The People You Meet Along the Way

Jina used all her self-control not to skip down the painful white hallway of the museum. She wanted to leave a good impression on Prof. Ackerman. She ironed her white buttoned shirt and black skirt, and checked that her buttons fit into right holes. She removed the scruffs and scratches from her black shoes and polished them. Her brother had teased that her scatterbrained butt would mess her up somehow, so she shot back that he can eat cow manure. She had smoothed out her shirt one more time before she walked out of the house, trying to ignore her brother’s laughter. She told herself not to mind her brother’s words and think about why she was there.

Jina recalled fond memories when she first became interested in folklore. She read all the information at museum exhibits, trying to piece together a timeline from the listed times. Jina spoke to a folklorist for most of the trip, listening intently to the passionate lecture of the Professor. The folklorist mentioned a lot of field studies where they traveled to many places to talk to many people, and discovered the stories of many different cultures. 

She grabbed ghost stories, urban legends, and mythology off of library shelves to read for hours and hours. Jina strolled through the older sections of town and ventured deep into forests, envisioning ancient practices that had long been extinguished, the kind she could only read about. The child version of her got overwhelmed by wanderlust and stories from long past.

Jina found the plate that indicated “Professor Trent Ackerman’s” office and noticed the door opened ajar. Her mood dampened for only a moment when she saw a boy her age sitting at a table near a bigger desk, sorting through papers. Well, knowing what she’s got to do right off the bat can be relieving, she supposed, but where is the Professor?

“Hi,” Jina greeted the boy uncertainly, “Is this Prof. Ackerman’s office?”

He made a face at her. Jina disrupting his work must’ve been the worst thing she could do to this boy.

“What do you want?”

Why does he have to sound like that? “I’m going to be working with him starting today!” Jina forced an optimistic tone, despite the boy’s attitude. “I’m excited to meet him. That's all. I guess we’re sorting papers today?” She sat next to the boy and reached out for some papers.

He stopped her. “He hasn’t come in yet, and I don’t know what he’ll have you do. Leave the organizing to me. I don’t want newbies like you to screw up the process.”

Jina pulled back her hand into her lap. Even if she started today, surely, a simple task like organizing would be fine? She persisted in helping organize the papers for the next few minutes. After the fourth or fifth try, the boy snatched up a paper and pen, scribbled across it, and slapped the paper in front of her.

“There. That’s the system,” the boy said. “If you screw it up, you’ll have hell to pay.”

“Uh-huh,” Jina replied. “I promise I’ll do my best!”

Jina took notes to better remember the organization system the boy wrote out for her. She asked the boy. He already had his attention on her, which startled her.

“You’re one of those who have a pigsty of a room, don’t you?”

“My room isn’t that dirty,” Jina protested. “It’s lived in.”

“Yeah,” the boy said. “It’s a pigsty.”

“It’s really not! Nothing’s on the floor, except for the stack of books underneath the dresser and nightstand—” Jina paused, noticing the boy’s expression, “a neat stack. I don’t have a big enough room or organization supplies or any idea how to, okay? I’m not a slob, but your organization system is nothing I’ve familiarized myself with before. It’s not the common “Last name, first name”, or the Dewey system—come on.”

Looking like he’d eaten something gross, the boy explained his organization system, why it was a suitable one for Prof. Ackerman, and also explained how his own room is organized. Although it was too much for her taste, Jina admired the boy, in a way, for his patience and diligence with his system. 

“Most people call me a clean freak,” he said.

“I guess,” Jina confessed. “For me, anyway. It just sounds like you have a system and stick with it. I don’t see a problem with that.”

 The boy tapped his pen on the table, chewing his cheek.

“You’ll find yours. Endless knowledge at your fingertips, as it were.”

“I think having neat stacks underneath my nightstand is an aesthetic.”

“Ugh.”

Jina laughed and continued organizing for another twenty minutes. She still annoyed him whenever she dared interrupt his work, but he didn’t look disgusted, or needed to be convinced to help her to an extent.

