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CHAPTER3
Hmm, Calista glanced at her open notebook with the four squares scrawled on page one. That drawing wouldn’t impress him. The professor was there to guide them, so she’d share her background and see if he had any ideas. “According to most of my professors, my specialty is spotting problems and fixing them.”
Artie popped his head up. His shaggy dark hair and wrinkled t-shirt were the opposite of the professor’s pressed shirt, a vest, black slim-fit trousers, and carefully slicked hair. “Tell him about the desk.” Artie jerked his body side to side, demonstrating a shaky platform.
Good one. Calista touched the edge of her desktop. “The leg wobbled when I first came in and sat down.” She pointed to her tools on the floor. “No longer.”
“You fixed a desk? And you want PhDs from Sage Hill?” Professor Terrence shook his head as if Calista wasn’t understanding the class. “You all have a lot to learn from Arthur. He presented his robotics project idea via email before I even arrived.”
Yeah? That didn’t sound like teamwork.
Vivien pinched her lips together, and Olivia shot Artie an annoyed look.
Calista tilted her head, but when she saw her two friends staring at Artie, she realized his nickname was an abbreviation of his first name, Arthur, not an abbreviated form of his major in Artificial Intelligence. She didn’t admit her ignorance, because social skills 101 had to be learn a teammate’s name.
“A.I. is the future,” Professor Terrence said, nodding approvingly at Artie. “Your choice of major is brilliant.”
Olivia frowned. “One chair leg was definitely shorter than the others.”
Artie jerked his body back and forth as if they hadn’t understood his first demo. He gagged on his dried beef strip, coughed, and stopped moving. “Mermaids can’t open their legs.”
“Right.” Professor Terrence wrinkled his brow, but half pretended not to hear Artie, and focused on Calista. “You’re a prodigy, and you think you should get credit for fixing a wonky leg that could be steadied with a five p, cardboard pub coaster?” Professor Terrence shook his head. “Don’t answer that.” He held up his palms. “That’s why we’re here. We’ll refine your ambitions.”
Was that why she was here? The char marks on the lab ceiling flashed through Calista’s mind.
Professor Terrence looked from Calista to the smartboard. “Amvehl?” He said her last name again. “Any relation to a Piper Amvehl?”
Did he not remember meeting Calista at the Renaissance fair? Their interaction had been brief, and men didn’t typically remember her, not the way they did Piper. Sigh. Whatever. “Piper’s my older sister.” Calista made an invisible checkmark in the air. “She introduced me to you during the Tudor history scavenger hunt.”
“Ah, yes.” Professor Terrence’s eyes gleamed. “What’s Piper up to?”
Dating Mikah, Snowers offensive defenseman, number sixty-five, quickest on the ice. Living with him. Calista’s heart wrenched. She missed Piper being around the house. Career-wise, Piper was eyeing PhD programs, and still loving Tudor England. Which part of that did Professor Terrence want to know? Calista opened her palms.
“Tell Piper I said hello, and to stay in touch.” Professor Terrence moved to the door. “I understand it’s early days, but as a group, you need to develop a clear project that you can successfully work on together, and most importantly, articulately summarize. Carry on.” He left.
In his wake, silence hung in the room. Was being articulate the most important? She’d bet the next person who sat in this chair wouldn’t care if she described the leveling process. They’d just be happy to be balanced. Calista checked the clock. They still had another hour to go. She could normally lose track of time when focusing on a project; a whole day could pass before she looked up. But she was feeling every minute of this two-hour communication lab. Calista drew another square on her notepad and wrote their full names inside. She could do this. “Didn’t realize your name was Arthur.” Calista offered the verbal branch to Artie. “What do you think is the best way to pass this class?”
Artie shrugged, lifted his tube of wires, his bag of jerky, and headed to the door.
Calista eyed the exit, wishing she was more of a rebel too, but she stayed put. “Why does Artie get to leave early?” Would telling on him help or hurt her score with Professor Terrence?
* * *
A group of Snowers dancers accompanied by Willow also had tickets for the Mer-bar tank at 10PM. Calista, Olivia, and Vivien had intentionally arrived late because Calista wanted to maintain her anonymity during this excursion unless she got to meet with Ronan. They hurried into the Mer-bar’s dark interior. The change of going from freezing Canadian winter to the heated interior of the bar had them all yanking off their coats. Excited nerves jittered through Calista at this special opportunity. They were doing this.
The hostess, wearing a maple leaf-covered sarong over a red swimsuit, checked their tickets and showed them to the changing room, decorated in turquoise colors from the sparkling tiles to the locker-covered walls, and up to the ceiling. The décor made it feel as if they were in the aquarium already. Fun. She’d have to do something like this at the hockey stadium, like make a tunnel of ice for the fans to walk through.
For tonight, she and her friends had each worn their swimsuits under their street clothes so changing didn’t take long. Calista wore a light blue sporty bikini, Vivien a white one piece with big strategically placed llama eyes, and Olivia a peach, high-cut tankini. They were ready to go.
Calista shoved her clothes and purse into a locker and rubbed her hands together. Ronan would be here tonight. She hadn’t told anyone about her and Ronan’s first encounter. She hadn’t described their meeting in class because the professor interrupted. She might have done it on the flight up to Canada, but when she ran the replay in her head, she didn’t think she came out that well. He said you couldn’t date…and what did you say? She didn’t want to explain that she had pretty much said nothing. Plus, there were no words to describe the tingles and sparkly sensations he’d caused. She touched her fingertips to her wrist. Her fingers failed to spark the same sunburst reaction.
Her friends put their things away too and moved over to the gear table. On a higher level, Calista knew she and her friends shouldn’t be at the Mer-bar, at all; she knew that because she’d kept this trip secret from her cousin.
Dahlia was all about improving the team’s reputation and nudging the guys to appeal to a family-friendly audience. Mer-bar parties would not qualify.
Plus, Calista intended to own the team, and frolicking inside a mermaid tank would not be a good look. On the other hand, if ever there was a time when she could attend a big social event for the players, unnoticed, this was her brief window. Before any huge official takeover confirmation occurred, this was her shot.
Not that there needed to be a huge dramatic announcement, an email would suffice. The didn’t care who signed their checks. They only cared that funds filled their accounts. Dahlia had an MBA. She’d make sure everyone was paid. That had to be in MBA 101. Pay the people. No one cared about the name on the signature line. Calista shrugged on a harness holding a small oxygen tank and grabbed a pair of flippers.
