Regina’s Song. David Eddings

aunt got sick,” I said, moving out of her way and sitting down in the breakfast nook.

      “I was strapped for cash,” she replied. “I’d been working at a lab over near Swedish Hospital, and the headman there was a groper who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. I cured him of that, and he fired me.”

      “Cured?”

      “I threw a cup of scalding coffee in his face.”

      “Ouch,” I said.

      “He felt pretty much the same way about it,” she said with an evil little grin. “Anyway, Aunt Grace had an empty room, and she let me stay here until I got back on my feet.” She started putting some sandwiches together. “That’s what set off our ‘serious student’ program. You wouldn’t believe how noisy it used to be around here. After Aunt Grace had her stroke, I yelled for help, Trish came running, and we clamped down.”

      “James told me about that when I first found the place,” I told her. “He said he backed your decision all the way.”

      “Oh, yes. And nobody in his right mind crosses James. Truth is, I had to nudge Trish to persuade her to put that ‘no drinking on the premises’ policy into effect. She was a little timid about it.”

      “Timid? Trish?”

      “She was worried about the rent money. That was all that we had to pay Aunt Grace’s medical expenses. I told her not to be such a worrywart. I knew that sooner or later we’d get the right kind of people here, and things would turn out OK.”

      “You’re putting a whole new light on things around here, Erika,” I said. “I assumed Trish was running the show, but you’re the one calling the shots, aren’t you?”

      “That’s been going on since we were kids, Mark. Trish wants people to notice her. I don’t need that, so I let her stand around giving orders. As long as she gives the orders I want her to give, I don’t interfere.” She came over and handed me a plate with two fairly bulky sandwiches on it. “Here,” she said. “Eat.”

      “Yes, boss,” I said obediently.

      She let that pass. “I’ll bring you a glass of milk.” “I’ve sort of outgrown milk, Erika.”

      “It’s good for you,” she said. She poured me a glass of milk and brought it to the table.

      This girl was going to take some getting used to, that much was certain.

      After I’d finished eating, I went back to Mary’s place to pick up Twink. I was fairly sure that Mary was still asleep, so I went around to the back door again to avoid waking her.

      Twink was waiting for me, and she had one of those black plastic raincoats that always seem to make a lot of noise. They keep the rain off well enough, I guess, but they crackle with every move.

      “Did you bring my books?” she asked.

      “We’ll pick them up at my office,” I told her. “I don’t keep my spares on my own bookshelves. They take up too much room. Let’s hit the bricks, Twink. I want to get in and out of my little clothes-closet office before the suck-ups get there and go into the usual feeding frenzy.”

      “Suck-ups?” she asked.

      “The ingratiators. The second-rate students who swindled their way through high school by laughing at the tired jokes of third-rate teachers, and the personality kids who’d really like to be my friend so that they can smile the C-minus they’ll earn up to a B-plus.”

      “You’re in a foul humor,” she accused, as we went out to my car.

      “It’ll pass, Twink,” I told her. “I always come down with the grouchies on the first day of classes. I know for an absolute fact that I’m going to come up against a solid wall of ineptitude, and it depresses the hell out of me.”

      “Poor, poor Markie. You can cry on my shoulder, if you want. Maybe if I mommy all over you, it’ll make you feel better.”

      I laughed—I don’t think I’d ever heard “mommy” used as a verb before. “When did you get mommified, Twink?” I took it one step further.

      “Probably while I was in the bughouse,” she replied. “Dockie-poo Fallon always prescribed mommification—or daddyfication—when one of the bugsies went brain-dead. He’d either mommify us or embalm us with Prozac. And believe me, if you really wanted to, you could probably calm a volcano down with Prozac.”

      We clowned around all the way to the campus, and I realized as I pulled into the Padelford parking garage that Twink had banished my grumpies. I was supposed to be taking care of her, but she’d neatly turned the tables.

      “Where do you want me to sit when I go into your classroom, Markie?” she asked me when we climbed out of the Dodge. “Since I’m not a real student yet, am I supposed to hide under a desk or something?”

      “Pick anyplace you want, Twink. The other people in the class won’t know that you’re only auditing, and I wouldn’t make an issue of it. Just blend in.”

      “What am I supposed to call you?”

      “Mr. Austin, probably. That’s what the others are going to call me. Let’s keep the fact that we know each other more or less under wraps—the other kids don’t need to know. Doc Fallon says that you’re here to get to know more people—’broaden your acquaintanceship,’ he calls it. I may not altogether agree, but let’s play it his way for now. I’ll give you some time for the after-class chatter before we go back home. Try to keep it down to about a half hour. Oh, don’t get all bent out of shape about some of the things I’ll say today, OK? It’s a little canned speech I picked up from Dr. Conrad. It’s called ‘thinning the herd.’ My life’s a lot easier if I can scare the incompetents enough to make them go pester somebody else.”

      “You’re a mean person, Markie.”

      “God knows I try.”

      Inside the building, I showed Twink where my office was, gave her the books she’d need, and led the way to the classroom. “Hang around out here in the hallway until the place starts to fill up,” I advised. “Then drift in with the rest. Don’t sit up front, but don’t try to hide at the back of the room, either—that’s where the hopeless cases usually are. Try to blend in as much as possible.”

      “You sound like a bad spy novel,” she accused. “Next you’ll be talking about code words, disguises, and invisible ink.”

      “Maybe I am being a little obvious,” I admitted.

      “Real obvious. I’m a big girl, and I know all about blending into the scenery.”

      “OK. Today’s class won’t be too long. We’ll do the bookkeeping, I’ll deliver my speech, and then I’ll split before anybody can pin me to the wall. You mingle a bit, then go back out to the garage. I’ll be in the car.”

      “Why not wait in your office?”

      “Because I don’t want to spend the rest of the day here. The suck-ups will home in on that place like a pack of wolves. Are you going to be OK here?”

      “I’m fine, Markie. Quit worrying.”

      “OK, I’ll see you after class, then.”

      I went back to the garage to gather up the official-looking junk I had in the backseat, then I ran over my canned speech to make sure I’d hit all the high points. The first class session sets the tone for the rest of the quarter, so I wanted to be sure I had it right.

      I kept a close eye on my watch and hit the classroom door at precisely one-thirty. I went directly to the desk, opened my briefcase, and took out the stack of papers I kept in there. Then I faced this year’s crop of freshmen. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” I said briskly. “This is section BR of English 131, Expository Writing. My name is Austin, and I’ll be your instructor.