Chapter 1: Registration

“Thirty-six, Thirty-Seven, Thirty-Eight.” Under her breath, Talia counted the students in line ahead of her. Actually, from her perspective, she counted their asses, because she was only four foot ten inches tall. Or, 147 centimeters, as she preferred to say, because it sounded bigger.

She was part of a queue of new students, waiting to complete their initial registration at the California State University, Marysville. CSU Marysville, also known as Marysville State, is located in the hot Central Valley of California, a 45-minute drive north of Sacramento (2-1/2 hours north and east of San Francisco).

Talia was in partial shade from a narrow linear roof sheltering the concrete sidewalk, but she was still uncomfortable, as the temperature was 95°F. Naturally, she preferred the cooler-sounding 35° on the Celsius scale. Mid-September in the Valley was always toasty.

Talia felt a light touch on her elbow and turned around.

“Hi, I’m Kerri Russell, and I’m 40.”

“I’m Talia Winters, and isn’t 40 a little old to be starting college? Oh, wait, I just remembered, I’m 39, and that’s why you’re 40, isn’t it?”

“Yup. I was counting those asses too. So you’re also here on a basketball scholarship?”

(Kerri was only a little bit taller.) Kerri and Talia were laughing, then they noticed the guy behind them was laughing with them. He was no more than 5’ 6” tall (168 cm).

“Amazing! That is the exact same reason why I’m here. I’m Ric Cortez, I’m 41, and sorry for listening in.”

In unison, “But you don’t look 41.” Followed by more laughter.

“Ladies, once we finished being broiled here, can I buy you something cold to drink?”

“Excuse me, guys. If you can excuse my excessive height, I’d like to buy all three of you something icy cold. I’m Paul Takahashi, and I have a big four-door car with strong air conditioning.”

Paul was, at most, only a little taller than Ric, so, there was more laughter.

With big smiles they all agreed and shook hands.

“One more, and we have a full starting five for basketball!” noted Ric.

Yooba’s

Once they all completed their registration, they fled to Paul’s car. It was an Oldsmobile Ninety Eight, a 1995 model from the era when General Motors made several flavors of V8-powered large 4-door sedans, from the less-expensive Chevrolet Impala all the way up to the plush Cadillac Sedan DeVille.

Paul explained, a little sheepishly, “I inherited my great-aunt’s enormous car. It’s not very fashionable or efficient, but the price was right.”

“Eighteen miles to the gallon?” asked Talia.

“Yeah, on premium fuel, but I won’t drive it very much. I have a big place very close to the campus.”

After a short drive, he parked at the far end of the lot in front of Yooba’s Lounge, a good-sized club close to the university’s athletic fields.

As they were walking in, Kerri asked, “Why did you park so far from the door, Paul?”

“The car is so big that in regular-sized spaces it gets clobbered by other cars’ doors flying open. As you see, it’s in pristine condition and I want to keep it nice—in case somebody longing for the ‘good old days’ makes me an offer.”

Inside, they found a booth and arranged themselves. “Boy Girl Boy Girl,” noted Talia, smiling.

The bartender called out to them, “I have no staff right now, so you have to come up here to get your drinks.”

Ric was seated at one end, so, “What can I get for you all?”

Kerri: “Light beer, any domestic brand, I’m not picky.”

Paul: “They have Stella Artois, ask for that.”

Talia: “No alcohol for me. I need a large glass full of ice and water, please.”

Ric said, “To save time, let me get your IDs. All of us are short enough to get hassled. At the bar, he asked for the beers, and with them he added his Dos Equis and Talia’s ice water on a tray. Carefully, he walked the full tray back to the booth.

“Well done, Ric, excellent balance. Thanks, we’ll be sure to tip you generously,” joked Kerri. “Talia, if you don’t mind, is there a reason you don’t drink?”

“Unfortunately, any kind of alcohol just ravages my stomach. It’s just not fun for me. But if Paul trusts me with his land yacht, I can be our designated driver.

“Does anybody know the story of this place’s name?”

“About a half mile from here is where the two big rivers come together, the Feather and the Yuba. I understand people go white water rafting on the Yuba River,” replied Ric. “I’d like to try that some time.”

“Around here? It’s mostly all flat and boring,” noted Kerri.

“Naw, up in the Sierra foothills. If the weather was better, you could see the white tops of the mountain range from here. Sierra Nevada translates to ‘Snowy Mountains.’ So there’s enough melt water to raft in, even this late in the season.

“So, do all of you have majors picked out? Since there’s no rafting major, I’m studying Theater. If I do well enough, I might go into a career in acting.”

“How about you, Kerri?” asked Paul.

“I’m not sure, I’m thinking Biology, or Anatomy and Physiology. I might go into nursing or pre-med. For me, it’s also a question of how well I do. I understand the chemistry courses are horribly difficult. Your turn, Paul.”

“Honestly, I have decided only that it’s too early to choose. Along with the giant car, my great-aunt left me some money for my education, so I have time to browse around and try different subjects. I’ll see what fits me. We’re down to you, Talia.”