Chapter 579

As he strolled across the grounds, he spied a few studious kids sitting or lying on the grass with books or laptops propped open on their laps or under their chins, but most were simply out having a good time, hanging with friends or noisily tossing footballs and Frisbees back and forth. Near the edge of one long, grassy plaza, he passed a tall, thin black man in a purple and orange tie-dyed T-shirt banging rhythmically on a set of four wooden drums. A crowd of listeners surrounded the drummer, many of them clapping joyously to his driving island beat, while two scantily clad blondes at the front of the group twisted their bodies in frantic, impossible gyrations. Weber slowed slightly, admiring the dancers and the music. He sniffed the familiar, acrid odor of marijuana, and wondered whether anyone was actually attending class today. He felt a brief tinge of envy toward the frolicking young students—his youth had been spent slogging through the rice paddies and jungles of Southeast A