S'wanee: A Paranoid Thriller by Don Winston

discount ID, and the saleswoman watched her commission evaporate.
    “Transfer to the East Brunswick store, please?” Marcie said, filling out a familiar form. “No sales tax, right?”
    Marcie didn’t let Cody see the bill. “My treat,” she insisted. She bought nothing for herself.
    Afterward they took the F train down to Washington Square Park, their usual custom, so Marcie could walk through the West Village. It reminded her of her childhood in Sofia.
    Cody eyed the NYU summer students cutting through the park and felt their equal, if not better.
    Marcie sipped pinot grigio and Cody a root beer at a sidewalk café off Christopher Street. Here, the bus stop ads were gay-oriented: 2xist Underwear and ads calling for volunteers for a six-month HIV vaccine trial. Cody thought it scary to be a human guinea pig, no matter the cause. How did an HIV trial work, anyway?
    “I’ve loved this day,” Marcie said, finishing her wine. “I’m going to miss coming to the city with you.”
    “I’m not going to Mars,” Cody said. “We’ll do it again.”
    “Yep,” she said, flagging the waiter. “Let’s beat rush hour.”
    They barely got a seat on the Trenton local. Marcie scoured the commuters with little interest. Cody flipped to the O’s in his book: Order of the Gownsmen.
    He read that section again. And again.
    They were home in no time.
    •   •   •
    The last few weeks of summer were a blur.
    Rutgers promptly returned Cody’s deposit with a check and a letter expressing regret and wishing him the best in his future endeavors. He could keep the T-shirt.
    “I knew your deposit wouldn’t be a problem,” Ross said when he called, as he did every few days, overcompensating for S’wanee’s rejection screwup.
    Cody offered the deposit to his mother to help cover rent. She refused. “You made it; you keep it,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
    “You getting excited?” Ross asked on another call. “If you have any questions, just call or shoot me an e-mail. Anytime.”
    “Is there a Facebook page for the freshmen?” Cody asked.
    “Hmm,” Ross replied. “That’s a great idea. I’ll suggest it. S’wanee’s a little slow on the tech stuff. They just updated their website, though. They’re trying.”
    “Is there, like, cell phone reception there?” Cody asked, wondering how ass-backward the place was.
    “Oh yeah. Oh definitely,” Ross assured him. “There’s a new tower and everything. Wi-Fi, All-G, the school’s got all the network stuff.” Ross laughed. “S’wanee was slow to join the digital revolution, but they finally caved a while back.”
    “Okay, cool,” Cody said.
    “I got a network booster, though,” Ross said. “In case I’m working on my laptop down by the waterfalls or something.”
    Cody didn’t know what waterfalls he meant but made a mental note to get a booster before he lost his Apple discount.
    “You know S’wanee doesn’t let freshmen bring cars, right?” Ross asked.
    “Yeah, I read that,” Cody said. “I wasn’t going to anyway.” He didn’t add that he and his mother shared one.
    “Apparently it’s a common rule at Southern colleges,” Ross explained. “Another old-school thing. But you won’t need one. I can pick you up at the airport.”
    “Thanks, Ross. That’d be cool,” Cody said.
    “I think they’re making me your mentor anyway. It’s like a big brother thing. Every freshman gets one.” And then, out of the blue, “Hey, are you really seventeen?”
    “I’ll be seventeen and a half when school starts,” Cody said, momentarily concerned. “Is that cool?”
    “Sure, that’s very cool,” Ross said. “I’m actually old for my class. I took a year off before freshman year. Did you skip a grade? You a prodigy or something?”
    “Nah,” Cody said. “My mom started me young. Must be a Bulgarian thing.”
    “Ha.” Ross laughed. “You’re funny, Cody. I’ll check back in a couple days, cool?”
    Marcie walked around with a