Nov. 19

Hi Mom,

Glad you liked the article about my winning touchdown pass. You can show it to Mr. Murphy across the street and rub his nose in it. Thinks he knows everything. He's got Pop on the brain. Want me to hitchhike out there next weekend and get the point across? I could bring my grade point average. None of the guys in my frat know how high it is. Their problem.

Ray says to tell you hi. He likes your picture. I'm gonna have to kid you that you've got a new sweetie. I teased Ray about it. He's fun to tease like that. He gets kind of pink and sputters, but he likes it when I tease him. Never saw a guy who thought being teased was so much fun. He said once it was different being teased by somebody who likes him. I guess the people where he came from musta been world-class jerks. It's different with Egon. With him, it's a challenge. Big contest between the great brain and the great mouth. Sometimes when we're going at it, Ray sits there like he's at a tennis match, head going back and forth like a cartoon character, his mouth hanging open, like he isn't sure how to take us, but he'll get used to us. Ray's a good kid. To hell--uh, heck--with what the frat guys say, about him or about Egon. What do they know, anyway? Sometimes I think, okay, so everybody says you have to be in a frat to be somebody on campus, and I stop and wonder, 'who said?' Well, I admit it, Egon asked me that once. Wouldn't do to let him know he had a point. That's not how the game works.

Did you get the ten bucks I sent you? I know it's not much, but it's all I could manage. Everything costs a fortune in New York--well, you know that. Wish you weren't stuck out there in St. Louis helping out Uncle Alf and Aunt Grace. I miss those great pot roasts we used to have on Sundays. One thing I can tell the guys, my mom's the best cook in the world. Thanks for those super cookies you sent me. I had to hide 'em from Ray and Egon or they would have eaten them all. Okay, so I did share. Guy can share with his buddies, can't he?

I took Ellen Walters out last week. She's gorgeous. Okay, not as pretty as you, but she's got most of the girls here beat. I saw a lot of guys looking really envious. Had to strut my stuff. She has a friend who'd like to go out with Egon, but I don't think Egon'll go. He doesn't get into the dating thing very much. Says he has to study. Thing is, he means it. He even makes me study. Remember how I told you I went over to Egon's once a week last year to study with him. We're doing it this year, too. I'm trying to teach him how much better studying goes with rock and roll. Half the time he plays opera. Gross. I can't get into that stuff. We recruited Ray last month to join in the study sessions. For a freshman, he's got a super brain. Have to say, he knows things I never heard of. You should have seen him grin when I complained about it.

Thing is, he's into some really weird hobbies, is Ray. Occult stuff. No wait, Mom, don't go ballistic on me. He doesn't practice stuff like devil worship. He just knows about things like that. I asked him once why he studied the spooky stuff, and he gave me this big-eyed stare, all earnest and sincere, and said, "But Peter, somebody on the side of good has to know about things like that. How else can we stop it?"

Egon, of course, thought that was wonderful. Old Spengs might not know it, but he's got a lot of that old Spanish dude, what's his name, Don Somebody-or-Other, in him. Tilts at windmills, stuff like that. Somewhere in that pointy little brain of his is this great urge to save the world. He doesn't even know it, yet, but I can see it when he talks sometimes. He gets carried away, forgets I don't know the first thing about physics. But it isn't even physics. Ever since we had that parapsychology class together and started being friends, he's got this wild impulse that becoming a parapsychologist is going to help save the world. If I kidded him about it, he'd be mortified, but I think it's true. When he starts ranting about it, Ray looks like he's heard distant trumpets going, like he's about to jump into line and march off to battle. You gotta love those guys.

Worst of all, though, I've got this kinda strange urge to march along with them. Don't know how we'd do it, don't know if there's a buck in it or not but it doesn't sound dull. I know I always said I wanted to have an elite clientele, be a celebrity psychologist, rake in the dough. Gotta say there's something in that. All that nice, green money. But then I think, it'd be cool to work here and get big grants and play around with this parapsychology gig with Egon and Ray. I know it's early to think of that, and anyway, Egon's got a built-in job waiting for him out in Ohio. A family science lab. I halfway think he won't take it, though. Part of him wants to; family's family, after all. But another part of him, the part that set up a weird lab experiment last week to see if he could detect ghosts, wouldn't fit in with Spengler Labs. I met his dad a couple of times. Can you spell STUFFY? His uncle's like that, too. I could see them looking down their pointed little noses at yours truly. Obviously they've got no taste.

Funny thing, Mom, I didn't mean to listen--okay, not very much--but I heard Egon defending me to his dad last month. Okay, so I probably put on my worst behavior when I saw that old Pop Spengler didn't buy into the Venkman charm. But Egon was telling him what a great guy I was, how I was a lot smarter than I wanted people to think, and that I was a loyal friend, and that I had more imagination that any of his physics class buddies, all that good stuff. I'm blushing here. But he meant it. Egon is such a great guy it's hard to even say how great he is. I trust him, Mom. I really do. And then to hear him saying all that....

Ray's young enough that he's still into this hero worship gig, and he doesn't know about Pop yet. But Egon's met Dad and Dad tried to sell him the Brooklyn Bridge, and he trusts me, even after that. Not like the time they found a way to get me off the football team in my junior year in high school because Pop spent a few months in the slammer.

