Chapter 2 - Ceremony

 “As I look out here today, I see future doctors and lawyers and politicians and artists,” the principal began. “Thought today is your last day at Lyceum and your travels will bring to you far away lands, and meet interesting and new people, the experiences you've had here will follow you for the rest of your life. Some of you will be off to Basic Training to serve your community and keep our world a safe place to learn. Some will be going off to Gymnasium to further your education and provide for the common good. No matter where the gusts of life blow your sail, know that you will always have a home here at Lyceum.”

Jim shifted in his seat. The robes sat on his arm a weird way and it made him uncomfortable. The tassel on his mortarboards sat uncomfortably in his periphery and the seating had him cramped. Some students really liked the graduation ceremony. It was one of the few remaining vestiges of ancient preculture that survived the Collapse, and some of the students, particularly the academics, enjoyed the old ways. Jim, however, was not one of them. He had tried to dodge the ceremony, but his parents would have none of it.

“And now, as my last act as your principal, I hereby bequeath the honor of graduation up you all. Rise up and celebrate!” No sooner had the words left the principals mouths then did the students roar to their feet, throwing their mortarboards to the sky.

“Congratulations!” Said the random person next to Jim who's last name also began with an “R.”

“Congrats to you, too,” Jim idly shook their hand as he began parting the throng in search of his hat.

“Congratulation, Jim,” said a voice over his left shoulder. He spun around to see who it was.

“Molly. Hi. Congratulations to you, too.” Molly sat next to Jim in Math lecture. Mousy little redhead. Sharp as a tack. Beautiful green eyes.

“Could you?” She said, extending a finger.

“Hm?” Jim snapped out of his reverie. He realized he'd been staring blankly at her. He followed her arm down to her finger and then to where her finger was point. It was her mortarboard. “Oh right, sure.” He picked it up and handed it to her. “Sorry.”

“I didn't see you at my open-house,” She took the hat from Jim She held it in front of herself and looked deeply into Jim's eyes.

“Uh,” Jim was entranced. Her gaze was locked firmly on him. She was remarkably pretty and Jim found himself very distracted. A few blinks and a shake of his head knocked his thoughts back into place. “I, uh, never got an invitation. Was I supposed to be there?” Jim finally said when he could find words, again.

“Oh, ha, I guess not. I must have forgotten to invite you. I would have liked to have seen you there, though.” She twisted her body side-to-side idly as she spoke, shrugging her shoulders and batting her eyelashes slightly.

Jim's concentration was jarred slightly as he heard a subtle chorus of giggles over the cacophony of people milling about. Over Molly's shoulder, a crush of girls were watching the two, no doubt laughing at the spectacle. He looked back to Molly, who was expertly ignoring her entourage. “I would have liked to have been there, myself,” Jim stuttered out. He knew where this was going, and was trying very hard to not mess it up.

“Well, If you want, a bunch us are going out tonight,” She gestured with her head to the gaggle of giggling girls, who giggled louder with the acknowledgment, “Tammy and them are bringing some guys along and they said I should ask you to come out with us, too. Do you wanna come?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. I think that'd be great. Yeah. Definitely. Yeah,” Jim was having a hard time maintaining composure. He felt his cheeks tighten, an uncontrollable smile filling his face. Molly's backup saw and giggled loudly again, easily following the situation from afar. “Should I meet you somewhere?”

“We were gonna go to the diner. Wanna meet up there? I'll let you know when we're on our way down.”
“Ok sure, that'd be great. Sure. Ok,” Jim fidgeted with his robe around where his pockets would have been.

“Great, I'll see you then,” Molly's face was full of smile, as well. She turned and skipped away, over to her friends. They all huddled and chatted and laughed. You could hear muffled tones rise over the din of students rummaging around. Jim stood around for a while unmoved. Eventually the crush of girls moved along. A few idle people gave a “congrats” and extended a hand for a shake. Jim would roboticly reply and instinctively reply shake hands, as well.

“James.” The low, feminine voice was unmistakable. It snapped him back to reality.

“Professor. Or should I say, General,” He turned on his heals to face Professor Cecilia.

“Not until you're a soldier. Until then, you can call me Carol,” the professor was wearing her faculty robes and mortar. She was a decorated teacher, so she had on various tassels and medallions bespeaking her praise. “I haven't heard from you. What're you going to do?”

Jim opened his mouth a little, and then closed it. Opened again, and closed again. He had not been able to stop thinking about their encounter, her offer, since the coffee shop.

