Historical ACT Percentiles for 2010, 2009, and 2008

Historical ACT Percentiles for 2010, 2009, and 2008 SAT / ACT Prep Online Guides and Tips If you just took the ACT or if you took the ACT in 2008-2010, you might be curious as to how your percentile score compares to students with the same scaled score in other years?In this guide, I'll explain what percentiles are, how they work onthe ACT, and why they matter (even the older ones). I'll also give you ACT percentile charts for 20-2014, so you can see how your scores stack up against historical ones. What Is an ACTPercentile Score? Before I get started,I need todefine what an ACT percentile actually is.An ACT percentile score is NOT the same as a percentage score you receive on school quiz (for example, when you score 91% on your Physics test that means you answered 91% of questions correctly). Instead, an ACT percentile score tells you how your scaled score compared to that of other test-takers. More specifically, the percentile is an approximation by the ACT of how many recent US high school graduates took the SAT and scored at or below your score. A percentile score makes your scaled score easier to comprehend since it’s on a vague scale (1-36). As an example, if you have a 30th percentile score, you scored higher than 30% of ACT test-takers. If you have an 84th percentile score, you scored higher than 84% of test-takers.The higher your percentile score is, the better you compared to others who took that ACT. If you took an in-class test, you could have a high test score (such as 95%) and have a relatively low percentile score (17th) if the test was very easy for your class (83% of the classscored above 95% on that test). On the other hand, you could have a low test score (such as 35%) and have a relatively high percentile score (88%) if the test was very hard for your class(only 12% of the class scored above 35%). On the ACT, percentile shifts tend not to be as extreme as this example since the ACT is equalized, but I’ll discuss this more in depth later on.Nonetheless,ACT percentiles are helpful for understanding your scaled scores, since percentiles allow youto determine where you fall in comparison to other test-takers. Do ACT Percentiles Change Over Time? For a specific scaled ACT score, the score percentile stays about the same from year to year (typically within 2-3%). If you don’t know how your ACT scaled score (1-36) is calculated, learn how to calculate ACT score before reading further. There are only minuscule percentile changes for a specific scaled score from year to year because the ACT is equalized specifically to ensure the same curve every test date.To show the slight variation in percentile for a specific score, a scaled score of 18 was the 33rd percentile in 2008, but it was the 34th percentile in 2009 and the 35th percentile in 2010.However, a score of 33 had the same percentile for 2008-2010, 99th percentile. What does it mean for percentiles for each scaled score to remain aboutthe same from year to year?As I said above, the ACT attempts to keep score distributions the same from year to year so that the same scaled score means the same across different years.That way, a 33 means you scored better than 99% of test-takers in 2008-2010 (and any other year). What this means for you is that no one test date (or test year) is better (or easier) than another.All test dates are equalized to make sure there is a similar score distribution. Why Care About ACT Score Percentiles? EspeciallyPercentiles From Other Years? You should care about your ACT score percentile because it helps college admissions officers compare your scaled score to those of other applicants.Admissions officers need percentile scores to have a sense of how you compare to students across the country. If they just saw your scaled score without any other information, they wouldn’t have any sense of what makes a good ACT scaled score and what makes a bad one. For instance, if you’d received a 33 composite score and an admissions office didn’t know the score percentile, they might judge that asa quiz grade and think if you scored 33 out of 36, then you got a 92% or A-, good but not great. Instead, since they have score percentiles, admissions offices know a 33 is a 99th percentile score, meaning you scored better than 99% of test-takers, which is excellent. Percentile scores allow college admissions offices to have an understanding of how test-takers do on the ACT and how you stack up to the rest of test-takers. But why should you care about percentiles from other years? Because you’re submitting your college apps at the same time as students who took the ACT in other years.Although you may have taken the ACT in 2009 as a junior in high school, other students might have waited to take the ACT until 2010 as seniors in high school.This doesn’t change the fact that you’re all still applying to college the same year. While you and your friend, who took the test in 2010, both received a composite scaled score of 30. Your percentile score was 96 while his was 95. What this means is your 30 is slightly better than his 30. You scored better than 96% of test-takers while he only scored better than 95% of test-takers. Comparing percentiles for a specific scaled score across different years is a useful tool to understand how you compare to other applicants who took the ACT a different year. While ACT percentile scores are important, knowing how you fall in the ACT score ranges for your target colleges is much more important.If you don’t know what a college’s ACT score range is, the quick explanation is it’s the range in which the middle 50% of admitted students’ ACT scores fall.I.E., Yale’s ACT score range is 31-35.This means 25% of admitted Yale students scored below a 31, and 75% scored at or below a 35. Schools mostly use their score ranges when making admissions decisions. As a result, no matter your percentile score, you’ll want your ACT composite scaled score to be at or above the 75th percentile (for example, 35 for Yale) to give yourself the best shot of getting in. To locate the ACT score ranges for your dream colleges, search â€Å"[College Name] ACT Scores Prepscholar† in Google.For an in-depth explanation of score range, including how to calculate your target score, read our guide to good and bad ACT scores. The reasons schools care about their score range over your score percentile are: Their score range is typically a part of the evaluation for college ranking list, so schools want to admit students with higher scaled scores so that the school will be ranked higher. Schools publish their scaled score range every year, so the higher the range, the more impressive it seems to the general public. While ACT score percentiles are important, your overall ACT composite score is the number that is most