And then, I can't help wondering what Ray's gonna think when he finds out my old man's a con man. I was talking to Egon about it, and wondering what to do, and he said, "Trust Ray. He's got a good heart."

But it's not easy, this trust gig. I mean, I think Ray could be one of those buddies who lasts, like Egon is, but what if I'm wrong? I've only known him a couple of months, after all. Okay, Mom, bottom line. I guess I--I'm halfway afraid to take the risk. I know it worked for Egon, but how many Egons can there be in the world?

Next weekend's Thanksgiving. Egon is flying out to Ohio. I could see him fighting down the urge to offer to loan me airfare to St. Louis, but he didn't do it. He knew I wouldn't take it. Gonna have enough debts to pay off when I'm outa here, what with the student loans to cover what the scholarships don't. Someday, when I'm not in debt, when I've got enough money, I'm gonna set you up in your own house. With a Grandfather clock in the corner like the one Grandma Annie used to have. Might take awhile, but I'll get there one day.

Ray's got an aunt that lives right here in Manhattan, Upper East Side, even, and he says she puts out a great spread for Thanksgiving. She invited him over and he asked me to go, 'cause he knew I'd be in town. Ray took Egon and me over there for a dinner last month, and she's almost as good a cook as you are. But I'm not going for Thanksgiving. That's a family deal, and some other cousin is coming, too. Ray kept insisting, but I won't go. The restaurant is open on Thanksgiving and Mr. Baxter says if I work, I can get time and a half and he'll give me a big spread. Can't pass up the bucks. Ray does tutoring for extra money, so he understood that.

Take care, Mom, and if you have any more of your great cookies to spare, or maybe a batch of fudge, you have a very hungry son out here.

Love,

Peter

Nov. 28

Dear Mom,

Thanks for the fudge. It's as great as ever. Hope you had as great a Thanksgiving as I did. Don't suppose Pop came by, did he? I know he and Uncle Alf never got along, but I can always hope. He wasn't here, anyway. I got a great spread at the restaurant. They closed for customers about three and then Mr. Baxter put on a big meal for the waiters and busboys, white tablecloths like they'd done for the customers, a couple of tables shoved together. He slipped us all a big bonus, too. So here's another ten for you.

Then Ray came over the day after Thanksgiving morning and picked me up at the Frat House in his aunt's Buick. She loans it to him sometimes and he thinks it's great. When I get a decent car, it's gonna be sporty--and red--but Ray gets a charge out of that old black monstrosity. My old Chevy runs maybe two days a week, and the tires are a little bald so I don't drive it when it's wet or snowy. I don't want to wrap myself around a telephone pole. Anyway, Ray said the cousin never made it and Aunt Lois was stuck with tons of leftovers, and he wanted me to come. He'd've asked Egon, too, if he wasn't out in the wilds of Ohio. So I went.

He was all excited about bringing me, going on about how Aunt Lois just loves it if he brings friends over. When he was a kid, his folks died, and part of the time, when he was growing up, he lived with Aunt Lois, so he's really close to her. She's a sweet lady. You'd like her. But she's kind of into spiritualism. Weird paranormal stuff must run in Ray's family, the way science does in Egon's. She's still fun, though. Kind of motherly to Ray, and he just eats it up. Never saw a guy who thrived so much on affection. He's a likeable kid, so I can't figure out this home town place of his that didn't think much of him. I guess after his folks died, before he lived with Aunt Lois for awhile and another aunt and uncle for a while, he was stuck in foster homes in Morrisville, this little hick place upstate. I remembered that time when you were sick and they couldn't find pop and I got stuck in one of those places for a month until you got out of the hospital, and how much it sucked (and it wasn't your fault so, come on, don't worry, Mom). But here's Ray and he spent a few years there. And he's such a happy guy. He's a little shy, a little bit diffident, maybe not a ton of self-confidence, but he's happy, and he's getting more confident all the time. So I figure, he's gotta really be strong, inside where it matters.

Aunt Lois must've made a humongous spread for the actual day, a gigantic turkey, stuffing just like you make it (it was like she had your recipe!), all the trimmings. She and Ray hadn't made too big a dent in it the day before. We just stuffed ourselves so much we had to waddle out of the dining room. But it was fun watching Ray. He was babbling on and on about anything that came into his head, a lot more open than he is at school. And I figure, this is the real Ray, the one that losing his folks and the foster home gig never crushed out of him.

Sometimes, I get a little impatient with how gung ho he is, and I shouldn't, I know. But after that dinner, I don't know if I will be anymore. He halfway let it slip that the cousin was just a story and that they'd bought the big turkey because he wanted me to come, too. They denied it, but I'd bet big bucks that's what they did. All that trouble, extra turkey and stuff, just for me. He was telling Aunt Lois about me on the football team and about Egon's weird experiments, and going on and on about how neat he thinks we are, and I hafta say, I found myself actually feeling kinda humble. Yeah, me. Don't faint, Mom. Egon can get that out of me, too, like the time he defended me to his dad. I mean, I'm just a guy out for what he can get (though not with my friends). And I think of Pop and how he always comes in and wrecks things for me. I know that hurts you and I don't want to hurt you. I'm just trying to explain. I haven't gotten it all worked out in my head yet. I know I don't want to play Dad's game. But sometimes I'm not sure who Peter Venkman really is. I take my psych classes and sometimes I get going inside my head, trying to figure out what it is I want, and who I am. And I'm scared that I'll turn out like Pop.

