Undulations

"Well?" Fermat asked again, concerned at his friend's expression.

Alan broke into a big grin. "Four!" he cried. "Four events!" Counting them off on his fingers, "High jump, long jump, cross-country and alternate on javelin! I wasn't expecting javelin! Woo Hoo!"

"Woo Hoo!" Fermat echoed, slapping his friend on the shoulder, his grin as wide as Alan's. "C-Congratulations!"

"Yes! Congratulations, Alan!" A.J. exclaimed, his face brightening with a smile. "You did well!"

"Yeah, Pinky. You did well in tryouts," came an older voice. Xavion Lewis stood before Alan, his face serious. "Let's see how well you do in competition." He glared at his younger teammate for just a moment more, then his face relaxed into a smile, and he held out his hand. "Welcome to the team."

Alan took the hand and shook it. "Thanks, Zave. I'm gonna work my butt off, you'll see."

"I hope to. Practice starts after classes on Monday," Xavion replied. "Now, I have a few more guys to corral... and congratulate."

The trio watched as the senior walked off into the mostly excited crowd of boys. Then Alan turned to his companions. He punched the air with a jubilant, "Yes! Four!" He smacked Fermat lightly on the chest. "C'mon, you two! Milkshakes at the snack shop and I'm buying!"

"C-Cool!" Fermat said. "Let's g-go!"

At the snack shop--one of the other amenities to be found in the Student Union building--Alan, Fermat and A.J. were joined by Jason and Ralph. "Congrats, Pinky!" Jason said with a grin. "You did it!"

"Yeah, but now the hard work begins," Ralph commented as he pulled up a seat, an ice cream cone in his hand. "If Zave is anything like Sugi..."

"He'll be busting our butts from here to Thanksgiving," Alan quipped. "I know, believe me. But if I can survive a summer with my brother Scott busting my butt in strength training, I can survive Zave. After all, Zave hasn't served in the military. Scott has."

"Hey, can I join you guys?" came a voice from behind Alan.

"Oh, hey! Erik! Sure, come on and join us!" Alan declared, motioning to a seat at the long table. "I saw you made the team, too. Congrats!"

"Yeah, cross-country and 1500 meters," Erik explained. "My two best events. You got four! Congratulations! The jumping is not my thing."

"I w-wonder what Xavion d-does on the t-team?" Fermat asked. "D-Do you know?"

"Relays and sprints," Erik replied. "And he was a wicked pole vaulter until he tore a ligament in his shoulder. I looked at last year's record books, 'cause I was curious. Hey, there was another kid named Tracy in the books from a couple of years ago, on the swim team. Any relation?"

Alan laughed. "Yeah, my older brother, Gordon. The way he swims, he's practically a fish."

"Now I think I understand," came the familiar older voice. "How many brothers have you got anyway, Pinky?" Xavion came around the corner and approached the group, a bag of chips in his hand. He sat down at the table without asking, and popped a chip in his mouth. As he crunched, he pointed a finger at Alan. "You told me your brother ran track for Harvard, then that he was musical. And now I hear about a swimmer? Can't be just one guy; he'd have to be Superman to do it all."

Alan took another slurp of his strawberry milkshake. "You mean Kay hasn't told you? I've got four older brothers, all of them overachievers in one area or another. Scott's the oldest and a military man; he and next-in-line brother John ran with me this summer. John's an astronomer, an author, and he's the one who ran cross-country for Harvard. Virgil's in the middle; he's the musical one and an artist, too. Gordon went here a few years ago and I'm surprised you didn't hear about him; he's the swimmer. Won a lot of meets for Wharton. Then..." Alan shrugged, "there's me. Baby of the family," he leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head with a self-satisfied smile, "and about to make a name for myself in track and field here."

"As long as that name isn't 'Mud'," Jason quipped. Those around the table laughed, Alan included, as he brought his chair down with a thud.

"Those are some names your brothers have," Zave commented, leaning his chair back on two feet. "Virgil and Gordon?"

Alan shrugged again. "We're all named after the Mercury astronauts. Dad thought it was cool." He took another long pull on his straw and everyone could hear the slurping sound that said he'd reached the bottom of the cup. "Hey, you and Kay can't talk."

Xavion chuckled. "Yeah, I guess we can't. Mom wanted us named after the weird letters of the alphabet. That's why my sisters are Yvette and Zoe."

The others chuckled at his explanation and talk at the table turned to more general topics. A.J. watched and listened as he slurped the last of his vanilla milkshake, wondering how he could add to the conversation and make his own mark with the group. Finally, Alan looked at his watch. "I need to call my dad. I promised I'd tell him about the tryout results."

"Oh!" A.J. said, reminded of his own father. "I should call my father, too. The time zones are favorable."

