industry . “What’s the project?”
Celia shook her head, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “We’re not supposed to say. We signed a whatchamacallit, where we have to keep it a secret.”
“A nondisclosure agreement?”
“Yeah. I could get in trouble just saying this much. Plus I could lose the bonus at the end of the trial.”
The crowd around them grew denser, people picking up the pace as the next class loomed minutes away. Alexis felt the urgency in her own bloodstream.
She didn’t know how to fish information from Celia without further frightening the girl. “I won’t tell anybody, Celia. I used to work with him and—well, I didn’t know he was around. I wouldn’t mind saying hello.”
Celia backed away, looking over Alexis’s shoulder. “Sorry, Dr. Morgan. I’m late for chemistry lab.”
Celia turned and hurried into the crowd, which seemed to have thickened in the space of seconds. Alexis was about to shout at Celia, but someone bumped into her, causing her to drop the books she was carrying. As she was flung forward, she bounced against a tall man with the muscular physique of an athlete.
“Hey,” the man yelled in a deep, gruff voice. In the commotion, Alexis felt a sting in the small of her back.
Her first thought was bee , even though it was March and bees were still a little sluggish in the cool air. A spider was more likely, since the spindly arachnids were so ubiquitous and would bite if trapped in clothing. She reached to rub the wound as the jock turned and sneered.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” he said, obviously used to inciting fear through a display of force.
Classic case of insecurity and overcompensation . He probably had performance issues in bed. But, despite Freud’s own suspect logic in linking every problem to sex, maybe this case was simpler. Maybe the guy was just a flaming asshole.
“Sorry,” Alexis said, looking past the gathering crowd in hope of sighting Celia. The student was gone.
The jock kicked at one of the books that had fallen near his foot. “You could have broke my toe,” he said. “Knocked me down a few rounds in the draft.”
Alexis gave her most winning smile, though the spreading pain of the sting tightened her lips. “I advise you to get your degree, then, so you’ll have a fallback position.”
“Fallback? I’m a fullback.”
“I’m sure you are,” she said. Another student, a geeky guy in a ragged knit cap, bent and collected her books as the crowd, now bored and running late, lapsed back into its chaotic stream. The football player trudged forward as if it were second down and goal to go from the three.
Knit Cap Boy handed her the stack of books. “You okay, miss? You don’t look so hot.”
The stung area had begun to swell, and heat radiated across her back and down her buttocks. She looked around, her throat dry, wondering if she might be suffering anaphylactic shock. A campus policeman stood watching from the steps of a nearby student-services building.
“I’m fine,” she said thickly, taking the books. “Thanks.”
Alexis wiped a sudden sweat from her temples, wondering if she’d be able to finish the quarter-mile walk to her office. The student infirmary was across the compound, behind the library. Anaphylaxis could kill in minutes by constricting her throat and cutting off her air supply. The campus cop, evidently noticing her distress, hurried down the steps.
She swayed, dizzy, and Knit Cap Boy reached to steady her.
“Here, let me,” the cop said, taking Alexis by the shoulder. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
The cop’s eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, and the dwindling trickle of pedestrians reflected in the twin black lenses. He slid his arm around her shoulder and guided her toward a concrete bench that was half-surrounded by low shrubbery.
She sat, gazing at the oak canopy above, the new leaves bright green in the sun. The clouds drifted by in a cotton-candy kaleidoscope.
As an
Celia shook her head, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “We’re not supposed to say. We signed a whatchamacallit, where we have to keep it a secret.”
“A nondisclosure agreement?”
“Yeah. I could get in trouble just saying this much. Plus I could lose the bonus at the end of the trial.”
The crowd around them grew denser, people picking up the pace as the next class loomed minutes away. Alexis felt the urgency in her own bloodstream.
She didn’t know how to fish information from Celia without further frightening the girl. “I won’t tell anybody, Celia. I used to work with him and—well, I didn’t know he was around. I wouldn’t mind saying hello.”
Celia backed away, looking over Alexis’s shoulder. “Sorry, Dr. Morgan. I’m late for chemistry lab.”
Celia turned and hurried into the crowd, which seemed to have thickened in the space of seconds. Alexis was about to shout at Celia, but someone bumped into her, causing her to drop the books she was carrying. As she was flung forward, she bounced against a tall man with the muscular physique of an athlete.
“Hey,” the man yelled in a deep, gruff voice. In the commotion, Alexis felt a sting in the small of her back.
Her first thought was bee , even though it was March and bees were still a little sluggish in the cool air. A spider was more likely, since the spindly arachnids were so ubiquitous and would bite if trapped in clothing. She reached to rub the wound as the jock turned and sneered.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” he said, obviously used to inciting fear through a display of force.
Classic case of insecurity and overcompensation . He probably had performance issues in bed. But, despite Freud’s own suspect logic in linking every problem to sex, maybe this case was simpler. Maybe the guy was just a flaming asshole.
“Sorry,” Alexis said, looking past the gathering crowd in hope of sighting Celia. The student was gone.
The jock kicked at one of the books that had fallen near his foot. “You could have broke my toe,” he said. “Knocked me down a few rounds in the draft.”
Alexis gave her most winning smile, though the spreading pain of the sting tightened her lips. “I advise you to get your degree, then, so you’ll have a fallback position.”
“Fallback? I’m a fullback.”
“I’m sure you are,” she said. Another student, a geeky guy in a ragged knit cap, bent and collected her books as the crowd, now bored and running late, lapsed back into its chaotic stream. The football player trudged forward as if it were second down and goal to go from the three.
Knit Cap Boy handed her the stack of books. “You okay, miss? You don’t look so hot.”
The stung area had begun to swell, and heat radiated across her back and down her buttocks. She looked around, her throat dry, wondering if she might be suffering anaphylactic shock. A campus policeman stood watching from the steps of a nearby student-services building.
“I’m fine,” she said thickly, taking the books. “Thanks.”
Alexis wiped a sudden sweat from her temples, wondering if she’d be able to finish the quarter-mile walk to her office. The student infirmary was across the compound, behind the library. Anaphylaxis could kill in minutes by constricting her throat and cutting off her air supply. The campus cop, evidently noticing her distress, hurried down the steps.
She swayed, dizzy, and Knit Cap Boy reached to steady her.
“Here, let me,” the cop said, taking Alexis by the shoulder. “Are you okay, ma’am?”
The cop’s eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, and the dwindling trickle of pedestrians reflected in the twin black lenses. He slid his arm around her shoulder and guided her toward a concrete bench that was half-surrounded by low shrubbery.
She sat, gazing at the oak canopy above, the new leaves bright green in the sun. The clouds drifted by in a cotton-candy kaleidoscope.
As an
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