Summer Plans

I take a deep breath. I’m finally done with this place. Nothing else could make me happier. After four rough years of study and three years of writing a single paper, I’m finally getting out. I get to go back to Europe, where I belong. At last. Opening up the door of my small apartment, I walk out onto the street. My apartment is nice enough, certainly nicer than some of the other Magisters’ homes. The next one of them to rent it out is going to be quite lucky. Walking over three doors, I knock on my landlord’s door. Three swift raps. The door opens slightly, the chain still in place. My landlord, clearly having just woken up, asks, “What’s wrong this time?” I shake my head to the man. “Nothing, Mr. Thomas,” I answer him, “Just wanted to let you know I’m not going to be renewing my lease this year, so you should probably start looking for a new tenet soon.” “You’re finally graduating? Nice,” he says. I can tell that he means it. I’d started renting this apartment my second year as a Magister, assigned to this backwater, and just continually renewed the lease, each year like clockwork. It’s arguably the nicest apartment complex in town, and certainly the nicest for its price point. John Thomas had been the landlord of this complex before I ever came to town, and actually listens to his renters when they talk to him. So, he knows well that I never really liked the town, and that the graduate program weighs on me much more than I generally let on. “Thanks,” I reply, then add, “Just, wait until next week to start showing it off. In case they reject my paper.” “Sure, but they won’t,” Mr. Thomas says, as he starts to close the door slowly, “Now some of us have another hour of sleep to get through.” I can’t help but let out a chuckle as I walk into the parking lot. Straddling my beautiful little moped, I head across the Run to the Villa, to my last day as an advisor for some time. Come tomorrow, I’ll either be done here, or rather grumpy. Everyone in this place better prefer the former. Pulling the moped into the staff lot, I greet all the other Magisters, politely. Except Lisette, whose greetings are very intentionally ignored. Lisette was behind that horror-show of a party. She doesn’t get friendly, or even cordial. Heading into the Library, I give the Librarian a smile and walk back to the large study room where I meet with all the little advisees. The three first years are already in the room. Given that Jason is half asleep and probably high and Isaac doesn’t care that much about anything but himself, I automatically assume they’re here at Therese’s urging. Along with them are the third-years, who brought cake. I can’t really blame them, they’re celebrating, after all. I seat myself at the head of the table. “You guys are early.” Tim, one of my third-years, replies quickly, “Some of us are just very happy. For you, of course.” He smiles a fake smile. I smile right back, mine significantly less fake than his. “So, are you ready for your move?” Therese asks. Unlike most of the others, she actually likes me. Not as an advisor, so to speak, she thinks my field and my advice is somewhat useless, but as a person. Isaac, who has taken several of my classes and seems legitimately interested in my field, adds, “Which one are you more excited for, the Maestro position or the CERN one?” He knows the answer already. I don’t even deign to give it to him. “So, before our actual meeting starts,” I say, “What are your plans?” Marge looks at me, a mix of contempt and confusion. “Like, our five years’, our summers’, or today’s?” she asks. I shrug, so Tim speaks up. “Well, I’ve already started applying to Villae, and the Basilica is considering outside Magisters this year after some debacle with their apprentices.” “Well,” Isaac adds, “I’m vacaying around, no magic just party, you know what I’m saying?” Jason looks over at his girlfriend’s best friend. “You’re not heading home?” “Runaway, remember?” Isaac replies. I smirk. “Right now, I doubt Jason remembers much.” “Not true,” Jason retorts, “I remember everything about horticulture. I just don’t remember other stuff anymore. Plants have conquered my brain-hole and lain waste to its former inhabitants.” Therese gives a single chortle. I have to admit, it was a little funny, though that was a slight overreaction for her. Jason continues, “Anyway, I’m heading home for some chilling with my brother. Do you think - ” He turns to face Therese. Therese doesn’t even let him finish. “No.” “Marge, Jacob, Therese, Inez? Plans?” Therese smiles pleasantly towards me. “No.” I can’t really read her, but knowing her, I suspect that she isn’t telling us her plans, not that she doesn’t have them. Inez waits a moment, in case Therese wants to say more, then when it becomes quite clear she doesn’t, says, “Well, a friend of mine from a couple years ago, remember Oliver? Anyways, he says that he can get me into London, with Greater Maestro West.” I nod, proud. “Good work. Given your focus, I’d say your five-year is pretty set now.” She smiles back. “Thanks,” she says sarcastically. I don’t blame her too much, I didn’t help her with her plan much, in her youthful mind. I helped immensely, though, by getting her to see what she really wants to do with her life. “I’ve got an internship at the State Department,” Jacob adds. Pete, Brad, and Elizabeth walk in on the discussion. “What’s up?” Elizabeth asks. “Chatting about plans. You got your internship, too, right?” Jacob replies. Elizabeth nods. “Summer job, but yeah.” Then, to me, she elucidates, “The Hill one, not the Non-profit.” “Okay,” I say. Then, looking at Brad, I ask, “Will Marshall be joining us today, or is he planning on getting held back?” Brad shrugs. “I mean, I told him,” he prevaricates, “I don’t know when he’s coming, but he should be. Probably.” Then, seeing cake, he gets distracted, “Ooh, cake,” he blurts out. Tim, who brought the cake, says, “Say