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Shake swung by a motel on the outskirts of Mexico and got a room. He insisted on it despite Paul’s invitation to stay overnight at his place. Shake was trying hard not to be depressed by the changes at MMA. He had an indistinct fuzzy-blue feeling mixed with an edge of anger. It had nothing to do with physical changes at the school. All he’d seen of that looked like improvements. But he was feeling like MMA, the place that played such a large, significant and mostly happy role in his young life, had been gutted, emasculated, turned into some sort of effete finishing school. He wanted a private room to try and digest all that, to decide how he felt about what his old roommate was telling him. He wasn’t at all sure what he’d find on the other end of this trip, but the little visit to MMA