But the dinner was great.

Egon just got back from Ohio; got delayed by a snowstorm and was complaining he'd missed his Quantum Mechanics class. And I thought, man, I wouldn't complain if I missed a class. Most guys in the frat wouldn't, either.

So, now the glee club is starting work on the Christmas concert. Egon's still in the glee club, and we talked Ray into joining. Ray must be the Christmas Monster or something. I swear it's his favorite time in the entire year. His aunt gave him a sweater with Santa Claus knitted into it, and he thinks it's the greatest thing he's ever seen. The frat guys are mocking it. Guess I'm a jerk, Mom. I kinda joined in, not when Ray was there. He doesn't know I don't do Christmas. I suppose he'll figure it out pretty soon.

But I hope you have a great Christmas. I've got your present picked out, and I'll have enough to buy it when I get paid at the restaurant on Friday night. I'll pack it off to you, okay. I think you'll like it.

Love,

Peter

Dec. 8

Dear Mom,

You're the greatest Mom in the world, and I'm a creep. I know it bugs you when I talk about Pop. I shouldn't do it. I'm glad you got to see him on the Sunday after Thanksgiving. So he did something right.

And thanks for saying you think I'm gonna turn out all right. I know how hard it is for you when I put you in the middle between Dad and me. I don't mean to do that. Sometimes it just gets away from me. I know you said I could sound off to you about him whenever I need to, but I'll try not to, I promise.

Between you and Egon, I'll be licked into being a decent guy, I guess. Egon took me off one night before the study session and laid down the law a little. He told me he didn't think it would be fair of me to start putting down Christmas around Ray. "He's younger than we are, Peter, and he's very idealistic. I would hate to think that you would hurt his feelings, and I would also hate to see you tarnish yourself in his eyes."

"Come on, Spengs, you know I don't do Christmas," I defended myself. After all, he knows all about that. He even understands it, which is pretty damn great, uh, darn great and more than I do half the time.

"True. But you can 'not do it' more quietly," he told me. "Don't bad mouth it in front of Ray. I'll say to him privately that you don't celebrate Christmas, and he'll back off, but don't put it down, either. If he respects your views, respect his."

Gotta say, he had a point there. It wouldn't be fair to expect Ray to listen to me gripe if I wouldn't listen to him rave. And I know that Ray's still finding himself, too. He's not like Egon, who had a pretty good idea what and who he was when he was three years old. With Egon, he only needs to smooth a few edges, learn how to socialize a bit, leave the lab once in awhile, but the inner Egon was always there. With Ray, he doesn't let the real Ray out as much. The enthusiasm is out there, but there's a part of him that's almost like me, doing the turtle sucking its head into the shell bit, keeping the real stuff that could get hurt safe inside. Kind of like making sure it's safe to be excited before he really is. He was a lot more quiet and hesitant back in September. He's come on a lot.

I never used to think about stuff like this, at least not as much, before I took those psychology classes. Now, I look at people and I can see all this stuff inside. Sometimes it makes things harder. Because I can stand back in a way and see when I'm doing this ego number. And I can see when I do something that hurts. Like when I sound off to you about Pop. I never used to pick up on that when I was a kid. I'd just let it all out and you took it all and smiled and tried to say the right thing. All those years, Mom, you never lost it when I did that. Guess I'm a lucky guy.

I'm still learning things about Ray. And he's still learning things about me. He saw me with some buddies once who'd had to much to drink--well, it was a weekend and we were partying. It bugged him. I could tell. I got kinda defensive. Nobody likes being in the wrong. But he still treats me like I'm somebody important. I like it when I stroll across the campus and girls look at me and hope I'll notice them. It's a real rush. And I like it when the guys think I'm big stuff. But I guess I just don't want Ray to look at me like that. Because that's the image, and it's for people I don't know. People who might trash me if they didn't think I was on top.

Guess I'm starting to want Ray to see me, not the BMOC. But I just can't get a handle on him.

Do I sound like I've just sat through a three hour psych class? The prof says not to try to psychoanalyze ourselves; he says it'll make us crazy quicker than anything. Maybe he's right. But I can't help wondering.

Love,

Peter

Dec. 16

Dear Mom,

Dad showed up yesterday. I was just coming back from glee club with Ray--Egon had rushed off for some weird experiment or other and said he'd see us later, but Ray was bopping along, throwing snowballs at telephone poles and singing parts of the songs we're working on for the show. So he's bellowing, "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow," when all of a sudden out pops Pop, and he's got a Christmas present for me all wrapped up in his hands. I about passed out from the shock.