significant in your college application. ACT Percentiles for 2008-2010 Here I’ve created a table showing the ACT score percentiles from 2008-2010 for each composite scaled score. I used data provided by the ACT to assemble this chart and the charts below (for the percentiles for individual sections). Remember, the percentile score is the percentage of test-takers who scored at or below that scaled score. I.E. below, in 2008, if your composite score was a 32, you scored better than 99% of test-takers: ACT Scaled Score 2008 Percentile 2009 Percentile 2010 Percentile ACT Scaled Score 36 100 100 100 36 35 100 100 100 35 34 100 100 100 34 33 99 99 99 33 32 99 98 98 32 31 97 97 97 31 30 96 96 95 30 29 94 93 93 29 28 91 91 91 28 27 88 88 88 27 26 84 84 84 26 25 80 79 79 25 24 75 74 74 24 23 69 69 68 23 22 62 62 62 22 21 55 56 55 21 20 48 48 48 20 19 40 41 41 19 18 33 34 35 18 17 26 27 28 17 16 20 21 22 16 15 14 15 16 15 14 9 10 14 13 5 5 7 13 12 2 2 3 12 1 1 1 10 1 1 1 10 9 1 1 1 9 8 1 1 1 8 7 1 1 1 7 6 1 1 1 6 5 1 1 1 5 4 1 1 1 4 3 1 1 1 3 2 1 1 1 2 1 1 1 1 1 ACT English Historical Percentiles for 2008-2010 Here I’ve created a table showing the ACT percentiles from 2008-2010 for each English scaled score. ACT Scaled Score 2008 Percentile 2009 Percentile 2010 Percentile ACT Scaled Score 36 100 100 100 36 35 100 100 100 35 34 99 99 99 34 33 97 97 97 33 32 96 96 96 32 31 95 95 95 31 30 93 93 93 30 29 91 91 91 29 28 89 88 88 28 27 86 86 85 27 26 83 83 82 26 25 79 79 78 25 24 74 74 73 24 23 69 69 68 23 22 64 63 63 22 21 58 57 57 21 20 50 50 50 20 19 42 43 43 19 18 37 37 38 18 17 32 33 34 17 16 27 28 29 16 15 22 23 24 15 14 16 17 19 14 13 12 14 15 13 12 9 12 12 7 8 9 10 5 5 6 10 9 3 3 4 9 8 2 2 2 8 7 1 1 1 7 6 1 1 1 6 5 1 1 1 5 4 1 1 1 4 3 1 1 1 3 2 1 1 1 2 1 1 1 1 1 ACT Math Historical Percentiles for 2008-2010 Here I’ve created a table showing the ACTscore percentiles from 2008-2010 for each Math scaled score. ACT Scaled Score 2008 Percentile 2009 Percentile 2010 Percentile ACT Scaled Score 36 100 100 100 36 35 100 100 100 35 34 99 99 99 34 33 98 98 98 33 32 97 97 97 32 31 96 96 96 31 30 95 94 95 30 29 93 93 93 29 28 91 91 91 28 27 87 88 88 27 26 83 84 84 26 25 79 79 79 25 24 73 74 74 24 23 67 68 68 23 22 62 62 62 22 21 57 58 57 21 20 52 52 52 20 19 47 47 47 19 18 41 41 42 18 17 33 35 35 17 16 24 25 26 16 15 14 14 14 15 14 6 6 6 14 13 2 2 2 13 12 1 1 1 12 1 1 1 10 1 1 1 10 9 1 1 1 9 8 1 1 1 8 7 1 1 1 7 6 1 1 1 6 5 1 1 1 5 4 1 1 1 4 3 1 1 1 3 2 1 1 1 2 1 1 1 1 1 ACT Reading Historical Percentiles for 2008-2010 Here I’ve created a table showing the ACT score percentiles from 2008-2010 for each Reading scaled score. ACT Scaled Score 2008 Percentile 2009 Percentile 2010 Percentile ACT Scaled Score 36 100 100 100 36 35 99 99 99 35 34 98 99 99 34 33 97 97 97 33 32 96 95 95 32 31 94 93 93 31 30 91 90 91 30 29 88 87 88 29 28 85 84 85 28 27 81 81 82 27 26 78 78 78 26 25 74 74 75 25 24 70 71 70 24 23 65 66 66 23 22 58 60 60 22 21 53 55 54 21 20 47 47 48 20 19 41 41 41 19 18 34 35 36 18 17 30 31 31 17 16 24 25 25 16 15 19 19 20 15 14 14 14 15 14 13 9 9 13 12 5 6 7 12 3 3 4 10 1 1 2 10 9 1 1 1 9 8 1 1 1 8 7 1 1 1 7 6 1 1 1 6 5 1 1 1 5 4 1 1 1 4 3 1 1 1 3 2 1 1 1 2 1 1 1 1 1 ACT Science Score Historical Percentiles for 2008-2010 Here I’ve created a table showing the ACT percentiles from 2008-2010 for each Science scaled score. ACT Scaled Score 2008 Percentile 2009 Percentile 2010 Percentile ACT Scaled Score 36 100 100 100 36 35 100 100 100 35 34 99 99 99 34 33 99 99 99 33 32 98 98 98 32 31 97 98 98 31 30 97 96 96 30 29 95 95 95 29 28 94 93 93 28 27 92 91 91 27 26 89 89 87 26 25 85 84 84 25 24 78 77 77 24 23 72 72 71 23 22 65 64 63 22 21 56 57 56 21 20 49 49 47 20 19 39 38 38 19 18 30 30 31 18 17 23 23 24 17 16 18 19 19 16 15 13 14 14 15 14 10 10 14 13 7 7 8 13 12 5 5 5 12 3 3 3 10 1 1 2 10 9 1 1 1 9 8 1 1 1 8 7 1 1 1 7 6 1 1 1 6 5 1 1 1 5 4 1 1 1 4 3 1 1 1 3 2 1 1 1 2 1 1 1 1 1 What’s Next? Learn more about the ACT and college application process: What's a Good ACT Score for Your College? ACT Practice Tests: 20-Hour Prep Program Low ACT Scores: What Should You Do? Disappointed with your ACT scores? Want to improve your ACT score by 4+ points? Download our free guide to the top 5 strategies you need in your prep to improve your ACT score dramatically. Have friends who also need help with test prep? Share this article! Tweet Dora Seigel About the Author As an SAT/ACT tutor, Dora has guided many students to test prep success. She loves watching students succeed and is committed to helping you get there. Dora received a full-tuition merit based scholarship to University of Southern California. She graduated magna cum laude and scored in the 99th percentile on the ACT. She is also passionate about acting, writing, and photography. Get Free Guides to Boost Your SAT/ACT Get FREE EXCLUSIVE insider tips on how to ACE THE SAT/ACT. 100% Privacy. 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Incorporating Quality Through Business Excellence Models Case Study

Incorporating Quality Through Business Excellence Models - Case Study Example TQM is the management function, which should be incorporated in all the processes that will happen in an organization. Furthermore, if Excellence is inbuilt into that TQM, then there will be optimal quality in all the processes, making the organization’s every initiative a successful endeavor. So, this paper by focusing on the â€Å"Excellence Models† from the perspective of TQM, will discuss how excellence can be managed optimally in an organization with the leader playing the optimal role. According to princeton.edu, Excellence can be defined as the â€Å"quality of excelling and also possessing good qualities of the highest degree†. The term gives the same meaning when analyzed from the organizational perspective as well. That is, when the organization manufactures products or offers services, during that process, they have to incorporate quality in every level. Only if the quality is incorporated at every level, the product or service will be of optimal quali ty, when it reaches the intended clients. Otherwise, the clients can find out the deficiency in quality in the initial stages or later, and surely it will be disliked by them. While trying to achieve than expected quality, organizations in many sectors will also or should also try to achieve excellence. This standard or level of excellence could be something that is set by the organization themselves or by certain external agencies focusing on quality testing and certifications. Thus, if the organizations following its own quality standards or external standards, achieve excellence in quality, it can maximally reach the ‘minds’ of the customers. When they entice their minds, they can ‘make’ the customers use their hands to buy the product or utilize the services.

