Understandings

Fermat woke up much later feeling a lot less groggy, but as he squinted and gazed around he felt apprehensive. Where am I? he wondered. I don't recognize...

His attention was caught by a sudden motion to his right and a familiar voice called out, "Well, good afternoon, sleepy head. How are you feeling?"

"I f-feel much b-b-better, Ms. B-Bell." He relaxed as a fuzzy dark form came up to him, opened a drawer (he could hear it), and handed him a familiar object. He went to put his glasses on, but she put out a hand and stopped him.

"Hold up. I want to check your eyes." She took out something from a pocket and without warning there was a bright light shining in his eye, causing him to squint. The light flicked once, twice, three times in the right one, then repeated in the left. "Okay. You can put your glasses on now."

He followed her instructions and the world came into focus again. "How's the arm?" she asked, moving his arm up and down at the shoulder.

A twinge from within the cast made him hiss, and she stopped. "Hurts a little or a lot?"

"A little," he admitted.

"All right," Ms. Bell said with a smile. "I'm going to put you on naproxen. It should last twelve hours but shouldn't make you drowsy. But, since it's a twelve hour medicine, I want you to take it at meals, just for consistency's sake. Right now, I'll give you a dose of aceteminophen to hold you over until dinner. Then I want you to come by and see whoever's on duty before dinner for the new medicine. And in the morning before breakfast, just as you have been, okay?"

"O-Okay," Fermat agreed. He glanced at his watch. "Hey! I might b-be able t-to make my t-t-t... my test!"

"And what test would this be?" the nurse practitioner asked, bringing over a small paper cup with two round pills inside it and a larger paper cup full of water.

"T-Tryouts for the academic qu-quiz t-team," he said eagerly.

She dumped the contents of the smaller cup into his palm and as he popped the medicine in his mouth, handed him the water. "Well, that would explain why Devdan Israni was by here about a half hour ago, asking after you."

"He was?" He swallowed the water, feeling the pills go down.

"Yes. I told him not to expect you. But it seems you might be able to catch him after all."

Hopping down awkwardly from the bed, he asked, "C-Can I go now?"

"Let me fill out the paperwork to discharge you. I'll need the names of your teachers so I can email excuses to them. And remember, it's your responsibility to make up the work you've missed today."

"Y-Yes, ma'am," he replied.

Fifteen minutes later, Fermat was on his way, hurrying to get to the room where the testing was to take place. He was huffing by the time he reached the second floor of the Student Union, where the yearbook and various other clubs had offices and workrooms, the heavy load of his books and his computer slowing him down. He hurried down the hall, looking for room 212. "Two-oh-eight, t-two-t-ten, here it i-is!"

He peered through the narrow window in the door, hoping to catch the eye of Mr. Feng, who was leaning up against a desk with a timer in his hand, watching a small group of boys take a written test. Suddenly, the teacher glanced his way, and motioned to someone else in the room, pointing in the direction of the door. A couple of the boys glanced up as Devdan came to the door and opened it. "Hello, Mr. Hackenbacker. We were not expecting you," he said quietly.

"M-Ms. B-Bell released m-me," Fermat replied breathlessly. "A-Am I t-t-t... am I late?"

"Late, yes," Devdan said, smiling. "But too late? No. Come in."

"Thanks!" Fermat said with a grin.

Alan stepped out of the shower, enjoying how he felt. The hot water had relaxed him and he felt loose, happy, at ease in his own skin, as he dried himself with a thick towel. The little doubts about making the track team had been washed away with his sweat. I did my best today and I'm sure my name will be on the roster, he thought. I'm sure of it!

He stepped out into his room just in time to hear his satellite phone ring. Dad! he thought happily. He wrapped the towel around his waist and picked up the phone, scrounging around to find his earpiece and microphone so he could see his father, and his father could see more of him than just his earlobe. Then he propped the phone up on the top of the drawers in his wardrobe and answered the call.

Just as he surmised, his dad was smiling back at him. "Hey, Alan! How's it going?"

"Great, Dad, just great!" Alan said as he pulled out a pair of boxers from his drawer and put them on, keeping an eye on his father. After all, at this angle, the camera could only see his face and possibly his shoulders.

"Did I catch you at a bad time, son?" Jeff asked, a little wrinkle of concern on his face. Alan's head kept bobbing up and down, almost sickeningly so, and when it did stay still for a second or two, he could see that his son's corn-colored hair was wet and sticking up in spikes.

