Chapter Three

The door slowly swung in.

"Uh, yah?"

"May I come in?" asked Hazel.

"Sh-sure. C'monin."

The student looked vaguely familiar to her, as they all did one way or another. Sophomore, she guessed. He didn't quite seem to have recognized her as president of the college, but that wasn't the point. A non-stoned, non-student adult person meant trouble, or maybe they didn't see it that way.

Or see her that way.

"Is this a party? Can anyone come?" she asked brightly.

"Uh, sure. Sure, yeah. C'mon."

The young man walked, not too unsteadily, down a long rough paneled hallway to another unfinished, aged-to-grey door, and stopped to hold it open for her. As she walked through, the room opened up to a high ceiling and a breadth over to a wide pair of windows looking out onto the downstream gully of the creek.

About a dozen students, some looking more familiar than others, sat in a circle. Most all of them were sitting on mats, some with extra wedge or roll-shaped cushions. A few sat cross-legged, others back on their haunches, and a very few in what Hazel recognized as the actual lotus position. They were all looking up at her, looking quite un-stoner-ish, whatever that was.

A taller, older, more intent looking student leaning forward said "Did you come to join us in today's meditation session, President Doone?" The name Pilkington came to mind.

"No, Mr. Pilkington, I appreciate the invitation," Hazel answered, thinking that there wasn't really an invitation in the question, but it seemed wise to treat it as one. "I'm here because someone nearby called me with a concern over loud parties in this mill, which is not college property."

"Mrs. Finnerty." The compact young woman across the room from her said it as a statement of fact, not as a question. "She tried coming over and telling us we were trespassing. I started to show her our letter of permission from the historical society, but she just tried to grab it, so I put it back in my backpack."

The young man next to her, the intent looking one, asked "You knew we had permission to be here, correct, ma'am?"

Hazel thought. She did not know about it, but their story and the suggestion of a letter led her to expect that their story was a true one. "Yes, but when I get a community complaint...."

"She thought we were worshiping the devil or something like that." This from the young woman.

"And the music?"

"None. We just hit the bowl twice to start, and a third time when we're ready to close."

"The bowl? asked Hazel.

"Yes. We could . . . " The tall intent young man leaned forward, stretched himself further to reach a pen, and relaxed back into position.

With a fluid movement, he reached down next to him, and struck a silvered object sitting on the floor next to him, and the wood framed room began to hum with a bright, vibrant tone that seemed to sustain itself for a time, then slowly eased down into a softer, deeper ring.