"You have that problem, too?" Alan asked, grinning as he got up.

"Well, at the moment, yes. My father's in Geneva right now."

"Well, we can walk back to the dorms together," Alan offered. "Fermat, you coming?"

The bespectacled boy shook his head. "N-No. I want t-to play some p-p-pinball."

"Okay, that's cool. See you later, Brain. Bye, guys." Alan raised a hand in farewell, and so did A.J.

The boys at the table said goodbye to them both by name, and A.J. felt good. It's like... I belong.

"So, your Dad's in Geneva?" Alan said, making small talk with A.J. in an effort to get to know him.

"Yes, that's where the world courts are," A.J. explained. "He's a lawyer specializing in international law." He looked up at the taller boy. "What does your father do?"

Alan laughed. "Well, he's walked on the moon, been a decorated hero, and right now, he makes money, lots of money." He glanced down at A.J. "Ever heard of Tracy Industries?"

A.J. frowned a bit, then his face cleared. "Ohhh! That Tracy Industries!" He looked Alan up and down. "Hmm. You're not dressed like the son of a billionaire."

"Oh? And how should a billionaire's son dress?" Alan asked facetiously.

The question took A.J. by surprise. "I don't know. I guess... the latest fashions and gear. All designer labels plastered on the clothes and shoes. Things that scream, 'Hey! Look at me! I have money!' You don't dress that way."

"Nah," Alan said. "My dad wasn't raised that way, and he didn't raise us that way. I mean, our clothes aren't rags, but Dad likes a good value for his dollar. Besides, if I dressed like you describe, I'd be worrying too much about my clothes, and who wants to worry about that?" He shrugged. "On top of that, the people around me wouldn't be interested in me, but in my dad's money. And I don't need toadies for friends."

That made A.J. look thoughtful. "Hmm. Interesting point-of-view." He put his hands in his pockets. They were nearly to Chetwood now and Alan would be going up to his dorm. "Hey, you always talk about your father. What about your mother? Doesn't she have a say in what you wear?"

Alan sighed, and looked straight ahead. A.J. couldn't help but notice the sad expression on his face. "My mom..." The older boy cleared his throat. "My mom died when I was little. In an avalanche. I don't remember her much."

"I'm sorry," A.J. said sincerely. "I didn't realize."

"I know. But ever since then it's been my dad, my brothers, and me." Alan swallowed, then changed the subject. "What about your mom? Fermat told me your parents were divorced."

Now it was A.J.'s turn to look straight ahead. "My mom might as well be dead for all the attention she gives me. She's always flying off to the latest hot spot, cuddling up to some man she expects me to call 'Uncle' when I visit; never the same man twice, it seems. I only see her at Christmas; she lives not far from my father and I have to see her then. Court order." He sighed. "The rest of the year; not much. Maybe a card and a gift at my birthday if I'm lucky. She never realizes how old I am or how much I've grown." They stopped in front of Chetwood. "Did your mom love you?"

Alan nodded slowly. "Yeah. She did."

"Then I'd say you had the better bargain," A.J. replied softly. "See you around, Alan."

He walked away, hands in his pockets and Alan watched him go. Then he turned and went inside, taking the steps to the dorm two at a time, a sudden, intense desire to talk to his dad welling up inside.

Alan knocked on the door as Sugi had asked him to. There was the sound of something shuffling around inside. He shifted from one foot to another as he waited, mulling over in his mind what he wanted to say to his dad and not noticing that he was standing outside his own room for longer than was strictly necessary. Finally, it dawned on him that there was someone in his room but he'd had no answer, so he knocked again, a bit more forcefully this time.

"It's okay. Come in."

Alan frowned at the sound of Lee's voice, and put his hand up to the door's scanner. Before he could walk inside, Lee's friend, Trey Mackenzie, pushed past him with a muttered, "Hey, Tracy."

"Hey, Mackenzie," the younger boy said, his words trailing off at the end of the sentence. He turned to go into his room and was virtually yanked inside by Lee.

"Don't just stand there, Tracy. Get in here!" Lee growled.

Alan shook off his roommate's hand and stared around at the room. There was a curious haze in the air, and a smell that made his nose wrinkle. The room was cooler than Alan liked, mostly because Lee had the windows wide open.

"What the hell's going on?" he demanded of his roommate. "Who's been smoking in here?"

Lee glared at him. "Keep your voice down, Tracy." He ducked into the bathroom and pulled out a can of air freshener, spraying it around. "Mackenzie's been smoking in here. And before you say it's illegal, it's not! He's eighteen and can smoke if he likes."

"Maybe he can, but why is he smoking in here?" Alan asked angrily. "Why is he smoking in our room?"

