seth found the dance squad in Hearst Field, next to the gym. Some called them cheerleaders, but these girls were hardly the kind Seth had seen in high school. They were the kind who competed on ESPN2 at the national-championship level and eventually went on to dance on cruise ships or, in some cases, Broadway.
The squad leader was a blonde named Marisa, a bright physics undergraduate who’d approached Seth for help on several papers. He never quite figured out what she needed help with, but he spent an hour in the park with her once, discussing the distinctions between nuclear physics and high-energy physics.
Marisa was a walking oxymoron—an intelligent student who seemed determined to hide behind a Hollywood persona. She’d smiled and asked him why he didn’t have a girlfriend. And when he blushed, she drew her finger down his arm and suggested they get to know each other.
Two evenings later, Seth found himself on his first date in three years. Everything progressed well at first. She, the perfect twenty-one-year- old babe with enough beauty to boil the blood of most men, and he, the wonder boy with enough brains to send most women into the deep freeze.
They went to the Crab Shack for dinner, and with each crab leg, her flaws increasingly annoyed him. Her blind acceptance of a news anchor’s point of view, as if being housed in a television made one a god; her wisecracks about Dr. Harland. By the time they got to the main dish, even her white teeth looked plastic to him. How could such a bright student be so easily swept along with this pap?
He became so distracted, in fact, that he took a sip of the hot butter, mistaking it for his iced tea. She laughed, of course, a high-pitched young laugh. Now her youth glared at him. She was a mere pup, flashing her plastic teeth and raving on about a world she saw through naive lenses.
To Seth’s amazement, she asked him out the next day. He politely declined. It was the last time they’d talked.
Seth headed toward the squad. He didn’t recognize Marisa until she noticed him. He nodded and smiled. She must have mistaken the gesture as encouragement, because she whispered something to the others and then broke into a punchy cheer that made as much use of her hips as it did her mouth.
Seth covered his embarrassment by clapping and saying, “All right, way to go,” or something similar. He wasn’t positive, because the better part of his mind was shouting him down with objections.
All six faced him, wearing slight grins. He wondered what Marisa had told them.
“Hello, girls.”
“Hi, Seth.”
He stopped and shoved his hands into his pockets. “What are you guys doing?”
Practicing their dance, you idiot. He grabbed the Super Ball.
“Working on our backflips,” Marisa said.
“Cool.”
Silence.
“I heard about your run-in with Professor Baaron yesterday,” Marisa said.
“You did? Yeah, that was pretty bad.”
“For him maybe. I heard you came out pretty good.”
“That depends on how you look at it.”
“I think the student body understands exactly what happened.”
Seth wasn’t sure what she meant. “The irony is that Baaron’s holding a reception in my honor tomorrow night at the Faculty Club.”
A redhead with hands on hips blew a round pink bubble and then popped it loudly. “What kind of reception?” she asked.
Seth felt inordinately awkward. “Well, there’s this award called the Dannie Heinemann Prize. Mathematical physics. It’s a pretty big deal to the faculty.”
“Who’ll be there?” asked a brunette who looked like she’d borrowed her legs from a horse.
“The faculty and guests,” Seth said. “Two hundred or so.”
She blinked. “Two hundred? Who are you, the president?”
Seth’s embarrassment resulted in a smile. “Like I said, it’s pretty important to some people. I was thinking maybe you could attend.”
Marisa glanced at the others. “Me?”
“All of you.”
She stared at him for a moment before understanding dawned.
Her mouth curved into a seductive grin. “You want us to spice things up a bit.”
“What do you mean?” the redhead asked.
“We could dance.”
“Oh, please!” The horse-legged brunette crossed her arms.
Marisa turned to her. “Why not, Maggie? What’s wrong with a little routine to liven up the party?”
“Not exactly the kind of party—”
“Exactly! It’s not Seth’s kind of party, so we add a little flavor.”
“Will Brad Baxter be there?” the redhead asked. Brad was the director of physical education.
“Could be,” Seth said. “Do you want him to be there?”
“You can do that?”
“Sure,” Seth said.
The rest of the squad members were looking at each other, not objecting. Except for Maggie. “What do you want us to do?” she asked. “I’m not sure I like this.”
“It’s harmless,” Marisa said.
“I don’t think he’s talking about backflips off Baaron’s table,” Maggie said, looking at Seth.
He nodded. “Actually, I had something else in mind. Something more MTV than ESPN.”
“Do we look like strippers to you?” Maggie demanded.
“No.” Seth felt his face go red. “That’s not—”
“Give it a rest, Maggie!” Marisa snapped. She turned to Seth. “So we come in and do a sexy dance, maybe heat Baaron up a little. I don’t see the harm in that. This isn’t exactly a parochial school, right? How do you want to work this?”
Seth wasn’t sure whether the idea was hers or his, but she was a smooth operator, he’d give her that much. He could see her running for Congress one day.
“Well. When I stand up to give my speech—they always want the guest of honor to tell them how indebted they are to Berkeley—when I get to a certain point, you could come in and do your . . . routine.”
The others were beaming now. The idea had taken root. “So that’s it?”
“Maybe table dances would be a good idea. All the department heads and a grand finale with Baaron.” What was he thinking?
“I don’t know,” Maggie said.
“I love it!” Marisa said. “When was the last time the faculty gave us our due? Just think about that, Maggie. This will loosen them up a bit. Talk about making a splash.”
“If we have to take the fall—”
“Please, it’s only a dance. We’re not going in there with picket signs and beating them over their heads. This is Berkeley!”
“If there is any heat, I’m sure it’ll come down on me,” Seth said. “I seem to have a propensity for heat.”
Red flag, Seth.
Marisa looked at the others for a quick approval. An echo of “I’m in” and a halfhearted shrug from Maggie settled the issue.
She turned back. “Okay, we’re on. Any other surprises?”
“Only one.” Seth faced a petite blonde whom he’d seen Phil ogling on occasion. “I have a friend who needs a date. His name is Phil. Handsome guy with a pocket protector. Trust me, he’s quite charming once you get to know him.”
“You . . . you want me to go out with some guy named Phil?”
Seth nodded. “Just ask him out to dinner. Maybe a movie.”
“No problem,” Marisa said. “Right, Suzi? He’s charming.”
“Okay.”
“You’ll do it?” Seth asked.
“Sure.”
Seth nodded. “Okay. Good.”
Maggie crossed her arms and turned to leave. Her foot caught on Marisa’s shoe and she tripped. Tried to catch herself, failed to do so, and sprawled on the ground.
Seth jumped forward to help her up.
But suddenly Maggie was standing, not lying on the grass.
Seth jerked back and blinked.
Maggie crossed her arms and turned to leave.
He’d seen this!
Her foot caught on Marisa’s shoe . . .
He’d seen exactly this, just one second ago!
. . . and she tripped.
This time Seth leaped forward just as Maggie began to fall. He caught her on the elbow and kept her upright.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed. “Watch your feet, Marisa.”
Marisa eyed him. “Pretty quick.”
Seth stared at the ground, stunned.
“You okay?”
“Huh? Yeah.” He took a step back, looked up at them, and started to turn.
“I’ll call you for details?”
“Sure. Call me.”