What is the connection between fashion and modernityUse examples from Essay

What is the connection between fashion and modernityUse examples from between 1851 and 1939 to support your argument - Essay Example Elizabeth says "Fashion" is a term that crackles up many diverse descriptions, the immense preponderance of which is individual and simplifying. Some of the foundation I comprise here do not yet use the term; Western or eastern frequently choose in place for "costume" or "outfit," and alter their provisos with adjectives such as "cultural," "nationalized," or "customary." Western learning’s of fashion frequently only engage "Haute fashion design," or "soaring fashion," and leave out ordinary working class involvements with clothes; this has started to transfer of late. Over the precedent decade, a lot of feminist theorists have happened to be appearing at womens day-by-day relations with fashion and physical decoration. I support my own examinations with this most current drift in fashion; I describe fashion as a customer action occupied in by any human being who shops for, obtain, and wears outfits. Certainly, there is variety in terminologies and thoughtfulness of fashion co mmotion; and community of changeable racial, class, national, and religious surroundings unquestionably illustrate diverse understandings from their own fashion arrangements. The resources I have accumulated here agree with fashion utilization in a multiplicity of contexts, even though the field is positively conquered by Western world. It is as well significant to remind that most of my own study benefits are centered around modernism as it is created through clothing, technique, and fashion; consequently, much of the substance move towards fashion from a modern and feminist viewpoint. Modernity is a word used to explain the situation of being "Modern". Since the word itself "Modern" is used to explain a broad range of eras, modernity must be taken in background (Lehmann, 2000, Pg 141-142). Modern can signify all of post-medieval European olden times, in the environment of seperating

Political Philosophy and National Integration Essay Example for Free

Political Philosophy and National Integration Essay 1. Central Quotation â€Å"National integration is partly a by-product of other social and economic developments, partly the result of deliberate government policies.† (Birch, 36) 2. Argument In this text Birch gives a historical overview of national integration process. He discusses different attitudes towards assimilation of minorities that existed in North America and Europe. Before 1960s that it was current believe that national integration could be challenged by the existence of different ethnic groups within the borders of the country and assimilation was desirable. After 1960 however, this attitudes has changed in favour of social pluralism. Birch also presents patterns, which describes common practices of national integration. 3. Question The question raised in this text is â€Å"Whether the process of national integration must be accompanied by wholly or partial assimilation of minorities?† Birch describes both negative and positive effects, which social, economic and political integration of minor ethnic and cultural groups could have on building a sense of nationhood. His argumentation is based on contradictory assertions. One argument is in favour of social homogeneity i.e. stresses the importance of common language and feeling of unity among people for development of democratic institutions. In the same time author mention several scientific works that question the assumption that further integration is required for establishment of representative democracy. 4. Experiential Connection Even thou I grew up in Sweden, I have a lot of friends with different ethnic origin who lives there, mostly 1st or 2nd generation immigrants. All of them had a chance, upon their own will to learn Swedish free of charge as soon as they arrived. That was the part of integration programme established by government in order to facilitate immigration process. That makes it easier for immigrants to interact with local citizens, get the jobs and thus contribute to social, political and economic development of the country. 5. Textual Connection. Birch’s argumentation is quite similar to Will Kymlicka’sagrument in the text â€Å"Western political theory and ethnic relations in eastern Europe†. As well as Birch, Kymlicka stresses that attitudes toward ethnic minorities among democratic liberals in West had changed since 1960 and multiculturalism become more acceptable (Kymlicka, s. 33). Kymlicka focuses on different ethnic groups and describes assimilation attempts made by governments towards these groups. He also emphasizes the importance of different governmental policies that determines integration process (Kymlicka, s. 42). 6. Implications. This text analyses the different ways in which minor groups can be merged into national societies and poses the question of whether national integration is a positive or a negative process. This question must be answered by citizens and representative governments in every country before there will be taken any further action toward national integration or disintegration. I think government have to consider prior experience of integration of minorities in different countries to choose appropriated policies for the particular county. This can be done throughout case studies and with help of patterns of integration drawn up by theorists and scientists.

Comparing the poems Neutral Tones and Absence Essay -- English Literat

Comparing the poems Neutral Tones and Absence Both the poems 'Neutral Tones' by Thomas Hardy and 'Absence' by Elizabeth Jennings mention and describe the poets' feelings about losing their partners. Even though the general theme, the loss of love, is the same, many features such as tone, imagery, language and rhyme scheme differ from each other. Hardy emphasises more on his feelings towards his break up. He doesn't actually mention how he feels, but instead, the imagery he uses and the way he describes his ex-girlfriend shows that he feels broken and angry. The tone in this poem is very solemn and dull, though it is quite strong in some areas like "The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing" and "your face, and the God-curst sun grayish leaves". Hardy also got more vigorous and frustrated towards the end of the poem. In Jennings's poem, the tone is much different. Unlike Hardy, she describes her surroundings and loneliness, not how her partner looks like. Jennings's poem builds up from a calm tone to an irritated one. The first stanza of 'Absence' describes her surroundings, the second, how she is alone and in the third, how her loneliness affects her. The last stanza is the fiercest, much more vigorous compared to the first stanza. "For under all the gentleness there came an earthquake tremor" The second stanza of her poem is like the balance between the first and last stanza. This stanza links her cheerful images to her exasperation. "Singing an ecstasy I could not share, played cunning in my thoughts" Jennings's poem is also more 'factual' as she talks more about the scenery around her - "The fountains sprayed their usual steady jet". The tone in this poem is steady, and her anger builds gradual... ...e landscape, colours, and facial features to convey his heart brokenness. I liked the way Hardy chose an aggravated tone for his poem and how he has developed it towards the end to describe his girlfriend's face. From his poem, I could actually feel Hardy's devastation because he even brought in the bitter side of nature to enhance his feelings. Hardy also had a dramatic ending where he used the alliteration "wrings with wrongs". I also liked the way Hardy had combined all his anger and problems and merged them into his ex-girlfriend's face. I think Hardy was successful in using imagery by describing the surroundings in the beginning of the poem and concluding with the surroundings as well. Hardy's choice of language was also appropriate to describe his emotions. All in all, I think Hardy was very successful in using vivid imagery to portray his feelings.

