Chapter 11

On Monday, life returned to normal, more or less. I ate breakfast with Kendall and then we walked up the Hill together for our first classes. In my Calculus class, Professor Tow was in a good mood, so he peppered his lesson with math jokes. (What do you call a percolator that makes coffee on an airplane? A high pot in use. Hypotenuse ... get it? Groan.)

In my Intro to Architecture class, Professor Spielman lectured about the Greek orders. I already knew how to distinguish Doric from Ionic from Corinthian, so I simply doodled in my sketchpad (drawing column capitals and entablatures, of course).

In American Literature class, Professor Feller discussed the Civil War and its effect on authors of the time.

Finally, I met Kendall for lunch. To my surprise, the Art History girls were only two tables away. The brunette smiled coquettishly when I glanced in her direction. The blonde rolled her eyes at her friend’s antics, but smiled as well, her blue eyes sparkling warmly.

“Aren’t those the girls from your class?” Kendall asked, noticing my glance.

I nodded.

“Why don’t you say hello to them?”

“Because I don’t know them all that well,” I temporized. “I mean, I don’t even know their names,” I added, which was the truth.

Kendall seemed satisfied by my answer, so she changed the subject. Unfortunately, she changed the subject to what I was eating. Or, more to the point, to what I wasn’t eating.

“Look,” I said at last, “I ate too much this weekend. I probably gained ten pounds. And worse, I didn’t work out at all.”

“Paul, you look fine,” she said.

“Can we change the subject?” I asked moodily.

“Sorry,” she said. “I worry about you.”

“I know,” I said, softening. “I just don’t wanna talk about it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“How were your classes this morning?” I asked, hoping to steer the conversation to a more comfortable—and innocuous—subject.

For the rest of our meal, we talked about everyday things. Afterward, I kissed her goodbye and headed to the A&A building. I needed to do some work on my Design project, and I could use one of the drafting boards in the student design lab. Samantha Poole was there when I arrived, so I grabbed a board next to hers.

“Are you working on the project?” she asked.

“Yep. You?”

“Mmm hmm. But I think I’m hopeless.”

I looked over her shoulder—her drawing was a mess. The assignment was to create floor plan and elevation drawings of our homes (our parents’ homes, really). Her drawing was out of scale and weirdly skewed. It looked like a house from the other side of the Looking Glass.

“Design isn’t even my concentration,” she said in resignation.

“What is?”

“Urban Planning. And I can’t draw to save my life.”

“You don’t have to,” I explained. “Here, let’s start over. Okay, now think about your house. Walk through it in your head,” I suggested. “Just sketch the basic plan. Once you do that, you can use a T-square and straightedge to do the floor plan. So you don’t have to be able to draw or do design. You just have to know how to use a straightedge. And you have to remember what your house looks like, of course.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she said.

“It is easy,” I said. “Here, you start sketching on a new piece of paper and then I’ll help you lay out the floor plan. Okay?”

Fortunately, my assurance was contagious—as intended—and she flipped to a new piece of drafting paper with a bit of enthusiasm. We spent the next thirty minutes laying out the basics of her house. Once she finished the floor plan, she would be able to use it as a basis to create the elevation drawing.

By the time one o’clock rolled around, Samantha had a workable sketch. She would need to clean it up quite a bit, but she was well on her way to a final drawing. Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten a thing done on my drawings. As we rolled up our drawings and stuffed them in our carrying tubes, I made plans to come back to the lab later that afternoon.

With that, we headed to Design class. We were late, but not too late—we walked through the door right after Professor Joska did. We didn’t want to face his wrath, though, so we kept our heads down and scurried to our desks.

“I’d ask if you had a good excuse for being late, Mr. Hughes and Miss Poole,” Joska said to our backs, “but I saw you in the design lab. At least I know you were working on your projects,” he added. “In the future, however, if you can’t make it to class before I get here, don’t bother showing up at all.”

I felt my face heating with anger.

Joska ignored me and started grilling us on our reading assignment. I had read the remainder of the human sciences chapter over the weekend, so I answered his questions whenever he leveled his basilisk gaze at me. He still seemed to be mocking me, but I tried not to let my simmering anger affect my expression. When the bell finally rang, I felt like I’d just finished a hard workout.