And he's all good natured and buddy-buddy. "Who's your pal, son?" all the while sizing up Ray to see if he'd be a good mark. Ray doesn't have any money, and you can pretty much tell he's not rolling in it. Not that Egon looks like he is, but you can tell most of his clothes are expensive even if they're fashion disasters and he's got pricey shoes. But that doesn't stop Dad glad-handing Ray and sort of oozing friendship at him. Ray kind of likes him, I can tell, but he isn't sure how to react because he thinks I should be all excited, and I'm not. Turns out I'm right. Sorry, Mom, but Dad wanted a handout from me. He was down on his luck, he said, and needed a few bucks to tide him over. He had a job lined up for next week, but right now he's low in the water. Well, I took him off to one side and gave him the rest of my bonus money. Good thing I already got your Christmas present and mailed it off. Wish I could get out there on the school break but I know the car wouldn't make it so far, and you'd only worry about me driving it. It's great for dates if we don't go too far, though. My own wheels.

When we came back, Ray was staring at me and his eyes were worried, but he didn't say anything. Pop offered to treat us to a soda, so we went. And he put on a good show for Ray. I could see the kid relaxing. Even relaxed a little myself. I was pretty sure the money was the worst of it and he wasn't gonna hit on Ray for a new scam. I gave him a look, so he wouldn't try anything, and he didn't. He had fun playing Santa Claus over the present and I think it was real fun, but I'm so used to the holiday gig of his that I didn't want to fall for it.

After Pop left, Ray was all excited for me. "Gee, Peter, that's so great about your dad coming with your present." I didn't want to shoot him down when he was so excited for me, so I played along. Course he didn't realize Pop stiffed me for the bill for the sodas, so when I would've left the package on the table, Ray pounced on it and brought it along. I knew he'd ask about it after Christmas, so I took it back to the frat house and tossed it on my dresser. Okay, so it's a real kick he got me a present, but you know how he is. He does stuff like that when he wants something. He probably figured I'd give him the bread more easily if he came like the Greeks bearing gifts, the ones you're supposed to beware. But whatever the reason, there's a little kid down somewhere inside that can't help being tickled that he actually remembered Christmas. Betcha you put him up to it when you saw him a couple of weeks ago. Thanks, Mom.

Love,

Peter

Dec. 27

Dear Mom,

Made it through another Dec. 25^th. Wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, somehow. The sweater you made for me fit great--and I look like a class act in it. I opened it up on Christmas Eve the way you used to let me pick out one present for, and strutted my stuff. Showed it to Jerry Kilroy, other guy in the Frat house for the holidays and he was green as the Christmas tree with envy. His folks sent him a couple of boring shirts and his little sister gave him some puzzle game he couldn't work out. I did it in about five minutes. We sat around and watched some football game on TV for awhile. The restaurant closed at six and it wasn't open on Christmas Day because the Baxters were gonna be away visiting relatives. I did score a great Christmas bonus from Mr. Baxter, though. I didn't tell him I didn't do Christmas. I figured he might pull the bonus if I did. Gotta say he treats us well, even us lowly busboys.

Pop gave me a knit hat for cold weather. Bright green. Guess it'll do. I can set my own fashion.

Ray went to his Aunt for Christmas Eve and he tried really hard to get me to come, but I didn't go. Yeah, Mom, I can just hear you, I'm cutting off my nose to spite my face. Okay, but it's my gig and that's the way I have to play it.

So, Christmas Day, even old Jerry took off somewhere. Figures. I was watching more football on the tube when Ray showed up, looking kind of down. "Why aren't you with Aunt Lois?" I asked.

"She's gone on a trip to Europe," he said. "Left an hour ago. I drove her to the airport and I've got her car till she gets back." I knew he'd only drive it for special events, but that was Ray. Well, we've got my rustbucket if we need it.

He looked kind of pathetic, all on his own. Well, I had the Christmas bonus money, and I was gonna send it all to you, Mom, but I thought you would understand if I spent a little of it on Ray. So I said I was gonna go out for dinner and did he want to come. Never saw anybody's face light up that way before. He looked like I'd given him a thousand bucks. So we went to an expensive place not far from campus and I sprang for a big spread. Even if it was the "C" day, it was still kind of cool to watch him having fun like that.

Then we came back to campus and just wandered around for awhile. It was snowing, not very hard. I had pop's cap with me and I put it on. I explained it was from Dad, and Ray was tickled that it was my present. I don't know if he didn't figure out from meeting him what a scam artist he is, but he kept saying it was neat that Pop had shown up with a present. Ray told Egon and me in advance that he couldn't afford presents this year, and Egon said it was probably a good idea not to exchange them. Not that he's hurting for money, but he's good at this kind of thing, better than last year. He knew enough not to invite me to Ohio or spring for plane fare to St. Louis, even if I could tell he wanted to. But he knew from last year I wouldn't take it.

We found some of the students going around caroling and Ray lit up all over again and dragged me over to join them. Not my thing, but I went anyway, watching Ray sing his heart out, and envying him for all I'm worth. I can't even imagine what it would be like to let myself get carried away like that. But it was good to watch him.

So, anyway, that was Christmas. Maybe not so bad, Mom. I hope you had a great one.

Love,

Peter

Jan. 4

Dear Mom,

Back to the grind. It was kind of cool not to have to go to classes for awhile. I just bummed around, hung out with Ray, got into a major snowball fight with some TKE's, took Cindy McMillan out for New Year's Eve. Door to door service in my '57 Chevy. Great party, Mom. No, I didn't get wasted. Didn't take any drugs. You know I don't like that stuff. Cindy and I had champagne. Somebody brought half a dozen bottles, bless him. Dom Perignon, too. Major money. Smoooth. Cindy was way impressed. Maybe it's a good thing you can't see my smirk.