Practical Demonkeeping Chapter 5-7

5 AUGUSTUS BRINE He was an old man who fished off the beaches of Pine Cove and he had gone eighty-four days without catching a fish. This, however, was of little consequence because he owned the general store and made a comfortable enough living to indulge his passions, which were fishing and drinking California wines. Augustus Brine was old, but he was still strong and vital and a dangerous man in a fight – although he had had little cause to prove it in over thirty years (except for the few occasions when he picked up a teenage boy by the scruff of the neck and dragged him, terrified, to the stockroom, where he lectured him alternately on the merits of hard work and the folly of shoplifting from Brine's Bait, Tackle, and Fine Wines). And while a weariness had come upon him with age, his mind was still sharp and agile. On any evening one might find him stretched out before his fireplace in a leather chair, toasting his bare feet on the hearth, reading Aristotle, or Lao-tzu, or Joyce. He lived on a hillside overlooking the Pacific, in a small wooden house he had designed and built himself, so that he might live there alone without having his surroundings seem lonely. During the day, windows and skylights filled the house with light, and even on the most dismal, foggy day, every corner was illuminated. In the evening three stone fireplaces, which took up whole walls in the living room, bedroom, and study, warmed the house. They offered a soft, orange comfort to the old man, who burned cord after cord of red oak and eucalyptus, which he cut and split himself. When he considered his own mortality, which was seldom, Augustus Brine knew he would die in this house. He had built it on one floor with wide halls and doorways so that if he were ever confined to a wheelchair he might remain self-sufficient until the day when he would take the black pill sent to him by the Hemlock Society. He kept the house neat and orderly. Not so much because he desired order, for Brine believed chaos to be the way of the world, but because he did not wish to make life difficult for his cleaning lady, who came in once a week to dust and shovel ashes from the fireplaces. He also wished to avoid acquiring the reputation of being a slob, for he knew people's propensity for judging a man on one aspect of his character, and even Augustus Brine was not above some degree of vanity. Despite his belief that the pursuit of order in a chaotic universe was futile, Brine lived a very ordered life, and this paradox, upon reflection, amused him. He rose each day at five, indulged himself in a half-hour-long shower, dressed, and ate the same breakfast of six eggs and half a loaf of sourdough toast, heavily buttered. (Cholesterol seemed too silent and sneaky to be dangerous, and Brine had decided long ago that until cholesterol gathered its forces and charged him headlong across the plate with Light Brigade abandon, he would ignore it.) After breakfast, Brine lit his meerschaum pipe for the first time of the day, crawled onto his truck, and drove downtown to open his store. For the first two hours he puffed around the store like a great white-bearded locomotive, making coffee, selling pastries, trading idle banter with the old men who greeted him each morning, and preparing the store to run under full steam until midnight, under the supervision of a handful of clerks. At eight o'clock the first of Brine's employees arrived to man the register while Brine busied himself ordering what he called Epicurean necessities: pastries, imported cheeses and beers, pipe tobacco and cigarettes, homemade pasta and sauces, freshly baked bread, gourmet coffees, and California wines. Brine believed, like Epicurus, that a good life was one dedicated to the pursuit of simple pleasures, tempered with justice and prudence. Years ago, while working as a bouncer in a whorehouse, Brine had repeatedly seen depressed, angry men turned to gentleness and gaiety by a few moments of pleasure. He had vowed then to someday open a brothel, but when the ramshackle general store with its two gas pumps had been put up for sale, Brine had compromised his dream by buying it and bringing pleasure of a different sort to the public. From time to time, however, a needling suspicion arose in his mind that he had missed his true calling as a madam. Each day when the orders were finished, Brine selected a bottle of red wine from his shelves, packed it in a basket with some bread, cheese, and bait, and took off for the beach. He passed the rest of the day sitting on the beach in a canvas director's chair sipping wine and smoking his pipe, waiting for the long surf-casting rod to bend with a strike. On most days Brine let his mind go as clear as water. Without worry or thought he became one with everything around him, neither conscious nor unconscious: the state of Zen mushin, or no-mind. He had come to Zen after the fact, recognizing in the writings of Suzuki and Watts an attitude he had come to without discipline, by simply sitting on the beach staring into an empty sky and becoming just as empty. Zen was his religion, and it brought him peace and humor. On this particular morning Brine was having a difficult time clearing his mind. The visit of the little Arab man to the store vexed him. Brine did not speak Arabic, yet he had understood every word the little man had said. He had seen the air cut with swirling blue curses, and he had seen the Arab's eyes glow white with anger. He smoked his pipe, the meerschaum mermaid carved so that Brine's index finger fell across her breasts, and tried to apply some meaning to a situation that was outside the context of his reality. He knew that if he were to accept the fluid of this experience, the cup of his mind had to be empty. But right now he had a better chance of buying bread with moonlight than reaching a Zen calm. It vexed him. â€Å"It is a mystery, is it not?† someone said. Startled, Brine looked around. The little Arab man stood about three feet from Brine's side, drinking from a large styrofoam cup. His red stocking cap was glistening, damp with the morning spray. â€Å"I'm sorry,† Brine said. â€Å"I didn't see you come up.† â€Å"It is a mystery, is it not? How this dashing figure seems to appear out of nowhere? You must be awestruck. Paralyzed with fear perhaps?† Brine looked at the withered little man in the rumpled flannel suit and silly red hat. â€Å"Very close to paralyzed,† he said. â€Å"I am Augustus Brine.† He extended his hand to the little man. â€Å"Are you not afraid that by touching me you will burst into flames?† â€Å"Is that a danger?† â€Å"No, but you know how superstitious fishermen are. Perhaps you believe that you will be transformed into a toad. You hide your fear well, Augustus Brine.† Brine smiled. He was baffled and amused; it didn't occur to him to be afraid. The Arab drained his cup and dipped it into the surf to refill it. â€Å"Please call me Gus,† Brine said, his hand still extended. â€Å"And you are?† The Arab drained his cup again, then took Brine's hand. His skin had the feel of parchment. â€Å"I am Gian Hen Gian, King of the Djinn, Ruler of the Netherworld. Do not tremble, I wish you no harm.† â€Å"I am not trembling,† Brine said. â€Å"You might go easy on that seawater – it works hell on your blood pressure.† â€Å"Do not fall to your knees; there is no need to prostrate yourself before my greatness. I am here in your service.† â€Å"Thank you. I am honored,† Brine said. Despite the strange happenings in the store, he was having a hard time taking this pompous little man seriously. The Arab was obviously a nuthouse Napoleon. He'd seen hundreds of them, living in cardboard castles and feasting from dumpsters all over America. But this one had some credentials: he could curse in blue swirls. â€Å"It is good that you are not afraid, Augustus Brine. Terrible evil is at hand. You will have to call upon your courage. It is a good sign that you have kept your wits in the presence of the great Gian Hen Gian. The grandeur is sometimes too much for weaker men.† â€Å"May I offer you some wine?