“Thanks for all your help, Paul,” Samantha said as she gathered up her things.

“Any time.”

“What was that about?” Trip asked after she’d gone.

“We were working on our Home Project together in the lab,” I explained. “Well, we were working on her drawings. I didn’t get squat done on mine.”

“You know,” Trip said, “I think that may be why Joska put her in our group.”

“In your group,” I said. When he grew silent, I felt guilty and tried to cover my sour grapes by changing the subject. “She’s an Urban Planning major,” I said. “Although she really can’t draw.”

“She can draw,” Trip said, “but not like you. Or even like me, for that matter. She wouldn’t be in the Architecture program if she couldn’t. Although you’re right, she’s not the greatest draftsman. But dude, she’s a whiz at planning and scheduling.”

“No kidding,” I said.

After that, Trip changed the subject to our floor’s intramural football team. We had our first game on Thursday—versus the Reese Hall Ground Floor team. Consequently, Trip wanted to get in an afternoon practice. I still had to return to the design lab to work on my project, but I agreed to spend a couple of hours at the practice field.

After dinner, Trip knocked on my door.

“Luke smuggled a girl up to our room,” he said as he flopped onto Billy’s bed. “D’you mind if I hang out here for a while?”

“Luke’s got a girl in your room?” I asked.

“Yeah, some girl he met this weekend. He claims they’re gonna ‘study,’ but ... well ... you know.”

“Sure,” I said, nodding in understanding. “But I wasn’t gonna stick around. I gotta go work on my project for Design class.”

“That’s cool,” he said. “I’ll go to the lab with you. I need to finish mine too.”

With that, he headed back to his room to get his drafting set and carrying tube. A few minutes later, we headed out.

Since Architecture was such a demanding major, the student design labs were always open. Neither Trip nor I had pulled an all-nighter yet, but from talking to other students, we knew it was inevitable. As we progressed in our education, round-the-clock work on a design project would become more common.

When we got to the lab, it was mostly empty, so we chose two drafting boards near the windows. For the next two hours, we worked on our drawings.

After we returned from the lab, Luke and the girl were gone, so Trip said goodnight and headed to his room. In my own room, I tossed my stuff on my bed and then called Gina.

“So,” I asked, “did Regan give you a hard time about missing the party on Saturday?”

“Yeah, but I don’t care,” she said. “I mean, you’re more important than her.”

“Thank you,” I said. For a few minutes, we talked about our classes and everyday things. Then I decided to broach a subject that had been nagging me since Saturday morning. “Hey,” I asked, “do you ever call Kendall?”

For a moment, Gina was silent. Then, “I used to. But...” I could hear the shrug in her voice.

“What do you mean you ‘used to’?” I asked.

“When we first got here, I used to call her,” Gina said. “But she was never home, or she was too busy to talk, or something. Why?”

“I was just curious,” I said as lightheartedly as I could.

“I mean, I still love her,” Gina said, “but I guess it’s different now that we’re living in the same city.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Anyway, that wasn’t why I was calling. I’ve got some reading to do for class,” I said. “I know it’s late, but I thought maybe we could get together in the lobby. I mean, if you need to do some reading too.”

“Yeah,” she said immediately. “I’ve gotta finish a Western Civ. chapter. We’re studying Rome. Even though I already know the stuff, it wouldn’t hurt to go over it again. And it’d be cool just hanging out,” she added. “Do you wanna invite Kendall too?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. My lobby or yours?”

“Yours,” I said.

“Cool. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

When I called Kendall to ask if she wanted to join us, she declined. She said she had a Child Psychology paper to write, and she needed the quiet of her apartment. So I told her I loved her and hung up. Then I headed down to meet Gina.

When I checked my mailbox on Wednesday, I had a card from Susan and a note telling me I had a package.

The card read, Thanks for a wonderful weekend. I enjoyed seeing you. And I especially liked your new “ring.”

At that point, I’m sure I turned six shades of purple.

The note continued, Hopefully, you’ve gotten your printer by now. Doug said you’d need it for printing out term papers. I hope you enjoy it. Take care of yourself. Love, Susan. P.S. – Call your mother.