“I don't know professor. I can't make a decision,” Jim lowered his head sheepishly. It was hard to admit.

“Walk with me, Jim,” Carol turned and positioned herself next to him and made a gesture to walk abreast. They walked in silence a while. The thrum and buzz of students and their doting parents hummed around them as the eventually made it to the edge of the crowd. The ceremony was held on their outdoor sports field. The sun was shining bright and the temperature was cool and comfortable. A slight breeze was rolling through, and it fluttered their robes as they slowly paced the perimiter of the field. “Where are your parents, today?” Carol eventually said, breaking the calm. Most of the parents had watched from the stadium seating, but were now mostly on the field fawning over their children.

“My mom is a little sick these days. Nothing terrible but not just food poisoning, either. Makes it hard for her to travel. Dad picked up some extra shifts a few weeks ago at the factory. They're operating way over capacity right now and are on a very tight deadline. I told'em it was ok. Times are a little tight for us, and the money for overtime is good.” Jim clawed at his hips, trying to find pockets to shove his hands into.

“I'm sorry to hear that, I know this is an important day for you,” the professor was looking at Jim intently. Casually batting her head forward occasionally to see where she was going.

“It's alright, really. My family and I aren't exceptionally close. Mom's been sick forever and Dad is a busy guy. We make do with what we have.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, too, Jim.” Jim looked up at the professor as she spoke. For a second, he would swear a look of genuine sympathy flashed across her face.

“Ain't nothing, professor. Really. I made my peace with it when I was very young,” Jim had contented himself to grip a handful of robe at his side. He shuffled his feet as he walked. He was a fair bit taller than the professor, so his average gate moved faster than she seemed to want to go.

“Isn't, Jim. 'Ain't ain't said by nothin' but fools and yokels,' my mom told me,” A smile crossed Carol's face. She looked down at her own feet idly. “Jim,” the wistfulness vacant from her eyes again as she turned her head back toward him, “we need to know what you want to do. This opportunity isn't one we can extend again.”

Jim looked up and locked eyes with her. They both stopped walking, near the far edge of the field. “I don't know what I want to do, Professor. Carol.”

“Why not?” Her tone wasn't derisive or condescending. It was inquisitive. Socratic.

“That's what I've been trying to figure out, Professor. To me, it's a pretty big question. 'Why don't you want to do this,' is tantamount to 'what do you want to do with the rest of your life.' You're not asking me to choose what color socks to wear or even what career to take in my later years. You're asking me whether I want to live a normal life, or I want to become a hero.” Jim was calm, but there was despair in his voice.

“At least you get to choose. Many heroes don't get that luxury. For most, the job is thrust on them, whether they want it or not. A thousand years ago, during the Collapse, Bartibus and Chaira didn't choose to become the Shephards. But when the bombs dropped, they were the ones who went out into the streets and corralled survivors into the shelters. Tyson Dale didn't choose to sacrifice his life to release the Adam bugs during the blasts. They were presented with a situation, and they acted. It's calm now, though. We're not the Nomads anymore. We're working to rebuild our society. Repopulate. But this peace can't last forever, Jim. You already know the people across the pond are restless. You do have a choice, now. The heroes of our time don't have to be made from dire circumstances. They can be chosen. You're right, Jim. This is a choice between a normal life and a life of heroism. And some people aren't cut out to be heroes. That's why we remember people like Bartibus and Chaira. That's why everyone knows Tyson Dale. And that is a lot of responsibility, Jim. But, remember, for every Tyson Dale and Bartibus and Chaira, there are thousands of equally-heroic people living relatively normal lives. Tyson Dale didn't discover the Adam bug and release it into the world on his own. He had lab assistants. He had friends to help him along the way. I'm not asking you to be remembered in history, Jim. I'm just asking you to make a difference in the world,” there was passion in the professor's voice. Burning, undeniable passion.

“You had to make this choice, too, didn't you,” Jim was unflinching.

“When I was a much younger woman, I lived with a man. We were both in the service together. I had rejoined as an officer after finishing a long degree in Gymnasium. He was a part of the CORE program, then in its very infancy. He pulled a few strings and asked me if I wanted in. I was confused myself on whether to join or not. He told me what I told you, and I haven't looked back since, Jim.”

“What happened to him?” Jim pressed. No one had ever been so candid with him.

“We got into a fight and I left him. You'll meet him if you enter the program. He's quite a character. You'd like him,” Carol smirked, the wistfulness briefly in her eyes again.

