Chapter 3

I got to homeroom almost as though in a foot race with Mr. Mesrobian, he’d been in the corridor to the left and seven meters away when I went through the door. I was seated before he made it to his lectern and a tiny smile was playing on his lips.

“Good morning, gentlefolk. We have before us twelve more scheduled days before the Litha break and, from both a professional and personal viewpoint, I am hopeful you will treat these days as the continuation of a full-throttle pursuit of your education and not a time to shut down and coast.

“The Administration reminds community families that open fires are strictly prohibited on School Board property, as they are on all public lands in Marin County with the exception of approved fire pits with suppression gas dispensers and exhaust scrubbers. Burning things outdoors is foolhardy considering the devastation wildfires generate.

“The tentative schedule for grade reporting is Ostara 3/31 at or before 1700. This is of concern mainly to twelfth-year students because of the need to report them as part of university admissions. Should this date be a hardship for any reason, please promptly get in touch with Ms. Stitt at the Records Department.

“Anything for the record, comments, questions?”

Silence.

“Blessed be, gentlefolk.”

I sent Auntie, copy to Mom:

Hi, Auntie,

I’m going to have dinner + overnight with Danni. Wanted to make sure the message got there, Mom + Dad + Serge all late must have pointed to parties. On a Tuesday? Your loving nephew -Achille

O-chem, Dr. Dalton

Bang-ja and I asked for a minute of her time for a question post-class. “On?”, she asked. “How to teach or learn the visual tricks needed to assess chirality.” “Certainly.” “Thank you, Doctor.”

“It’s interesting that you asked, since I would like a minute with Mr. Boakye after that, is it acceptable?” We both said yes, she nodded and we took our seats.

Dr. Dalton famously introduced herself to every incoming class thus: “I’m Dr. Anne Dalton, and yes I am one of -those- Daltons. Not the atomic theory guy, the train robbers.” She is round-ish, old-ish, grey-ish and her face always seems to be illuminated in the fashion of a portrait because she effortlessly grabs attention and the class is a ride, not a slog. “Five minutes ago I was asked an interesting question and it is one I am going to run with.” She pulled from a case what appeared to be a violin, but she said “This is my grandpappy’s fiddle, from which I have removed the chin piece. Apart from color variations, who thinks it’s chiral?” Bang-ja, I, Wilhelmina someone, and Paul Anniston raised our hands. “OK, you four, now think of the points which cause you to consider it chiral. Ms. Oh, you’re first.” Bang-ja stood and said “the tuning pegs are staggered, not lined up with one another.” Dr. Dalton nodded. “Good. Mx. Wielieckewicz, do you have a different point?” Wilhelmina said “Yes, the leftmost string (from my view point) is thicker than the rightmost.” “Excellent, we will return to that observation. Mr. Anniston?” Paul stood. “Do you have yet another observation?” “I don’t, Dr. Dalton.” She nodded. “Mr. Boakye?” “The bridge is not perpendicular to the plane of symmetry.” She nodded. “Mx. Wielieckewicz, the reason we return to your observation is you might have considered how the fiddle has to be made in order to work properly. Were it achiral, the instrument would have duplicate strings. Are you a musician, Mx. Wielieckewicz?” “I am not.” “Even better! Please, why is it you were aware of that difference?” “Because my vision is exceedingly good and I can see the leftmost string is thick and looks wrapped with something while the rightmost is far thinner.”

“Thank you all.” We sat. “Notice that delicacy of observation is needed. Now I will do my best to show you how to generalize these points. For stringed instrument players the functions of the leftmost and rightmost strings are practically ingrained in your minds. They are different functions. For an acute observer like Mx. Wielieckewicz, small details matter.”

Dr. Dalton filled the whole class time, and I began to understand -she- didn’t have the visual trick assembly thing I do, either.

We waited for the class to file out, then spoke to Dr. Dalton. Bang-ja said “Even with your class I know Mr. Boakye does this finding of symmetry or its lack almost the instant he sees the shapes. I have to work and guess a lot.” “So do I, Ms. Oh. The reason I wanted to speak with him is because his talent is far beyond mine and I, like you, am keenly interested.” “I’m afraid I don’t know how to explain how I know this. My ability to visualize is good and that is probably because I do a lot of design work and I’m good at geometry. So, for example, if something looks as though it has an axis, then I am looking for radial symmetry. If something is a solid then it has a centroid and I start sniffing around where I think that is. I don’t know how to explain it further.” “May I give an example?” She handed me a triangular prism. “How many planes of symmetry?” “Four.” “FOUR! I cannot for the life of me get four planes of symmetry out of that!” So I drew it on my tablet and showed the fourth one, a plane through the centroids of the rectangular sides of each face.

