The Elite, page 3
“Good,” Murphy said, sounding slightly disappointed he didn't get a rise out of him. “Then please take a seat.”
Devon sat, and without embarrassment. From where he sat Murphy looked about the size of an action figure at arm's length. A very short, overweight action figure whose balding head beaded with sweat under the lights. Devon had heard things about Murphy from Trey the night before, most of it now long forgotten, but some he remembered. Murphy had a God complex. When he was before a class he fancied himself their ruler, and the students his loyal servants. Never mind how much they were paying to attend the school. They would play the game his way or suffer the consequences. Looking at him now, Devon felt Trey's description was spot on. This was a guy that wanted to push you, if only to see how far he could.
“Very well,” Murphy said. “Let's continue.”
Devon didn't hear much of what he had to say. Most of the class focused on Shakespeare, one writer that Devon respected, but didn't really enjoy—not that he would ever admit it. To make matters worse, it was Murphy doing all the talking. Class participation was left at a minimum, and even that participation was just Murphy asking someone to spit out gum or to parrot what he'd just said to be sure they were listening. The class itself, though dull, was only forty minutes—unlike some of the monstrous three hour ones on his schedule. All in all, twenty minutes after he'd arrived, he was free to go. Murphy gave them one last reminder that their next essay could make or break their grade but Devon hardly listened. He grabbed his pen, stood, and followed the crowd back to the aisle.
There he stopped. And it was there he noticed a very familiar blonde three rows up. His heart jumped at the sight of her. The first time he'd seen her she was in little pink shorts, but now it was jeans and a tee, and she was still every bit as beautiful. She waved and headed his way. Devon only hoped he could remember how to speak before she got there.
“Nice job handling Murphy,” she said. “You didn't let him walk all over you.”
Devon felt a tingle in his cheeks. “I've dealt with his kind before,” he said, but hoped his blushing didn't show too much.
“I saw you yesterday, right?”
“Yeah. I was just taking a look around. I'm new here, just started today.”
She offered her hand and Devon shook it. “I'm Annie. Annie Salm.”
“As in psalm 11?”
“Not quite,” she said with a grin. “Feel like walking a girl to the library?”
“I'd be honored,” he said, and without fainting. Good for him.
Not so good was the voice of Professor Murphy, now a muffled shout through the chattering crowd. “Oh, Ms Salm!” he said, moving up the stairs and breathing heavily. The dude seriously needed a bit more time on the StairMaster. “Ms. Salm, I was hoping I might have a word with you.”
Devon noticed the way Murphy licked his lips when he said her name, and the way he looked at every part of her but her eyes.
Annie squeezed her eyes shut, and although neither Devon nor Murphy could see it, she grinded her teeth. She swallowed hard, and for a moment Devon thought she might have a way of getting out of it, which was just fine by him.
“Can I get a rain check for the walk?” she said.
“Yeah,” Devon said. “Sure.”
Annie then looked at the professor. “Yes?”
“Oh,” he looked at Devon with a sly grin. A grin that suggested he'd won the prize. “Not here, in my office, please. I'm afraid it's very important.”
“Of course,” she said, but now her face was red, and Devon guessed it wasn't from blushing.
“I could wait--” Devon was about to say, but Annie cut him off.
“Actually I might be a while, but it was nice talking to you.”
Devon nodded. No big deal. So she had to talk to the asshole professor, so what? She wanted a rain check for the walk, and this was only his second day here. Not bad for him. Maybe things were actually looking up.
“See ya around?” Devon said.
“Yeah,” she said, “I think maybe you will.”
She left, following Murphy back down the stairs. Hell yes he would see her again. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach he knew he would have to.
Professor Murphy's office was more like a closet. Tucked into the back of the English wing of Corvus Hall, behind the office of the department head, it had only the barest necessities: chairs, desk, bookshelf, and a few photographs hanging on the walls. Compared to the office of the department head, which one would have to walk through in order to enter Murphy's area, this back room looked more like the office equivalent of a studio apartment. It didn't matter. It was his, and as Devon would say, the son of a bitch fancied himself the king of his kingdom. And it was his kingdom. In here, Murphy was God. Rumors had spread throughout the school in the past few years that what happened in here was often kept off the record. Murphy was a divorced man, his wife having left him two years back when she found him in bed with a nineteen year old girl. Bad enough he was fifty-four at the time, but lucky for him she was not a student. That kept it a private matter, though in a school like Bryerson, few things were ever kept private. That led to suspicions that he was carrying on affairs with his students, though no one could ever prove it. Murphy knew, and he wasn't talking. And why should he? He was Professor with a capital P.
Ten minutes after leaving the classroom Annie was in his office, seated in a chair in front of his desk. A chair situated just far enough back to allow him a good look of her crossed legs and tight jeans.
“Thank you for joining me, Ms. Salm,” he said, sounding more like she'd just been invited to dinner than to discuss English 101. “I hope you don't mind.”
“Not at all,” she said, with a hint of sarcasm.
“Ms. Salm, I was hoping we might discuss your efforts in my class, as well as your continued education at this University. You are concerned about your future, correct?”
She nodded.
