Honing The Talent
B Pascal
Chapter 3
First Day In The Dorm
When I finally did open my eyes, there was light outside, and a glance at my watch told me it was pushing nine o’clock. I stretched and got up and dressed. Larry was face down on his bed, snoring softly, so I closed the door quietly and headed off to the dining hall. As I browsed the serving line it didn’t look too bad, and at least the food appeared to be fresh, so scrambled eggs, toast and a couple of breakfast sausages, and coffee.
Okay, I’ve had worse. We’ll see how they do with the other meals, but this wasn’t bad. I looked around as I ate. It was more sparsely attended than I would have guessed, but perhaps the majority of folks were still sleeping off last night’s party. I left my tray at the dish-washing station and wandered outside.
It still had the feel of summer in the air, but the weather changes quickly in New England. I had nothing scheduled till after lunch, so I wandered the campus trying to get a sense of the layout.
I found the library and the science building and the bookstore. I wouldn’t even know what classes I was taking till later, but first semester was usually almost all required courses.
I’d tested out of a bunch of normal first year classes while still in high school, either by AP
classes or self-study, things like calculus, French, Spanish, even ordinary differential equations and statistics, so your guess was as good as mine as to what I’d be assigned.
I’d been avoiding the unpacking task that awaited me in the dorm, but thought I ought to take care of it, so I headed back. I found Larry buttoning his shirt and yawning. “Aren’t you the early bird,” he said.
“Well, not that early. It was almost nine when I got up. I went and had breakfast.”
“That’s my plan. Did you leave a trail of breadcrumbs for me to follow?”
“Use the map. Here.” I pulled the photocopied map out of my pocket.
“Okay, thanks. Later.”
I stared at the cardboard boxes stacked by the wall, then shrugged and started at the top. Within an hour I had it sorted, clothes in the dresser and closet, books on the desk shelves, PC on the desk, and Karen’s picture watching me from the top of the shelf. I picked up a book and lay on the bed reading till Larry returned.
“I feel better now, after food. Are you studying already? You’re setting the bar pretty high, Carter, I’m beginning to get a complex.”
“It’s not a textbook, just something I was interested in.”
“Abnormal Psychology” he read aloud. “Should I be worrying about you?“
“Just an interest of mine. I like to know what drives people, why some people are good and others not so much. I might want to major in psychology.”
“Okay, like Hannibal Lecter, got it. Not worried at all. Not a bit.”
His eyes fell on my desk and Karen’s picture. “Whoa. Who’s that? Don’t tell me that’s your sister?”
“No. My girlfriend, Karen. She’s at ——————, in California, first-year. I probably won’t see her till Christmas.”
“You are one lucky son of a bitch. She’s beautiful.”
“Yes, I am lucky. And she’s way smart, too. She got a full scholarship.”
He was about to say something when there was a knock on the door. He opened it and said,
“Ames, you made it!”
“Yes, Master Lawrence. Not a very long drive. Where shall I put these?”
Larry motioned in the direction of his bed, and Ames deposited several cartons on the floor.
“Thank you, Ames. Ames, this is my roommate, Tom Carter.”
We shook hands and he said he was pleased to meet me. I asked if I could give him a hand with the boxes and he looked horrified. “Thank you, sir, but I have it well in hand. Excuse me.”
Larry was repressing a smile as Ames left. “I’m afraid you’ve shocked him, Tom. Those kinds of tasks are not to be done by people like us. It’s the way he was trained.”
“It’s not really my way, Larry. We’re supposed to help, to even the load.”
“I agree with you, but I can’t convince him otherwise. He won’t let you help. Even when I was like four and I wanted to show that I was grown up and could carry something like a grown-up, he wouldn’t allow it.”
“And did he really address you as ’Master Lawrence’?”
“Please. Do not mention that to anyone. It’s a habit he got into when I was young. Larry, or even Lawrence was too familiar a form of address. He couldn’t call me ’Mr. Krugman’ because that was how he spoke to my father. So it was ’Master Lawrence’. I hate the name Lawrence. He won’t call me anything else.”
It took several trips, but Ames appeared to be very fit, bringing a number of stacked boxes each time, and in short order it was done.
“Thank you, Ames, I really appreciate it. Have a safe trip back.”
Ames nodded and I half-expected him to tug his forelock in parting.