“What's a normal life like, professor?” Jim sounded very distant.

“I think you know the answer to that already, Jim,” there was a long pause between the two. “Can I count on you?” The professor put her hand on his shoulder.

The contact sent a jolt through Jim. He found a focus he hadn't had before. Things seemed to fall into place. “How long do I have to say goodbye?”

“You'll have time for your date tonight, if that's what you're asking.” Carol slid her hand down the side of Jim's arm and squeezed his bicep before pulling away.

Jim blushed, “and my tournament tomorrow?”

“That won't be an issue either. You're making the right choice, Jim. I promise,” the professor turned and began walking back to the crowd to gladhand and make small-talk. Jim stood for a while longer and eventually did the same.

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“We'll be at the diner in a few. Meet us there?” the message read on Jim's standard-issue communicator.

“I'll leave now. See you there,” he responded in simple text form. Another relic everyone seemed to say would perish with every passing generation of technology. Nothing, however, seemed to dethrone the simplicity of text-based communication.

Jim grabbed the keys off of his night stand, slipped on his shoes, and headed down to the diner. He had his favorite shirt and slacks on, a rare opportunity for him to wear something other than Lyceum uniform and government-bought clothes. He made his way down the halls of the dormitories and over to the train platform a little way up the commons. He caught the train just as it pulled in. It was somewhat full, with no obvious empty benches. Jim decided to just stand at the back instead of sit down near anyone. A dapper man boarded the train just before the doors closed and appeared to have a similar idea. He took up side next to Jim at the rear. Jim couldn't help but notice the man's black walking stick and feathered fedora hat. They were relatively plain affair, with the stick having a normal silver ball for a handle, and the fedora a black deal with a black grosgrain ribbon holding down two small purple feathers. The fact, however, that such a dashing younger man was sporting them was quite odd, as such items were typical on very old genteel men trying to hark back on a bygone era of history.

“I like your hat,” Jim said, after the young man caught him idly staring.

The man smiled, “Thanks, kid.” He turned and extended a hand out, “Standish. Standish Eli.”

“Standish Eli?” Jim grabbed his hand and shook. His grip was firm. His hands were solid as stone, but not hard and calloused.

“Alright, you got me. It's Eli Standish. But everyone calls me Standish anyway, so it's how I introduce myself.” Standish returned his hand to the handle hanging from the train and tapped his walking cane on the train's metal floor. “I didn't catch your name,” the man's smile was enchanting.

Jim shook his head again, jumbling his brain back into function. “Ross. Jim Ross.” The train lurched to a halt as it pulled into station. “This is my stop. Nice to meet you, Standish.” Jim made his way to large hatch doors on the side of the train.

“Hey, catch,” Standish hollered. As Jim turned to acknowledge him, Standish deftly threw the fedora at him.

“Thanks,” was all Jim could stutter out from the platform. The door closed as Standish winked a sky-blue eye at him. He turned the hat over in his hands a few times before trying it on. It fit perfectly.

The diner was just behind the train stop, and he could see a ghostly reflection of himself in the large plate-glass window. The hat matched his black slacks and purple button-down perfectly. Jim had even forgot to gel his hair, so the hat was a perfect addition. “I look great,” he unconsciously said out loud to his reflection.

“Yes, you do,” said a mousy voice from behind him as a finger jabbed into Jim's rib.

Jim spun around. Molly, her friends, and their dates were behind him, their train having just pulled in behind his. “Oh Molly, I didn't see you there. I wasn't trying to, I mean, I wasn't,” Jim stammered, trying to not sound like a self-absorbed jerk.

“I know, silly. But you do look great,” she smiled sheepishly.

That Smile, Jim thought. She was wearing an emerald-green, sleeveless blouse with frills along the front and chocolate-brown, high-wasted slacks. Her close-cropped hair was mussed and straightened and parted at the side like the pixie cuts models of the time were wearing. She looked like a model, herself. The blouse brought out her eyes to make them seem even more sparkling and even more green.

“You do that a lot, Jim,” she said with a giggle, and put a hand on his bicep.

“What?” Jim shook his head again and snapped into reality. The hand on his arm made his heart skip a beat and his face turn bright red.

“That,” she said, pointing with her other hand, her other fingers wrapped around a chocolate-brown leather clutch. “Your eyes go all blank and you start staring. You did it whenever I asked you a question in Math class, too.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to stare. Sorry,” Jim hung his head slightly and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He was a large bit taller than Molly, though, so he couldn't really hide his eyes from her.

