Chapter 25

Saturday dawned cold and clear. After a quick breakfast—by myself—I drove to the airport for an instrument lesson with Earl. We flew to Asheville and back, and once again, I spent most of the time under the hood. Back at Island Home, I paid attention to my landing and greased the Cessna onto the runway. I think even Earl was impressed.

Afterward, I hurried back to campus for my first wrestling meet. It was against two clubs: one from Kentucky and the other from a school in south Georgia. Will Treadway was still the number one wrestler in my weight class, so he got the points matches.

I had to settle for a round-robin series of matches against the guys in my weight class from the other schools. I won one by a pin and one by points. My skills had come back rapidly, and I was still as quick and strong as I’d been in high school. It wouldn’t be long before I’d challenge Will for the number one spot on the team, and he knew it.

Trip got to wrestle in his first competitive meet, and he did pretty well. What he lacked in skill he made up for with natural ability. He won one of his matches and lost the other on points.

“That was a blast!” he said afterward. Then he grew serious. “Those near-fall points in the second match killed me, though. So, what did I do wrong?”

“When the other guy sank the half nelson and reached for your opposite wrist,” I said, “you should’ve...”

I was still explaining counter moves when Kendall and Abby joined us. After a quick shower and lunch at their apartment, Trip and I headed to the HPER courts for our first intramural basketball game. As we warmed up and waited for the game on our court to finish, I pulled T.J. aside.

“Look,” I said awkwardly, “I’m sorry about last night.”

“About what? About the dickhead Pikes? Aw, hell, Loverboy, that was fun.”

“Not that,” I said. “About later, back in the suite.”

“I figured you’d just had a fight with one of your girlfriends. Don’t worry about it. At least you’re not light in your loafers like your roommate or Cary the Fairy.”

I gave him a hard look.

“Man, what the hell is your problem, anyway? I’m just kidding, but you’re always so high and mighty and judgmental. Who died and made you God?”

“No one, T.J.,” I said, angry with myself for thinking I could be nice to him. “Let’s just play basketball.”

We lost the game, which didn’t improve T.J.’s mood. (It didn’t improve my mood either, but I never had delusions of being a great basketball player in the first place.)

“Man, how can you be so uncoordinated?” T.J. ranted at me. Then he rounded on Jeff. “And you’re even worse.”

“Hey, fuck you!” Jeff shot back.

“Cool it!” Trip said. “We lost, okay. It happens. You can’t win ‘em all, and you know it, T.J. We just need more practice is all.”

“Four-eyes can practice all he wants, but—”

“T.J.!” Trip shouted, cutting him off mid-outburst. “I don’t like that nickname. Come up with another one or call him Jeff. And if you wanna play on a team with us, you gotta be cool. You’re either with us, or not. So, which is it gonna be?”

T.J. stared at Trip for a long, angry moment. Finally, he backed down. “I’m with you,” he said at last.

“Good,” Trip said. “Then act like it.”

T.J. looked at him sullenly, but didn’t reply.

“Jeff’s not gonna get any better with you yelling at him. Look, T.J., you’ve got a good inside game. Why don’t you teach Jeff a little ball-handling, and maybe work on some basic skills. Can you handle that?”

“In my sleep.”

“Is that okay with you, Jeff?”

“Whatever,” Jeff said.

“It’s not gonna be my fault if he still sucks, though,” T.J. said defensively.

“But it’ll be your fault if you don’t try to teach him anything. So ... are you ready to put your money where your mouth is? Or are you all talk?”

“I’m not all talk, man!”

“Then put up or shut up, T.J.”

“Who made you captain?”

“You did,” Trip said evenly. “When you signed up to play on my team. Now, are you gonna work with Jeff or not? It’s up to you, T.J., but I think you’re a good player, and you’ve got a lot you could teach him. So, what’ll it be?”

“Yeah, I’ll teach him,” T.J. said after a long moment.

“Good,” Trip said.

With that, we headed back to the dorm. Abby beamed at Trip, and even I looked at him with a new respect. He had defused a tense situation and gotten T.J. to be a productive member of the team. I still didn’t like T.J., but at least I could respect Trip’s solution.

The Snow Skiing Club planned a night skiing trip to Ober Gatlinburg, and Trip talked me into going. Despite being worn out from wrestling and basketball, I was looking forward to hitting the slopes.

