Undercurrents

Alan hung around after carrying Fermat's stuff back to the dorm and said hello to Brains when his friend called home with the good news about the academic team.

"Y-Your father told me about the t-t-t... field tryouts, A-Alan," Brains said. "I-I hope you m-m-m... I hope you are on the t-t-team."

"Me too, Brains," Alan replied with a smile.

A.J. walked in during the call, and Fermat dragged him over to introduce him to his father.

"Hello, Mr. Hackenbacker," the younger boy said politely. "It's nice to meet you."

"N-Nice to m-m-m... make your a-acquaintance, too, A.J.," Brains replied, using the nickname that Fermat and the others had already given to him. "I h-hear you and F-F-F... my son had a r-rocky start. I'm g-g-g... happy that you're now g-g-g... that you've started o-over. I think you m-may have m-m-more in common than y-you think."

"Thank you, Mr. Hackenbacker," the boy replied. "I've never had a roommate before and I've got a lot to learn it seems."

"Y-You'll do f-f-fine," Brains assured him.

Alan helped himself to a soda from Fermat's stash and drank it while his friend and Brains said their goodbyes. Last year it had been hard to watch the easy relationship that his Fermat and Brains had with each other. But not any more. Events during spring break and over the summer had helped him get closer to his own dad, and repair some of the bridges between them that had been torn down by their constant sparring. He had also been able to get closer to his brothers, especially John, whom he usually barely saw because of the need for a human presence in Thunderbird Five. Having him home for the entire summer while the others spent the time repairing and rebuilding the station was great as far as Alan was concerned.

The repairs had been scheduled in two week stints, with the repair crew spending a week on Earth together, then going up for another two weeks. John had gone up during the final two week stint during the summer, but with orders that he was only to work on the computers. He had been badly burnt in the attack and it took most of the summer for things to heal to a point where he could go back on duty.

"B-Bye, Dad," Fermat said. "L-Love you!"

Brains responded in kind and Fermat ended the call. Alan sighed. He and his dad didn't often say they loved each other but since the Hood's attack on the island, they embraced more, showing how much they cared that way. He glanced over at A.J. who was lying on his bed, his hands behind his head. Wonder how A.J. gets along with his dad? He said his father took him to London and they went to the Eye. That must have been fun.

"H-Hey, A.J.," Fermat said with an upbeat tone. "We sh-should clean the r-room tonight so we have a-all day t-tomorrow to g-g-g... have fun. You with m-me?"

"I suppose," A.J. said, not budging from his place or even looking at his roommate. "But I don't know what to do."

"I'll teach you," Alan said firmly. "But don't think I'm going to do it for you. C'mon. I'll show you where to find the cleaning supplies."

A.J. sighed heavily and got up, following Alan out, with Fermat taking up the rear. Fermat motioned for A.J. to put his hand up to the lock on the closet where the cleaning materials were kept. "Th-The closet's lock is p-programmed with only the h-h-handprints of those who l-live in the dorm," he explained. "A-And it logs when w-we open the closet. That helps k-keep t-track of the s-s-supplies and who h-h-has them."

Alan pulled out the chemicals and paper towels, handing them to the youngest boy. Fermat maneuvered a vacuum cleaner out with his good hand and dragged it along after him. While Alan showed A.J. the finer points of bathroom cleaning, Fermat vacuumed and disposed of the trash. They were required to change their sheets for Saturday inspections, and since Alan was a pro at stripping and remaking top bunks, he helped both boys, giving A.J. instruction as he did.

"I never knew I'd be learning how to keep house while at school," A. J. griped.

"Hey, it's called 'fulfilling potential'," Alan quipped, remembering parts of the brochure he had read at the beginning of the year. "Something Wharton's supposed to be good at."

"H-Here I thought it w-was 'b-building character'," Fermat riposted with a grin. "I remember l-last year's b-b-b... flyer said that."