“Oh no, don't be sorry. It's really cute, I like it.” She started walking forward, spinning Jim a little, as she still had his arm, and and subtly urged him forward. Tammy, Molly's partner-in-crime, and her boyfriend, who's name Jim couldn't remember, but he sat behind him in Chemistry, and Molly's other friend Claire, who Jim wasn't particularly familiar with and some other guy Jim didn't recognize, all followed her in tow.

“It's just. I just can't help it. It's just those eyes.” Jim stammered out again. He was having a hard time regaining composure.

“Oh, ha, I get that all the time,” she turned her head slightly and glanced deeply into Jim's eyes, batting her eyelashes. She had a very pale complexion and was dusted ever so lightly with freckles across the bridge of her nose. Jim could tell she tried to soften them with powder, and he could feel himself wishing she hadn't. She very subtly slipped her arm underneath his and wrapped it around his elbow. Walking abreast, even in what looked like heals that were a few inches long, She barely came up to his shoulder.

Arms locked, Jim felt his heart jump in his chest, again. He could feel his nerves calm, though. She felt so relaxed Jim couldn't help but ease up himself. “Heh, then I don't feel that bad, then, I guess.” Tammy knocked an elbow into her boyfriend's rib and both of them chuckled a little bit. Jim spun his head around to take a quick peek, and both of them snapped into an overly-casual posture, an impossible-to-hide smile creeping into their cheeks as they tried to suppress it. Jim reached out and pulled the door of the diner open. He let everyone through and closed the door behind them. Molly went straight to a corner booth. The other four piled in first, leaving the end seats for Jim and Molly. Molly lowered herself into the chair. Jim softly sat next to her, making sure to not cause too much ripple in the bench pad.

Molly put a hand on Jim's knee. The contact sent lighting through him. Her other hand held her clutch in her lap. Jim pulled a hand off the table and rested it on his thigh, the tips of his fingers brushing against the place where her thumb met her wrist. Molly pulled her hand back and threaded her fingers between Jim's. His eyes were burning hot. The feeling sent a shiver through him, standing the hair on the back of his neck on end. “So Jim, what're you doing now that school's out?” Molly broke the silence at the table.

“I'm going into service, actually,” Jim said as he scanned his eyes around the table and eventually landed them on Molly's.

“Oh, that's nice. I was hoping you were going to make it to Gymnasium. Me and Claire made it in. You helped us so much, I woulda thought you coulda made it in easy.” Molly idly stroked the back of Jim's hand.

Don't say 'Claire and I.' Don't say 'Claire and I.' Jim repeated in his head. He looked down at his other hand, which was fidgeting with the paper band around his napkin and silverware roll. “I, uh, I got in, yeah. But, I, uh, it didn't work with what I want to do with my life.” Jim felt the nervousness creep back.

Molly, not missing a beat, felt his tension. “So, you're going into the service, then? That's cool. I like a man in uniform,” she interjected before anyone could ask any questions. The booth was a little tight, but Jim felt Molly press her shoulder a little harder into his, as if to say, It's all right, I get it.

Jim felt himself ease again, but then blush at the comment. He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. It'll help with my training more, and I think it's just the right way to go for me.”

“Training?” said the guy Jim didn't know across from him.

“Jim is a professional gamer,” Tammy said from the middle of the circular booth. “He's won a bunch of awards or something. I read about it in the school paper.” Tammy had long, straightened, brown hair with baby-doll bangs and brown eyes. She nodded a little acknowledgment in Jim's direction.

“Oh wow, that's pretty cool there. So you on a team and stuff?” Tammy's boyfriend asked.

“Yeah, I...” Jim began. Molly cut him off.

“He plays for the national team. He's like super good. Didn't you win like a prize or something when young that was a really big deal?”

“Mhm,” Jim began. He paused a beat to make sure no one was going to cut him off again. “I won the Gold medal in a pretty major event at the Global Digital Games when I was 13. At the time, I was the youngest person to ever hold the title.” Jim could feel himself relaxing more, and leaned back into the pad on the bench.

“You don't look like much of a gamer, Jim,” Claire said with a bit of a scoff. “You're, like, not skinny as a rod or super fat.”