† Brine extended the bottle of cabernet he had brought from the store. â€Å"No, I have a great thirst for this.† He sloshed the cup of seawater. â€Å"From a time when it was all I could drink.† â€Å"As you wish.† Brine sipped from the bottle. â€Å"There is little time, Augustus Brine, and what I am to tell you may overwhelm your tiny mind. Please prepare yourself.† â€Å"My tiny mind is steeled for anything, O King. But first, tell me, did I see you curse blue swirls this morning?† â€Å"A minor loss of temper. Nothing really. Would you have had me turn the clumsy dolt into a snake who forever gnaws his own tail?† â€Å"No, the cursing was fine. Although in Vance's case the snake might be an improvement. Your curses were in Arabic, though, right?† â€Å"A language I prefer for its music.† â€Å"But I don't speak Arabic. Yet I understood you. You did say, ‘May the IRS find that you deduct your pet sheep as an entertainment expense,' didn't you?† â€Å"I can be most colorful and inventive when I am angry.† The Arab flashed a bright grin of pride. His teeth were pointed and saw-edged like a shark's. â€Å"You have been chosen, Augustus Brine.† â€Å"Why me?† Somehow Brine had suspended his disbelief and denied the absurdity of the situation. If there was no order in the universe, then why should it be out of order to be sitting on the beach talking to an Arab dwarf who claimed to be king of the Djinn, whatever the hell that was? Strangely enough, Brine took comfort in the fact that this experience was invalidating every assumption he had ever made about the nature of the world. He had tapped into the Zen of ignorance, the enlightenment of absurdity. Gian Hen Gian laughed. â€Å"I have chosen you because you are a fisherman who catches no fish. I have had an affinity for such men since I was fished from the sea a thousand years ago and released from Solomon's jar. One gets ever so cramped passing the centuries inside a jar.† â€Å"And ever so wrinkled, it would seem,† Brine said. Gian Hen Gian ignored Brine's comment. â€Å"I found you here, Augustus Brine, listening to the noise of the universe, holding in your heart a spark of hope, like all fishermen, but resolved to be disappointed. You have no love, no faith, and no purpose. You shall be my instrument, and in return, you shall gain the things you lack.† Brine wanted to protest the Arab's judgment, but he realized that it was true. He'd been enlightened for exactly thirty seconds and already he was back on the path of desire and karma. Postenlightenment depression, he thought. 6 THE DJINN'S STORY Brine said, â€Å"Excuse me, O King, but what exactly is a Djinn?† Gian Hen Gian spit into the surf and cursed, but this time Brine did not understand the language and no blue swirls cut the air. â€Å"I am Djinn. The Djinn were the first people. This was our world long before the first human. Have you not read the tales of Scheherazade?† â€Å"I thought those were just stories.† â€Å"By Aladdin's lamplit scrotum, man! Everything is a story. What is there but stories? Stories are the only truth. The Djinn knew this. We had power over our own stories. We shaped our world as we wished it to be. It was our glory. We were created by Jehovah as a race of creators, and he became jealous of us. â€Å"He sent Satan and an army of angels against us. We were banished to the netherworld, where we could not make our stories. Then he created a race who could not create and so would stand in awe of the Creator.† â€Å"Man?† Brine asked. The Djinn nodded. â€Å"When Satan drove us into the netherworld, he saw our power. He saw that he was no more than a servant, while Jehovah had given the Djinn the power of gods. He returned to Jehovah demanding the same power. He proclaimed that he and his army would not serve until they were given the power to create. â€Å"Jehovah was sorely angered. He banished Satan to hell, where the angel might have the power he wished, but only over his own army of rebels. To further humiliate Satan, Jehovah created a new race of beings and gave them control over their own destinies, made them masters of their own world. And he made Satan watch it all from hell. â€Å"These beings were parodies of the angels, resembling them physically, but with none of the angels' grace or intelligence. And because he had made two mistakes before, Jehovah made these creatures mortal to keep them humble.† â€Å"Are you saying,† Brine interrupted, â€Å"that the human race was created to irritate Satan?† â€Å"That is correct. Jehovah is infinite in his snottiness.† Brine reflected on this for a moment and regretted that he had not become a criminal at an early age. â€Å"And what happened to the Djinn?† â€Å"We were left without form, purpose, or power. The netherworld is timeless and unchanging, and boring – much like a doctor's waiting room.† â€Å"But you're here, you're not in the netherworld.† â€Å"Be patient, Augustus Brine. I will tell you how I came here. You see, many years passed on Earth and we remained undisturbed. Then was born Solomon the thief.† â€Å"You mean King Solomon? Son of David?† â€Å"The thief!† The Djinn spat. â€Å"He asked for wisdom from Jehovah that he might build a great temple. To assist him, Jehovah gave him a great silver seal, which he carried in a scepter, and the power to call the Djinn from the netherworld to act as slaves. Solomon was given power over the Djinn on Earth that by all rights belonged to me. And as if that was not enough, the seal also gave him the power to call up the deposed angels from hell. Satan was furious that such power be given to a mortal, which, of course, was Jehovah's plan. â€Å"Solomon called first upon me to help him build his temple. He spread the temple plans before me and I laughed in his face. It was little more than a shack of stone. His imagination was as limited as his intelligence. Nevertheless, I began work on his temple, building it stone by stone as he instructed. I could have built it in an instant had he commanded it, but the thief could only imagine a temple being built as it might be built by men. â€Å"I worked slowly, for even under the reign of the thief, my time on Earth was better than the emptiness of the netherworld. After some time I convinced Solomon that I needed help, and I was given slaves to assist me in the construction. Work slowed even more, for while some of them worked, most stood by and chatted about their dreams of freedom. I have seen that such methods are used today in building your highways.† â€Å"It's standard,† Brine said. â€Å"Solomon grew impatient with my progress and called from hell one of the deposed angels, a warrior Seraph named Catch. Thus did his troubles begin. â€Å"Catch had once been a tall and beautiful angel, but his time in hell, steeping in his own bitterness, had changed him. When he appeared before Solomon, he was a squat monster, no bigger than a dwarf. His skin was like that of a snake, his eyes like those of a cat. He was so hideous that Solomon would not allow him to be seen by the people of Jerusalem, so he made the demon invisible to all but himself. â€Å"Catch carried in his heart a loathing for humans as deep as Satan himself. I had no quarrel with the race of man. Catch, however, wanted revenge. Fortunately, he did not have the powers of a Djinn. â€Å"Solomon told the slaves who worked on the temple that they were being given divine assistance and that they should behave as if nothing was out of the ordinary, so the people of Jerusalem might not notice the demon's presence. The demon threw himself into the construction, honing huge blocks of stone and hauling them into place. â€Å"Solomon was pleased with the demon's work and told him so. Catch said that the work would go faster if he didn't have to work with a Djinn, so I stood by and watched as the temple rose. From time to time great stones dropped from the walls, crushing the slaves below. While the blood ran, I could hear Catch laughing and shouting ‘Whoops' from the top of the wall. â€Å"Solomon believed these killings to be accidents, but I knew them to be murder. It was then that I realized that Solomon's