plans, you get cake,” as he slaps away Marge’s hand. Marge looks at her friend indignantly. “Therese got cake, and she just said no.” Tim laughs. “To be fair, that’s like the third longest statement about herself that she’s said, so I give her credit for trying.” This elicits laughter from Jason, Isaac, and Pete. The three other than Tim who actually like Therese. Marge rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’m planning on taking this last final, then sleeping the rest of the day away.” Smiling at Tim, she says, “Happy?” Tim hands her a piece of cake in response. I turn to the newcomers. “Pete, Brad, plans?” Tim waves the cake temptingly around before them. Brad, already succumbing to the temptation of cake by its very existence, says, “I’m visiting my grandparents, now give me cake.” Pete shrugs. “Don’t know yet. I’m thinking about wandering the country, you know, road trip style?” “Interesting,” I say to Pete, “You know Isaac is planning one as well.” Pete looks down at the seated first-year. “You are?” Isaac nods with a smirk. “Something like that. Got a party across the country planned out. If you don’t mind not using magic for the summer, you can join, too.” Pete shrugs back. “Not a problem at all. Want to use my truck?” “Hell yeah, we can split the gas,” Isaac states, “I’ll show you the plan after this thing?” Pete shook his head. “I got my Chem final. Around noon?” “Best make it one, I need to turn in my Curses final by noon.” “One it is. The Caf, presumably.” Isaac nods. I check my watch. It’s time to start. “Well, Marshall’s now officially late.” Looking out the door, he isn’t even in the library, yet. “So, this is your evaluation day. For some of you,” I look at the third years, “I get a feeling I know the eval that’s coming to me. Unfortunately, you don’t get to just copy last year’s anymore, because the boss handed me everyone’s least favorite thing in existence: Self-evaluations.” I hand out the papers, each with the one page advisor evaluation sheet attached to the significantly longer self-evaluation and goal assessment packet. Everyone groans a little. It is the correct response to self-evals. “Answer things honestly, it’s not like they care about what you think of me.” Tim and Marge chuckle at that remark as they lazily copy down what they’ve written every year for the last three years. Everyone else gets to work, taking it seriously and giving honest answers. A minute into their work, Marshall wanders in. I give him a disappointed look and hand him his packet. He looks at it, shakes his head, and starts writing. Another thing that I’m not going to be missing once I’m out of here. I smile a bit just thinking about being gone. In far less time than it should take, Therese slides her packet in and asks, “You going to be good?” I nod and smile. “You?” “As long as I don’t strangle Rebekah,” she replies as she walks out. I cannot tell whether or not she’s joking. I give myself a mental note to warn Becka if I run into her, though that’s not very likely. It isn’t another five seconds before both Tim and Isaac turn theirs in as well. Tim walks away with nothing but a nod. Isaac quietly says, “Send me details, okay?” I nod to him, and he walks away. I look over the remaining people. Jason is very clearly falling asleep on his evaluations packet. Marshall, having finished his eval of me, is writing a thirty page essay on his own imagined greatness. Marge and Inez are nearly done, though they do appear to be sharing their answers a bit. I cough at them, and they stop. Brad is done with his evaluation of me, but thinking intently on each question of the self-evaluation. Elizabeth and Pete are both still working on the one page eval. It would be worrying, if I didn’t know they were just trying to figure out polite ways of saying I didn’t do much. Marge turns in her packet next, almost instantly followed by Inez. They each take another slice of cake as they walk out of the library. The moment the study doors close behind them, they start chatting with one another. Looking over those left, I realize it may be a while. Leaning back, I open up my Sudoku app, and start one. On my third, Pete turns in his packet. “Good luck with your defence,” he says, not wanting to burn any bridges. I nod politely in thanks, and he rushes out to get to his Chemistry final. Just as I finish the fourth, Elizabeth turns in her packet. As though he was watching, Marshall gets up at the same time to turn his in. “Marshall, I’d like you to stay a moment,” I say as they are leaving. Elizabeth walks out as Marshall turns around. “What is it this time.” “I’ve been lenient with your tardiness, but I’m leaving your next advisor a note. If you don’t take this seriously, you will be kicked out.” I say it all with the most pleasant smile plastered across my face. He rolls his eyes and walks away. I poke Jason, to make sure he’s awake. He looks up at me. “Nice dealing with Marshall,” he says, “You have somewhere you need to be?” “Not until noon, but I would prefer not to be here for the next two hours, you know?” I reply. He shakes his head. “It’s not my fault these questions are so terrible. What does it mean, how far along are you in your goals? I don’t have one, yet. I’m still finding my niche, you know?” I roll my eyes at him. “Just answer the questions, so we can move on with our lives, okay?” “Fine,” he shoots back, and starts writing things down very quickly and very illegibly. In remarkably little time, he turns in his eval packet. Glancing at it, I sigh. “You realize this is entirely illegible, right?” He chuckles. “That’s the point. If anyone could read it, they’d realize I just wrote about plants.” He turns around and walks out the door. I shake my head at him as I gather all of the packets together. One last delivery and a little arguing about quantum physics with people who half-understand it, and I am out of this place and on my way to Geneva.