Egon's back from his trip to Ohio, and he's acting really pleased with me. Guess Ray told him about what we did on Christmas Day. He got me alone a day after he got back and said he was glad I'd given Ray a nice Christmas. I said, "Come on, Egon, I've gotta eat, don't I? Ray was there and I was there, and I had a little extra money."

"Enough for Luigi's?" he countered. Sometimes I think he's getting to the point where he can read me like a book. When I'm bullshitting him, uh, kind of covering up a little, he always knows. I was kind of worried about that until I figured out I could do it with him, too. He always says what he means, except when he's trying to get me to say what I mean, then he sort of shuffles around it with a look in his eye that says, 'You're not fooling me, Peter.'

"Heck, I got my bonus, Egon. They didn't feed us at the frat house on Christmas Day. Jerry took off somewhere, and I wanted to pig out after skipping lunch. Ray had his aunt's car. He's got it till the middle of February. Just think what we can do with a car handy--one that runs all the time, I mean."

Egon ignored that. "No matter what you say, I know you did what you did for Ray's sake, and I'm proud of you. Now, tell me how much studying you did over the break."

Egon fights dirty. He knew I hit the books but I didn't want to admit it. With most of the frat guys gone, it was the perfect time to get caught up, zip off a few quick papers so I wouldn't seem that busy when they all came back from break. But he knows I don't like to admit it. It's cool to just glide on through without lifting a finger. "Studying?" I pretended horror at the very thought. "On vacation, Egon? Get with the program here."

"Did you finish your paper for Polgetta's class?" We both had a class with the old duffer last year. That's how we met, remember?

I let him have that one. He'd have to pretend to lecture me if I didn't, so I kind of shrugged and said, "Maybe." He asked to read it. So we grabbed my books and went over to his place and he looked through the paper. He found six typos. Mr. Perfectionist. But then he set it down and looked up at me and said, "This is actually very good, Peter."

"Good? Of course it's good. I wrote it." But praise from Egon on school stuff is always a kick. He does it with Ray a lot because Ray still isn't quite sure of his own worth. And Egon would never lie and say something was good when it wasn't. Anybody can tell that. Ray's gaining confidence all the time.

Okay, Mom, I can hear you from here. Egon does the same kind of thing with me. Not that I've got a problem with my own worth. Moi? The great Peter Venkman? But Egon still appreciates good work--and tells me right out when I screw up on something or take the easy way out. I can't breeze through college as easy as I did high school. And there's old Spengs, in there nudging me.

Hey, Mom, what would you think if I decided to go for a Masters degree? Or even a Ph.D? Imagine me, Doctor Venkman? Doesn't that sound cool? Wouldn't that blow Uncle Alf and Aunt Grace away? Think of the major bucks I could rake in. I just might do that. Egon says I can get scholarships and grants, if I actually study. Where does he get off with the 'if'? He's right there pushing me every step of the way.

Love,

Peter

Jan. 17

Dear Mom,

I swear, Mom, I'm gonna brain Pop one of these days.

I was coming back from my abnormal psych class the other day and I ran into Ray, who had just been to a meeting of his comic book club. Yep, here he is, just turned eighteen, and he's still got this little kid thing for comic books. Superman and some dude I never heard of before called Captain Steel, and even Mickey Mouse, I kid you not. What little money he's got, he buys comic books, sometimes used at one of the comic stores so he won't have to pay as much. He says he's got every single issue of this Captain Steel, and he had a new issue with him that he traded for. He was so excited about it, he wasn't paying attention to anything else, and I hafta say it was kind of a kick to watch him. When I get excited about stuff, I don't go on like that. Somebody finds out and they shoot you down. I'm getting so I can do it with Egon now. He only shoots me down when I need it, the way you do, and that's cool. I can't see Ray shooting anybody down, and he's a good kid, but I'm still not sure.

So we're trekking along through the snow and he's kicking it with his boots and talking about finding a nice clear patch and making angels. Making angels, for Pete's sake, like he was eight instead of eighteen. Course if I wanted to do it with him, then it'd be cool and people would probably copy me. Ray's waving the comic in my face and then he stops talking and there's Egon and Pop, standing off beside the steps of Weaver Hall. They didn't hear us coming, and something makes me grab hold of Ray's arm and shake my head. I want to take off, but I don't trust Pop around Egon, so I want to see what he's got to say.

He was saying a lot. "But I knew a smart guy like you would go for something like this, Egon," Dad said earnestly, and he's trying to con him. I knew he would. "You've got a great future ahead of you. Pete says you're so smart any lab in the country would want you and you've even got one in your family. Well, top of the line research costs money, and a nice little nest egg is just what you need. I've got such a sweet deal, I couldn't help thinking of you."

Shit. There was Ray, standing there hearing every word, and he may be naive but he's not stupid. I sneaked a look at him, and his eyes were huge in his face and he looked utterly horrified. He didn't take any more than that to know what Pop was. Worst of all, he wasn't even looking at me. He was staring at them the way he would a snake in his path, and I knew I was gonna be history.

Egon cut in before Dad could say anything else. "I'm sorry, Mr. Venkman, but I'm not interested in your scam."