With a chuckle at her final admonishment, I took the package notice to the post office counter. I showed them my student ID and they handed me a large box. Sure enough, it was an Okidata dot-matrix printer. Back in my room, I put the box on my bed and headed across the hall to Trip’s room.

“What’s going on?” I asked as he opened the door.

“Just listening to some music,” he said as he gestured toward his headphones.

“Oh? What?”

“John Coltrane,” he said. “Actually, it’s the Miles Davis Quartet, but Coltrane was a sideman for Miles in ‘58.” At my blank stare, he chuckled. “It’s jazz, man,” he explained.

“Oh, okay.”

“Lemme put on something you’ll recognize,” he said. “How about the Yardbirds?”

I shrugged.

“You’d know ‘em if you heard ‘em. But I’ll put on something else. You up for the Beatles?”

“Yeah,” I said with a laugh, “I’ve heard of them.”

“The Beatles it is,” he said. Then he carefully removed the jazz LP from his turntable and put on “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.”

When the music started playing, he turned down the volume and invited me to sit. Luke was at the library with his girlfriend, Tara (the girl from Monday night), so we had the room to ourselves.

I don’t know why, but talking with Trip was relaxing. We talked until dinnertime, about everything from science fiction to music and movies. I chuckled at the thought of a Hemingway book that I’d read in high school, Men Without Women. I don’t know if Hemingway had a good idea or not, but I certainly enjoyed not having to worry about Kendall, Gina, or any of my problems.

The next morning, Kendall and I ate breakfast together, as usual.

“I was thinking...,” she said. “Since you’ve got to finish your project this afternoon, and you’ve got your football game this evening, maybe we could hang out after your class this morning.”

“That’d be cool,” I said.

“I could meet you in the A&A building after my Child Psych. class,” she suggested. “We can spend the day together. Until you need to do your project, that is.”

“I’ve still got Art History at twelve fifteen,” I said. “But we can hang out till then.”

“Oh, okay.”

With that, we made our plans.

When I walked out of my Drawing class, Kendall was waiting for me.

“What’re you grinning about?” I asked suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, a little too quickly.

“Uh-huh.”

“You know the bulletin board in the main atrium?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Well, I was reading some of the notices while I waited for you.”

“And...?” I prompted. The board was full of all sorts of things: exhibit schedules, seminar announcements, roommate-wanted notices, party flyers, and even the odd lost-dog poster.

“There was one about models.”

“Cool,” I said. “We haven’t had to build any yet. I mean, I’m gonna have to, but probably not till next quarter.”

“Not those kinds of models,” she said with a grin. “People models.”

“People models? Why would I make a model of a person?”

“No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Figure models,” she explained. Then she practically shoved a flyer in my face.

It read, Models Wanted. Male and Female. Must be willing to pose nude. See Siobhan O’Riordan, Studio 6A, or call 974-...

“What do you think?” she asked when I finished reading.

“Are you kidding?”

“No, I thought it’d be fun. We could be models.”

“Nude models,” I said, pointing to the paper.

“Paul,” she said with tolerant exasperation, “we’re nudists.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to get naked in front of a bunch of art students.”

“It’ll be fun,” she pleaded.

Did I really want to pose nude? Did I want Kendall to pose nude? I know it probably sounds crazy, but there’s a big difference between being a nudist and posing nude. And while I wasn’t averse to flashing in the grocery store, or walking down a hotel hallway with a pair of nude women, those were one-time, anonymous events. Nude modeling would be different altogether.

“Please, Paul. It’ll be something we can do together. Don’t you think it’s exciting?”

“I guess,” I said.

“Let’s go find Studio 6A!”

With that, she practically dragged me along. A few minutes later, we found Studio 6. It was a large room full of easels, sculpting tables, and other art paraphernalia. At the back of the room, three doors led to smaller studio/offices: 6A, 6B, and 6C.

The door to 6A was open, but the office was empty. I was ready to turn around and leave, but Kendall immediately headed toward 6B’s open door.

“Excuse me,” she said to an auburn-haired woman inside. “We’re looking for Professor O’Riordan.”

“You’ve found her,” the woman said. “Although please, call me Siobhan.”

