Section 10

“We have a few more details to discuss.” Dr. Marcinowski told them rather seriously. “In an officially informal conference, Dr. Serabian and I have determined the Drama and Music majors will have passed their final exams as soon as the costume plates, set design plans and musical arrangements are put on paper. Congratulations, ladies.”

Prof. Martin took her turn. “You Art majors are excused from all classes to complete your year end projects. Please submit drawings detailing any input you might have had on the costume coordination or production concept. Anyone taking Art History will still have to sit the exam.”

Polly groaned.

“I don’t think we can work this performance into the ‘Moorish Influence In Spain’ course description, Ms Waller.” Marian laughed at the girl’s expression, “But your drawings will be inspired.”

“Dr. Kersey will accept a short story in almost any format from Mr. Swenson and Ms Patterson detailing your experiences posing and performing this semester in lieu of the final. I’m afraid Ms Wilson and Mr. Swenson are on their own in their Science studies. However, based on prior grades, that presents no hardship.” Chancellor Schwartzwelder said. “You are still responsible for your electives. This is a University.”

“We have work to do girls, home, food, study and sleep beckon.” Phil told the band. “We still have to load in the equipment.”

He asked Prof. Martin. “Are we still on for the Olympic session Friday afternoon?”

“Yes. We think that will be the last before exams and the Faculty/Senior Art Exhibits.” She replied. “Anyone in the Department may attend, so be ready for long poses.”

“We can pick up the props early Friday if it helps save time.” Phil offered. “We can be set up when the classes arrive.” He wanted to extend the euphoria-generated goodwill a little longer and make a quick exit. “Let Polly or Emily know where and when and I’ll bring the truck.”

They said their good byes, leaving with Jim Chamberlain to get the equipment home.

Marian turned to her sister, “What did you mean by ‘That Pediatrician’?”

“Most of us know the breakthroughs their dad has made approach applied sorcery. The Swensons’ mother is the same in her field. I love her style: kick ass and take names, fix bent and broken children. Now I can add ‘go home and show her kids how to sing the blues’.”

Charlotte Schwartzwelder, an actual medical doctor, agreed. “Reads her patients like a book. Her patient care regimen is extremely successful yet cannot be duplicated in any other clinic. Dr. Swenson simply sees things others don’t. And she will have her way. Read the journals, she will call you out no matter your reputation.”

Sheila said, “Both Drs. Swenson sort information where information just doesn’t exist. And they are seldom far from the mark.” She smiled at the assembled faculty. “Whether this weird ability or subconscious understanding is genetic, ingrained, trained or assimilated, these kids have it in spades. The philosophy teacher in me suggests we simply guide them through college. They will learn what they need on their own. They can’t help it. It isn’t possible for them to be lazy.”

Bart suggested the faculty keep an eye on the whole group. “All of them seem very smart, with an interesting synergy. I’ve seen it in the workplace; some teams leap while others plod. Personally, I’m going back to the office and figure out a way to stay ahead. Maybe I’ll get them to make a microprocessor out of peanut butter.”

Axel laughed, “I favor asking them to create a mathematic system based on ‘pi’ as a whole number. We’ll probably get the Grand Unified Theory presented as a musical comedy complete with chorus line and snacks at intermission.”

They hung around jawing for a while before everyone needed to get back to the real world of running a respectable university.

The band met the road crew at home. Loading in was a breeze with all the help. Bobby and Jim were seriously jealous of the basement. “You could freaking do dinner theatre down here.” Chamberlain exclaimed. “What do you do with this space?”

“Studio space, games, exercise, martial arts training, whatever, it’s nice to have room.” Phil answered. “I think of this as a play/work zone.”

“Rumor has it that all twelve of the band mates live here.” Bobby Ortega said. “Where?”

“I let them convert the second story into a giant communal dorm. They have tons of study and working room everywhere. The first floor has the kitchen, living room and dining room. And my office and sanctuary.” Phil grinned. “Most importantly, there is plenty of bathroom space and a pool.”

“Pool, music, space or not. I still think you’re mas loco, dude.” Bobby snarked. “I have my wife and two preschoolers to make me nuts and they do a fine job of it. My life is good, but any more and I would be in a padded cell!”

“90% of the time I don’t have a clue about how they think whatever it is they think about. They’re all insane, but it makes ‘em happy. Who am I to judge? On the other hand, they are more fun to look at than a computer monitor and they smell better than the dojo.”

“Dojo! Martial Arts! That’s it! I’ve seen this place on the news.” Dr. Chamberlain spun around, “I’d seen it a million times going to work, but I saw the report about the two criminals found dead at your doorstep and thought that was too close to campus for comfort.” He looked really hard at Phil. “What happened, actually?”

“Newspapers said they killed themselves attacking two young women. Kinda hard to believe.” Ortega raised an eyebrow. “Assisted suicide?”

“They were encouraged to commit accidental murder-murder. That’s my story.” Phil answered wryly, “Terminal remorse and self-loathing for their evil lives. Phantom Psycho-Ninjas. Sociopaths looking inward. Karma. Or something. ‘Nuff said.”

“Karma’s a real bitch, ain’t she? Instant karma, especially.” Jim chuckled. “There’s a song in there somewhere.”

“This one?” Ortega asked, “Lennon’s?”

“Instant Karma’s gonna get you Gonna knock you right on the head You better get yourself together Pretty soon you’re gonna be dead”

“I think we better shine on this pile of amps. I can’t afford to get fired from my first roadie gig in twenty years.” Jim groused cheerfully. “And no, I won’t give up the day job.”

Eventually they reassembled the music room and made their departure. Phil locked and set the alarms on the front side, intending to hit the water.

“Ladies,” He called out, “I’m in the pool. See ya outside or not.” Phil found himself in an instantaneous crowd going out the door.

“The pool sounds great. I’m too wound up to relax.” Marcie agreed. “We’ll rinse in the pool house showers.”

Polly and Emily were naked already. “Skinny dipping! Yea! ‘Bout time we used the backyard.” Polly squealed. “Last one in, after the rinse, has to cook supper.” The stampede began. Clothes flew like confetti, the shower ignored, as the thirteen teens sped for the heated water. Good thing I have a super-duty filtration system, he thought.

An hour of naked chicken fights, races, try-to-dunk-Phil and cannonballing, the girls’ adrenaline highs began to burn off.

“Was this a great day or what? We gained another house mate, knocked the campus dead, maximized the extra credit, scored huge brownie points and made it home alive!” Zina giggled, “And we did most of it with our clothes on.”

“We’re not just pretty faces; we really do have talent.” Joanne shimmied, “But nice tits never hurt the cause.” That started a running gabfest that lasted until 9:00. They covered the playlist, the harmonies, sets, instruments, costumes and everything they could think of.

Phil derailed the session. “There are shampoo and various soaps in the bath house along with towels and robes. What say we clean up out here and think about a late meal?” His stomach growled audibly. “Burgers at lunch doesn’t cut it for a whole day. Should we fake it in the kitchen or call in an order?”