"Scam? Egon, I'm wounded to the quick." Pop gestured shamelessly, trying that patented honest look he has. "You're my son's best friend. Do you think I'd scam you? Yes, there are suckers out there and it'd be a crime not to take advantage of them, but this is legit. Pete would brain me if I pulled something crooked on you. A thousand dollar investment and you'd get it back tenfold. It's perfect. Nobody with brains like yours could pass this up."

"No lie, Pop," I gritted out too quietly for him to hear, my teeth clenched. Ray risked one quick peek at me and then turned his head away. Like he couldn't stand to look at me. Like I was pond scum. Like I was just like my old man. God, Mom, that hurt.

Egon kept on talking. "Mr. Venkman, Peter is my close friend, and because of that, I won't tell him what you tried to do. You appear to care for him greatly, but you don't realize how much it would hurt him to know that you'd try to con me. He's an honest man and very loyal to his friends. In spite of what you say, I know it's a con. My own father has had people try to perpetrate similar scams on him. I don't believe there's such a thing as a get rich quick scheme. You aren't the type to share one, if there is."

"No, this is real, Egon." He was in there pitching. I knew he'd never admit it was a crooked deal and all he wanted was to take Egon's money and run. I should have jumped in and given him hell--uh, yelled at him for it, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Egon was doing fine on his own and the last thing I wanted was to see the way he'd look at me. He wouldn't blame me, not for a second. He's already seen what Pop can do. Pop tried to scam him the moment he met him last year. For all I know, he's tried since, but Egon never said. Egon told me that he knew I was not my father and that I was his friend and that he trusted me. Pop's pulling numbers like this on him, and he trusts me? But I knew if he saw me and knew I heard he'd feel sorry for me, and I couldn't stand that. I didn't want him to know I was here.

So I figured I'd better get out of there before Egon's built-in radar told him I was listening to every word. Instead of heading into the psych building, I just took off. I heard Ray behind me, but he didn't call out my name. Maybe he didn't want Egon to know we'd been listening. But I didn't wait for him. I just took off. Went right off campus, headed for the subway, and wound up out in Brooklyn. Wandered around the old neighborhood for awhile and went to see Old Man Calavicci, remember him? The super in our last apartment building. He always was an old grouch and he didn't notice that I was upset. He just rambled on and on about all the tenants and what a pain they were, and how his bunions hurt, and I let him talk. Then I went into a McDonalds and, since I had my notebook with me, I thought I'd write this to you.

I'm sorry, Mom. I know how it bothers you when he pulls things like this. I didn't mean to go on about him, either, but I guess I just had to say it. Egon'll be cool. He won't talk about it to me, but I'll know. It's gonna be rough. Okay, so I act like I'm out for what I can get, but Egon knows that's not all of what I am. But how can he respect me when he's feeling sorry for me? And then there's Ray. I can just see how he'll take it. Maybe he'll even go to Egon. Egon'll put him straight, let him know I'm not gonna scam him--ever. But Ray's a funny kid. Puts people up on pedestals. I think I just fell off mine. A real crash landing. It hurts, Mom.

What am I going to do?

Love,

Peter

Jan. 29

Dear Mom,

I got your letter and you always know the right things to say. That because they're sorry about Pop doesn't mean they think less of me. That they'd be sorry because it hurt me but not sorry for me. I don't know how you do it, but I'm sure glad you're out there. It's not easy to believe that, but I guess I have to. It's true.

This is gonna be a long letter, so brace yourself.

I avoided Egon and Ray after that for awhile. I didn't go over to Egon's to study and I went the back way around campus so I wouldn't bump into either of them between classes. I knew Egon would show up at the restaurant before very long, but there was nothing I could do about that. Part of me was glad of that. Egon would kick sense into me. He's good at that. But then there was Ray. And Ray never comes to the restaurant because he can't afford to eat out very often and because he doesn't like to bother me when I'm working.

Egon tracked me down three days later. He'd have come earlier but I found out he got recruited for a special project in one of those weird physics classes and couldn't get out of it. He was waiting outside the restaurant when I got off shift. It was just past the dinner rush, and it was snowing again, but he was standing out there wearing a big old parka and a hat like hick farmers wear, with earflaps. Egon says it's not part of his ambition to make a fashion statement and he'll leave that to me, but--earflaps?

I stopped dead in the snow, and he said, "You should wear a hat, Peter. You'll catch cold."

I mumbled something about not having a hat.

"I know you do. Ray said you got one for Christmas and I have seen you wearing it."

Awkward pause. "Ray's wrong. Anyway, I lost it." It was sitting in my trash basket at the frat house, only reason it wasn't gone was because I hadn't taken out the trash yet. I didn't want anything from Dad. Not even the time of day.

Egon yanked off the flap thing and jammed it on my head, pulling up his parka hood to shield his own hair. "Leave it on," he said when I would have yanked it off and thrown it at him. Peter Venkman doesn't wear things like that.

"I want to talk to you," he said, and he sounded very stern. Mad at me. I wasn't sure how I'd got to be the bad guy here. He knows I don't buy into Dad's schemes. I've warned him never to fall for them.

"Geez, Egon, what did I do now? Leave off a comma in a report?" Okay, so I was pretty defensive. Stupid thing to say. I was only delaying the inevitable because he wouldn't back down.