The trip wasn’t limited to club members, so Kendall and Abby joined us. I took one look at the rocky, icy slopes, however, and decided to spare my nice new skis. I rented a beat-up pair instead.

Once Kendall, Abby, and Trip finished in the rental shop, they headed for the beginners’ group on the bunny slope. I joined some of the more experienced skiers on the black diamond runs. Unfortunately, I was too tired to enjoy myself; my legs were rubbery from the day’s exertion, so I decided to retire to the easier slope with Kendall and the others.

Trip had quickly picked up the basics of skiing—the wedge, slaloming, etc.—but Kendall and Abby were having a difficult time. Neither of them were athletes, and they had to learn an entirely new set of skills.

I tried working with Kendall, but she quickly gave up. When I tried to coax her back to the tow rope, she balked, complaining that she was tired and sore.

Hell, I thought peevishly, I won two wrestling matches, lost a basketball game, and skied for more than an hour on the expert slopes. So quit whining about being tired and sore! Outwardly, however, I tried to be accommodating.

Kendall probably saw through my front, which didn’t improve her mood at all.

“I’m dead tired anyway,” I said, popping the bindings on my skis. “So, do you wanna get some hot cocoa?”

“Absolutely!”

In the lodge, we warmed up by the fire, our stocking feet propped on the stone hearth. When Kendall was suitably warm, I gestured for her to sit in my lap.

“I’m sorry I got frustrated,” I said.

“And I’m sorry I can’t ski.”

“Don’t worry about it. It took me a while to learn. Besides, this way, we can relax in front of the fire.”

With that, she snuggled close. Then she started nuzzling my neck with soft kisses. When she began teasing me by whispering things she wanted to do back at her apartment, I had to shift my erection to a more comfortable angle.

Since Trip was as worn out as I was, he and Abby joined us a little later. The rest of the group skied for another hour before the resort shut down for the night.

By the time we returned to campus, it was almost midnight and I was truly exhausted. But I was still horny, and judging by the look in Kendall’s eye, she was too. Trip and Abby sensed our mood, and decided to head up to his room.

Vivian was camping with her boyfriend and Phoebe had gone home for the weekend, so Kendall and I had the apartment to ourselves. I’d like to say that we had wild, passionate sex, but the truth is pretty unexciting: I fell asleep.

I awoke with a start, my eyes snapping open. Kendall was snuggled next to me—for a change—and it took me a minute to figure out why the room was so bright. My head was still a little muzzy as I looked at my watch; it was after seven.

As my eyes adjusted, I realized that Abby’s bed was still made. I smiled slyly when I realized that she had probably spent the night with Trip.

Since Kendall and I were still alone, I nestled my morning hard-on against her ass and contemplated making amends for neglecting her the night before.

On Monday, I dreaded going to Calculus. I’d begun to feel bad about breaking Neil’s hand, but I was determined not to let the two Pikes harass me without consequences. Deep down, though, I knew that Glen was right; Rod would never back down, and sooner or later, Bad Things would happen (to me, to him, or to someone else, like Gina). So I vowed to let tensions die down, if possible.

To my surprise, Rod and Neil didn’t show up for class. I didn’t have time to think twice about it, though, since Professor Vajpayee launched into his lecture. He was facing the blackboard, of course, so I missed every other word, which meant I’d have to study even harder.

Fortunately, I’d begun to “see” the math in my head. Conic sections were no longer rote-learned formulas; I saw them as visible slices of a cone. Derivatives weren’t random letters and numbers; they were a tangent on a curve. Even integrals suddenly made sense; I saw them as a shaded area under an irregular curve.

Once I realized that the numbers and formulas translated into visual representations, I had a much easier time with calculus. Consequently, I concentrated on taking notes, and stopped worrying about Rod and Neil.

After class I headed to one of the architecture labs to do some preliminary sketches for a Design project. We had to do drawings and a design analysis of one of the buildings on the World’s Fair site, and I had chosen the centerpiece Sunsphere.

After about an hour, the lab filled with upperclassmen. They must’ve had a project due, because they all got to work in groups of three and four.

For a few minutes I let my imagination run wild as I pictured myself leading a project team, designing a landmark like the Sunsphere. When my stomach growled, however, I came back to reality and decided to grab some lunch.

The Morrill dining hall was crowded, but I quickly got my tray and found a seat. I had just started eating when two hands covered my eyes.

