The Squared Circle by JAMES W. BENNETT Page A

across the table. “You’re worried because you’re having important memories.”
    â€œNot exactly worried.” Now it seemed so silly he was sorry he brought it up. “I just feel like I’m spacing out.”
    â€œDo me a favor, Sonny.”
    â€œWhat favor?”
    â€œGo to class.”
    â€œI have to go to a meeting at Lingle first.”
    â€œFine. Go to the meeting, then go to class.”
    When he got to the meeting, he discovered it was going to be a heart-to-heart with Gardner, the compliance officer, and Price, one of Gentry’s assistants.
    Gardner started right in talking about his course load. “The thing is, Sonny, you did it without clearance. You didn’t get approval for this.”
    â€œIt seemed like the right thing to do at the time, that’s all. I think I’m capable of dropping and adding a course on my own.”
    â€œSure,” Gardner agreed. “But you have to understand the unique position you’re in as a scholarship athlete. Especially one with a profile as high as yours.” Sonny squirmed in his chair while the basketball secretary put some coffee and ice water on the table.
    Coach Price said, “The system is carefully set up to help you through the rough spots. When you’re a basketball player, you don’t have as much time for schoolwork as other students. It means you’re going to need an academic support system.”
    â€œLook,” Sonny repeated himself. “All I did was drop a course and add one. I’m carrying twelve hours.”
    After sighing, Gardner put his glasses on slowly. He was looking in an open folder on the table. “Art history?”
    â€œYes,” said Sonny.
    â€œArt history isn’t a preferred option for a varsity athlete,” Gardner declared. “Never has been.”
    â€œThis isn’t exactly the same as art history,” Sonny tried to explain. “That’s just its name. Besides, it’s only one hour of independent study.”
    â€œI can read the note here,” said Gardner quickly. He was trying to hide his impatience. “One hour of independent art history. With Erika Neil.”
    â€œOh god,” Price moaned. “When did you sign up for this?”
    This overreaction was puzzling to Sonny. “Last month, but the credits retroactive. Everything’s okay, believe me.”
    â€œSonny, we’re trying to run a program here.” said Gardner. “Do you have any idea who Erika Neil is?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œShe’ll bust your balls, man,” said Price. “She is the number one ball-buster on this faculty.”
    Gardner said, “There’s not a more anti-jock professor here than Erika Neil. When she was on the faculty senate, she made it her personal agenda to try and strip us down.”
    Then Sonny informed them, “Erika Neil is my cousin.”
    This information left Price and Gardner speechless. When they looked at each other, they seemed to lift their eyebrows simultaneously. Gardner turned back to Sonny. “Your what?”
    â€œErika Neil is my cousin.”
    â€œWhat does that mean, your cousin? What kind of cousin we talkin’ here?” It was Price again.
    â€œI mean she’s my cousin. My uncle Seth is her father and my aunt Jane is her mother.” How could he make it any clearer?
    â€œShe must be forty years old, how can she be your cousin?” But Gardner was giving Price the sign to back off. He poured himself a glass of water before he said to Sonny, “I hope you can forgive the unkind remarks about a relative. That was out of line.”
    â€œRight,” echoed Price, who was adjusting his necktie knot.
    Price and Gardner both knew Uncle Seth, of course, from booster club activities, but it was apparent they had no idea Sissy was his blood kin. It gave Sonny some pleasure to see them caught up short. It might have been Price’s presence;