“Well, most professionals are actually in pretty good shape. I mean, I won't be running a marathon any time soon, but I work out a few times a week with the team and eat a pretty strict diet. You need a strong heart and really fast twitch reflexes to be a good gamer, especially some of the more physical ones that don't use traditional interfaces.” Jim felt himself starting to get really technical. Whenever he got started on games, he knew he could talk forever about them, so he often tried to derail himself so more people could be included. “But yeah, that's why I'm ok with joining the service. It won't be too hard physically and they're gonna let me be a pilot or something.”

Just then, the waitress came up. “What can I get ya,” she said in a very casual tone. No one really needed to look at the menu, they'd all eaten there enough to know everything on the menu. Everyone placed their orders. The waitress jotted everything down on her notepad, “I'll put that right in for y'all.”

“So, Roger,” Claire said to the guy sitting next her, who Jim didn't recognize. “Are you heading to Gymnasium?

“Oh no, I'm joining up, too. I didn't get enough grades to get in.” Roger shrugged.

Molly laced her fingers through Jim's again. After she had woven her fingers into his, she pulled up and rest Jim's hand on her thigh. Her focus was forward on the group, but she gave Jim a sidelong glance and an impish smile. Instinctively, Jim began to idly caress her leg.

The conversation carried on for a bit. Jim would occasionally throw a word in here or there, ask a leading question, or answer a simple one. At intervals throughout the night, Molly would escalate physical contact with Jim, and Jim would respond in kind. She clung tightly onto Jim's shoulder, never moving her eyes away from the crowd, except for the casual glance back at Jim, a wily blaze burning behind those deep emerald eyes.

When the food arrived, Molly disengaged from his shoulder, and Jim took the opportunity to drape his behind her. Molly responded by snuggling against Jim's chest, resting her arm across his lap, her hand idly stroking the side of his thigh. The position forced Jim to eat with one hand, though with an omelet and sausage, it wasn't that hard. Fork-eating bacon looked a little weird, though. Molly caught it and snickered. From the shelter of Jim's frame, she, looking mousier than ever, took her hand out of Jim's lap. “Open up,” she said as she fed him a strip of bacon with a giggle.

As the night wound down, Roger and Gracie, Tammy's boyfriend decided to head off to the bathroom. Molly and Tammy also took the chance to duck out, as well. Jim and Claire remained at the table.

“She's really into you,” Claire said in hushed tones when everyone had left. “She's kind of had a crush on you like all year. Tammy and I told her this might be her last shot.”

“Really? I never knew,” Jim scratched the back of his head under the fedora. “I'm not really good with that stuff. I'm in kind of a special program for the military, so if she hadn't caught me today, it really might have been her last shot.”

“Oh, then she like really lucked out,” she looked up quickly. Molly and Tammy were almost back to the booth. Claire leaned in close,“You should totally kiss her tonight. Just saying.” She leaned back in the booth. “Hey! I'm gonna go to the bathroom quick, myself.”

“Really? You know, I kinda wanna powder my nose, do you have any powder?” Tammy rocked her weight onto her other hip as she and Molly approached the table. She on had a dark blue flowered-print dress with white lace trim and a small yellow cardigan. Her legs were clad in black tights and some low-slung black ballet flats finished the ensemble.

“Sure do, let's go.” Claire hoisted herself out of the booth and followed Tammy back to the back of the diner, winking not-so-subtly at Jim before Molly sat down next to him.

“Gracie stepped outside for a cigarette. He and Roger were talking about baseball or something so he's out there with him,” Molly plopped down next to Jim. Jim lifted himself up out of the booth and craned his neck to make sure the other girls were out of sight. “I'm not much for sports, myself. Never could understand...”

Molly couldn't get much more out, though. Mid-sentence Jim placed his hand underneath her chin and leaned down. His lips connected, and a shock went through them. It traced back along his sinuses and into the part of his head right behind his eyes. His friends had said his first kiss would be hot and wet and sloppy and weird. It wasn't anything like that, though. On the lips, it didn't feel much different than any other kiss he'd given. To his dog, to a trophy, or on his mom's cheek. But the way it made his body feel, well that was a different story. It gave him gooseflesh all across his body. He could feel a slight breeze from the ventilation duct above the table on the back of his neck. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and finger tips. He could feel his eyeballs on the back of his eyelids. His whole body tingled like the split-second before you pass out. There were sparkles dancing in the darkness behind is lids. But most of all, he could feel her lips under his. He could feel them twitch and wiggle and pucker and suck and flex. It made him kiss harder. He used his tongue to wet his lips mid-kiss, and felt her tongue meet his. He felt his hand move from under her chin to behind her head. He felt her hand thread behind his back and up to the side of his face. He could smell her. Deeply. He could make out every note. From the cosmetic smell of her makeup, to the fruity scent of her shampoo and hair pomade, to the soft vanilla scent of her body soap. He didn't want to stop, and Molly wasn't giving any indication that she wanted him to. Jim turned his head and brushed noses with her, kissing again when his head was angled the opposite way.