Larry sat on the bed, surrounded by his packed belongings, looking a bit depressed. He was quiet for a couple of minutes. Finally, he looked up and said, “So that was my life, growing up.
People to take care of you, people to do things for you, people to drive you where you wanted to go, to make decisions for you. I looked around me from about age six on and saw that no one else lived like this. None of my friends, even the ones who were well-off.
“When I got admitted here, I had a shouting match with my parents who wanted to buy me a condo near the school so I wouldn’t be exposed to too many outside influences. I wanted to experience what other guys went through when they went off to college, living in a dorm. He didn’t say so, but I later found out my father even tried to arrange my roommate for me when he saw he couldn’t win the condo battle. The school shot him down.”
“Good for you for standing up for yourself.”
“Yeah, good for me. Hey, isn’t there an orientation meeting or something today?”
“Umm, one o’clock, I think. Yeah, at one. How about getting some lunch first?”
“Works for me. Let’s go.”
So off we went to the food factory. He got a burger and fries, I got a sandwich and some potato salad, and surprise! they weren’t half bad. Towards one we dumped our trays and headed off to a gymnasium filled with folding chairs. We found seats and waited for the festivities to start. While we waited I looked around at the other inmates. Most of them were looking a bit nervous, first time away from home, wondering what was going to happen in the next few years. Then I realized that I felt that way, too.
For the first time I got a closer look at some of the girls I’d be spending time with. Pretty much a bell curve on the attractiveness scale. Most average looking, a smaller number of really hot looking women. They were tall and short, thin, some a bit overweight, a couple who looked like they were fighting anorexia. Same for the guys, for that matter. Just because this was “Ivy league”
didn’t mean we all looked like we were pulled from a J. Crew catalog cover.
Someone walked up to the dais on the stage and tapped the microphone, which squealed in protest. He moved back a bit and introduced himself as the Dean of Students and welcomed the Class of 199—, and told us how excited he was to meet us. Around us, several people yawned. He gave some details about when classes started, how we’d go about getting our class schedules, and so on.
There were some cautionary statements about drugs and alcohol in school facilities and the penalties that would result if we were caught, some stern remarks about the Honor Code, and finally what to do if the pressure got to us and the assistance that was available to help.
Finally, he gave specific instructions about where to get our schedules, and encouraging us to investigate many of the clubs and activities that were available. There were desks manned upstairs where we could inquire about or sign up for those. And with that, he dismissed us and chaos broke out as everyone moved off to the schedule desks set up around the perimeter of the gym.
The schedules were set up by last name, so Larry went off to find the K’s, and I joined the line for CA-CY. I had to wait for ten minutes or so, but they’d done this enough times that the line moved quickly and soon I had a piece of paper with my name on it and a warning that if there were scheduling problems I should get on the Adjustments line, which was already pretty long.
But it seemed that mine was okay, no problems evident. I had expressed an interest in psychology and math, so I had Psychology I and, because I’d already tested out on ordinary differential equations and four semesters of calculus, I was signed up for a course on Real Analysis.
I’d actually already taken a college class on Introduction To Psychology through the local junior college while in high school. Got an A in it, but it wasn’t detailed enough to satisfy a psychology major core requirement, so I had to take it over.
There was also a survey course in English Literature, and one in European History. And, finally, Chemistry I. Gotta have a science course.
I’d always had a pretty easy time learning things, especially after my accident, but I’d have to be careful. This wasn’t high school. The material was harder, the classes probably larger, and I may have trouble hooking in to the teachers’ minds. The first couple of weeks were going to be an experiment.
With classes sorted, I’d have to pick up textbooks and other required materials, but I thought that the bookstore was likely to be jammed for awhile, so I’d wait till tomorrow. Instead I walked upstairs for the hell of it to see what awaited me in extracurricular activities and clubs.
I almost had to grab a railing to steady myself when I came through the doors on the upper level. The entire area surrounding the gym floor was packed to the gills with tables and eager students behind them trying to draw in the wandering freshmen like carnival shills. It was noisy and crowded.
There were the student political organizations, ranging from far left to right wing and everything in between. There was every stripe of environmental group, each vying for the same limited number of environmentally conscious students. There was a chess club. There was a model railroad club, and the student radio station, and the student newspaper.
I found a math club that looked interesting and maybe worth a visit to see what it was like.