“Why then, do you continue to simply...” he waved his hand as though searching for the right phrase, “fly by with a C average.”
She shrugged, which wasn't the answer he'd hoped for. Had she known the answer he wanted, however, she probably would have stormed out of the office. She too had heard the rumors, and had even seen a few girls leaving Murphy's office with blouses buttoned the wrong way or skirts ruffled.
“Take your latest essay,” he said, sliding three sheets of paper across the desk. “You've met the minimum requirements, but never have you tried to better your writing or emphasize the point you were trying to make. It lacks both depth, and focus, Ms. Salm. And frankly, I know you're capable of so much more. I ask you this. Do you not want to improve your work, as well as your grade? Do you not take this class seriously/”
“I do,” she said. “I gave it my best effort, so I'm sorry if it's not up to your standards.”
Murphy sighed, as though what he said next pained him. “It's true. My standards are quite high...not unreasonably high, but perhaps too high for some.”
“I'll do better next time. May I be excused?”
“I'm not sure you follow me. I may have exacting standards but I'm still a fair man. I want you to succeed, Annie. I want that more than anything else. We all fall behind from time to time. To err, after all, is human...but to forgive...”
“I haven't really fallen behind.”
“But you have,” he said, folding his hands like a man in prayer. “You truly have. Now, please, let me help you.”
“Help me?” she said with hesitation. “Help me how?”
“I'm afraid your average will not suffice to receive all available credits. And that, of course, will mean you must retake the course.”
“Professor!” she nearly shouted, her face now red with anger. “As long as I pass I deserve--”
“You deserve? Young lady, I've heard a great many people say they deserve a great many things. Few of them actually did. You, however...” his eyes danced from her legs to her breasts, “well, perhaps you do.”
“Sir?”
“I suggest you stop by my office this time tomorrow. I'm sure we can work out an arrangement beneficial to us both.”
“...what're you saying?”
He smiled. “Simply that I want you to succeed. To earn what you feel you deserve.”
“I will earn it,” she said. “My next essay will be better.”
She stood, went to the door, but stopped when she heard his chair creak behind her. Even without blocking her path he managed to stop her cold. “Young lady, I'd hate to see your work deteriorate further. It would be a tragic shame if you were to fail my class.”
She shut her eyes. “I have to go, Professor.”
And she did, leaving Murphy at his desk. She hadn't looked back, but if she had, she would have seen him rubbing himself through his pants.
THREE
Walking three-wide, they parted the crowded pathways of Bryerson like Moses at the Red Sea. It was simply understood that when you saw them, you got the hell out of their way. No one ever said why, and no one ever asked. They were the brothers of the Tri Zeta fraternity: James, Kail, and Carter, and they had right of way. They bore no insignia to highlight their brotherhood, it was simply understood. Rumors had circulated about their fraternity over the years, most of it unsubstantiated, but nonetheless prevalent. Rumors of cars, girls, and money, but mostly stories surrounding their initiation procedure. This was something known only to those that had joined the ranks of the brotherhood.
Also in the crowds was Glen Kiley, who rifled through his backpack without ever glancing up to see where he was going. Glen was not one of the brothers, and therefore had to endure the same slow commute as everyone else. No one moved for him, or even gave him a second look. He liked it that way, though, seeing how today was not one of his better days. He'd just learned his long distance girlfriend was seeing someone else, and nothing put a damper on your day faster than knowing your former squeeze was getting boned by another dude halfway across the country. He tried not to let it get to him though.
He found his cell phone at the bottom of his backpack and pulled it out. One more call—this time to Jamie, the former squeeze. He'd call her up, work things out, and she would be his again, distance be damned. He started to dial, but stopped when he walked into what felt like a brick wall. It wasn't, but in his estimations it might as well have been. It was a guy he knew only as James. James of Tri Zeta.
“Oh shit,” Glen said. “Look man, I'm really--”
James grabbed Glen's shirt and pulled him over. “Where ya goin ya little faggot?”
“To lunch. I just—dude, I'm sorry. I wasn't watching.”
“He's sorry,” James said to his brothers. “If you're sorry, kid, why not get down on your knees and tell me how much?”
Glen turned three shades of red and felt his cheeks tingle. His head might as well have been the top of a thermometer stuck up the ass of a guy with the Bubonic plague.
Kail and Carter laughed. Carter did it out of habit, but for Kail it was to fit in. He'd proven himself to the brothers already, but now it was a matter of staying there.
“James, please, I'm sorry...”
“Don't use my name. You don't ever use my fucking name, got that?”
Glen nodded, then shivered as tears welled in his eyes. He felt like he would wet himself.
“You got that?” James said again.
“Yeah. I got it.”
“Good. Cuz when I tell you to get down,” James said, but paused long enough to swing a fist into Glen's stomach, doubling him over. “You get down.”
Now it was time for Carter and Kail to participate. They stepped around James and held Glen down, a hand on each of his shoulders. Students passed by and forced themselves to look anywhere but at the kid on his knees. On the ground, surrounded by throngs of people that would not help him, he thought this was what it was like to live in New York City, where he'd heard someone could be raped or murdered in broad daylight. The citizens passing by would simply mind their own business and do nothing.
