The Present

3-3

“I wasn’t supposed to hear that the council we approved to count our house’s election votes doesn’t actually count them?” Jay replied angrily.

“It’s not that simple, Jay,” said Dark Hair. “Fraternity houses survive based on member count, and we get more members by being popular. To make that happen, we have to make sure that the people who are the face of this place reflect the best image.”

“What’s wrong with Eric being president?” Jay argued. “He’s a great guy.”

“He is,” replied Tan Boy. “He’s super nice, smart, and reliable. But Eric is also a chubby white guy who likes Model UN and the campus horticultural society. Abed is a basketball star who the sorority girls go nuts for, his diversity makes our house look good, and he’s got friends in campus media. In terms of best representing a fraternity, the latter gets the job done.”

“And what about me?” Jay asked. “You’re just going to give me the VP spot?”

“You’re perfect for it, Jay,” replied Spiky Blond. “You know that you are. And it’s not like we’re denying Teddy anything—he gets a great position and so do you. Everyone’s happy.”

Jay furrowed his brows, upset and . . . maybe sad?

“We gave speeches,” he said after a moment. “We laid out our plans for the future. We went through the motions.”

“And all that stuff is great for appearance’s sake,” replied Dark Hair, putting his hand on Jay’s shoulder. “But trust us, we know what’s best here. Now do you want the VP spot or not?”

Jay stood pensively for a long beat, his fingers clenched around his books.

Then he nodded.

I signaled for Brandon and Midori to follow me out and we phased through the wall. On the landing, Brandon began to glow brightly and provided us with his hands. We took hold and a moment later we were back in the study room, our bodies tangible once more.

“So he cheated,” Brandon summarized, picking up a notecard and crumbling it into a ball. He tossed it backward and it bounced into a trashcan like a basketball.

I shook my head. “We don’t know if he won or lost fairly, but he went along with the result because it gave him something he’d wanted for a long time. Had he forced them to count the votes, he legitimately could’ve lost. Like he’d lost dozens of times before. The outcome became more important than the means. So you see, I—”

“I’m sorry,” Brandon said abruptly.

I blinked at him. “Why?”

“I kind of got in your face at the welcome banquet and a few minutes ago. It’s my first Scrooging assignment and I wanted to prove myself. I came in figuring I could see stuff you couldn’t, both in terms of my powers and bringing a fresh perspective to the table. But you know exactly what you’re doing. It only took you a few days to find one of this guy’s key turning points.”

“I call them breaking points,” I corrected. “Because they’re the moments in people’s lives that break them—what sets them on darker paths and leads them to becoming disheartened, cynical Scrooges. We all start as pure snow; something on Earth has to make us dirty. Understanding the breaking points that sully a soul is vital if we are going to cleanse it.”

I reached into my bag and took out my notebook, then paused. “And thank you for the apology. I wouldn’t say I know exactly what I’m doing, but after all this time in the afterlife, I’ve learned that humans are predictable, and I’ve developed a formula for this job as a result.”

“Is it a secret formula?” Brandon joked.

I smirked. “No. And the set up is pretty simple. I shadow our assignment in some position that allows me to get close to him. I observe firsthand what a jerk he is and how much people hate him. Seeing exactly how far-gone he is will help me give you two feedback that hones what parts of his past and future to research, and what trips to the present I’ll include in my Scrooging.”

I shifted to address both my teammates together, taking a final glance at to-do lists I had written in my notebook. “I spoke to an elf named Nona who told me that one of the reasons they picked Jay was because of his relationship with rejection. We should explore what he’s willing to do to avoid feeling that kind of hurt again. A person’s morality and logic can warp unintentionally to avoid pain. Midori . . .”

I reluctantly met the gaze of the elderly ghost. “Can you run scenarios for what various futures would look like for Jay with avoidance of rejection as the main variable?”

Midori gave a single nod.

“Great.” I adjusted in my seat. “Brandon, you and I will keep rejection in mind as we do our research too, but Nona told me Jay’s other issues were resentment toward family and disorganized priorities. So this week, I’d recommend thoroughly researching Jay’s Christmases before the age of ten so we can form preliminary decisions about what pieces of his childhood to use for the Scrooging. I’ll make learning about Celia and his kids a priority goal for my understanding of the present.”

“Sounds like a good plan, chief,” Brandon said.

I nodded as I stowed my notebook then put the strap of my bag over my shoulder and stood. “Once I deploy to Earth, my weekday schedule will be tricky, but I’ll book this study room for us every weekend for the rest of the season so we can touch base. I’ll also let you know whenever I have time to come back to the CCD on a weekday. All on board?”

“Yep, let’s save a soul!” Brandon pumped a fist in the air.

“Let’s try to, anyway,” I responded with far less enthusiasm. “Midori?”

She gave another nod.

“Okay then.” My stomach grumbled loudly, causing Brandon and Midori to stare. I hastily grabbed one of the sparkly pears.

“Meeting adjourned.” I took a bite and headed out.