Egon grabbed me by the arms and shook me. "Stop it. Listen to me," he said. He can get pretty impatient sometimes when he's trying to make a point.

"Short of decking you and taking off, I haven't got much choice." Besides, I was curious.

"I'm glad you realize that. Peter, I know you were there when your father was trying to scam me. I would hope you know that I do not hold his actions against you, and I never would. You do know that, don't you?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I know. You beat that into me last year. I guess I was just..."

"I can imagine. You were just afraid that I'd feel sorry for you. You are the most prickly man, Peter Venkman. I'm sorry for what your father does to you, but that is hardly the same as pity or contempt, and you know it very well. You're a psychologist, at least a student of psychology, and you understand my behavior as well as I understand the atom. I was angry at your father because he is an insensitive man. I accept that he is a con man and that it is a part of his essential nature, and I try to look past that for your sake. I'm not going to put you in an awkward position by feeling sorry for you. I'm going to leave that task to you, since you seem to be doing it very well without my help."

"Ouch. You don't pull your punches, do you, Egon." The funny thing, Mom, is that I felt miles better than I expected to. Egon would never get on my case if he felt sorry for me. He doesn't pick on people when they're down. And he was right, after all. I brought a lot of crap on myself. The last thing I wanted to do was feel sorry for myself. That was as bad as asking for pity. He saw me realize it and pull myself together. "Thanks," I muttered. "Sometimes I need you to remind me what a jerk I can be."

One of his eyebrows went up. Old Spock has nothing on Egon. "Of course I do. I dedicate my life to it, since it's such a full time job."

I punched him in the arm. Not very hard, but hard enough to sting a little. "Watch it, Spengster. I can only be pushed so far."

"Evidently." He struggled not to smile. Then he did get all serious again and I knew he wasn't finished.

"Okay, so you already read me your lecture. What did I do now?"

"Why are you avoiding Ray?"

Okay, definitely no punches pulled. "I'm not." He just stood there waiting, tapping his foot in the snow. I grimaced. "Okay, maybe I am. But he's probably glad of it. He was there with me when Dad was pulling his con on you. He heard every word. And the way he looked at me--Okay, Egon, so you don't hold Pop against me, but you're unique in the annals of humanity or something. Everybody else does. Why do you think I put on this big act all the time. So nobody knows it gets to me. So I can be superior to it all." If he hadn't known that already, I wouldn't have said it. It's got to the point that I don't need all those walls with Egon. I can talk to him, Mom, the way I can talk to you. Sometimes I can't believe there are actually two people in the whole world I can trust. Standing there in the snow with his parka hood up and big, clunky boots on, Egon didn't look like a miracle, but he kinda was one.

"And so you presume to know what Ray is thinking? All these classes in parapsychology have evidently granted you a peculiar form of ESP."

I tried to memorize the snowbank so I wouldn't have to face him. "Egon, he couldn't even look at me. So what am I supposed to think?"

He took my arm and dragged me down the street away from the restaurant door. It was snowing harder than ever, and Egon's ugly hat was really warm. "Ray is barely eighteen years old, Peter, and he isn't very experienced. You've been a hero to him. He overheard something that hurt you badly and he knew it did. He simply didn't have the social aplomb to know the right thing to say. He was embarrassed, and he's still rather shy. You do tend to explode at the drop of a hat, and he's seen that. He said he was afraid he'd say the wrong thing and make it worse."

Okay, right then I felt as high as my shoelaces, Mom, because that made perfect sense. If I hadn't been feeling sorry for myself, I'd have picked up on that. I guess I was testing Ray, in a different way than I tested Egon at first. When you only trust two people, trusting a third gets to be a major production. And I suddenly saw something else. I was setting myself up half the time, making things too hard, making my expectations so high that no one but a saint--or Egon Spengler--could hope to live up to that kind of perfection. Then I would blame everybody else, and say the world was full of people like Dad, users, and it was better not to take the risk. Kinda stupid, huh? I didn't want to rush out and make everybody my buddy, but I did want to make it up with Ray. He might be really young--okay, so I'm only twenty myself, but I think I've seen a lot more than he has. But he was a pretty decent kid and I liked him. Egon was...what's that word he uses? Immutable. Always there. Never turning on me. Sure, he's stiff and a little stuffy and he uses words Webster hardly knows, but my world's better because he's in it. And it's better because Ray is, too.

"You got me," I told Egon. I halfway wanted to hug him, but that would have embarrassed the crap out of me. Instead I grabbed him the way he'd grabbed me before and kind of squeezed his arms. "I better go track him down before he starts pulling this humble number and thinks I'm avoiding him because he's not good enough or something." I shuddered at the thought. Ray was getting better all the time, and he hadn't played being that humble for a long time. I didn't want him to revert.

"I believe he's in his dorm room," Egon said. "Do you want me to come?" It was an offer of moral support.

I grinned at him to let him know how much I appreciated it. "Thanks, big guy. But I think I better do this one on one."

I was halfway to Ray's dorm when I realized I was still wearing the earflaps. I started to reach up and yank it off and hide it in my pocket, then I remembered Egon standing there earnestly in the snow, and I shrugged and left it on.