(She pronounced her name “shi-vawn.” I was glad she did; I would’ve mangled it horribly.)

“How can I help you?” she asked. Her brogue was slight, but noticeable, and she seemed uncommonly cheerful for a woman holding a pneumatic chisel.

“We’ve come about the modeling positions,” Kendall said, holding up the flyer.

“Oh, grand,” Siobhan said. “Come in, come in.” Then she set down her chisel and took off her heavy work gloves.

Kendall and I introduced ourselves.

“Were you both wanting to model?” Siobhan asked.

Kendall nodded. A half-second later, I followed suit.

“The pay isn’t much, and it’s nude modeling,” Siobhan cautioned. “You can’t be shy about taking your clothes off.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Kendall said.

“Well then,” Siobhan said, smiling, “we could use both of you for a sculpture class—it meets at ten o’clock, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

At that, Kendall sighed. (We both had class on those days.)

“And we could use a male model for a Drawing class at three o’clock,” Siobhan added, “also on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“You don’t need a female model for the three o’clock class?” Kendall asked.

“I’m sorry,” Siobhan said, “we don’t. We really only need the one male model, since we had a cancellation. But I’m never one to turn away models,” she added. Then she glanced at me. “Are you still willing to do it?”

I was ready to graciously back out, since we couldn’t model together, but then I felt Kendall’s eyes upon me.

“What do you think?” I asked her. I got the distinct impression that she wanted me to do it.

“We can sign you both up to model for a class next quarter,” Siobhan suggested. “You can see if you like it, Paul, and then decide whether or not you want to do it again.”

“I dunno,” I hedged.

“We really could use you,” Siobhan said. “We haven’t had any luck finding a male model to replace the man who cancelled. And as long as you don’t have any problem posing nude, you’ll be fine. I’d really appreciate it if you decide to do it.”

“What do you think?” I asked Kendall again.

“I think you should,” she said, an excited glint in her eye.

In a flash of insight, I wondered if this was a fantasy of hers. When her eyes pleaded with me, I decided that it probably was. I didn’t really want to do it, since my days were already full—more than full—of things to do, but if it would make Kendall happy...

“Okay,” I said at last. “I’ll do it.”

“Splendid,” Siobhan said.

“Oh, Paul,” Kendall said, “thank you.”

“I realize it’s short notice,” Siobhan asked, “but can you start next Monday?”

I nodded.

“The class begins at three o’clock, in the main studio,” she said with a nod toward the larger Studio 6. “Although you should probably get here a few minutes early. Let me have you fill out a model release, and you’ll be all set.”

Kendall looked on eagerly as I printed my name, address, and phone number on the form. Then I scanned the rest of the release. Basically, I was giving my permission for students to recreate my likeness in any visual medium. And once I posed, the students would have all rights to the work they created. It looked fine to me, so I signed it.

“You need to bring a robe,” Siobhan said as I handed her the form. “And a pair of sandals would be helpful.”

“So I’ll be nude the first day?” I asked, a little surprised. I guess I thought I’d start off modeling with my clothes on, and then model nude.

“It’s a Life Drawing class,” Siobhan said with a chuckle. “So all our models are nude.”

“You mean there’ll be other models?” I asked.

“Yes, but not next week,” she said. “We’ve already done the female figure, so now we do the male figure. Finally, we do combined figure for the rest of the quarter. For combined, we have both a female and a male model present. Will that be a problem?”

Kendall shook her head when I glanced at her.

“No,” I said. “That shouldn’t be a problem”

“Is there anything else you need to know?” Siobhan asked.

Kendall and I shook our heads. Siobhan thanked us and then we said goodbye.

Once we got back to Kendall’s apartment, she practically dragged me into her room. More than an hour later, after two rounds of passionate, almost frantic sex, I had to go to class. Even if I didn’t eat lunch, I knew that I’d still be late. And I probably smelled like sex, but I didn’t have time for a shower either. Sated, Kendall donned her white robe and walked me to the door.

“Thank you, Paul,” she said, her blue eyes soft and round. Then, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I said with a kiss. “Sorry, though, I gotta run.” After another kiss, I took off down the hall.

“I love you,” she called after me.