All but Devon Jay. He stopped cold.
James used two fingers to raise Glen's head. Glen had the look of a dog caught in a bear trap, watery and distant, ready to chew off its own leg to escape.
James thrust his crotch forward. “Well go on, faggot. Help yourself to a little lunch.”
“Oh come on!” Glen said, but stopped when Carter and Kail tightened their vise-like grip. “--okay, okay! I'm sorry!”
A new voice entered the fray. “Do you not see the irony in calling the kid a faggot while you stick your crotch in his face?” It was the voice of Devon Jay.
James stepped back, pressing a hand to his chest in faux surprise. “I'm sorry, you say somethin to me?”
“Yeah,” Devon said. “Pretty clearly too. Stop being a little bitch.”
“Must be new,” Carter said. He tilted his head and cracked his neck.
“Must be,” James agreed. “You know who we are, new guy?”
“Buncha assholes that put kids on their knees?”
James removed his Versace sunglasses and tucked them in his shirt pocket. “You were sitting at my table at lunch, weren't ya?”
Devon nodded. “Didn't realize that was your special table. You piss on it or something? Mark it as your own...Jimmy?”
James stepped forward. “Funny guy, won't be so funny when I cut--”
“Dude,” Trey said, grabbing Devon by the arm and pulling him away.
James grinned. “Has your ass buddy shown up to protect you?”
Trey walked Devon away with an arm around his shoulder. “Just let it go, man.”
“Hey!” James called after them, but Devon and Trey did not look back. It was then Glen saw his chance to flee. James and his brothers were so focused on Devon and Trey they relaxed their grasp on his shoulders. He wasted no time getting to his feet and running off.
“Just keep walking,” Trey said, finally letting go of Devon when he was sure he wouldn't go back.
They heard one last shout from James. “Watch your back, ya little bitch!”
“Who the hell do they think they are?” Devon said.
“I told ya, Tri Zeta. Stay out of their way, and they'll stay out of yours.”
“I'm not so eager to roll over and piss on myself.”
“Well, you might be wise to my friend.”
“Oh fuck them,” Devon said, and stopped. For a second Trey thought he might go back. He didn't. “I've dealt with assholes before. If the little prick wants to start some shit cuz I'm sitting at his--”
“Dude,” Trey cut in. “Don't fuck around with those guys, okay? Trust me on this.”
Devon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Listen, I didn't sleep so good. Think I'm gonna head back to my dorm.”
“All right. But listen, man, I'm having another little get together tonight if you're up for it. Your little cutie, Annie, might be there.”
“You shittin me?”
“I shit you not.”
How the hell could he say no? “All right, I'm there.”
“And uh, just remember what I said, okay?”
“Right,” Devon said as he patted his new friend on the back and started off for his dorm. “Tri Zeta are a bunch of assholes, gotcha.”
The sun dipped below the horizon, turning the sky a fiery orange as the lights that lined the pathways of Bryerson flickered to life one by one. A cool breeze swept through the campus, rustling the branches of trees and chilling Devon Jay. He tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and bid a silent farewell to the last traces of summer. The crisp, Autumn air carried with it the scent of burning firewood.
A few people passed him on his way to Trey's dorm, but none said hello. Just as well. He had no interest in talking to them either. His mind was elsewhere, mostly thinking about what he'd say to Annie if he did see her. She was likely to be there, Trey had pointed out, but just as likely to have a guy at her side. What was he thinking? How could a girl like her be single, and what the hell was he hoping to accomplish? Just the same, he kept going, the sounds of partying growing louder as he neared the dormitory. Cheers, grunts, and shouting carried on the evening breeze like a banshee screaming on a quiet morn.
Do i really want to do this, he thought. Go home, jerk off, and forget this shit. You know she has a--
He silenced his brain by thinking of Annie. She seemed to dig him, which was more than he could say about most girls he'd known. All he'd have to do is put in a little face time and maybe he'd have a chance—maybe. Or maybe she'd realize that he wanted a relationship and deliver that let's just be friends speech. Incredible, Devon thought, how girls assumed a single guy wanted to be buddies.
“Won't know till you try,” he said aloud, then entered the dormitory and made his way to Trey's floor.
The fourth floor was Trey's, literally and figuratively. The party had begun in his dorm room and spread, resulting in a hallway of activity in which people drank, smoke, and made out. The tune of Moby's “South Side” thumped through a stereo located in Trey's room and carried throughout the whole area. Most doors were left open to welcome people, but some, Devon noticed, were kept shut. On several of these, ties hung from the doorknobs.
Lucky them, Devon thought, sipping a beer in Trey's room. More than once he'd considered hauling ass, and more than once he'd talked himself out of it.
Trey popped his head through the door. “Dude, everybody out here is happy as shit and you're lookin like you just watched Titanic the day after your girlfriend died.”
Devon grinned and waved a hand at the thought. “I'm all right, man.”
“You look fuckin bored.”
“Just one of those days I guess.”
“Still thinking about those Tri Zeta guys?”
“Nah,” Devon said, half lying, but half convinced it was the truth.
