S'wanee: A Paranoid Thriller (8 page)

Marcie stood up.

“Get in line,” she barked. “Get on the plane.”

•   •   •

“Good morning, sir.” The gate attendant smiled, feeding Cody’s boarding pass into the machine. It beeped three times.

“You’ve been upgraded, Mr. Marko,” she said. “Just a moment, please. Your new boarding pass is printing.”

•   •   •

Cody scooted past an older, professional woman on her BlackBerry to his wide, upholstered armchair by the window. The pretty, young flight attendant offered to hang his windbreaker.

He peered out and saw his mother at the airport window, scanning the back length of the plane, not knowing he’d been moved to the front. She stood at attention in her white lab coat, like a tiny doctor. Cody smiled and waved at her, but she didn’t see him.

“Champagne, orange juice, water?” The flight attendant lowered a tray.

“How much is it?” Cody asked, feeling stupid as he said it.

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

He took an orange juice, and the older, professional woman took a water. He started to put the glass on the armrest. The professional woman smiled and pivoted a little perch out from the middle and set her glass on it. Cody found his and did the same.

“You live in Nashville?” the woman asked pleasantly as she turned off her BlackBerry.

“No, ma’am,” Cody answered. “I’m going to college there.” Then he said quickly, “I mean, I’ll be a freshman there.”

He looked back out at his mother. Was it the rain dripping down the window, or was she crying?

“Vanderbilt?” the woman asked.

“S’wanee,” Cody replied, still staring at his mother.

Marcie looked directly at his window, and Cody waved as fast as he could. She didn’t see him and returned to scanning the back of the plane.

After a moment, the woman said, “S’wanee. Is that in Nashville?”

“Near Chattanooga. I think.”

The gangway pulled away. The jet backed up from the gate.

“S’wanee,” the woman said again, musing. “I know I’ve heard of it. I’ve definitely heard of it. A long time ago, I think.”

The jet rolled off, and Cody watched his mother watching his plane until she disappeared and was gone.

“Well, congratulations,” the woman said, as the safety video played. “You must be excited.”

“Yes,” Cody said.

“You’re going all by yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am.” It dawned on him that yes, he was all by himself. Marcie was gone, and it suddenly felt strange.

“That’s very brave.” She chuckled. “I held my daughter’s hand all the way to the dorm. I thought she’d never let go.” And then she said, “But that changed fast. You grow up fast at college. Too fast.”

Cody pulled his S’wanee picture book from his bag and picked up where he had left off: “S’wanee Fog—a typical fall and winter atmospheric condition of the Domain; sometimes used also to refer to the mind-set of certain students.” He loved this book.

“S’wanee,” the woman repeated again, as the jet thundered and rattled loudly down the runway, accelerating. “Why does that name ring a bell? It actually gave me a little chill when you first said it. Isn’t that funny? Something happened there. It was in the news when I was in high school. So long ago…”

Cody looked down as New Jersey got smaller below him. He felt weightless and strong. He was in first class and on his way to S’wanee. They wanted him so bad they had paid for an upgrade, to welcome him.

He couldn’t see his mall, or his high school, had no clue where to look for them, and he already felt a world apart from both. S’wanee had plucked him out and was whisking him far away, because they saw something in him that no one, including himself, ever had. S’wanee knew him better than he knew himself.

It seemed funny to him now that he’d ever considered Rutgers in the first place. Not that he was better or smarter, although maybe he was, but why did he always limit himself to whatever was comfortable and nonthreatening? S’wanee had already taught him a lesson, and he hadn’t even gotten there yet.

Now he understood why he’d been so restless in high school, detached from his classmates, not included and not bothered by it. Why he’d so easily shrugged off his girlfriend’s rejection (what was her name? Kimberly!). And why he didn’t care that no other girls at school had paid him much attention at all.

There had been a fleeting moment toward the end of his senior year, as his classmates bonded closer and he felt increasingly alienated, when he feared he might really be an outcast. A social misfit. A permanent condition. He would have skipped his graduation if Marcie had let him.