"Nah, it's cool, Dad. Just got out of the shower after my tryouts," Alan said off-handedly, trying to make it look like he had tryouts every day of the week.

"Tryouts? For what, son?" Jeff sat back suddenly as a large red blob seemed to swallow Alan whole then spit out only his son's head, the damp spikes now plastered down in spots.

"Hang on a sec, Dad," Alan replied as the phone, borne down by his shirt as it covered the cord attached to his earphone/boom mike combination, fell from the dresser. He caught it nimbly, unplugged the cord, and pulled it back up through his shirt to plug back in again. Setting it back on the drawers, he said, "There, that's better."

Jeff, who for the past few moments had been subjected to a dizzying, jerky picture dominated by red, propped his head up in one hand, elbow on the arm of his chair, thumb placed below his cheekbone, his first two fingers resting just above his eyebrow, and the other two fingers curled to allow him to see. In that position, he shook his head slowly. "Alan, you could have told me you were getting dressed. I would have waited."

"Nah, Dad, it's cool! I'm almost done." Alan's head kept bobbing up and down as he slipped into a pair of clean jeans. A little hop to settle the pants around his hips, and he fastened his pants. "There!" He picked up the phone, dug a pair of socks out of his top drawer and took both to his desk.

Jeff chuckled. Now his son's picture was stable, but the background was not, or at least that's what he saw until Alan set the phone on his desk and bobbed down to put on his socks. "Alan, you haven't answered my question. Tryouts for what?"

"Oh, yeah!" Socks donned, Alan sat back in his chair. "Track team. I'm going out for track."

This brought a smile of genuine surprise and pleasure to Jeff's face. "Track team? Good for you, Alan! What events are you thinking about?"

"Well, high jump is one of them, and long jump, too. Today was the cross-country trial. I came in second!" Alan said, beaming.

"Very good, Alan!" Jeff knew from experience with John that cross-country was a multi-player event and that coming in second during tryouts didn't necessarily mean failure. "When do you find out if you made the cut?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Alan said, rubbing his hands together. "I can hardly wait!"

"Do you want me to pass the word along to John? I know he'd be interested."

"Yeah, if you would. That'd be great!"

Always one to cut to the chase, Jeff asked, "How are your classes going?"

"So far, so good, Dad," Alan replied. "Fermat's helping me with the math and I think I'm getting the concepts we're studying. But I'm taking strength training and so far it's a bore. We've been studying the muscle groups and the various pieces of equipment. It's like a beginner's course. I'm afraid I'm going to lose all the muscle tone I gained over the summer if things keep going like they are."

"Well, knowing the basics isn't going to hurt," Jeff reminded him. "Why don't you let your teacher know that you've done some weight training over the summer. Maybe he can give you permission to get into the weight room early in the morning or something."

"That's a good idea, Dad, thanks," the teen said thoughtfully.

"Are you getting along with your new roommate?"

Alan nodded his head eagerly. "My roommate is Lee Sugimoto, the biggest athlete and most popular guy at school! He was the one who suggested I go out for track. He's got an away soccer game right now or I'd introduce you. We're getting along just fine."

"So you're not missing Fermat?" Jeff asked, a little wry smile on his face.

The boy looked thoughtful again. "Well, yes and no. I mean, Fermat's roommate was a pain in the ass at first and Fermat wouldn't have gotten hurt if we had been together. And then there was last night. We could have kept up with events if we were roommates. But I don't think I would have gone out for track if Sugi wasn't here; you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I think I do," Jeff replied, nodding. "You said Fermat's roommate was a pain at first. What changed your mind?"

"Fermat did. They came to some kind of agreement; sort of started over. Now A.J.'s part of the gang. He's still got a way to go to fit in, but he's trying and so are we. Oh, hey! Tell John he has a fan! A.J. loves John's books. In fact, he asked me this morning if I was John's brother! That was a switch!"

"Who do people ask you about otherwise?" Jeff asked, pretty sure that he knew the answer.

Alan rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Daaaad! The multi-billionaire and astronaut hero, Jeff Tracy, of course." He bounced his head around as he said it, as if he had heard it so much he was reciting by rote, ending the line by leaning in and giving his father a mock glare.

"Oh! I didn't know it was so tough being my son," Jeff retorted with a half-smile and a facetious tone.