“Guess who!” a girl’s voice said.

I tried to place the voice, but in the din of the dining hall, I couldn’t.

“Do you need a clue?”

I nodded.

“Mysterious,” she whispered in my ear.

“Wren?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Christy!”

“Right,” she said, uncovering my eyes. “Do you mind if I join you?”

I gestured at the seat across from me.

“Thanks,” she said. “I hate eating alone.”

“Me too.”

For a few minutes, we talked about life in general. Then the conversation turned to relationships.

“So, how did you and Kendall meet?” she asked.

“At summer camp,” I said. “I know it sounds lame, though. I mean, don’t ten-year-olds go to summer camp?”

“Actually, summer camp sounds fun. Did you two hit it off immediately?”

“Ha! I wish. I used to be pudgy and shy. And Kendall ... um ... kinda developed early, if you know what I mean.”

Christy nodded, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

“She was The Goddess Kendall, and I didn’t think she’d ever be interested in me, not in a million years. But she was. Go figure.”

“So how did you first get together?”

“Believe it or not,” I continued, “she talked to me first. Well, me and Gina. Kendall and I didn’t start going together until a year later, though. Since she was from Chattanooga and I was from Atlanta, we didn’t get to see each other except at camp.”

Christy asked a few more questions and I answered them, omitting details here and there to hide my nudist upbringing. I didn’t think she’d be shocked, but I simply didn’t discuss my family’s nudism with people who weren’t very close friends (or nudists themselves). After I told her about my early relationship with Kendall, though, I turned the conversational tables.

“So when do I get to meet Simon?” I asked.

Christy laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“You really don’t know? No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

I looked a question at her.

“Every time Simon has come up, Wren’s around. And you know her opinion of him, so I guess I don’t bring him up very often,” she finished with a rueful look. “Anyway, I don’t know when you’ll get to meet him. He graduated last May, and now he goes to school in England.”

“Really? Cool. Where in England?”

“Oxford University. He’s studying Classics at Trinity College.”

“So how’d you meet him?” I asked.

“He was in my Astronomy class last year. We had a project where we had to go up to the roof of the Astronomy building at night, and I was cold. He lent me his coat, even though he was shivering, and we started talking. He asked me out, and the rest is history.”

“That doesn’t sound all that bad,” I said, “so why doesn’t Wren like him?”

“She thinks he took advantage of me.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

“Not like that. I’m not a blushing virgin. No, Wren thinks he asked me to marry him when ... when he ... I mean, when I was ... um...”

My eyes narrowed in a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“Last spring ... something happened.” For a long moment she didn’t speak. After she wiped her eyes, she smiled bravely and asked to change the subject.

“Sure, no problem,” I said. “Um ... so, what’re you doing after lunch?”

“I was going to work on some drawings. Do you want to hang out, like we did last quarter?”

“Well, I’ve got an architecture class,” I said, looking at my watch, “but we can hang out till two.”

“Do you mind if we go back to my room first? I need to pick something up.”

“No problem.”

Upstairs, Christy unlocked her door and then gestured for me to wait. “I’ve got a guy with me,” she said into the room, her voice pitched to carry.

“C’mon in,” someone called. “We’re decent.”

Christy flashed me a diffident smile and then preceded me into the room.

“Who is it?” asked the girl who appeared from the other side of the suite. She had finely chiseled features, with dark reddish-brown hair and dark eyes. She was a little taller than Christy, but not as slender. When she saw me, she stopped, her eyes roaming over my physique. “Well, who’re you, handsome?”

“Oh, Ash,” Christy chided.

I had to suppress a blush.

“Yeah, who is it?” another girl asked, this one a lithe brunette with an angelic face. She stopped behind Ash and looked at me as well.

“Paul, these are my suitemates,” Christy said, “Ash and Zoë.”

“Hi,” I said, extending my hand.

“I’m Aisling,” Ash said, pronouncing her name “ash-ling.” Then she smiled, her eyes soft and seductive. “My friends call me Ash, but you can call me anytime.”

“I’m Zoë,” the other girl said, laughing.

“Paul’s the guy I was telling you about,” Christy said to Ash. “You know, the one who’s modeling for your mom.”

“The Paul?” Ash said, her eyes widening. “I knew I should’ve modeled for Mom when she told me she had an opening.”

“‘Mom’?” I asked, my brow furrowed.