Having finished with the air freshener, Lee put it away and brought out some fabric deodorizer, spraying the fine mist all over his bedding, then shoved the bottle into Alan's hands. "He's smoking in here because he can't smoke in his own room," he began to explain. "His roommate is Dom Bertoli. The smoke would aggravate his asthma."

"Then why can't he go smoke outside somewhere? In his car, if he has one?" Alan was still hopping mad and was getting in Lee's face.

"If you're not going to use that, give it back," his roommate said, snatching the bottle from the younger boy again. He spritzed the draperies, pulling them across the window to get all of the fabric. Stopping for a moment, he pointed a finger at Alan. "He does smoke in other places. In his car, in the woods, wherever he thinks he won't be found. But if you haven't noticed, it's getting colder and pretty soon he won't be able to smoke outside without freezing his butt off. So I'm letting him smoke in here."

"And what happens when the administration finds out?" The younger boy retorted. "You know the rules about smoking on campus! What then?"

"I've got it all worked out," Lee replied, handing the deodorizer back to Alan. "Mackenzie will provide us with sprays to freshen the air and the bedding. Opening up the windows clears the smoke out quickly. He'll only smoke in here three times a week; and only after inspection. The other days, he'll find other places, other friends. We can wash our bedding every time there's laundry day." He rounded on Alan, his face hard and his voice harder, and poked a finger in the younger boy's chest. "In fact, the only way the administration is going to find out, Tracy, is if you tell them."

"What? You think they're stupid? You think they won't notice?" Alan hissed, poking his finger right back. "You think I want to walk around smelling like a cigarette butt? No way!"

Lee took hold of Alan's shirt and pulled their faces close together. "When you and I became roommates, I told you up front that there might be things going on in here that the administration frowned on. You said you could keep quiet as long as it wasn't illegal. Now I'm calling you on that! What Trey is doing isn't illegal; he's of age. So you keep your mouth shut, or else."

"Or else what?" Alan challenged, his own blue eyes hard as he looked into Lee's brown ones.

"Or else I will make your life hell on earth," Lee said with a savage smile. "I'm on the track team. I have sway with the coach and with Zave. I'm popular; people will believe what I say about you. I can start a rumor that will sweep the campus and turn your friends against you. And not even all your daddy's money can stop it from happening."

There was a long, tense silence between them, then Alan slid his hands between Lee's wrists and shoved outward. "Hands off!" he growled. Once free of Lee's grasp, he turned from his roommate and walked over to his computer. Swiveling back, he threw the bottle of fabric spray back at the older boy. "Here. He's your friend and you're letting him smoke in here. You can do all the work covering it up, including my bed. I'm outta here." Then picking up his satellite phone and pulling out his jacket, he stalked out of the room.

Alan went out to the grassy quadrangle that the dorms all faced. It was cool though sunny, and he was glad he had his jacket. He sat down with his back to one of the giant oaks that peppered the grassy rectangle. Looking up, he saw the sun glinting through the yellowing leaves, and watched as one floated down on a light breeze to land on the grass some distance away. The lawn was covered with a sprinkling of such large, golden flakes, and he sighed, letting the far off sounds of birds and breeze help him compose himself. Then he plugged in his earphone/mike and dialed home.

The vidphone in the office rang, and Jeff turned his chair to reach for it. He was pleased to see that the call was from Alan.

"Hey, Dad."

Jeff was surprised to see how sober and tired looking his son was. "Hello, Alan! What's up? What's the news on the track team?"

"The track team?" Alan asked. He brightened a bit. "Oh, yeah! I made the team. Four events: cross-country, long jump, high jump, and I'm an alternate on javelin."

"Hey! That's great! Congratulations!" Jeff enthused. "I didn't know you'd tried out for javelin."

"I did, but I wasn't expecting it," Alan replied. His conversation trailed off, and his father frowned in concern.

"You don't seem too happy about it," Jeff said. "What's the matter?"

Do I tell him about the smoking? No, this is one thing I have to deal with myself. Having made that decision, Alan flapped a hand. "Oh, I was just talking to Fermat's roommate, A.J. We walked back to the dorms from the snack shop together. We were talking about families and he asked about Mom and I told him, then he told me about his mom. She and his father are divorced and A.J. doesn't see her except on Christmas. The rest of the year, nothing. Except maybe a birthday present." He puffed out a breath. "On top of that, his dad's out of the country a lot. I get the impression they don't talk much."

"Sounds like he's pretty lonely," his father commented, his voice quiet.

"Yeah. I think he is. I'm glad Fermat brought him into our group. Maybe we can help."

Jeff nodded. "Maybe you can. So, tell me about the rest of your day."