"It can be, Dad," Alan replied, suddenly sobering. "It can be when people want to be your friend because of who your father is instead of who you are inside. And when people look at you and compare you to your father and you..." He sighed. "You don't come up to their expectations."

Jeff nodded in sympathy. "Believe it or not, Alan, I do understand. All your brothers went through the same thing, some more than others." He paused. "I can't help being who and what I am, son. I'm afraid you're stuck with me. But you? You can be someone unique all on your own. Problem is, first you have to figure out what that is. You don't have to live in my shadow, Alan, not unless you want to."

"Yeah, I know," Alan responded, shrugging. "You're right about one thing; I've got to figure out who I want to be on my own." He drew in a deep breath. "Y'know, I never thought about it like this before, that maybe being away gives me the space to figure it out." He looked down and was silent for a moment, and when he glanced up again, Jeff could see he was trying hard to control his emotions. The boy shrugged one shoulder, attempting to look nonchalant. "But... I guess I miss you guys."

His father smiled. "You sure it's us you miss and not the 'Birds?"

Alan snorted a laugh. "Well, maybe I miss both." He paused for a moment, gazing at his dad, trying to gauge what kind of answer he would get to his next question. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah, Alan?"

"If I make the track team, will you... will you come to a meet?"

Jeff sat back at the question, and slowly nodded. "If you make the team, send me the schedule, and I'll see what I can do. You know what life is like here; we never know from one moment to the next what's going to happen. Still, I will try, that much I can promise."

He was pleased to see his son smile widely. "Great! That would be fantastic!" Suddenly Alan looked away. "Someone's at the door, Dad. It might be Sugi. Can you wait a minute?"

"Sure, son. I can wait."

"Come in!" Alan shouted, forgetting about the boom mike he was using. Jeff winced at the shout, taking his earphone out and putting his pinky into his ear just a bit to wiggle it around.

The door opened, and Fermat all but burst into the room. "A-Alan!" he cried. "I m-m-m-m..."

"Slow down, Fermat!" Alan said. "Hey, Dad, it's Fermat."

Jeff waved and said, "Hello, Fermat," and Alan relayed the message, "Dad says, 'Hello'. What's got you so hot and bothered?"

"N-Nothing! It's j-j-j... I made the team!" He turned to the picture of the man in the office chair. "I made the team, M-Mr. T-Tracy!"

"Dad, he said..."

"I heard him, son. Tell him congratulations for me!"

"Dad says, 'Congratulations!'," Alan relayed again.

Fermat made motions with his free hand as if to leave. "I-I'm gonna h-h-h... rush back to my r-r-r... quarters to t-t-t... inform my d-d-d-DAD! Wanted you to b-be the f-f-first to know!"

Alan laughed. "Hey, thanks, Fermat! Do you want me to come with you and help carry your stuff?"

"W-Would you? I'd a-a-a... be thankful!" Fermat replied.

"Okay." Alan turned to his father. "Dad? I'm going to help Fermat get his stuff back to his dorm. Talk to you later?"

"Sure, Alan. The tag's on you, now," Jeff said with a grin.

"Roger that! I'll call tomorrow to tell you the news about the team, good or bad. Promise."

"Okay, son. Looking forward to it. Have a good evening."

"Have a good day, Dad. Bye!"

The call ended. Alan sat back with a satisfied sigh, and began to put his phone away. He pointed to the closet. "Get my sneakers, please?"

"Have a g-g-good conversation with y-your d-dad?" Fermat asked, his head in the closet, looking for Alan's everyday athletic shoes. He found one and tossed it without looking to Alan, who fielded it handily, and did the same to the other, smacking his friend in the knee with it as Alan's hands were busy putting on the first.

Alan got up to fetch the other shoe, which had bounced off his knee and landed some distance away. "Yeah. He said that if I make the track team, he'll try to come to a meet!" He returned to his desk chair to put it on his foot.

"C-Cool!" Fermat kicked the dirty track shoes back into the wardrobe and closed the doors.

Now shod, Alan got up from his desk and grabbed Fermat's bookbag. "Come on. Let's get you back to Maplewood so you can tell your dad your good news!"

"Yeah!" Fermat said, shouldering his laptop. "A-And you can t-t-tell me about the c-cross-country r-race."

Alan turned out the lights on his way out, and as they entered the elevator, was heard to say, "When did you get out of the infirmary anyway?"