But now, just a few months later, he realized he was simply different from the others, and that was nobody’s fault. He was innately smarter, more talented, and more ambitious than the students he’d been thrown together with by chance. Now he was rising above them, not with arrogance, but with a humble understanding.

Everything in his life started now, on this very day.

His book had fanned open to the back. A glorious picture of where he was going, and a simple poem written about it.

A towered city set within a wood,
Far from the world, upon a mountain’s crest;
Where the storms of life burst not, nor cares intrude.
There Learning dwells, and Peace is Wisdom’s guest.

“Hot towel, Mr. Marko?” The flight attendant smiled, holding a tong with a small white terry cloth. It was steaming. Cody took the hot towel and, watching the still pensive woman next to him, wiped his face and hands.

C
ody had never felt his ears pop like this.

He was in Ross’s shiny black Jeep Wrangler with black tinted windows. A rolling black box, climbing steadily to higher elevations through the thick green hills. The AC was blasting.

Cody had instantly recognized Ross through the glass wall of the waiting lounge in the Nashville airport. He’d been prominently featured in the S’wanee DVD. It was like meeting a movie star. Today he wore a madras shirt, ripped khaki shorts, flip-flops, and a wide smile.

“Mr. Marko! You made it!” He grinned, shoulder-clapping Cody. “Great to finally put a face with your face! How was your flight, bud?”

Ross laughed when Cody thanked him for the upgrade. “Don’t get used to that. That was S’wanee’s apology for their screwup. A one-off.” He had a bright, warm voice that carried.

“Have you been waiting here the whole time?” Cody asked, checking his watch.

“Not at all, bud. We knew your flight was late. We were tracking you. I left when you did.”

They walked past the Spirit of Nashville gift shop with “Team Swift” T-shirts and guitar ashtrays and boxes of candy called GooGoo Clusters. “You want any souvenirs?” Ross asked. “It’s mostly crap.” The airport smelled like new carpet.

There was a singer with a guitar in a lavender bar called Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge. Cody had never seen live performers at an airport before. It was festive here.

“Chattanooga’s actually closer to school,” Ross said as they descended the escalator in the newly carpeted, light-filled terminal. “But you gotta connect through Charlotte or Raleigh. Pain in the ass.” A country music version of a song Cody vaguely recognized played over the loudspeaker. By the time they reached the bottom, he had pinpointed it: Sting’s “Every Breath You Take.” Country-style elevator Muzak.

“Slowest baggage claim on the planet,” Ross said as they loitered around the idle carousel. Ross had one foot up on the edge, rocking back and forth. Outside, it looked bright and blistering. Carrie Underwood welcomed them to Nashville over the loudspeaker. A few minutes later, someone named Vince Gill reminded everyone to use the recycling bins.

Ross had a crisp, restless energy that stood out in the languid crowd. Clearly Yankee.

“My mom,” Cody said suddenly, turning on his iPhone. “I gotta call her.” He momentarily felt silly about that.

“Take your time.” Ross nodded, rocking deeper against the carousel. “We got plenty of it.” Cody moved to the chairs by the window.

“First class!” Marcie squealed when Cody told her. “I remember it well.”

“I couldn’t find my tray.” Cody laughed, one eye on the still dead carousel. “It was in the armrest. I felt like an idiot.” Ross kept rocking but glanced in Cody’s direction before turning back.

“Did they give you lunch?” she asked, and then she said to someone else, “Can you ring that up for me? My boy just got to college.”

“Yeah, it was chicken. It had something inside it.”

“Probably Chicken Kiev. Did it squirt?”

“A little when I cut into it.”

“Chicken Kiev. That’s standard. Warm nuts, too?”

“Yeah, they gave us that first.”

“Yeah, that’s a domestic thing. We didn’t do that. We had real appetizers.” And then she said quickly, “But that’s very exciting, Cody. Such a treat for you.”

“Ross said don’t get used to it. To first class, I mean.”

“Is Ross nice?” Marcie asked.