“Ash is Siobhan’s daughter,” Christy said.

Once she mentioned it, I could see the family resemblance.

“So,” Ash mused, her eyes undressing me, “I’ve seen you in sketches, but in the flesh, you are hunky.”

“Sorry, Ash,” Christy said, laughing. “Paul’s taken. His girlfriend models with him in the Life Drawing class.”

“That’s too bad,” Ash said.

Suddenly, I had a flash of revelation: Ash reminded me of Wren, both her personality and looks. “Are all your roommates like this?” I asked Christy.

“High strung, you mean?” Christy asked, immediately sensing the gist of my question.

“I’m normal,” Zoë said, laughing. “Ash and Wren are just nymphos.”

“I’m an aspiring nympho,” Ash said. “Besides, you’ve got a boyfriend. So it’s easy for you to be normal. I’m still looking for my future ex-husband.”

“Well, you’ll have to keep looking,” Christy said, shaking her head at her friend’s antics. Then she turned to me. “Let me just get a snack and I’ll be ready to go.”

“It was nice meeting you, Paul,” Zoë said, taking the cue.

“Yes, it was very nice meeting you, Paul,” Ash echoed, gliding close to shake my hand. She tried to look sultry, but laughed brightly when I arched an eyebrow in challenge.

“It was nice meeting you,” I said. When the two girls returned to their side of the suite, I leaned down to Christy. “Was she for real?”

“Who, Ash?” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No, she’s a lot of talk. Even more than Wren. Ash flirts with lotsa guys, but she doesn’t date much. She’s really picky about what kind of guy she likes. Besides, you’re not her type.”

“Oh?”

“You’re too serious. And you’re too young. She’s into older guys.”

“Older? How much older?”

“Nothing too far out,” Christy said with a laugh. “I think the last guy she dated was twenty-five.”

“Ah.”

“Okay, lemme get a snack and I’ll be ready to go. Is there anything special you want?”

“Snack? We just ate lunch.”

“I know. But I’ve got a high metabolism, so I need to eat five or six times a day. If I don’t, I lose weight, and I’m trying to stay in the triple digits. So ... what do you feel like?” With that, she knelt to open a small refrigerator under her desk. Her eyes flicked over the contents. “I’ve got carrots, celery, radishes, apples, oranges, plums, and one pear left. I’ve also got granola and graham crackers, and I may have some peanut butter, if you want.”

“You’ve got all that?”

“Mmm hmm. I like variety. Also, I want to stay healthy, so I eat well. Mostly fruits and vegetables, but nuts and a few other things too.”

“You don’t eat meat?” I asked, thinking back over the times I’d eaten with her.

“I love seafood, and sometimes I eat chicken, but no pork or beef.”

“Why not? Are you a vegetarian or something?”

“Uh-uh. It’s a Buddhist thing.”

My eyes flew wide in surprise. “You’re a Buddhist?”

“Not really. I was raised Catholic—I mean, my parents had six kids—but when we lived in Japan, I used to spend a lot of time at this beautiful Buddhist temple. There were always tourists for me to draw. Some of the monks noticed me—who wouldn’t? I was a pesky, skinny blonde girl with a sketchpad.” She smiled in self-deprecation.

“Anyway,” she continued, “a couple of the monks took me under their wing and taught me a lot about Buddhism. I’m still a Catholic girl at heart, but I agree with a lot of Buddhist teachings. But I’m being a chatterbox again. Snacks ... do you want anything?”

“Not really.”

“I feel like a pear, an apple, and some granola. And I think I’ll take some carrots too.”

“You say you’re trying to gain weight?” I asked semi-rhetorically. “Jeez, I’ve got the opposite problem.”

“Your problem isn’t your weight,” she said matter-of-factly. Then she gathered her food and put it in a brown paper bag, which she deposited in her backpack as she stood.

“Okay, so what is my problem?”

“Sorry,” she said. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, tell me. What’s my problem?”

“You don’t eat right,” she said bluntly. “You obviously care about your body; you wouldn’t look like you do if you didn’t. But then you turn around and eat a cheeseburger and fries for lunch.” Without pausing, she called goodbye to her suitemates.

“What’s wrong with a cheeseburger and fries?” I asked as we walked down the hall.

“What about vegetables?”

“I had a pickle on my cheeseburger.”

