right? Those always have a bunch of sections, so you shouldn't have a problem, even if one got moved.”

“Yeah, this looks right. I tried to balance the week out so I wouldn't have too much on any one day. Nothing past three in the afternoon, either.”

“I always try to get at least one day a week off,” Max said. “I know one guy who tried to stack all his classes into two days last year. He bragged about it up until that first day, and then he was miserable for the rest of the trimester. Eight hours of class per day? Not fun.”

I laughed and started to close the window. “Yeah, that sounds pretty terrible.”

“I thought you said you didn't schedule anything after three?” Max asked.

“I didn't. Why?”

“Scroll down.” He pointed at the screen.

I hadn't even noticed until he pointed it out. I scrolled down to reveal a one hour class at four in the afternoon on Wednesday. “What the hell is Comparative Ethics? I didn't sign up for that course.”

I heard a thump from behind me and Max swore quietly. I turned to see him rubbing the top of his head. “Comparative Ethics,” he said. “You got into that too?”

“You took it too?” I asked. “How'd you get signed up for it?”

“No idea, it just showed up. Most of the people in that class said that something funny happened during orientation. Stories like yours.” Max reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He rolled it in his hand before continuing. “Lots of them said they had headaches afterwards. Everyone thought that the old man made eye contact with them.”

“Did you have a headache?” I asked him.

“Nope, but I have one right now.” He slapped the loft and grimaced.

“What's the class all about?” I asked. “Easy, hard?” If it was a hard course, there was no way in hell I was going to bother going. I'd just drop it.

Max stepped out from under the loft and stretched his arms up over his head. “It's easy. There's no real work. They base your grade on how well you get the concepts. It's a lot of thinking. They could call it Applied Ethics, since most of it is practical, for lack of better words. You get situations and talk your way through different ethical considerations and scenarios.”

“Doesn't sound too bad,” I said. “How'd you do?”

“Failed. I guess my ethics suck. Big surprise, right? There's another class in the fall, but if you fail the first one, you don't go on to the next. I didn't lose any sleep over that.” Max stretched again, then winced. “I'm going to smoke before bed. Back in ten.”

I looked over my shoulder as he walked away. As he reached the door, Drew walked in from the bathroom, rubbing his head with a towel. “Not asleep yet?” he asked.

“Nope. Just getting a smoke. Kev got a nice little surprise in his schedule, just like I did last year.”

“Oh yeah?” Drew loomed behind me. “That class? Max was bitching about it. I don’t get it.”

“Me either. But whatever,” I said. “It says it doesn’t count toward your GPA, and one hour a week won’t kill me. Might be interesting, and if it isn’t, I can just stop going, right?”

Drew nodded. “Good plan. You all set for tomorrow?”

“Schedule, books, the whole thing. All I need is to actually sleep tonight,” I said. My roommates seemed to be conspiring to keep me from actually going to bed.

“I hear that. Listen, if you need any help with courses, here's who to ask. If it's math, ask Lisa. Seriously. She aced all the freshman math courses last year. Computers, go to Jess, obviously. Max knows a lot of the general stuff so ask him for help with English or anything like that. Business classes though, I've got no idea who to go to for those. If I find anyone, I'll let you know.”

“What about you? Anything I should go to you for?” I asked.

Drew laughed. “You planning on taking any engineering classes?”

“Good point. What about Andreas?” I asked.

“He's a smart guy,” Drew said. “Too smart for us. He'll give you answers that are way, way above the level for the class, and it'll take him three hours to get there. Last resort, man. Whatever you do, don't ask him for help with a soft science like psychology or sociology. At least, not without witnesses and an escape route.”

“I see,” I said. “Did Max say a lot about that Comparative Ethics class?”

“Not much. Maybe it's for people who need remedial ethical training?” Drew said with a grin. “No, he didn't say much about it. I think he stopped going by the end. He was too busy getting into trouble. I had to rescue him from a couple hairy situations because of his mouth. He's actually gotten better about that. Hard to believe, right?”