control over the demon was not absolute, and therefore, his control over me must have its limits as well. My first impulse was to try to escape, but if I were wrong, I knew that I would be sent back to the netherworld and all would be lost. Perhaps I could persuade Solomon to set me free by offering him something he could attain only through my power to create. â€Å"Solomon's appetite for women was infamous. I offered to bring him the most beautiful woman he had ever seen if he would allow me to remain on Earth. He agreed. â€Å"I retreated to my quarters and contemplated what sort of woman might most please the idiot king. I had seen his thousand wives and found no common thread among their charms that revealed Solomon's preferences. In the end I was left to my own creativity. â€Å"I gave her fair hair and blue eyes and skin as white and smooth as marble. She was all things that men wish of women in body and mind. She was a virgin with a courtesan's knowledge in the ways of pleasure. She was kind, intelligent, forgiving, and warm with humor. â€Å"Solomon fell in love with the woman as soon as I presented her to him. ‘She shines like a jewel', he said. ‘Jewel shall be her name.' He spent an hour or more just staring at her, captivated with her beauty. When finally his senses returned, he said, ‘We will talk later of your reward, Gian Hen Gian.' Then he took Jewel by the hand and led her to his bedchamber. â€Å"I felt a strength return to me the moment I presented Jewel to the king. I was not free to escape, but for the first time I was able to leave the city without being compelled by some invisible bond to return to Solomon. I went into the desert and spent the night enjoying the freedom I had gained. It was not until I returned the next morning that I realized that Solomon's control over me and the demon depended upon the concentration of his will, as well as the invocations and the seal given to him by Jehovah. The woman, Jewel, had broken his will. â€Å"I found Solomon in his palace weeping one moment, then screaming with rage the next. While I had been away Catch had come to Solomon's bedchamber, not in the form that Solomon recognized, but in the form of a huge monster, taller than two men and as wide as a team of horses, and the slaves could see him as well. While Solomon watched in horror, the demon snatched Jewel from the bed with a single, talonlike hand and bit her head off. Then the monster swallowed the girl's body and reached for Solomon. But some force protected the king, and Solomon commanded the demon to return to his smaller form. Catch laughed in his face and skulked off to the wives' quarters. â€Å"Through the night the palace was filled with the screams of terrified women. Solomon ordered his guards to attack the demon. Catch swatted them away as if they were flies. By dawn the palace was littered with the crushed bodies of the guards. Of Solomon's thousand wives only two hundred remained alive. Catch was gone. â€Å"During the attack Solomon had called upon the power of the seal and prayed to Jehovah to stop the demon. But the king's will was broken, and so it did no good. â€Å"I sensed then that I might escape Solomon's control altogether, and live free, but even the idiot king would eventually make the connection and my fate would lie in the netherworld. â€Å"I bade Solomon allow me to bring Catch to justice. I knew my power to be much greater than the demon's. But Solomon had only the building of the temple by which to judge my powers, and in that example the demon appeared superior. ‘Do what you can,' he said. ‘If you capture the demon, you may remain on Earth.' â€Å"I found Catch in the great desert, wantonly slaughtering tribes of nomads. When I bound him with my magic, he protested that he had planned to return, for he was enslaved to Solomon by the invocation and could never really escape. He was only having a little sport with the humans, he said. To quiet him, I filled his mouth with sand for the journey back to Jerusalem. â€Å"When I brought Catch to Solomon, the king commanded me to devise a punishment to torment the demon, so that the people of Jerusalem might watch him suffer. I chained Catch to a giant stone outside the palace, then I created a huge bird of prey that swooped on the demon and tore at his liver, which grew back at once, for like the Djinn, the demon was immortal. â€Å"Solomon was pleased with my work. During my absence he had regained his senses somewhat, and thereby his will. I stood before the king awaiting my reward, feeling my powers wane as Solomon's will returned. â€Å"‘I have promised that you shall never be returned to the netherworld, and you shall not,' he said. ‘But this demon has put me off of immortals more than somewhat, and I do not wish that you be allowed to roam free. You shall be imprisoned in a jar and cast into the sea. Should the time come when you are set free to walk the Earth again, you shall have no power over the realm of man except as is commanded by my will, which shall be from now to the end of time the goodwill of all men. By this you shall be bound.' â€Å"He had a jar fashioned from lead and marked it on all sides with a silver seal. Before he imprisoned me, Solomon promised that Catch would remain chained to the rock until his screams burned into the king's soul – so that Solomon might never lose his will or his wisdom again. He said he would then send the demon back to hell and destroy the tablets with the invocations, as well as the great seal. He swore these things to me, as if he believed the fate of the demon meant something to me. I didn't give a camel's fart about Catch. Then he gave me a last command and sealed the jar. His soldiers cast the jar into the Red Sea. â€Å"For two thousand years I languished inside the jar, my only comfort a trickle of seawater that seeped in, which I drank with relish, for it tasted of freedom. â€Å"When the jar was finally pulled from the sea by a fisherman, and I was released, I cared nothing about Solomon or Catch, only about my freedom. I have lived as a man would live these last thousand years, bound by Solomon's will. Of this Solomon spoke truly, but about the demon, he lied.† The little man paused and refilled his cup in the ocean. Augustus Brine was at a loss. It couldn't possibly be true. There was nothing to corroborate the story. â€Å"Begging your pardon, Gian Hen Gian, but why is none of this told in the Bible?† â€Å"Editing,† the Djinn said. â€Å"But aren't you confusing Greek myth with Christian myth? The birds eating the demon's liver sounds an awful lot like the story of Prometheus.† â€Å"It was my idea. The Greeks were thieves, no better than Solomon.† Brine considered this for a moment. He was seeing evidence of the supernatural, wasn't he? Wasn't this little Arab drinking seawater as he watched, with no apparent ill effects? And even if some of it could be explained by hallucination, he was pretty sure that he hadn't been the only one to see the strange blue swirls in the store this morning. What if for a moment – just a moment – he took the Arab's outrageous story for the truth?†¦ â€Å"If this is true, then how do you know, after all this time, that Solomon lied to you? And why tell me about it?† â€Å"Because, Augustus Brine, I knew you would believe. And I know Solomon lied because I can feel the presence of the demon, Catch. And I'm sure that he has come to Pine Cove.† â€Å"Swell,† Brine said. 7 ARRIVAL Virgil Long backed out from under the hood of the Impala, wiped his hands on his coveralls, and scratched at his four-day growth of beard. He reminded Travis of a fat weasel with the mange. â€Å"So you're thinking it's the radiator?† Virgil asked. â€Å"It's the radiator,† Travis said. â€Å"It might be the whole engine is gone. You were running pretty quiet when you drove in. Not a good sign. Do you have a charge card?† Virgil was unprecedented in his inability to diagnose specific engine problems. When he was dealing with tourists, his strategy was usually to start replacing things and keep replacing them until he solved the problem or reached the limit on the customer's credit card, whichever came first. â€Å"It wasn't running at all when I came in,† Travis protested. â€Å"And I don't have a credit card. It's the radiator, I promise.