Chapter 23-Tobias
"See you on Monday, Professor," a student said to me as he left the room.
"Have a good weekend, James," I told the departing student. Another week gone. I wiped the sweat away from my face, and continued to grade the midterms.
I taught ornithology at UCLA. Although Rachel made plenty of money to support both of us, I didn't want to make her feel like I was living off of her money. Besides, if I didn't do anything, I'd get bored. As I had lived as a hawk for three years, I was an expert on birds. It made sense.
Most of my students were older than me. They had graduated high school, and paid good money to come to this college. I had never finished high school. It was a joke, having my students calling me 'Professor'. I guess they had to call me something.
Another test finished. Only a few more left to grade. I always thought taking tests were hard. Grading them are much harder, as well as annoying. I looked up at Fred, the head of my Secret Service detail. "It'll be a few more minutes," I said for what felt like the millionth time.
"No rush, sir," Fred replied, a blank expression on his face.
When our story got out, the President gave each Animorph a lifetime Secret Service detail. I didn't like the fact that I was being trailed wherever I went. Better to be safe than sorry, though. We had all become terrorist targets. It was good to have protection. Our morphing powers wouldn't get us out of every situation.
I wondered if the Secret Service guys ever smiled. Every time I looked at Fred, he'd have this super-serious look on. Maybe work wasn't fun for them.
I put the test papers into my briefcase. It was the weekend, and I would have time to grade them. I stood up and walked to the door. "Let's go," I said to the silent Secret Service agent.
I walked to the faculty garage and got into my car. It was a beautiful red Ford Mustang, with leather seats and all sorts of other goodies, half of which I didn't know how to use. The car was a present from the local dealership.
Driving wasn't hard. I easily passed the driving test for my license when I was almost seventeen. Since I had become adjusted to my human body quickly, there were no coordination problems. It was like a dream come true. Everyone teenager wants to drive. I was no different.
As I turned out of the garage, two black Chevy Suburbans joined me, one in front of me, and one in back. They were escorting me to my home, a half-hour drive away.
What are you going to do? I asked myself as I turned on the radio. "War and Peace," Jake's biggest hit, blasted through my speakers. He sang pretty well, and wasn't bad playing guitar, considering he had only played for a little less than a year.
I picked up my cell phone and called Fred. "We're going to Marco's place," I yelled over the noise of passing cars.
"Roger that," came the reply, plagued with static. I disconnected and went back to thinking.
Seventeen. Maybe I should wait another year or so. It was pretty young. Technically, we weren't even adults yet. But, I didn't want to waste time. Plus, more importantly, I didn't want to lose her. She was the light of my life.
I was going to do it, tonight. I picked up my cell phone and called Rachel's business number. Three rings, no answer.
"Come on, pick up." My hands were shaking, for some reason. What was there to be nervous about?
"Rachel apparel, Dana speaking," a female voice I recognized as Rachel's secretary answered. "May I help you?"
"Um, yeah, this is Tobias. Is Rachel there?" I asked, my whole body about to break out and twitch crazily.
"Hold one moment, please."
Calm down, Tobias, I thought. What's there to worry about?
"Tobias?"
"Hey," I said candidly, doing my best to conceal my jumpiness. "Can you meet me at the pier for dinner?"
"Sure," Rachel responded. I could hear her writing something down. "I'll be there at seven, if you don't mind. Work's a little busy today."
"Fine by me." My whole body relaxed. "Love you."
"Bye, Tobias." A click, and the line went dead.
I could have screamed "YESSSSSS!" at the top of my lungs at that moment, I was that happy. But I hadn't even done the big part yet, and I was celebrating.
Don't count your chicks before they hatch.
I exited off the freeway. Marco's house was only a mile away, a visible spectacle from where I was. It looked like a palace.
I called Fred again. "You guys can hang out in front of his place. Marco's detail will cover me."
"Of course, sir," Fred's monotonous voice replied. I hung up. I knew they'd watch me somehow. Probably get a helicopter in the air or something. They were way too paranoid about something bad happening.
"So were you, Tobias," I mumbled. I drove up to the gate of Marco's mansion. A security guard came up to me. "Identification, please," he said in a lilting Southern accent.
"I'm Tobias. Those people are the Secret Service. They'll just hang out while I go in," I told the guy, with a sigh of exasperation for good measure.
"Go ahead." The gates were opened, and I parked in front of the main entrance.
"Well, if it isn't the Professor," Marco cracked. He had seen me coming, and was already out to greet me. Even though we hadn't been real close during the war, we were good friends now.
"Good to see you, Marco," I replied. "I came to ask you for some help."
"Help? From me?" Marco's eyes went wide. "How could I possibly be of any help to the Professor? I didn't graduate high school. I regularly failed my algebra tests. My grammar is as good as the average Hork-Bajir's. Even a-"
"Seriously. Mind if we go inside?" I asked, interrupting Marco's humorous tirade.
"Sure. It's way too hot for this time of year." We walked inside. The halls were adorned with expensive paintings. The floors were covered with clean Persian rugs. Marco probably bought new carpets every few days. He could afford it. I sat down in an overstuffed chair in the living room, in front of the fireplace.
"Want anything to drink?" Marco called from the kitchen.
"I'm fine."
Marco walked out with a can of Coke in his hand. "You know they pay me two million bucks just to drink this stuff?" he said with a silly grin. He flopped out on a leather couch.
"I need some advice," I said. I told him what I was thinking.
"Are you sure about this, Tobias?" Marco inquired, serious now. "I mean, Macauley Caulkin did it when he was seventeen, too. Look at what happened."
"I know. But what if I screw up in the future?"
"You can't predict what could happen." Marco took a sip of his drink. "Go with the flow, man. Follow your gut instincts. I'm not really the guy to ask, but I say go for it. Take the chance. It's like that Bon Jovi song, 'It's My Life'. It's your life, and it's now or never." He frowned. "Well, maybe not never. But you get the point."
"Yeah, you're right." I ruffled my hair a little. "Hey, can you come along, maybe in fly morph or something?"
Marco made a face. "Why? So I can witness the moment?"
"No, just in case I need some help. You're good with the smooth comments."
"Ah, finally, someone who appreciates my talents!" Marco said in a fake grandiose voice. "No problem, man. I'll help you out, just in case you get tongue-tied."
"Cool. Let's head to the store. I need your expertise there as well." I got up and headed for the door. Marco caught up to me.
"The Professor really needs some help. Maybe you should read more of those self-help guides," he joked. "Let's go."