“I can't imagine him being much worse,” I said.

Drew laughed. “The dude was fearless. He told off anyone and everyone, thought no one would fight back. Most people didn't, but he was lucky the one time it got real, I was close enough to step in.”

“A fight?” I asked. Max had struck me as a cheerful asshole, not the sort to go around picking fights with people.

“Almost. The guy backed off after I stepped in. People don't seem to mess with me,” he said, lifting a fist in the air. “When we got back to our room, I told Max he had to knock that shit off or I'd be first in line to take a swing the next time. He took it pretty seriously.”

“I'm kind of surprised you stood up for him,” I said.

He looked at me as if I had suddenly sprouted horns. “Are you serious? Would you have let him get beat?”

“Not like that,” I said. “I mean, a lot of people would have let him have what they thought was coming to him.” I had watched that happen from time to time in high school.

“I'm not like that,” Drew said. “Not at all, man. How could I live with him afterwards? Hell, how could I live with myself? Could you?”

“Probably not,” I said. I had in the past. Drew was a better guy than I was. “But I don't have the same advantages you do.”

Drew relaxed a bit. “Yeah, well, we've each got our own strengths. I'm a big guy, so I take advantage of that. You'd do what you could, right? You seem like a good guy, so I figure if I'm ever in trouble, you'd have my back, right?”

“Of course.” What else could I say? He'd never need it.

He seemed satisfied. “Cool. I got your back too, Kev. I need some air before bed. Get some sleep, man.”

“Yeah, I will,” I said as he walked out. I logged out of the course registration system and stood up, leaning on the chair. I hadn't gotten near enough sleep ever since I had arrived here, and now I had to wake up in seven hours for classes. I flopped into bed without turning the lights off and closed my eyes. I was asleep before either of them came back.

I ran down the sidewalk back to campus, swearing every time my right foot hit the ground. I had stopped by the campus store to pick up some books after class ended at three, taken my time browsing, walked back to the dorm. Andreas had been on his way out, so I chatted with him for a few minutes before going back to my room to relax. Max looked over his shoulder at me as I walked in and said, “Don't you have Comparative Ethics at four?”

I had less than five minutes before the damn class started. I hated being late. Even if it was some bullshit optional mystery class, I didn't want to be rude to the professor, or have the entire class stare at me as I came in. At this point, it was going to be a tossup as to whether I reached the building in time or not.

Fortunately, the building wasn't too far from the dorm. I waited for an elevator, panting and out of breath. Both elevators were on the third floor. As I watched the display above the doors, one moved up to the fourth floor. I snarled something profane at the elevator gods and took the stairs. The class was on the third floor and by the time I reached the room, my legs were jelly and my watch read 4:03. Damn. I slammed the door open a little harder than was necessary.

Bang! I stopped short. There hadn't been a professor listed on the schedule. Max hadn't mentioned who taught it. Now the sharp crack of a cane striking the hardwood floor punctuated my entrance. “Oh, shit,” I said.

“Oh,
shit, indeed, Mr. Parker.” Alistair Ripley's blue eyes locked onto me and he
frowned, but his tone was ever so slightly amused. “I'm pleased you could find the time to attend. I trust you had no trouble locating the room?”

“No, sir,” I said.

“I see. I trust that you will not be tardy again?”

“I'll do my best.”

He shook his head. “I suppose that heartfelt attempts are the best I will see out of you this trimester. At the very least, Mr. Parker, please leave the grandiose entrances to me. Take a seat. I believe this one right here in front will suit you best.”

I walked to the seat he had indicated, the staring of my classmates like pinpricks all over my face. I was sweaty, shaky, and now thoroughly embarrassed. The first day and Alistair Ripley himself had called me out. Walking out and never coming back tempted me, especially since it wouldn't hurt my GPA. But, since I was already here, I'd stick around for this session. If the old man himself was teaching the course, there had to be something special about it. Besides, I was just too damn tired to walk back now.