† â€Å"Now, son,† Virgil drawled, â€Å"I know you think you know what you're talking about, but I got a certificate from the Ford factory there on the wall that says I'm a master mechanic.† Virgil pointed a fat finger toward the service station's office. One wall was covered with framed certificates along with a poster of a nude woman sitting on the hood of a Corvette buffing her private parts with a scarf in order to sell motor oil. Virgil had purchased the Master Mechanic certificates from an outfit in New Hampshire: two for five dollars, six for ten dollars, fifteen for twenty. He had gone for the twenty-dollar package. Those who took the time to read the certificates were somewhat surprised to find out that Pine Cove's only service station and car wash had its own factory-certified snowmobile mechanic. It had never snowed in Pine Cove. â€Å"This is a Chevy,† Travis said. â€Å"Got a certificate for those, too. You probably need new rings. The radiator's just a symptom, like these broken headlights. You treat the symptom, the disease just gets worse.† Virgil had heard that on a doctor show once and liked the sound of it. â€Å"What will it cost to just fix the radiator?† Virgil stared deep into the grease spots on the garage floor, as if by reading their patterns and by some mystic mode of divination, petrolmancy perhaps, he would arrive at a price that would not alienate the dark young man but would still assure him an exorbitant hourly rate for his labor. â€Å"Hundred bucks.† It had a nice round ring to it. â€Å"Fine,† Travis said, â€Å"Fix it. When can I have it back?† Virgil consulted the grease spots again, then emerged with a good-ol'-boy smile. â€Å"How's noon sound?† â€Å"Fine,† Travis said. â€Å"Is there a pool hall around here – and someplace I can get some breakfast?† â€Å"No pool hall. The Head of the Slug is open down the street. They got a couple of tables.† â€Å"And breakfast?† â€Å"Only thing open this end of town is H.P.'s, a block off Cypress, down from the Slug. But it's a local's joint.† â€Å"Is there a problem getting served?† â€Å"No. The menu might throw you for a bit. It – well, you'll see.† Travis thanked the mechanic and started off in the direction of H.P.'s, the demon skulking along behind him. As they passed the self-serve car-wash stalls, Travis noticed a tall man of about thirty unloading plastic laundry baskets full of dirty dishes from the bed of an old Ford pickup. He seemed to be having trouble getting quarters to go into the coin box. Looking at him, Travis said: â€Å"You know, Catch, I'll bet there's a lot of incest in this town.† â€Å"Probably the only entertainment,† the demon agreed. The man in the car wash had activated the high-pressure nozzle and was sweeping it back and forth across the baskets of dishes. With each sweep he repeated, â€Å"Nobody lives like this. Nobody.† Some of the overspray caught on the wind and settled over Travis and Catch. For a moment the demon became visible in the spray. â€Å"I'm melt-ing,† Catch whined in perfect Wicked Witch of the West pitch. â€Å"Let's go,† Travis said, moving quickly to avoid more spray. â€Å"We need a hundred bucks before noon.† JENNY In the two hours since Jenny Masterson had arrived at the cafe she had managed to drop a tray full of glasses, mix up the orders on three tables, fill the saltshakers with sugar and the sugar dispensers with salt, and pour hot coffee on the hands of two customers who had covered their cups to indicate that they'd had enough – a patently stupid gesture on their part, she thought. The worst of it was not that she normally performed her duties flawlessly, which she did. The worst of it was that everyone was so damned understanding about it. â€Å"You're going through a rough time, honey, it's okay.† â€Å"Divorce is always hard.† Their consolations ranged from â€Å"too bad you couldn't work it out† to â€Å"he was a worthless drunk anyway, you're better off without him.† She'd been separated from Robert exactly four days and everybody in Pine Cove knew about it. And they couldn't just let it lie. Why didn't they let her go through the process without running this cloying gauntlet of sympathy? It was as if she had a big red D sewed to her clothing, a signal to the townsfolk to close around her like a hungry amoeba. When the second tray of glasses hit the floor, she stood amid the shards trying to catch her breath and could not. She had to do something – scream, cry, pass out – but she just stood there, paralyzed, while the busboy cleaned up the glass. Two bony hands closed on her shoulders. She heard a voice in her ear that seemed to come from very far away. â€Å"You are having an anxiety attack, dear. It shall pass. Relax and breathe deeply.† She felt the hands gently leading her through the kitchen door to the office in the back. â€Å"Sit down and put your head between your knees.† She let herself be guided into a chair. Her mind went white, and her breath caught in her throat. A bony hand rubbed her back. â€Å"Breathe, Jennifer. I'll not have you shuffling off this mortal coil in the middle of the breakfast shift.† In a moment her head cleared and she looked up to see Howard Phillips, the owner of H.P.'s, standing over her. He was a tall, skeletal man, who always wore a black suit and button shoes that had been fashionable a hundred years ago. Except for the dark depressions on his cheeks, Howard's skin was as white as a carrion worm. Robert had once said that H.P. looked like the master of ceremonies at a chemotherapy funfest. Howard had been born and raised in Maine, yet when he spoke, he affected the accent of an erudite Londoner. â€Å"The prospect of change is a many-fanged beast, my dear. It is not, however, appropriate to pay fearful obeisance to that beast by cowering in the ruins of my stemware while you have orders up.† â€Å"I'm sorry, Howard. Robert called this morning. He sounded so helpless, pathetic.† â€Å"A tragedy, to be sure. Yet as we sit, ensconced in our grief, two perfectly healthy daily specials languish under the heat lamps metamorphosing into gelatinous invitations to botulism.† Jenny was relieved that in his own, cryptically charming way, Howard was not giving her sympathy but telling her to get off her ass and live her life. â€Å"I think I'm okay now. Thanks, Howard.† Jenny stood and wiped her eyes with a paper napkin she took from her apron. Then she went off to deliver her orders. Howard, having exhausted his compassion for the day, closed the door of his office and began working on the books. When Jenny returned to the floor, she found that the restaurant had cleared except for a few regular customers and a dark young man she didn't recognize, who was standing by the PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED sign. At least he wouldn't ask about Robert, thank God. It was a welcome relief. Not many tourists found H.P.'s. It was tucked in a tree-lined cul-de-sac off Cypress Street in a remodeled Victorian bungalow. The sign outside, small and tasteful, simply read, CAFE. Howard did not believe in advertising, and though he was an Anglophile at heart – loving all things British and feeling that they were somehow superior to their American counterparts – his restaurant displayed none of the ersatz British decor that might draw in the tourists. The cafe served simple food at fair prices. If the menu exhibited Howard Phillips's eccentricity in style, it did not discourage the locals from eating at his place. Next to Brine's Bait, Tackle, and Fine Wines, H.P.'s Cafe had the most loyal clientele in Pine Cove. â€Å"Smoking or nonsmoking?† Jenny asked the young man. He was very good-looking, but Jenny noticed this only in passing. She was conditioned by years of monogamy not to dwell on such things. â€Å"Nonsmoking,† he said. Jenny led him to a table in the back. Before he sat down, he pulled out the chair across from him, as if he were going to put his feet up. â€Å"Will someone be joining you?