Chapter 7: Back to School, Boston
"Aric, I'm certain you'll find everything you need at Boston University," the cheerful admissions woman told him. Schuldig forced a smile, even though the overly-casual usage of his first name rankled. Why did some Americans think that it was all right to use a person's first name without permission? The way this woman used it smacked of condescension. He was tempted to call her 'cupcake' in return, just like her obnoxious ex-husband used to, but he didn't want Crawford on his case, so he stayed silent.
She peered down at the transcript in front of her. "And I see you're a psychology major."
A psychology major? What was Crawford getting him into? He had been destined for a trade school before Rosenkreuz had picked him up. His academic performance had been lackluster at best, even though he had excelled in a few sports. "Ja," he told the woman, thickening his accent. Let them think that he had problems with English. It could only make his job easier.
"And you'll be staying with your sponsor, I see. That is a bit unusual, but we're flexible. We do make exceptions from time to time." The woman picked up his transcripts and straightened them into a neat stack.
I bet you do, Schuldig thought. He had seen the name 'Hallibourne Building' on one of the signs on campus. The building was a grand one, too. Lots of Hallibourne money had come through those doors. The Crawford name had weight, too. Schuldig had pulled from the woman that Brad's father, David Jamieson Crawford, was a prominent senator with lots of influence.
Brad, as Bradley Hallibourne Crawford, had a lot of clout from his name alone. His immaculate appearance and coolly professional demeanor silenced any misgivings or objections. He sat watching the proceedings now, his silent, authoritative presence putting the whole office on their best company manners. Now Schuldig could see where Crawford had picked up that presence from. He had been born into it.
But Schuldig, even with falsified records, could never be a doctor. /Crawford, what have you gotten me into?/ he sent.
/It seemed the most likely venue,/ Crawford sent back.
/You owe me. Big,/ Schuldig sent as he smiled pleasantly at the woman.
/I'll help you with your homework./
Schuldig did a double take. Did Crawford just crack a joke?
Crawford continued, oblivious to Schuldig's reaction. /Besides, it's PSYCHOLOGY. You're a telepath. Should be a cakewalk for you./
/You can't read the thoughts of a test paper,/ Schuldig whined.
/You can from the other students, or the professor, for that matter./
Schuldig sighed mentally. He knew when he was beat. He didn't even know why he tried. Crawford was rarely wrong and he knew it, the insufferable bastard. He followed the woman around the campus. Crawford trailed along, never saying a word, his presence a solid statement in itself. The woman was a bigwig in the admissions office, but she was taking time out of her day to give a solitary student a personal tour. Schuldig didn't need to read her mind to know that she was awed by Crawford.
Sucking up, more like. Schuldig maintained the pleasant façade, even as he assessed what he saw. Schuldig and Crawford kept up a running appraisal of likely prospects between themselves via Schuldig's telepathy even as they engaged the admissions woman in innocuous conversation. "What're those?" Schuldig asked, pointing at a group of boarded-up buildings set off by themselves.
"Old dorm rooms," the admissions woman said dismissively. "I don't know why they haven't been torn down yet, but it's only a matter of time. Over here is the dental medicine wing. . ."
Schuldig stared at the old dorms with narrowed eyes. Crawford kept the woman in casual conversation even as he questioned Schuldig. /What is it?/
/This is what the kid saw, when he thought of where he stayed with the other talents. I think we found our starting place./
/Tonight,/ Crawford agreed.
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"Here it is." Schuldig gestured to the room he just opened. Crawford peered in. The windows were papered over, so they had decided it would be safe to risk a small light. Crawford cast that light over the room now. It had been occupied fairly recently, but it was obvious that the occupants had decamped in a hurry. They had found other rooms in the same condition.
"This is where the boy stayed?"
"Yeah." Schuldig kicked aside a novel. He tilted his head to read the title. "Old Man and the Sea. Hemingway. I hated that book."
"I'm not too fond of Hemingway myself," Crawford replied absently as he sifted through pile of papers left on the dresser.
"I wouldn't know. I've never read anything by him," Schuldig said with a shrug.
Crawford turned back to Schuldig. "Then why do you hate that book?"
"My father would sometimes compare himself to the old man in the tale, and it would always make my mother angry." Schuldig sifted through some more papers on the floor with his foot. "All I know is it had something to do with futility." He kicked the papers away. "I don't like futility. A book about it seems stupid."
Crawford considered Schuldig's words. "Maybe you're right. So what do you read?"
"I don't know. Usually, I don't."
"Try The Great Gatsby," Crawford recommended. "It's fairly short, and I think you'll appreciate that tale better."
"Is that one of your favorites?"
"Yes."
They silently searched the next room. Schuldig made a sound of satisfaction when he found a few ticket stubs between the dresser and the wall. Crawford shone the light over the stubs. They were all to opening nights of popular blockbusters. "A movie buff."
"An impatient movie buff," Crawford said. He saw the blurring that signaled the advent of a vision. A girl. No, a teenager. Blond spiked hair, striped tank top, black mini skirt and black striped tights. The movie theater. . . "Got it," he said with satisfaction. "Let's go."
"Damn, that was fast," Schuldig crowed when they got back to the safety of their car.
"Don't even think it," Crawford said warningly. "You ARE going to class tomorrow."
"Looks like your foresight is back at full strength," Schuldig groused.
"I didn't need foresight to see that you were thinking of cutting class." Crawford drove them back to their hotel. "We still haven't found Vela Berdan. That's your job now."
"Scheisse."
Crawford ignored Schuldig's sulking as he made plans for the next day. He had an appointment after the movies.
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A/N: Scheisse – "shit" in German. Thanks to:
Lestat - Hee. Love the enthusiasm. Luckily, you didn't have to wait that long this time. Don't get too used to it, luvs. I'm not THAT dependable.
LoneCayt - I'm sure that Crawdaddy doesn't mean to be a jerk, but he's so darned cold and logical. We'll see a bit of Crawford's father later on, but not much. Crawford's closer to his mother (and the understatement of the month award goes to. . .).
TrenchcoatMan - Esset probably would love to take over the US, and we would let 'em. Who knows, maybe things will improve. . . They certainly can't muck things up any more than they already are. I think here is where I'm supposed to insert a political 'vote for so-and-so,' but I'm pretty sick of the whole mess. But I'm still going to vote (waves US flag).
thekatgrl - Thank you for the sweet review. Good to see new reviewers. Angst-but-not-really? Makes plenty of sense to me, and I think describes the situation pretty accurately.
nekochan - Hmm. How to answer this? ESP is such a poorly understood field. . . The best I can come up with is a cipher is a nullifier, someone that affects a person's ESP, either dampens it or shuts it down. I've never heard of one, but that doesn't mean they can't exist;) Shakespeare's Hamlet said it best: "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
Lily - Thank you for the wonderful review. It is always a relief when I get a positive response to an OC. I'm so leery of them, and always worry that they won't fit in. I usually try to make them as minor and fleeting as possible (if I use them at all), but we will be seeing more of Claire. She's pretty integral. As for Schu's academic performance, I fear that he doesn't take higher learning very seriously.
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