Alan shrugged. "Not much to tell. Jason Cunningham whipped me at foosball, then the team roster went up. I treated Fermat and A.J. to milkshakes to celebrate, then walked back to the dorms with A.J. Fermat wanted to play some pinball, so he stuck around the games room."

"How much homework do you have?"

"Some. I'll get it done, don't worry. Track practice starts after classes on Monday. I understand that Xavion Lewis, the team captain, will be busting our butts," he said with a wry, lopsided smile.

"Is he related to your friend Qaeshon?"

"Yeah, they're brothers, only Zave is two years older and looks like he's two feet taller," Alan quipped. "I think he'll be almost as tough to please as Scott can be."

"I'm sure he will," Jeff replied, grinning. "Hey, I see you're outside. Enjoying the sun?"

"Yeah, I am," Alan replied. "Plus, my roommate is entertaining a friend. Didn't want to intrude." Now if he'll just buy that...

There was something not quite right about how Alan had said what he did, some little nuance that told Jeff things weren't what they should be. "That's polite of you, Alan," he replied carefully. "But don't let your roommate ride roughshod over you. It's your room, too, you know."

Alan glanced away for a second. "Yeah, I know. It's just... it's not someone I particularly get along with."

"I see," his father commented in a neutral tone. He knew there was something more to it; but wasn't sure if he should pursue it. Over the summer, he had found that trying to probe too deeply made his youngest son put up stronger walls. He'll tell me in his own good time, Jeff decided. He shifted his chair, absently rolling his shoulders, still a bit bruised from his adventure in the snow.

Alan caught the motion and frowned. "You okay, Dad?"

"Yes, son. I'm okay. Just had a little fall in the Rockies the other night," Jeff replied, waving a dismissive hand.

How could I have forgotten to ask? The teen lowered his voice. "At the rescue?"

"Yes, but it's okay, really. I was pinned under a collapsed tent and a hell of a lot of snow. But Scott pulled my butt out and I'm fine."

"How did things go overall?"

"Well, not as quickly as I would have liked. Thunderbird One nearly iced up in the weather. But we got the victims out and to medical attention and that's what counts."

"Anybody else hurt?" The more they discussed the rescue, the more tense Alan became.

Jeff shook his head, smiling. "No, just a couple cases of frost nip for Gordon and me. We were all thawed out by the time we got home."

Alan let out an audible, "Whew!" and his shoulders relaxed. "I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier, Dad."

"Hey!" his father exclaimed. "You've had a lot on your mind, Alan! New roommate, track tryouts, Fermat's arm, classes; I don't blame you for forgetting." He pointed to the screen, grinning. "And now that it's happened, I doubt it will happen again."

Alan chuckled for the first time during their conversation. "Yeah, I think you're right."

Suddenly, a loud klaxon went off in the office, making Alan grimace as the sound of it reached his ears. "Speaking of rescues..." Jeff pressed a button, and a tray slid out, a hand-shaped depression in a plastic sheet. He put his hand on it and the room began to change before Alan's eyes.

Virgil came pelting in, saw Alan's face on the vidphone screen and waved. "Hey, Sprout!"

"Hey, Virge!" Alan said, waving back.

"Gotta go, son," Jeff said, regret in his voice.

"I understand, Dad," the youngest Tracy said with a nod. "Be careful, huh?" He paused for a moment, then said, "One last thing, Dad."

"Yes, son?" The room had almost finished its transformation from office to control center and Jeff's attention was beginning to be diverted.

"I love you."

Jeff stopped what he was doing and looked Alan full in the face. "I love you, too, Alan. Talk to you later."

"Later. Tag's on you."

"Right. I'll remember that. Goodbye, son."

"Bye, Dad. Bye, guys!" he called to the other brothers who had finally arrived. They waved and called back, then Alan reluctantly ended the conversation.

He leaned back against the tree, gazing upward, but his mind was thousands of miles away, watching Thunderbird One launch. He closed his eyes, as a longing for home snatched at his heart. His eyes grew moist as he thought of the island, and the pool pulling back, and the sleek rocket plane shooting into the sky, white contrails following. The cliff opening and the green workhorse trundling out, stopping at the end of the short runway, the clamps clanking into place, holding the giant still as it was tipped up forty-five degrees. The engines firing, red and hot, pushing the craft up and into the air, like some insect that wasn't truly meant to fly. Sitting in the cockpit of the red rocket, watching the silo roof iris open, the sections of the library parting to make room for the powerful ship that was about to be launched into the atmosphere and beyond.

He allowed himself to savor the images for a moment more, then he sighed. He opened his eyes. His vision was filled with the yellowing leaves again, and he removed his earpiece, putting both that and his phone in his jacket pocket. Gotta go find Fermat. he thought as he levered himself to his feet and headed back to the Student Union.