In a dry dusty room lined with dry dusty books, a dry dusty man waited. Were you to enter the room you may not even notice him at first, being that he looks like part of the furnishings. Even were you to notice, you might be surprised that he lived, what with how very dry and grey he appears, perhaps like the mummified remains of a scholar, left alone at his death.

But at that moment, as he sat, a book, one of ever so many, shuddered, illuminating the room with a faint glow. Then a second, and a third… until an entire dozen of the volumes were lighting the room.

The old, dry man coughed, eyes widening ever so much. "So it has started." He said, before slowly lifting himself out of his chair. "So it has begun."

Chapter 1

Levi’s was further from home than he ever wanted to be, and fighting to stay that way. His heavy steps echoed along the halls of the physical sciences building of the New York Founders University of Science, Languages, and the Arts –affectionately called NYFU for short.

Funny, he thought, I don’t even want to be in this miserable state. Why on earth am I trying to stay anyway?

Coming here in the first place was a mistake. Levi admitted that now, mom had sure thought so.

“There are lots of good schools here in Colorado” she’d said. “Why don’t you stay close?”

He’d felt otherwise, so they fought and he’d won. At least he thought he had. Now he wasn’t so sure. It’s not like he’d shot for an ivy league school or anything. Still, there was a lot of competition for even the less prestigious schools, and scholarships were scarce. So when he got the scholarship to NYFU, a practically unknown –at least to him— school in Yonkers, NY, he took it.

In retrospect, mom was probably right.

His steps stopped at their destination, leaving their echoes to continue down the hall without him.

Maybe I should just give up and go home, he thought, I tried and I just couldn't do it. Besides, like Mom said, there are a lot of good schools back home. I’d be close enough to go home every weekend. The homesick ache in his belly clenched tighter.

He shook his head hard, a silent, adamant denial. No, I can't go home like this. I'll look like an idiot and everyone will know I came home cause I couldn't handle being on my own.

He sighed, then knocked on the heavy oak door. The brass nameplate on the door proclaimed its occupant: Alastair Connolly PhD, Dept. of Physical Sciences.

“Come in,” came the dry voice.

Despite his better judgement, he entered.

"Mr. Grant is it?” The greying professor examined him from behind his heavy desk. “Olivia told me about your problem." He said, nodding to a seat.

"Sir?"

"Well, Mrs. Fernandez to you. Either way, what do you want me to do about it?"

"I, uh, I don't know,” he said, looking down at his shoes. “I was hoping you might, you know, give me some way to boost my grades or something."

The professor narrowed his eyes, as if examining an insect. "Boost your grades or something. Very articulate. But, articulate or not Mr. Grant, you are no longer a child. I suspect you have done a good deal of growing up recently, have you not? Yes, I predict you will do a great deal more in the near future, if the stars have their way."

"Sir?"

The professor dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "Oh nothing, just a manner of speech. No, I want to know what you think I should do to help you. I don't believe in dictating to a perfectly good, if a little underused, mind; not when you can do your own share of thinking. So, I ask you again Mr. Grant, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Well, uh, maybe I could retake a test or something? I know I didn't do so well on the second midterm."

"When you say you didn't do so well, you mean failed miserably I assume?"

"Yes sir." He sunk further into his chair.

"That is a wonderful idea,” said the professor, “ and, as it just so happens, the very option I was prepared to offer. You see, the purpose of this class is to teach you to grasp the basic principles on which this universe functions. Therefore, if you are able to prove to me that you have mastered these principles, I am willing to give you the grade needed to move forward. Will that suffice?"

"Er, yes, yes it will, thank you." His words stumbled over each other as he realized he might still have a chance.

Did he really want that chance?

"Now, before you go, there is the matter of when. I’ll have to check my calendar, as I'm quite busy this time of year. Whatever time I give you, you will have to accept. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, now that that is settled, is there anything else?" The professor looked at him through his thick rimmed spectacles.

"Uh, no sir. I don't think so."

"Well then?" The professor looked from him to the door and back again.

"Oh, right."

Levi rose quickly, almost knocking the chair over in his haste. "Thank you again sir," he said, backing out of the office.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Once out of the office he sighed a long sigh. That was painful, but at least I got what I needed. His step was lighter on the way back, relieved at having the chance to stay where he didn’t want to stay, so he could continue to do what he didn’t want to do.

###

An email from Professor Connolly later that day crushed his temporary relief.

Please present yourself for remediation on 12/22 at Eight a.m. sharp.

1. Connolly

Levi groaned. That was mere hours before his flight home. “I can’t get stuck here for Christmas,” he muttered over and over as he hunched over his laptop, trying to switch flights. But to no avail; everything with his airline was packed this close to the holidays, and he certainly couldn’t afford to buy another ticket. After a while he gave up, praying he could make it work.

With that added to the rest of his worries, he prepped for the retake while struggling through his regular finals.

To say Levi aced his classes would have been a lie; he limped through the rest of his finals with barely passable grades. Still, the upcoming chem test was ever at the back of his mind, and every night brought him a new batch of nightmares. There was the one where he'd showed up to find he'd already missed the test, or the test was in Latin, or even that he'd showed up naked.

Wow, he thought on waking, I didn't think people really had that dream. Cliché as it was, it still felt terrifying, in a weird sort of way.