After what seemed like both the shortest and longest instance in his life, Molly pulled back and slid a finger between them, resting it on Jim's lips. Jim took the hint and pulled his head back, opening his eyes to stare deeply into the bottomless pits of hers. “Claire told you to do that, didn't she?” She said, a longing smile filled her face.

“Yeah,” Jim said simply. He rested his forehead on hers, knocking the fedora back slightly.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” Molly's mousy eyes hid a devious visage.

“No,” Jim blinked, remembering the shock, the feeling.

“Me either,” Molly closed her eyes. “Tammy said it wasn't anything special.”

“I thought that was kinda special,” Jim said, reaching his hand up and softly caressing her cheek.

“I didn't say she was right,” Molly said, that impish grin crawling ear to ear.

“I'm telling you, Terrance Filopino was the greatest catcher, man,” Roger was gesticulating wildly as he and Gracie approached the table.

Gracie was fidgeting with his lighter and gesticulating in return. “No, no, no, that title belongs solely to Jake King. That guy is legend, man.”

“Jim, who do you think is better, King or Filopino?” Roger asked when he and Gracie reached the table.

Jim had since resumed a more casual repose. “Honestly? I have no idea who you're talking about.” Jim was still running high from his kiss. He couldn't get the shock out of his mind. “If we're talking about games, I could go for hours, but I don't have time to watch sports.”

“Bummer, man. No big, though. You're still cool by my book,” Gracie's sleeves were rolled up slightly, revealing a tattoo-covered arm as he extended a hand to Jim. He locked thumbs and wrapped his fingers around its back, a much more casual version of the standard handshake.

“Yeah, you're alright,” Roger mirrored in kind.

The girls arrived back from the bathroom just then, as well. “We good to go?” Claire questioned as she returned. She had her bleach-blonde hair in a tight pony tail with side-swept bangs almost covering one of her hazel-brown eyes. She had on a blouse with a low-cut sweater overtop, the white collar casually undone a few buttons down, tight blue jeans and tan stiletto heals. She casually swept the bangs away from her eye. “I'm good.”

“We just gotta settle up,” Roger said. He and Gracie made their way to the cashier by the door.

“Yeah,” Jim made a motion for Molly to get up so he could make his way over.

She lowered her head and leaned into Jim, “Are you sure?”

“Definitely. Don't worry.” Jim said in a confident tone. Jim lifted himself out of the booth after Molly let him free with a defiant stare. Jim made a fair bit of spending money in prize purses from his competitions. He gave a lot of it to his parents to help with his mom, so it wasn't anything he could go crazy with, but it let him enjoy some luxuries from time to time.

The tabs settled, they all stood in a semi-circle outside waiting for the next train, each girl clinging to their respective man. Jim's train arrived first. “This is mine,” he addressed the group. Molly walked him to the edge of the platform. Jim waved goodbye to everyone, and everyone waved goodbye back. “I had a really great time tonight, Molly. I'll talk to you later, ok?”

“You'd better. Or I'll hunt you down,” she stood on her tip-toes and pull Jim's head down by his collar. She kissed him on the cheek and whispered goodnight in his ear before letting go. The train buzzed and she stepped back as the door closed, eyes locked on each other until they were out of site.

“She's cute,” a voice said from behind a broad newspaper sitting on one of the benches behind him. “Be careful. Redheads have a temper.”

“You'd have to say something pretty wicked to piss off Professor Cecilia, Standish,” Jim said without turning around.

“Trust me, it's a lot easier to get her going than you think,” Standish dropped the newspaper to his lap. He had on a new black fedora, this time with a red ribbon and black feathers.

“Do you just like to ride the trains, or are you following me?” Jim turned now to face him. He had the same cool smile, his rich peanut butter-brown skin eerily offset by his almost-white eyes

“Truth is on the trains, Jim,” Standish raised the newspaper back up without saying another word.

It was past curfew when Jim finally got back to his dorm. His roommates were already in bed, so he quietly slipped into his closet-sized compartment in the quad, hung his clothes up and crawled into bed. Jim replayed the night over and over in his head before finally drifting off to sleep. Molly...