† Jenny asked, handing him a menu. He looked up at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. He stared into her eyes without saying a word. Embarrassed, Jenny looked down. â€Å"Today's special is Eggs-Sothoth – a fiendishly toothsome amalgamation of scrumptious ingredients so delicious that the mere description of the palatable gestalt could drive one mad,† she said. â€Å"You're joking?† â€Å"No. The owner insists that we memorize the daily specials verbatim.† The dark man kept staring at her. â€Å"What does all that mean?† he asked. â€Å"Scrambled eggs with ham and cheese and a side of toast.† â€Å"Why didn't you just say that?† â€Å"The owner is a little eccentric. He believes that his daily specials may be the only thing keeping the Old Ones at bay.† â€Å"The Old Ones?† Jenny sighed. The nice thing about regular customers is she didn't have to keep explaining Howard's weird menu to them. This guy was obviously from out of town. But why did he have to keep staring at her like that? â€Å"It's his religion or something. He believes that the world was once populated by another race. He calls them the Old Ones. For some reason they were banished from Earth, but he believes that they are trying to return and take over.† â€Å"You're joking?† â€Å"Stop saying that. I'm not joking.† â€Å"I'm sorry.† He looked at the menu. â€Å"Okay, give me an Eggs-Sothoth with a side order of The Spuds of Madness.† â€Å"Would you like coffee?† â€Å"That would be great.† Jenny wrote out the ticket and turned to put the order in at the kitchen window. â€Å"Excuse me,† the man said. Jenny turned in midstep. â€Å"Yes?† â€Å"You have incredible eyes.† â€Å"Thanks.† She felt herself blush as she headed off to get his coffee. She wasn't ready for this. She needed some sort of break between being married and being divorced. Divorce leave? They had pregnancy leave, didn't they? When she returned with his coffee, she looked at him for the first time as a single woman might. He was handsome, in a sharp, dark sort of way. He looked younger than she was, twenty-three, maybe twenty-four. She was studying his clothes and trying to get a feel for what he did for a living when she ran into the chair he had pushed out from the table and spilled most of the coffee into the saucer. â€Å"God, I'm sorry.† â€Å"It's okay,† he said. â€Å"Are you having a bad day?† â€Å"Getting worse by the minute. I'll get you another cup.† â€Å"No,† he raised a hand in protest. â€Å"Its fine.† He took the cup and saucer from her, separated them, and poured the coffee back into the cup. â€Å"See, good as new. I don't want to add to your bad day.† He was staring again. â€Å"No, you're fine. I mean, I'm fine. Thanks.† She felt like a geek. She cursed Robert for causing all this. If he hadn't†¦ No, it wasn't Robert's fault. She'd made the decision to end the marriage. â€Å"I'm Travis.† The man extended his hand. She took it, tentatively. â€Å"Jennifer-† She was about to tell him that she was married and that he was nice and all. â€Å"I'm not married,† she said. She immediately wanted to disappear into the kitchen and never come back. â€Å"Me either,† Travis said. â€Å"I'm new in town.† He didn't seem to notice how awkward she was. â€Å"Look, Jennifer, I'm looking for an address and I wonder if you could tell me how to find it? Do you know how to get to Cheshire Street?† Jenny was relieved to be talking about anything but herself. She rattled off a series of streets and turns, landmarks and signs, that would lead Travis to Cheshire Street. When she finished, he just looked at her quizzically. â€Å"I'll draw you a map,† she said. She took a pen from her apron, bent over the table, and began drawing on a napkin. Their faces were inches apart. â€Å"You're very beautiful,† he said. She looked at him. She didn't know whether to smile or scream. Not yet, she thought. I'm not ready. He didn't wait for her to respond. â€Å"You remind me of someone I used to know.† â€Å"Thank you†¦Ã¢â‚¬  She tried to remember his name. â€Å"†¦Travis.† â€Å"Have dinner with me tonight?† She searched for an excuse. None came. She couldn't use the one she had used for a decade – it wasn't true anymore. And she hadn't been alone long enough to brush up on some new lies. In fact, she felt that she was somehow being unfaithful to Robert just by talking to this guy. But she was a single woman. Finally she wrote her phone number under the map on the napkin and handed it to him. â€Å"My number's on the bottom. Why don't you call me tonight, around five, and we'll take it from there, okay?† Travis folded the napkin and put it in his shirt pocket. â€Å"Until tonight,† he said. â€Å"Oh, spare me!† a gravely voice said. Jenny turned toward the voice, but there was only the empty chair. To Travis she said, â€Å"Did you hear that?† â€Å"Hear what?† Travis glared at the empty chair. â€Å"Nothing,† Jenny said, â€Å"I'm starting to go over the edge, I think.† â€Å"Relax,† Travis said. â€Å"I won't bite you.† He shot a glance at the chair. â€Å"Your order is up. I'll be right back.† She retrieved the food from the window and delivered it to Travis. While he ate, she stood behind the counter separating coffee filters for the lunch shift, occasionally looking up and smiling at the dark, young man, who paused between bites and smiled back. She was fine, just fine. She was a single woman and could do any damned thing she wanted to. She could go out with anyone she wanted to. She was young and attractive and she had just made her first date in ten years – sort of. Over all of her affirmations her fears flew up and perched like a murder of crows. It occurred to her that she didn't have the slightest idea what she was going to wear. The freedom of single life had suddenly become a burden, a mixed blessing, herpes on the pope's ring. Maybe she wouldn't answer the phone when he called. Travis finished eating and paid his bill, leaving her far too large a tip. â€Å"See you tonight,† he said. â€Å"You bet.† She smiled. She watched him walk across the parking lot. He seemed to be talking to someone as he walked. Probably just singing. Guys did that right after they made a date, didn't they? Maybe he was just a whacko? For the hundredth time that morning she resisted the urge to call Robert and tell him to come home.

Comparison Essay on Whether It IS Better to Be the Only Child or to Have Brothers and Sisters

Comparison Essay on Whether It IS Better to Be the Only Child or to Have Brothers and Sisters Is It Better to Be the Only Child or to Have Brothers and Sisters? Some people like being the only children, others don’t. Why? Each of them is brought up in different circumstances and situations, which influences their character greatly, as well as defines a lot in their future. So, what are the main reasons of people’s like or dislike of being raised without brothers and sisters? First of all, let us define the pros. Those who enjoy this situation, often say that they like that all the parents’ attention is paid only to them. Thus, they don’t have to share their toys and personal space with a â€Å"competitor† – a brother or a sister. They get more expensive things than their friends who have siblings, as their parents don’t have to save money to buy toys for several children. They don’t have to share a room with anyone, as it is sometimes the case in families with several children. Of course, all the above described realities are true, but, to my mind, in this case cons outweigh the pros significantly. It is generally known that people who were brought up without siblings are often arrogant and more dependent on their parents than the ones who are used to sharing atmosphere and less attention from parents. They are more independent, used to caring about other people and don’t lack communication, as the only child often does. As for me, who is the only child in the family, I wish my situation was the opposite. I always wanted a brother or sister to care about them and to have someone to fight with. I succeeded to become an independent and self-confident person owing to proper upbringing, but now I really miss such a person in my life.