“Now, since we are all finally here, allow me to introduce myself. As I am sure you know, I am Alistair Ripley. This course is Comparative Ethics. There are thirty of you enrolled this trimester, and all of you have managed to show up for the first class. Barely.” He glanced at me before continuing. Jackass. “Now, this course and its aims. Comparative Ethics is-” He cut off abruptly. “You have a question, Miss Wainwright?”

“Yes, President Ripley?” The voice from the seat to my right was familiar. I turned to look. She sounded just like the girl from the other day, the one who had told me to wear darker colors. Her brown eyes were the same, and her cheeks dimpled when she smiled. She was wearing a dark green turtleneck that hugged her body. Damn fine curves. I forced myself not to stare. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but how would you prefer us to address you?”

“Professor will do. I was a professor long before I was a president. Your question?” The old man folded his hands on top of his cane.

“I was just wondering if you were going to take attendance, Professor?” she asked.

Ripley raised an eyebrow, as if he hadn't quite heard her right. “There's no need for that, Miss Wainwright. Only thirty of you passed the selection tests. I find it rather easy to remember your names and faces.”

There were murmurs of surprise from the back of the room. Remembering thirty names and faces wasn't overly difficult, but without meeting those people? I couldn't do that. I didn't know whether to be impressed or scared. Was that why he had looked directly at people during orientation?

The girl didn't seem satisfied with that. She tilted her head and frowned. “What do you mean by selection tests? I don't know about anyone else, but I didn't take a test.”

Ripley sighed, sat on the desk at the front of the room, and laid his cane across his lap. “Would you like to venture a guess, Miss Wainwright? Or anyone else, for that matter?”

I could have ventured a guess. “Yeah, you looked at us funny during orientation.” I had no intention of saying that out loud. I didn't want to become the class freak. Judging by the silence in the room, no one else was going to volunteer either.

The silence stretched until Ripley sighed again. “I see. You will recall that part of the entrance process was an interview, either in person or by phone? Your interviews were analyzed for indications that you may be receptive to what this class is intended to teach. Our staff discussed all prospects, and I reviewed every potential entrant personally. The final determination came after orientation.”

“So that's why the class didn't show up until afterwards?” someone in the back asked.

“That is self-evident, Mr. Taylor.” Ripley stood up and tapped his cane on the floor again. “Now, are there any further questions? Yes, Miss Richardson?”

This voice came from somewhere to my left. “I was curious about the name of the course, Professor Ripley. How are we going to compare ethics? Isn't it a matter of opinion?”

Ripley's expression tightened. “Miss Richardson, if you hold the position that ethics and morality are a simple matter of opinion without justification or analysis, perhaps you are not cut out for this course.”

“I don't mean it like that, I just mean-”

“It's quite all right, Miss Richardson.” His expression shifted into a smile. “Confusion this early in the class is understandable. However, remember, if you cannot keep up with the concepts introduced in this course, I will not allow you to hold the rest of the class back. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir!” She squeaked out her answer and I chuckled. The old man was starting to jump all over people for silly questions. That was a change of pace from regular teachers.

Ripley's gaze shot to me. “Mr. Parker! I see that you are amused. Good! I am glad that my course is entertaining you. Perhaps you will share your source of amusement?”

My face had just stopped burning. Now it was igniting all over again. I looked away from him. The brown haired girl was looking at me with a smile. “Well-”

“If you won't share that much with us, Mr. Parker, perhaps you'd be so good as to answer a question for me?”

I was too tired to get shit on, even if he was the president of the school. What did I have to lose? This course didn't count for anything. “Of course, Professor Ripley. I'd be delighted to answer any question you have to the utmost of my ability,” I said. Silence met my words. Ripley raised an eyebrow.

“Excellent. Could you give an example of an ethical concept commonly followed in Western culture?” He turned away as he asked the question and walked to the blackboard.

“The Golden Rule? Do to others as you'd want them to do to you?” I said. “Is that the sort of example you're looking for?”

“Exactly.” He wrote it on the board with precise strokes. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Would anyone else like to give me another example? Mr. Tompkins?”