A.J. listened to the easy banter, his head turning back and forth as the two continued to joke around. This is so... interesting. I've never had friends who I could do this with. He cleared his throat. "Are you sure it's not... uh... 'mastering esoteric skills'?" The other two boys stopped and stared at him for a long moment, their mouths open, then glanced at each other quickly and burst into peals of laughter.

"Was it that funny?" he asked, confused.

Alan wiped an eye. "Yeah, it was. What does 'esoteric' mean?"

A.J. blinked. "Uh... I don't know, really. I found it in one of the brochures my dad was reading when he was trying to decide where to send me this year."

The older boy pointed at Fermat. "Brain? 'Ey, Brain?" he asked in a faux Cockney accent that he'd learned from imitating Parker. "Wot does eso... asso... eh-sot-tear-hic mean?"

Fermat brought his voice down as low as he could. "P-Pinky! Don't d-disturb me while I'm t-trying to... t-take over the world!"

They laughed again, and A.J., who had gone to look it up on his computer's dictionary, said, "Of or related to that which is known by a restricted number of people; see mysterious." He shook his head. "I still don't get it."

"Don't try, A.J.," Alan counseled. "Just take my word for it, it was funny!"

"So, what's left to do?" A.J. asked, looking around. He really didn't see much difference to the room but he did admit to himself that it would be nice to sleep on clean sheets.

"The w-windows, from the i-inside only," Fermat explained. "B-But we have w-w-w... we have to do it in the d-d-day."

"Yeah. I'd better get back to my own dorm and clean my bathroom. Sugi and I haven't had much chance to discuss the cleaning schedule, but I think he'd want me to have the scut job anyway," Alan said with a wry smile.

"We'll p-put away th-the stuff. Wh-When my a-arm heals up," Fermat said to his roommate, "w-we can sh-share doing the b-b-b... restroom. But until I g-get this," he held up his cast, "off, I j-just can't d-do it."

"I guess I can see why," A.J. admitted.

Alan shot his empty soda can into the freshly emptied trash bin. "He shoots, he scores!" Turning to the two younger boys he said, "Gotta go. See you tomorrow, guys. I may not be at breakfast but I'll be at the game room later. The final track roster goes up tomorrow after noon."

"See you l-later, g-gator," Fermat said as he walked his friend to the door.

"Later!" Alan called as he left.

Fermat returned to his room and noticed his roommate was making a phone call. He quietly retrieved a soda from the fridge and brought his computer to life.

"Hello, Chivers? Yes, it's me. Is my father available?" A.J. waited for a moment. Fermat studiously kept his eyes on his computer screen, trying to read the email from Tin-Tin.

"Geneva? Hmm. Too late to call him there," A.J. said, glancing at his watch. "No, no emergency. But if he checks in, please tell him... tell him I called? Thank you. Goodbye."

A.J. folded up his phone with a sad, thoughtful look and put it back in its charger. He sighed once more, rummaged around in the fridge for a bottle of juice, and pulled out a book to read.

Fermat felt he had to say something, anything. "Y-You okay?"

"Yes, I am. My dad's in Geneva. I'll call him in the morning."

The older boy nodded, and turned back to Tin-Tin's missive. Boy, do I have a lot to tell her!

"What's going on there?" Alan muttered to himself, as he walked back to Chetwood. Blue lights were flashing behind Oakwood dorm. Curious, he cut across the grass to join the small crowd that had gathered on the walk behind the building. Two New Ashford police cars were parked along the sidewalk, along with one of the security team's cars. Lights were flashing, and a small crowd had gathered in the grassy area around the back walk. All eyes turned as an ambulance slowly moved up to join them. Two paramedics jumped out, opened the back of their transport and quickly wheeled a gurney with a large fishing tackle style box sitting atop it down to the far corner of the building.

Alan spied Jason in the crowd and threaded his way through to stand next to him. "What's up?" he asked.

"Someone got beat up," Jason explained. "I think it was the yearbook editor, Dominic Bertoli. Somebody found him in the bushes behind Oakwood. He's not badly hurt, but the attack aggravated his asthma... here he comes now."

