Free Mythology 101 by Jody Lynn Nye

over an hour ago. There would probably be time enough left.
    With a look over his shoulder to ensure there was no one watching, the figure set down his bag and bent over the doorknob. A quick gleam of metal flashed, reflecting the safety lights at the hall’s T-intersection, and the door creaked gently open. The figure stepped inside the dark room.
    O O O
    When they tramped back to their dorm room, fortified from Rick’s personal store with beer and potato chips, Keith popped open the door, flicked on the lights with a flourish, and stopped short on the threshold.
    “Oh, Pat,” he chided his roommate. “You didn’t tell me you were going to redecorate.”
    “Huh? Oh, shit,” Pat said, pushing in past Keith. Books were scattered all over the floor, and papers lay in a chaotic snowstorm on the bed, the desk and the dresser. A broad map of sticky, brown film spread on the wall had obviously issued from the empty bottle of Coke on the coffee table. But the carnage was limited to Keith’s side of the room. There could almost have been a line drawn down the center. Not a scrap of paper or a drop was on Pat’s side. “What happened?”
    “Well, if it’s Santa Claus, he’s two months early. And I really woulda preferred coal in my stocking. It’s a lot more subtle.”
    “My man, you’ve been pimped. Who have you ticked off lately?”
    “I bet it’s Carl. Why else would your stuff be left completely alone? I’m going to go talk to him.”
    “Enough,” Pat commanded, blocking Keith from leaving. “It’s after midnight. Carl thinks you’re a royal pain but not worthy of the trouble. Believe me, I’ve heard it all from him at length.”
    “But who else?” insisted Keith. He eyed the mess. “I’d better clean it up now. I can’t sleep with that Coke dripping off the wall onto me all night. I’d dream of Chinese torturers.”
    “You’d drive them nuts, too. I’ll go tell Rick, then I’ll come back and help,” Pat offered.
    “Thanks.” Keith wrung out a washcloth and set to work, grumbling. Pat slipped out of the room. In the stillness, Keith could hear him knocking, and then the low hum of voices. In a moment, Rick appeared at the door.
    “Honest to God, Doyle.”
    “In the immortal words of Han Solo, Rick, it’s not my fault.”
    “It never is. I’ll ask around. Come and talk to me after dinner, okay? I’ll tell Jackson and they’ll change your locks tomorrow. It’s the best we can do.”
    “Yeah. Thanks.” Keith went back to work on the wall. “Night.”
    O O O
    His nocturnal activities left Keith feeling worn out all Tuesday. Only anticipation of solving the mystery of Marcy’s study group kept him from declaring a mental health day and cutting Sociology.
    When he got to class, he wished that he had cut. Dr. Freleng, in full knowledge that a holiday break was coming and that all the other teachers were loading the students up with work, issued instructions for a new term paper, worth the usual 10% of the grade. Keith walked out of the room reeling with exhaustion and irritation. Marcy smiled at him sympathetically as she left. “See you later,” she called.
    “Absolutely,” Keith promised.
    O O O
    This time, Keith made certain that he was invisible. He had positioned himself in the stacks on Level Eight, thumbing through boxes of crumpled periodicals. Marcy appeared right on schedule and stepped into the elevator. After a suitable interval, Keith shoved his handful of magazines back into the box and slipped behind the fire door.
    He crept down the stairs in almost total darkness and into the bottommost level of the library. His mother used to say that if there was justice in the world, he would have been born with cat whiskers as wide as his shoulders to prove that one day his own curiosity would kill him. He wished for those whiskers now, as his head rapped against several metal bookshelves which laughed hollowly at him in the gloom. Odors and fragrances familiar to him tickled his