Andrew Clayton sat at his dorm-room desk, staring into the blank plaster eyes of Poseidon and ignoring the letter he'd slid beneath the bust's base. Yet another warning from the credit-card company he now owed $2,500. Behind him, piano music crashed from the stereo speakers like a movie theme. Bee-thoven's "Apassionata." He'd been buying a lot of Beethoven CDs lately. He'd been throwing a lot of parties, too, paying for most of the liquor himself, trying, as he told his counselor, "to develop friends." His grades had... More >>>