“How about real vegetables? Or a salad? What you eat for breakfast is almost as bad. Toast and cereal ... sometimes an orange or a banana ... that’s all I’ve ever seen you eat.”

“What’s the matter with that? I’m trying to watch my weight. I mean, I’m not lucky like you, I don’t have a high metabolism.”

“So? What’s that have to do with not eating right?”

As we walked, Christy told me more than I ever thought I needed to know about a proper diet. Strangely, she didn’t sound like she was lecturing. It was a lecture, all right, but I didn’t bristle defensively when she told me that my eating habits were all wrong.

In the atrium of the A&A building, she smiled diffidently. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to give you a lecture about your diet. I just ... I know you work out, and you take care of your body, but a balanced diet is part of that. You’re too cute to mess up your body with poor eating habits.”

“You think I’m cute?” I asked, eager for the chance to change the subject.

She blushed and looked down bashfully.

I chuckled. “I think you’re pretty cute too,” I said at last. “Now c’mon, let’s find someplace to draw. I’ve got some sketches to do for class, and you mentioned something about your portfolio...”

She smiled gratefully, her cheeks dimpled.

We ended up finding a quiet spot at the end of one of the balconies. When two o’clock rolled around, Christy walked to Professor Ledbetter’s classroom with me. Then she smiled and gestured for me to wait as she rummaged in her backpack.

“Here,” she said at last, “take these.”

“Don’t you need ‘em?” I asked, eyeing the proffered bag of carrots.

“Not as much as you do. Take them.”

Hesitantly, I did.

“Now go,” she said. “Shoo. I’m going down to Siobhan’s office so I can finish my drawing.”

Surprisingly, though, she was waiting for me when my class was over. Her blue eyes lit up when she smiled.

“You got me thinking about Japan,” she said. Then she gestured for me to look at her sketchpad. “This is Nobu.”

Her drawing showed a bald man wearing loosely draped robes. His eyes gleamed with wisdom and laughter. He looked like someone I’d want to meet.

“He was my favorite monk. He taught me the most about Buddhism. And he helped me with my calligraphy.”

“Calligraphy?”

“Writing Japanese,” she said simply. “Nobu was a very educated man. He was a college professor before he became a monk—he taught Tokugawa-era literature—and his calligraphy was just beautiful. I’ll have to show you sometime.” She sighed and turned nostalgic. “I think I miss him the most. Well, him and Mariko, my best friend. Anyway, we’ve got to get to Siobhan’s class. I can show you sketches of Mariko later. Right now, I want to work on your shoulders.”

“My shoulders? Huh?”

“Mmm hmm. On my sculpture. Your shoulders are so well-defined that they’re actually a bit difficult to do. Your individual deltoids stand out when you flex. Wren has beautiful shoulders—she would, she’s a swimmer—but yours are just ... wow. Besides, I need to work on your chest too—your sculpture’s chest, I mean—because I haven’t gotten your pectoral muscles right. You’re so muscular that you’re fun to sculpt. It’s kind of Zen-like,” she said. “When I’m working with the clay, I just...”

I decided that she didn’t chatter only when she was nervous; she did it when she was excited, too. I smiled and simply nodded at the appropriate times.

The rest of the week was more or less routine. Modeling for Siobhan’s Life Drawing class was a little boring by myself, but I only had two classes to endure before Kendall and I modeled together.

After Tuesday’s class, Kendall was waiting for me in the hall. One look at her expression confirmed her mood, so we hurried back to her apartment. In the elevator up to her floor, we were all over each other.

We barely made it to her apartment before shedding our clothes, and we ended up having sex in the entry hallway. Without even pausing, we moved to the bedroom for round two. We didn’t have constant sex for three hours, but it was close. Finally, I dragged myself away and took a quick shower before heading to my American Literature class.

Thursday wasn’t quite as passionate, since Vivian was in the apartment, but Kendall didn’t hesitate to have sex in the relative privacy of her bedroom. Afterward, we lay together, comfortably entwined, and talked about life, the universe, and everything.

Rod and Neil didn’t show up for Calculus class on Wednesday, and I was beginning to hope they’d dropped the class. Unfortunately, they dashed my hopes on Friday when they showed up for our first test.

Rod smirked at me. “Good luck, dickwad.”

I bit back a snide reply and gritted my teeth. Self-discipline, I told myself. Then I took a deep breath and tried to follow Professor Vajpayee as he gave last-minute instructions.