Still running, I waved over my shoulder.

Even though I ran all the way to the A&A building, Professor Dubois was already lecturing when I arrived. I took a moment to catch my breath and then spotted the brunette and the blonde in the back row. The brunette arched an eyebrow when our eyes met.

Unfazed, I took a seat next to her.

“Hello, Mysterious,” she whispered.

“Hello, Beautiful,” I replied coolly. In my head, however, I was cheering. That was the first coherent thing I’d said to her.

“Not feeling tongue-tied today?” she asked.

“Nope,” I said, holding her gaze.

As she calmly stared at me, her nostrils flared. A moment later, when the scent hit her brain, her eyes widened.

I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I simply couldn’t—I grinned like the cat that ate the canary. For the rest of the class, I paid attention to the droning professor. Out of the corner of my eye, however, I saw the brunette glance at me a couple of times. Each time she did, I simply smiled.

Both Kendall and Gina came to the intramural field for our game versus the Reese team. Luke’s new girlfriend, Tara, was there as well. She was a cute blonde, and was pledging Kappa Kappa Gamma, so she and Gina had lots to talk about. The few times I looked at Kendall, she appeared to be avoiding conversation with the two sorority girls. I wish I could say I understood why, but she seemed completely irrational when it came to most Greeks.

The game itself was rough, but a lot of fun. Even though it was flag football—by University rules—everyone tacitly agreed to play tackle football. Accordingly, we tied our flags to the flimsy belts. The Intramural refs didn’t object, and as long as no one was seriously injured, I suspected that no one else would object, either.

Our team had thirteen players, so we could actually substitute a few guys. T.J. and I had come to an unspoken agreement—he didn’t snipe at me, and I didn’t try to snap his neck. And even if I didn’t like him, I had to admire his skill as a football player. He and Luke relentlessly hounded the other team’s receivers, breaking up pass plays and even making two interceptions. Not surprisingly, Glen was a force to be reckoned with on the line. I even had a couple of good runs, as well as a few solid tackles.

Trip ran the offense like a seasoned veteran: he called plays, dodged rushers, and passed with uncanny accuracy (he was a star baseball player, after all). He connected with a guy named Phil for two long-yardage passes that ended with quarterback sneak touchdowns.

Jeff was as gangly and uncoordinated as ever, but he shocked us all when Trip dumped off a screen pass and—wonder of wonders—Jeff managed to catch it. I think he was more shocked than we were, but he sprinted the length of the field to score our final touchdown.

We won, 21–7.

Afterward, we headed back to the dorms and hung out in the courtyard and enjoyed the cooling autumn air. The post-win adrenaline made us all giddy, and an RA from North Carrick had to come out and warn us to quiet down—twice—but we had a blast.

On Friday, Trip and I went over our Home Project drawings one final time. I had done my best to make the floor plan and elevation drawings perfect. I had also neatly written my critiques (since I still hadn’t set up my new printer).

When I looked at my teammates’ drawings the night before, I hadn’t found much to criticize. I guess I didn’t want to disparage anyone else’s work. So I came up with some superficial things to note about each set of drawings, but nothing more.

At twelve forty-five, we headed to the A&A building. Right after the bell rang, Joska strode into the classroom.

“Well,” he said, before we even had a chance to completely quiet down, “I presume you all have your projects ready to turn in.” Then he scanned the class. “I see that Mr. Fekete is no longer with us, which is probably a smart move on his part. And who else is missing? Ah, yes, Miss Gilbert and Mr. Purvis. Hopefully, they will enjoy a fulfilling life in the fast food industry.”

We all chuckled nervously. I wasn’t proud that I felt a sense of relief that Joska was deriding them and not me, but I wasn’t about to invite his scorn.

“The grading for this project will be different,” Joska continued. “The technical quality of your drawings themselves will be fifty percent of your grade. Your peer critiques will be an additional ten percent. The remaining forty percent of your grade will consist entirely of bonus points, based on your artistic execution and attention to detail.”

Trip and I looked at each other nervously.