“He’s very cool. He’s from Boston. They have singers here at the airport. Country music singers.”

“I was thinking about you. Every minute.”

“Are you doing better, Mom?” he asked.

“Tell Ross to drive safely. In fact, put him on the phone for a second.”

The carousel buzzed an alarm and jolted to life.

“Hey Mom, I gotta go. My bag is coming out.”

“Put Ross on the phone for a second.”

“I’ll call from the car, okay?”

A guitar in a black case was the first out. A young guy in a cowboy hat and tight jeans snatched it up.

Ross scooted briskly through the genteel, “after you” crowd, pulling Cody’s luggage.

“You need the john?” Ross asked abruptly, smiling.

“I’m good, man,” Cody answered, since Ross seemed in a hurry.

They whisked out the sliding door into the bright heat, as Reese Witherspoon on the loudspeaker welcomed them to Music City, USA.

•   •   •

Cody’s ears kept popping as they climbed higher into the lush, green hills. They had been clogged when he landed and now were getting worse.

Ross had spirited them from the airport, checking traffic on the radio (the local “U-Turn Laverne” sounded very different from Joan) before switching to XM Alternative.

“Roadie?” Ross handed Cody a Rolling Rock from a cooler in the backseat.

“Thanks man,” Cody said. “Can I drink this in here?” The Jeep looked and smelled brand-new.

“Sure. That’s why I brought them,” Ross said. “To get the party started.”

Cody twisted the cap easily without the usual fizz. He’d never had a beer in a moving car before.

Nashville was busier than Cody expected, with traffic snarls on the highway—Ross called it the “interstate”—and a surprisingly dense downtown skyline in the distance. One skyscraper looked like Batman’s cowl with pointy ears. “They call it the Batman Building.” Ross shrugged. “I think it’s AT&T.”

He merged onto another highway leading out. “It’s a pretty cool town,” he said. “We come in for concerts or Broadway shows. S’wanee does field trips and picks up the tab.” He impatiently sped around a Ford Taurus and gunned ahead. “The drivers are a little stupid, though.”

“Is that all you packed?” Ross asked, tipping his head back.

“I mailed a box, too,” Cody answered.

“Oh, right,” Ross said. “From Macy’s. It’s in your room.”

Cody couldn’t wait to see both.

“Seriously, if you have any questions about the place, you can always come to me,” Ross said. “That’s what I’m here for. You’re my ‘project.’” Ross laughed at that, and so did Cody.

“That’s cool, man,” Cody said, looking over at him, since his popping ears made it hard to hear. In the blazing afternoon sun, Ross looked older, more grown-up. Definitely an upperclassman.

They were far outside the city now, and traffic was light. Ross was speeding. There were long stretches with no houses or buildings, just rolling fields and dilapidated barns and billboards for outlet malls.

“Like they say: Once you leave Nashville, you’re in Tennessee.” Ross laughed. He laughed a lot. Cody was on his second beer. They were cold, but a little flat.

They passed a white split-rail fence that stretched for miles. Beyond were vast rolling green meadows dotted with stationary black cows grazing.

There were lots of billboards for fireworks, with cherry bombs getting star billing on most. They must be extra explosive, the top of the pyrotechnic food chain. There were billboards for Rock City, Ruby Falls, the Chattanooga Choo Choo, which rang a bell from somewhere. It was freezing in the Jeep.

“I’ve been reading the S’wanee book,” Cody said, tilting the side blower outward. “The encyclopedia one.”

“Yeah…that’s…cool…one,” Ross seemed to say, but with the loud alternative music, the roar of the AC, and the hum of the Jeep, Cody’s clogged ears didn’t catch it all. “You…know…more? …Ask.”

“What about the Order of the Gownsmen?” Cody asked of his favorite section, hearing his own voice through his head.

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Are you in it?”

“Nah, not yet,” Ross said, and Cody forced a yawn, straining to hear him. “They induct new members at the end of their junior year, for those who get in.” Cody’s ears popped through their fog, and it was clearer now.