Karen would be proud of me. There was a psychology students club, that featured discussions and talks by faculty members and visiting scholars, another possibility.
And there was a martial arts club. I’d happened into Hapkido while in high school, finally getting my black belt, and thought it might be good to continue doing that, if only to get some exercise. Theirs was a kind of general martial arts group, so there was a mix of styles practiced, depending on who was active in the club, and maybe a chance to pick up some new techniques. So I marked that down in my notes.
Finally, at the end of the gauntlet I found a list of all the sanctioned college clubs and activities with contact information. That probably would have been more helpful at the beginning of the circuit, but useful nonetheless. Outside, I followed my map to the campus post office, another item on the orientation checklist, and applied for a post office box so I could receive mail.
And with that, I wandered outside to the shaded lawn facing the gym. I found myself a seat under a tree.
We had another free day tomorrow, Friday, and classes would start after the weekend, when the second-years and above would arrive and get settled, so it was likely to be a frenetic time.
The green was dotted with shade trees, most with groups of people under them chatting. On the green there were a few pickup touch football games, and some girls playing Frisbee. I watched them for awhile. These were probably the last few relaxed days I’d have for the next eight or nine months.
In the near distance a Frisbee player spun a throw to a teammate, which soared absurdly high over the teammate’s outstretched hand and arced towards me. They watched it helplessly as it sailed directly at my head. At the last moment, the Hapkido training kicked in, my left hand shot up to block it and I caught it in the air. Both teams applauded, because they were expecting it to hit me in the eye.
The nearest player ran over to retrieve it. “We’re really sorry. That one just got away from us,”
she said by way of apology.
“No harm done. Here you are.”
“You wanna join us? We’re a player short.”
“Thanks, but I’m having fun just watching you guys play. I’ll pass.”
“Bummer. Well, thanks for the save anyway. I’m Katrina Breen, by the way. You a first-year?”
“Tom Carter, and guilty as charged.”
“Okay, Tom Carter, see you around.” She trotted back to her crew and they began playing again.
Their enthusiasm exceeded their accuracy, but they were having fun.
I spent another fifteen minutes watching everything and nothing, then got up and wandered back to the dorm. Larry was sitting on his bed busily making notes.
“Get your class schedule straightened out?” he asked, looking up.
“Yeah, all sorted.”
“I’m making out a weekly schedule so I can plan for what needs doing. It mostly looks okay, but I’m a little nervous about this Calculus I class.”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s easy enough.”
“How would you know?”
“I did it in high school, self-study, four semesters. I can help you out if you get stuck.”
He looked at me as if I’d grown horns. “Wait. You’re a math person?”
I shrugged.
He looked over my shoulder at my bookshelves. “How did I not notice that? You’ve got all these math books. Where’s your pocket protector?”
“Ha. Amusing. I see what you did there. That’s irony, if it wasn’t clear.”
“Seriously, math people scare me a little.”
“I’ll buy you a teddy bear to help you cope. Larry, honestly, it’s not that hard. Don’t let your math phobia intimidate you.”
“If you say so,” he said dubiously. I picked up my book and lay back on the bed and read till dinner time.
Eventually the two of us wandered down to the dining hall for dinner and found it significantly more crowded. There was a line waiting to order. We picked our meals from the menu board and found a small table which two others had just left. The food wasn’t bad, not haute cuisine but better than I’d thought it would be.
“You gonna try for some parties tonight?” Larry asked.
“I dunno. I’m not really into the ’drink yourself into a blind stupor’ parties, and that’s what I was seeing last night. Doesn’t do much for me, ’cause I’m not really a drinker.”
“I’m gonna look around, see what’s available. Maybe I’ll get lucky, y’know?”
“Maybe. So, how’s this going to work, if one of us wants to brings someone back to the room.
The other guy locks himself in the closet?”
“Umm, hadn’t really thought about it. I guess we’d need some kind of signal. I heard people used to drape a necktie over the doorknob if the room was in use.”
“I didn’t pack a necktie, Larry. How about a sock or something?”
“Yeah, that’d work. Okay, a sock, then.”
We finished eating and bused our trays, then wandered back to the dorm. I lay on my bed and read some more of Abnormal Psychology, while Larry changed his shirt and said, “Wish me luck!” as he left in search of a party. I read until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore, turned off the light and went to sleep. Sometime later I hear Larry come in and stumble into bed.