Ray's dorm was full of light and music, stereos going full blast in half the rooms, most of the doors wide open, guys hanging out, some of 'em studying to the music, some of 'em playing cards or goofing off. I passed them all by without even noticing. I had something important to do.

Ray was studying when I pushed open the door. He never locked it, not even when he was asleep, and I got on his case about it once in awhile.

When I came in, he jumped and slammed shut his chemistry book. "Peter!" He looked nervous, and I hated that. My buddies shouldn't look nervous at the sight of me.

"Hi, Ray," I said. "I'm a jerk."

His jaw dropped. "No, you're not," he said really quick. "Why do you think that?"

"Because I was scared." It wasn't what I meant to say, but it's what popped out. I don't think I could have said anything else that would have floored him like that.

After a minute, he said in a funny voice, "Why were you scared?"

"Because you finally figured out what my dad was like. And I was afraid you were going to cut and run like all the others." Egon was right, I owed Ray more than I'd given him. I hadn't been fair to him, and that wasn't right. So he was gonna get the whole thing, even if it hurt.

"All the others..." His eyes opened really wide. "Oh, gosh, Peter, that's awful. No, I wasn't going to cut and run. You're my friend. I'd never do that. I just felt so bad for you, and I figured you were sorry I had to see it, that's all. I just...didn't know what to say."

"You're doing pretty good, buddy," I assured him. Mom, spilling my guts is tough. Guys are never very good at it. Even with my psych classes and learning that sometimes it's good to talk things out, this was about as hard as it got. Egon would say that the best things are hard to do. He's always got some pithy little saying like that to teach me how to behave. "You were right. I didn't want to talk to anybody. I was half afraid Egon was gonna pity me--and he never would. And you looked so shocked I was afraid you were gonna think I was like my dad. And it was really rotten of me to believe that of you. Not fair to you."

"I don't know your dad, Peter. I only talked to him that one time when he brought your present. But he's not you. I can tell you aren't like that. I wish your dad wasn't because I can see how much you hate it. But, golly, I'd never blame you for what he did. We should never be blamed for what our parents do."

I know Ray's parents were dead; they died when he was ten or eleven, I think. I wondered if he ever had been blamed for his parents. "Lots of people do, though," I admitted. "No biggie. Their loss."

"It sure is," he proclaimed loyally. I must have been nuts to think I couldn't trust Ray.

"Hey, I must be getting you trained pretty good." I couldn't help grinning, Mom. I felt great. "Ray, I'm sorry. I just wasn't quite ready to trust you, and that was stupid. Egon said it was stupid and he's right."

"I know Egon's your best friend," he started to say, but I grabbed him and slapped my hand over his mouth. It wasn't a contest, Mom. A guy can have two best buddies. I know, because I do. And here was Ray, being humble, and acting like he was second best, and he's not. So we had a wrestling match, knocking things off his shelves and books flying all over the place, and I won, of course. I'm older and smarter and I've been around and know how to fight. But he was having a ball. So I pinned him, and I laid it on the line for him, about how smart he was and how he was gonna make a name for himself and that he didn't need to be humble. And then I sorta explained how hard it had been to trust Egon, and now he was one of the select lot, too. And then I realized something really great, Mom. That Egon and I needed Ray because he balanced us so well. Having him in there made it all work even better. So I told him that, and you'd think I'd given him a hundred bucks or a knighthood. I told him it was better with him there, and what did he do but come out with this yin and yang thing that Egon and I had talked about before. Maybe I didn't tell you about that, but he gets all serious sometimes and he sprang that on me. I think the Three Musketeers works pretty good, though so I told Ray that and he was really thrilled.

Anyway, I felt a lot better after that, and I could see that Ray did, too. He said he wanted to tell his Aunt Lois about being friends with us--not like she probably hasn't heard it sixty times before, but she's over in Europe trailing around meeting crowned heads or at least writing postcards by the bucketful, if the ones Ray has pinned up on his bulletin board are any indication. He said he wouldn't tell her about my dad, though. I figure, someday down the road, if she has to know, I'll tell her myself.

You know, Mom, the more I think about it, the more I want to stick around here when I graduate, maybe even teach, like Egon suggested once. Imagine me, a teacher! Weird. Anyway, the three of us might be able to get grants and stuff. Ray's into this spooky gig like Egon is, and maybe there's even a buck to be made from it. If there is, I'll find it because the other two aren't going to think of it, and somebody has to. Who better than me?

Anyway, Ray and I kidded around for awhile, then I went back to the frat house. I had to sneak in a little studying before I went to bed.

When I got there, I went up to my room and there was the green knit hat lying on the middle of my bed. And there was a note pinned to it in Egon's handwriting.

"It's not worth freezing over," was all it said. But I tossed it on the desk, note and all, instead of back in the wastebasket, and when I hauled out my books, I was grinning because everything was all right.

So, don't worry about me, Mom. I'm gonna make it. I can see it now, a great future ahead of me. And it's the Three Musketeers all the way. All for one and one for all. Sounds good, doesn't it? Did musketeers ever tilt at windmills like Don Whatsis? Maybe we'll tilt at ghosts instead. So what's tilting anyway? I can always spring it on Egon if I figure it out. Think there's a buck in it?

Lots of love,

Peter.

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