Rod and Neil finished early and flashed me a smug look as they left. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that they’d probably cheated.

There ain’t no justice, I silently cursed.

Christy and I ate lunch together on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. And each day we went up to her room to pick up snacks afterward.

“Where do you get this stuff?” I finally asked. The snack shops on campus only carried things like candy, chips, and Cokes, and the nearest grocery store was a couple of miles away.

“Ash and I make a grocery run every weekend. Siobhan lets her use her car.”

“That reminds me,” I said, changing the subject. “If Ash is Siobhan’s daughter, how come she lives in a dorm? I mean, why doesn’t she live at home?”

Christy laughed. “Ash says it’s so her mom doesn’t know who she’s dating, but she doesn’t date that often. Personally, I think it’s so she’s got someplace to call her own. Siobhan is a sculptress, but Ash is more into photography. She’s got an incredible eye, but her mother wants her to be a studio artist, instead of a photographer. Anyway, Ash doesn’t want to live at home because her mother’s always trying to get her to draw, or sculpt, or something. Besides, since Siobhan’s a professor here, Ash’s tuition is free, so her father only has to pay for her room and board.”

“So her parents are divorced?”

“Mmm hmm. Her father seems nice, but I’ve never met him. He lives in Chicago. Siobhan talks about him sometimes, but I think she’s a lot happier without him. Ash misses him though, and they talk on the phone a lot. Ash and her dad, I mean. Gosh, I’m chattering again, aren’t I?”

I smiled and shook my head. “I like listening to you.”

“Whatever for?”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause I don’t have to be ‘on’ around you.”

She cocked her head to the side in question.

“Wren’s fun and all,” I said, “don’t get me wrong, but I’m always having to think when I’m around her. I mean, it’s like a wrestling match, where I gotta work for an advantage and worry about what I need to counter. You know? With you ... it’s different. I can relax, I guess. Does that make sense?”

“Sure. I think that’s why I like hanging around with you, too. Besides, I love seeing what you draw. You’re really good, you know. I wish I could draw buildings like you do.”

“Ha! I wish I could draw people like you do.”

She smiled.

“Between the two of us, we’re a pretty well-rounded artist.”

“We are,” she said, blushing. Then she changed the subject. “So, what do you want for an afternoon snack? We need to finish the celery sticks—”

“I’m not a big fan of celery.”

“Radishes?”

“I’m not a bunny, Bunny.”

She frowned good-naturedly. “I’m all out of carrot sticks. You ate the last of them yesterday, so who’s the bunny now? Anyway, what’ll it be, an apple or an orange?”

“An orange.”

“Do you want me to peel it for you?” she asked, faux-patronizing.

“That would be splendid,” I said, waving my hand haughtily. Then I cracked a grin.

She rolled her eyes and tossed me an orange. “You need some fiber too,” she said. “Here, have some granola. We need to finish this box anyway. I’ll have to remember to get more tomorrow. I think I want to get some dried fruit, too, and maybe some peanuts or something. I wish I could get macadamia nuts here. Have you ever had them? They’re from Hawaii, and they’re wonderful. But I can’t find them in the stores around here. I brought some back with me after Christmas, but— I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, I need to get more granola at the store.”

“Since I’m eating you out of house and burrow,” I said, grinning, “I could take you to the grocery store.”

“Ash takes me. I’m fine.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “Really.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I’ve got a flying lesson tomorrow morning, but we could go afterward.”

“Flying lesson? I thought you already had your license...”

“I’m getting my instrument rating,” I said.

“That sounds like fun. I love flying. I used to fly with my brothers all the time when they were first learning. They tried to teach me, but I couldn’t even see over the instrument panel.” She laughed. “They used to stack phonebooks this high”—her hands were a foot apart—”so I could see.” She chuckled again, nostalgically. “Oh, my. I hadn’t thought about that in a while.”

“I’ll have to take you flying sometime,” I said. “I mean, I’m willing to sacrifice 90 pounds of useful load to have some company—”

“Ninety pounds?! I’ll have you know that I’m up to a hundred!”

“Anyway, as I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted by a 100-pound bunny, I’ll have to take you flying with me sometime. Maybe we could go see your brother in North Carolina. I need to make a couple of long-distance cross-country flights for my IFR certificate, so that’d be perfect.”