Jina jumped when the door swung open and a man walked in. His hair sat on his head like a bird’s nest, as if he’d taken a nap before walking in. His shirt was half-tucked into his pants. One leg folded higher than the other, and his shoes had scruffs on it. She continued to look at the man awkwardly as he ransacked his desk for something.

She stood out of her seat, “Sir…Sir? Can I help you find anything?”

The man paused and turned his head to look at Jina. He grabbed his hair, his eyes going wide.

“Oh no! Were you that student that meant to come in? Wasn’t that tomorrow?”

“Um…” Jina started. “The 16th, sir…Today’s the 16th…”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t prepare anything for you today. Help August sort the papers out. Have him tell you how to organize them.”

“Trent!” August protested.

“Oh, August,” Prof. Ackerman dismissed him, “You need to relax. She needs to learn something.”

“It’s not my fault you forgot she was coming, why do I have to deal with it!”

“You need to learn how to network—”

“I had enough—” 

“You can never have enough,” Prof. Ackerman interjected. “August, could you please—”

“Can’t you get her anything else to do?”

Prof. Ackerman’s shoulder sagged then he passed a hand over his face. He sighed.

“I’m not going to convince you to do this, aren’t I? All right, all right, fine. Your mother wasn’t kidding when she said you're a clean freak. I’ll just—” He stopped at the door and turned towards me. “Jina, is it? I think I remember reading that somewhere—come with me, I’ll just give you a tour of the place today. A one-person visit to the museum, yeah?”

Jina perked up. “Oh, oh yes. That’d be wonderful!”

Prof. Ackerman grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“August, she might be a good addition to the team. Her enthusiasm is going to rub off on you, I know it.”

Jina didn’t think she was all that enthusiastic, more that her nerves got the better of her. She felt happy to hear Prof. Ackerman saying she belonged here anyway.

“Leave me in peace, Trent,” August groaned.

“Alllll right, sourpuss,” Prof. Ackerman drawled. 

Prof. Ackerman led her around the different exhibits in the museum. He stood in front of them and acted out as if they were on a tour. Jina played as an attentive member and asked questions. Prof. Ackerman’s enthusiasm leaked from his voice while he answered. It got to the Native American exhibit, showing all the tools that they used, and the clothes they wore on mannequins. 

Prof. Ackerman went into a whole lecture, then he went into tangents and topics that related somewhat to the culture, he went into comparisons and studies he read on said culture, and the cultural appropriation problem. Jina couldn’t keep up with what Prof. Ackerman told her. She strained her ears and racked her brain for her own studies on these topics, but not quick enough as Prof. Ackerman jumped to one topic to another. The tour that Prof. Ackerman took her on dissolved into Prof. Ackerman’s inner monologue on the many topics he studied. Jina looked at the exhibits, not making it obvious she stopped listening. 

It irked her that she couldn’t keep up with him, but she remained hopeful she would be able to in the future. She disliked how he dragged her around but didn’t take it too personally. It thrilled Jina to have a mentor who was so passionate about his work. If only he would snap out of his tangent, though. She tried at different times to say she couldn’t follow his words, but he ushered her into a different area or thought of another tangent to go into.

“Trent,” A woman came from the entrance of another exhibit that Prof. Ackerman took Jina in, “what in the world are you doing?”

The woman crossed her arms. Her eyes bored into Prof. Ackerman, her tight ponytail pronouncing her exasperated expression.

“Oh,” Prof. Ackerman said, “I’m showing Jina around the museum. She’s new, and I thought what better way to welcome her?” he chuckled. He glanced to the ceiling and pulled at his collar.

“You forgot she was coming, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Prof. Ackerman admitted. “Mixed up the dates.”

The woman rolled her eyes, and gave her attention to Jina, “Sorry you got roped with this joker,” the woman pointed her thumb at Prof. Ackerman, “but he’s one of the best—or whatever. Trent, stop makin’ her ears bleed and get August and Jina to the next room, it’ll do them some good to participate in organizing the festival coming up next month.”

Prof. Ackerman blinked then smiled.

The woman exhaled. “A cultural festival. The one I’ve been annoying the council about for the last month?”