“You are in competition with each of your teammates for bonus points: first place, second place, and so on,” Joska said. “First place will receive the full forty points. Second place will receive twenty points. Third place will receive ten points, and fourth place will receive no bonus points. Hopefully, most of you can do simple math, and you’ve realized that if your drawing comes in fourth, your chance for a passing grade rests entirely on the quality of your drawings and critiques.”

Samantha looked panicked.

“For those of you lucky enough to be on a team with only three members,” Joska continued, “you already know who came in last: they’re no longer with us. Architecture is about competition, and you’d better learn this now. If you don’t like it, too bad. There’s the door.” Then he gazed at us, his expression flinty and uncompromising.

In the edgy silence that followed, I simmered. What a prick, I thought. What an unmitigated prick! Then a guy two rows over cursed viciously, which startled me out of my silent fulmination.

“Man, fuck you, and fuck this shit,” he spat. “I’m outta here.”

Instead of replying heatedly, Joska simply stepped back and gestured toward the door. The guy snatched up his things and stormed out, loudly muttering about “lisping Nazis,” as he passed Professor Joska.

“Anyone else?” Joska asked evenly. “No?”

I think we were all too shocked to move.

“All right, turn in your projects.”

Like cattle, we shuffled to the front of the class to pile our drawings and critiques on his desk. When we all returned to our seats, Joska turned to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk.

“Today, we’ll be discussing human needs...”

Since the Regan Incident and its aftermath, I’d made a conscious effort to call Gina more often, and to spend more time with her. So after dinner, I called her room. Faith answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Faith,” I said. “This is Paul. May I please speak to Gina?”

“One moment, please,” she said.

Faith and I had finally met each other—in person—a few days before. She seemed nice enough, but Gina still didn’t like her very much. The two of them were different in almost every way.

Where Gina made an effort to dress up, use makeup, and look nice, Faith didn’t wear makeup at all, and her clothes were usually prudish (she dressed like an eighteen-year-old Nancy Reagan). She was pretty, and she had a nice body, but she didn’t do anything to make herself look more attractive.

And according to Gina, she was very religious. Normally, I didn’t mind religious people—after all, Kendall went to church on a semi-regular basis. But Faith just exuded a judgmental air, as if she were condemning everyone around her for not living up to some higher, more Godly standard. She didn’t drink, she didn’t have sex, and she didn’t even like to hear talk about either. Gina called her “Goody Two Shoes,” and I reluctantly had to agree with that assessment.

“Hi,” Gina said.

“Hi yourself,” I said, unconsciously echoing one of Kendall’s phrases.

“What’s up?”

“What’re you doing tonight?” I asked.

“I’ve got to go to a party later. Why?”

“I thought maybe we could get together.”

“Um ... hold on a second,” she said. Then she covered the mouthpiece. When she uncovered it, a moment later, she kept her voice low. “Faith’s going home for the weekend. Her brother’s picking her up in a little while. Do you want to come over when she’s gone?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Naomi and Iris are gone too. I think they’ve got a concert tonight. So we’ll have the suite to ourselves.”

“That sounds great,” I said.

“Okay, I’ll give you a call when Faith is gone.”

Forty-five minutes later, I met Gina in the South Carrick lobby. As soon as we got to her room, she shut and locked the door. Then she pressed her body against mine and tilted her head up for a kiss.

“God, I’ve missed you,” she said when we came up for air.

“Me too.”

“I hate that our schedules are so different,” she said. “I mean, even if I wanted to spend Thursday afternoons with you and Kendall, I couldn’t.”

“Hold on a second,” I said. “What do you mean ‘even if you wanted to’?”

“You saw how Kendall treated me yesterday at your football game,” she said with a flash of genuine anger. “I mean, she barely even said hello. And don’t think I didn’t see how irked she was on Saturday, when you were paying attention to me instead of her.”

“It’s not like that, sweetie,” I said.

“Then what is it like?” she asked bitterly. “I don’t know what’s up with her, but she’s changed. I mean, we used to get along great, but now it’s like I’m a leper or something. I wish she’d just come right out and tell me what’s wrong. I’m not some fire-breathing monster. And I’m not going to tell you not to see her or anything. That wouldn’t be fair to you either. You told me that it’d be for real, when we first talked about asking her to join us. And that’s how it’s been ever since. So ... what? Does she not like sharing you anymore?”