The paramedics came back, a dark haired boy strapped to the gurney, an oxygen mask over his face. They were followed by Mr. Magnuson. The professionals loaded him into the ambulance, the security chief climbing in after them, then one of them got in the front, and the transport pulled away, lights still flashing, the siren blaring once as it headed back down the access road.

"Okay, boys!" Mr. Culp, one of the regular, uniformed security officers, called out. "You've seen what there is to see. Time to move along!"

Alan glanced at Jason. "Let's go." The two friends returned to the sidewalk in front of Oakwood and walked toward Birchwood. "This is the second attack on a student," Alan said seriously. "Maybe now the police will take things more seriously."

"I hope so," Jason commented. "I'd hate for my folks to pull me out. This was going to be a good year."

Saturday breakfast was normally sparsely attended, mostly because the boys were either sleeping in or frantically cleaning in preparation for the weekly inspections. But Fermat was up and about. He left A.J. sleeping in their room, and stopped at the infirmary for his medicine before hustling on to the dining hall. He actually liked getting up early on Saturday; he usually was able to find a table with a different group of boys than those he sat with during the week, and got a different perspective on things that went on at the school. And since it was that particular meal, most of the students who were there tended to be a bit more open to newcomers as well.

Fermat got his food, and looked around to see if there was anyone he knew who could help him with it. He didn't see anyone at first, and so tried to balance his tray between his abdomen and free hand. He found it difficult to walk with it, and was very glad when a familiar voice said, "Having trouble, Brain? Hold on. Let me put my own tray down."

"Thanks, Kay," Fermat said gratefully. He watched as Qaeshon took a tray over to a table that included his brother, Xavion, then came back to him and took his. He followed his friend over to the table, and was greeted by Xavion and introduced to the others.

"I heard you were Alan Tracy's roommate last year, weren't you?" asked Erik Tolbert.

"Y-Yes, I was," Fermat replied.

Erik nodded. "He's a good runner. He and I were both trying out for cross-country yesterday."

"O-O-Oh! You're th-that Erik!" the younger boy said. "Alan t-told me about y-you. Nice t-to meet y-you."

"So, did you hear about Dominic Bertoli?" Qaeshon asked, cutting up his sausage. "He was attacked last night."

"No! I h-hadn't heard!" Fermat exclaimed. "W-What happened?"

"Seems someone decided he was an easy target, kinda like Kay the other night," Xavion cut in, his voice dark and angry. "He wasn't hurt much, but the whole thing made his asthma flare up bad. They took him to the hospital."

"I hear that the administration is considering it an isolated incident of bullying," said another student. "The police aren't taking it very seriously."

"They should," Xavion retorted. "The more this happens the more it's gonna happen, if you get my drift."

There were general murmurs of assent from the others at the table, then the topic shifted to the previous evening's soccer game, which Wharton had won in overtime.

Fermat and Qaeshon exchanged glances, and the dark boy said, "You think these creeps have something against yearbook people? I mean, I'm on the staff and Dom's the editor."

Fermat chewed it over in his head for a bit. "I-I don't know, K-Kay. You said th-they told you that y-you should be going out f-for sports, right?"

"Yeah, they did. But what has that got to do with anything?"

"D-Dominic has always i-i-i... seemed to m-me to be a s-s-sports oriented kinda g-guy," the younger boy explained. "I-I was s-s-s... taken a-a-aback that he didn't g-go out for s-sports, but n-now I know wh-why. His a-asthma must be pretty b-bad to k-k-keep him from p-playing."

"From what I understand, it is. He's on a couple of different medications for it as well as an inhaler that he uses a lot. You may be onto something there, Brain. I hope this doesn't happen again, but if it does, we'll have to see if one or the other of the patterns fit," Kay said. He snorted a laugh. "We both sound like we're in some detective thriller."

Fermat chuckled, too. "Y-You're right, we do. Hackenbacker and L-Lewis, p-private eyes."