The morning of the test was thankfully free of bad dreams. Probably cause I only slept like three hours, he thought as he stumbled into the shower. He’d been so freaked out the night before that he’d stayed up, cramming for the test. “I’m a journalism major,” he muttered, as he looked at his flash cards scattered across the table. “When will I ever need this?”

At half-past seven he left his place, greeted by a blast of icy air. He shuddered, drawing his coat close around himself as he trudged down the frozen street. A storm had come through the night before but the clouds had been driven off by the gleaming sun and, clear and crisp, the snowcapped city proudly showed its Christmas cheer.

The beauty was lost on Levi, as he crossed the icy courtyard, anxiety gnawing at his gut.

Professor Connolly was one of those old fashioned professors, preferring the classroom to the testing center and that’s where Levi spent his morning.

I’d be fine if he weren’t staring at me, Levi thought, not for the first time, look up at the professor watching him from the front of the room. He blamed his professor for his poor testing earlier that semester. The man had a stare that made Levi sweat; great drops running down his nose to drip onto the cheap test booklet. Well, the heater was cranked way too high, but the stare didn’t help either. Slowly, laboriously, with number 2 pencil in hand, he worked through tedious calculation after soul breaking calculation, till his mind was numb and his eyes ached.

Finally he’d circled the last answer, placing his pencil on the desk.

“Good enough.” The voice from behind made him jump.

“Sir?” He asked, not fully understanding.

“Your work has sufficiently improved that I may pass you, you may go.”

“Thank you sir, but don’t you need to grade it?”

“You really don’t want me to pass you?”

“Well of course I want to pass, it’s just that.”

“Just that? I don’t know if you do want to pass, do you know yourself? No, don’t answer that. It’s called a rhetorical question. Just accept that I’ve watched your progress and, while you are far from spectacular, you have a rudimentary understanding of the basics. Now, unless you wish to spend your holiday in the classroom, you may go.”

Levi thanked him again, leaving promptly in case he might change his mind. Elation turned to melancholy though, when his watch showed the lateness of the hour. He’d never make his flight.

He slammed the wall with an open palm. He knew better than to punch walls. Stupid Connolly, stupid chemistry, why couldn’t I have finished quicker? No answer came, just the sound of a vacuum whirring somewhere in the distance. With a self-pitying sigh, he began walking, wandering around campus. He wasn’t just wandering of course, he was also waiting on hold with the airline, listening to overly cheerful music playing in the background. It turned out the music loop was only twenty minutes long, as Jingle Bells eventually started up again.

“I’m sorry sir,” said a bored voice finally. “There’s nothing open today, or for the next three days either. It is the holidays.” The statement had a sort of everyone-knows-this-so-you-should-have-planned-better sort of tone to it. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” the voice said with a yawn.

“No, I guess not.”

“Ok, Merry Christmas, and remember your business is valuable to us so don’t forget to fill out the online survey.” …… ’Click’

He continued to wander campus for a time, phone still stuck to his ear, forgotten. It was an odd sort of luck that brought him to end up standing at the school’s ride board. He’d glanced at it a time or two out of curiosity, not really sure how it worked. Now he glanced again out of habit. Then he looked again.

There, on a 3x5 index card, was scrawled in permanent marker RIDESHARE TO COLORADO LEAVING 12/23 FOR MORE INFO CALL PAUL AT 650 555 4385.

What do I have to lose, he thought as he dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hi, my name’s Levi, is this Paul?”

“Yeah what’s up?”

“I saw your card on the ride share board, you still have open seats?”

“Yeah, we’ve got a spot still, we’re leaving tomorrow at 4am, you good with that?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Cool, we’ll split all expenses, cash or Paypal works, and limited room so one bag tops.”

“Great, this’ll really help me out.”

“Sure, we’ll see you then, just call if you can’t make it k?”

“Ok, see you then.”

Levi hung up the phone, nervous but relieved. He was still going home.

He called his mom to let her know what had happened. While she was happy for him, she worried that her boy was driving cross country, in the middle of winter, with a bunch of strangers.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a laugh. “They won’t be strangers by the time the trip’s over.”

He could tell she wasn’t happy, but at least she let it go. He was surprised when his phone rang late that afternoon.

“Hey Mom, everything ok?”

“Your flight, was it 768?” Her voice trembled as she spoke.

“Yeah Mom, why?”

“It’s on the news, the plane crashed over Nebraska, they say everyone died.” Her voice cracked with emotion. Levi didn't say anything for a time, he couldn't.

“Levi? Levi? Are you still there?” He realized she’d been talking.

“What? Yeah, I’m still here, that’s crazy about the plane, you sure it was mine? Guess chem saved my life.” he said, laughing hollowly.

She kept talking for a while; it was her way of dealing, always had been. He responded now and then but really, he’d quit listening.

I could have died? That’s all he really heard, again and again.

By her fourth time telling him to be careful he finally hung up. He heard her saying something else as he ended the call, but that was the way with her; there really was no quick way out of a conversation short of faking a heart attack.

That evening he sat alone in the empty apartment, staring at the packed bag; his roommates having left days before.

“Well that’s done. Now what else can I do?

He tried reading for a while, but gave up pretty quick when he realized he’d read the same line three times but couldn’t recall what it said. Sleep didn’t happen, so he spent the night flipping through channels.