Petrak didn’t mind the forced early-morning scheduling, because he loved the entire idea of the Philadelphia Community College and everything that went with it. If anybody had asked him what he thought the most important difference was between Armenia and the United States, he would have said the Philadelphia Community College and said it without hesitation. All the other things were either trivial or ambiguous. The level of government corruption was a lot lower, but there was still government corruption. The money was much more abundant, but Petrak didn’t have access to much of the money.
No, it was the Philadelphia Community College that was the shock—a place that offered a university education to anybody who walked through the door who had graduated from high school, and offered it at practically no money. In Armenia, you went to university if you passed the entrance exams, and practically nobody did.
Just after coming to America, Petrak had seen a clip of a speech President Obama made somewhere or other, saying that the country should make it a goal for every student to go to college. That was long before Petrak had even started at PCC. He knew nothing about American politics. After that, though, he’d always thought President Obama was okay.
He mostly thought that his American Government class was okay, too, but this morning he hadn’t been able to attend to it. He hadn’t heard half the lecture. His mind was on his brother, Stefan, and what was going to happen to Stefan today. And he was worried that the trouble Stefan was having was entirely his fault.
All right. Maybe not entirely his fault. Stefan had behaved like a jackass. Even so. Stefan was in the country illegally, and he was in the country illegally because Petrak had told him to come. This had seemed like a good idea at the time. Stefan was in Canada, and it took nothing at all to get across the Canadian border into the United States. Stefan didn’t even bother to tell their aunt and uncle that he was going until he had already gone.
Of course, that had been Petrak’s idea, too. He was the older one. He was the one who was supposed to have the intelligence and the experience and the maturity to—
Petrak recognized the patter of footsteps behind him, the particular shotgun click of the heels, the odd almost-limping sound of a slight shuffle. Dr. Loftus spent a fair amount of time chasing him in hallways.
He stopped and turned around to wait for her. She was a small woman, barely five foot two, compact and neat looking. She was also indescribably old. Petrak was sure she was at least sixty.
“Petrak,” she said as she reached him, breathing just a little too hard.
“I’m sorry,” Petrak said, “I would stay to talk, but—”
“But you have that court date for your brother,” Dr. Loftus said. “Yes, I remembered. I could tell you were having a hard time paying attention today. And I don’t blame you. I know you’re very conscientious, but you could have taken today off. I would have understood.”
There were two kinds of professors at Philadelphia Community College: One kind was like Dr. Loftus, who always understood. The other kind behaved as if every student were an incipient criminal and had to be kept in line in any way possible. After his first semester, Petrak discovered RateMyProfessors.com, and after that, he’d never had to bother with the second kind again, except in mathematics, where there was no alternative.
Dr. Loftus was still out of breath. She stood still for a moment to catch up with herself.
Petrak didn’t want to be rude, but he did want to be going. “I’m supposed to meet the lawyer—”
“Yes, yes,” Dr. Loftus said, “and I really won’t keep you. I only wanted to know, did you get in touch with Kasey Holbrook at Pennsylvania Justice? Because she really can be of help to you and to your brother. And it’s very important. This woman, this Martha Handling—it’s more than just that she’s harsh. Kasey is sure there’s something going on, something worse, and if you don’t fix the something worse, it gets even worse, and—”
“Yes, Professor,” Petrak said, “I understand. But I am supposed to meet the lawyer, and I have to take the bus, so—”
“The bus?” Dr. Loftus looked startled. “Oh, don’t be silly. I’ve got a car. I’ll run you down to the courthouse. This is my only class today anyway, and it’s not as if anybody ever comes to office hours. I’ve got my car right outside. I’ll get you there in no time.”
“Thank you,” Petrak said awkwardly. He felt very, very awkward. He felt, suddenly, very panicked. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t stop feeling that letting Dr. Loftus drive him was exactly the wrong thing to do.