“Yeah,” Prof. Ackerman said like he was the one who remembered it, “that one.”

“I thought August was acting as secretary for your birdbrain?” The woman shook her head. She looked at Jina once again. “Name’s Solceia Wickery. Call me Miss Wikery or Sol if you prefer. Come to me if this one is giving you problems. Lord knows I need help, too.”

“Thanks,” Jina said.

Miss Wikery shooed us away, so we headed back to Prof. Ackerman’s office. He pushed aside some documents from his desk and picked up a stack underneath it.  He straightened them out with a couple taps on the table to put underneath his arm, and then he called August to follow them to the other room for the cultural festival. August brought his bookbag along.

“I thought that’s what you were doing before coming to the office,” August said.

“Uh—” Prof. Ackerman started.

“Never mind,” August said. He rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath.

Prof. Ackerman tugged at his collar. Jina caught his eyes, and he turned away. It must bother him that he’s so forgetful. Jina understood. She doesn’t forget as often as him, but having it happen for something important is stressful.

A lot of people gathered around a large l-shaped table. Miss Wickery sat at the short part, engrossed in her notes. She motioned us to sit in the open spaces near her. August sat next to her. He bent over to unzip his bookbag and took out paper and some pens. He halved his stack and placed it in front of Jina, along with a pen.

Jina stared at the paper in front of her, then at August. 

“Thanks,” she said.

August nodded and wrote on his paper. Jina did as well, writing on the top with the purpose of the meeting and the time. She glanced over to Prof. Ackerman, who scanned over the stack he brought with him. It must’ve been his notes for this meeting.

Many people threw in ideas and plans for the upcoming festival lasting longer than Jina thought it would take. She appreciated August lending her his paper and pen. She wouldn’t have remembered it otherwise. Prof. Ackerman contributed a lot to the meeting. He read directly from his paper, which gave a clear structure for his thoughts, a large contrast to how he was before. Jina made sure to take note of the concepts she recognized. Jina realized she could better learn from him by attending meetings. 

Jina didn’t expect August to throw in some of his two cents in. She hadn’t thought that the interns could contribute. She only started today, so she’d rather observe how things work before offering her own ideas.

As the meeting drew to a close, Miss Wikery passed a paper to Jina and August. The festival dates were listed across the top, and Miss Wikery’s comments included a to-do list for what they could do in preparation for the festival. 

“August knows enough about how this stuff works from his mother, so Jina, do your best. Don’t forget to ask anyone for help if you need it.”

As they exited the meeting room, Prof. Ackerman struck up a conversation with Jina. He expressed his regret on how he handled things today, so he thought he could lend her some of his favorite books to her to make up for it.

“Who does that for an apology?” Miss Wikery said.

“Oh no,” Jina said. “It’s the best! Professor, I would love to read your books.”

Prof. Ackerman grinned at her.

“It’s impolite to put loaned books on the floor, Jina,” August said. “Maybe look into getting a bookshelf.”

“Oh?” Jina said. She might think of him as a clean freak at this point if he’s so bothered by this that he brought it up again. “Who’s assuming I’m going to do that? Anyway, do you have $50 bucks to fork over for a bookshelf?” She continued when August didn’t say anything for a minute, “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought, little jerk.”

“Oh,” August said. “Shut up. I was only joking.”

“You suck at jokes,” Miss Wikery said, and chuckled, “but at least Jina is forgiving enough.”

“Sorry,” August muttered. He scratched the back of his head, his ears turned red. “I was only joking.”

Prof. Ackerman clapped a hand on August’s shoulder, “I thought it was funny.”

“And you have a sucky sense of humor,” Miss Wikery said.

The group halted where the hallway broke off into different directions. She went down the other way, where she told Jina it was in the direction her office was in. The rest of them continued down until they reached Prof. Ackerman’s office. August sat at the table. Prof. Ackerman explained that August was waiting for his mom to pick him up.

“Thank you,” Jina said. “I’m looking forward to working with you, sir.”

“Call me Trent,” he said. “Please. But uh, I’ll make sure you have a more fulfilling mentorship tomorrow.”

“No worries. Today was great.”