They laughed again, drawing glances from the other boys at the table.

The games room in the Student Union was usually crowded on a Saturday and this one was no exception. Freshmen who were learning their way around stopped by for a quick game of foosball or air hockey, a few of the chess team members were playing a game or two, watched intently by their peers, and by Mr. Feng, who was monitor at that point during the day. The pinball and vid games were making their usual racket and the ping pong and pool tables were seeing heavy use. The four VR stations had short lines of players waiting their turns The games were on a twenty-minute timer so wherever you got in the game at that point, that's where you stopped. The game was saved automatically so players could pick up where they left off. It took a lot of memory to keep track of all of it, but Wharton had the best in computer servers. They had to; computers were such a staple of life in the 2020s and parents expected the school to have the top of the line, especially considering what they paid for their sons to go there.

Alan was playing foosball with Jason, one of his fiercest competitors in the game. He was also keeping half an eye on the time, which was blowing his concentration. Jason noticed this and was taking full advantage of the situation. He had his offensive line pass the ball down and with a spinning "kick" pushed the ball savagely past Alan's defense and into his goal for the winning point.

"Awww!" Alan cried, putting both hands over his face, throwing his head back, and stomping a foot.

"Drama queen," Jason jeered.

Alan grinned and shrugged. "Yeah, but you love me anyway." He made kissy lips and noises in Jason's general direction.

"Get out!" Jason called, half annoyed, half facetiously, waving a hand as if to push Alan away. As the loser moved away, laughing, the redhead called out, "Okay, who's next?"

Fermat walked in, A.J. at his heels. The younger boy was looking all around him, his mouth slightly open. Fermat noticed and asked, "Was there a-anything like this wh-where you went to school b-b-b... last year?"

"Well, yeah, but it wasn't this... noisy. Or big. And there weren't so many people..." A.J. replied. "The games room was reserved for groups of students according to the letter of the alphabet, and on Saturdays two hours per group was assigned. You got to see the same kids in there all the time. My day was always Thursday, and four to six p.m. on Saturdays."

"Th-Things are different h-here," the older boy explained. "The g-games room is open every d-day from three to f-five, every n-night from seven to n-nine, and from nine to n-nine on S-Saturdays. On Sunday, it's open from o-one to f-five. Hours are p-p-p... listed on the d-door. The pool is almost the s-same, except it's r-r-r... saved for the swim t-team from three to f-five, and there's a m-meet every other F-Friday night. To m-make up for it, there are e-e-e... more hours after d-dinner on Sunday."

"What else is there to do around here?" A.J. asked.

"There are u-u-u... almost always pick-up b-basketball games in the g-gym or at the o-outside hoops, and the t-tennis c-c-courts have hours p-posted."

"Golf? Is there any golf?"

Fermat stopped to think. "I'm n-not sure. You should ch-check the b-b-b... boards over there." He pointed in the direction of a series of large bulletin boards, covering nearly a whole wall. "Hey, here comes Xavion!"

The tall figure of Xavion Lewis strode into the room, folder in hand, weaving his way through the crowd, picking up a following as he did so. Alan saw him come in and hurried over to the bulletin board. "Looks like the t-t-track team roster is g-going up." Fermat commented.

Xavion put up five pieces of paper, standing in front of the sheets and shielding them with his body. The crowd pushed in behind him; at one point he turned and barked, "Back off. I need room!" The boys all took a step back, a few of the older ones putting out their arms to help push back the crowd. Finally, he was through pinning up the lists, and he nimbly got out of the way as the boys surged forward.

The lists were for basketball, swimming, wrestling, track, and a final roster for soccer. Alan kept bobbing up and down, trying to see above the heads, trying to spot his own name. At last he managed to make his way to the front. He found the proper list and his eyes scanned down it. He frowned and looked again, taking more going over it. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.

Fermat, who had managed to squeeze past some of the boys still checking the rosters, poked Alan in the ribs. Alan turned to him, his face still a study in surprise. "W-Well?" his friend asked.