Dr. Dalton’s forehead furrowed and her eyes widened. “Yes. Four. Thank you, Mr. Boakye. Please consider tutoring in this class next school year.” “Yes, Dr. Dalton. Thank you.”

Bang-ja spoke softly. “I thought it was three, too.” “The strange thing is if it had been a long skinny prism instead of a short flat one, you’d have seen it no problem. I think what happens is we get tripped up because we characterize instead of seeing something for what it is. You might have fallen into that. Characterization’s an evolutionary advantage, if I’m being chased by a mammoth I don’t have the time or clock cycles to ponder if I should risk snagging an apple hanging overhead.”

We headed to lunch and I think Bang-ja’s mood improved. We were having bulgogi and Bang-ja was all over Korean language, foods and fashions considering that’s where she and her birth parents escaped from when she was six. “It won’t be Betsy’s but it will be good”, she said, “I think this is from Chef Bardy’s class and they are putting grated pear in.” “Have you done that dish with Chef?” “Last year.” “Good, then.” We got our trays, rice, bulgogi, a salad I didn’t know, and some tea, then sought an open spot. Ali Shigezawa was waving us over so we headed that way. He stood. “Hi, Bang-ja, hi, Ash.” They briefly touched hands. She said “maybe Dr. Dalton’s class will help you, Ali, she worked on chirality.” “Ash, I might be thick and I’m in trouble with that, can we all meet after?” “Got an off-campus class, Ali, and I’m trying some stuff but Dr. Dalton reminded me today of a few facts. For a solid form of uniform density I think if the item is achiral, one plane of symmetry has to pass through the center of gravity. Maybe more can, I’ll have to prove it.” “You even had math face, Ash” giggled Bang-ja. “The examples aren’t always so simple. The violin was pretty interesting.” “OK, how about Friday?” Nods. “I’ll book a library pod.” I did it, not much demand so we had one with a big display. I sent off the appointment, 1530-1615, and I had nothing following it.

“Um. I like the salad a lot, Bang-ja, what’s it called?” “Sangchu-geotjeori.” “Sangchu...?” “Sangchu and Korean salad will get you there on a search.” I nodded. The bulgogi was filling and the ‘sangchu’ and rice together tasted great so I finished my plate pretty quietly.

“Bang-ja, did you point Ali to the solids program I’m using?” He said “she’s been helping me quite a bit, I have that.” “Good. The examples I want to put together will be a small file, and we can talk about them then.”

We finished our tea. I left them negotiating about whether to head to the glades or the library.

I checked messages:

Auntie:

>Ash, the rest of the family left a party at 0200, but highway 1 was blocked. They stayed overnight someplace like Inverness and got back shortly after you and Danni left. -SumiH

Cooking, Chef Bardy

We went back hand in hand, I broke off early and headed to cooking. I read the recipe. Paul Anniston came in, sat next to me. We’re partners this semester. We did “Hi - Hi”.

Chef Bardy entered: “Greetings, gentlefolk. Today we will make mili dal, an Indian lentil dish flavored with asafœtida. Hands, please, who among the class has cooked with asafœtida?” Maybe... 85% coverage. “Then we will review. Asafœtida is the powdered sap of a plant that looks like a giant fennel. The spice has a foul odor, so why do we use it? Because as with many foods, people cannot stop trying things and this processed dried sap contributes wonderful aromas to cooked foods, especially legumes like lentils. One imagines the many failed, perhaps fatal, experiments before a useful method was discovered, probably near the dawn of agriculture.”

Paul is one of those people who want to do everything by stop-watch and precision scales. His pastry is very good, but he trusts his taste buds not enough. We sat down and talked for a bit, this is not a challenging dish, but Paul asked “remind me again, is a pinch two tenths of a gram or one-fourth?” I smiled. “We could try either, if you will take a little risk and ... oh, this says “generous pinch”, closer to half a gram, so we could start with a quarter and correct the seasoning later.” It was a tiny bit of a challenge for Paul but to my surprise he just nodded. Of course, it came together well. Paul had already used a mat of his invention that communicated to his tablet the variations in the pan’s heat and he focused on how to stir with an intensity unlike anyone but he.

It’s fun to walk around sampling others’ work and asking questions. We tried one that seemed short on cumin, the pair said Chef Bardy claimed it was because the melted butter wasn’t hot enough.

We learned about bullets dodged and what to do about them, and Chef told us to break it down. “I suspect, mes amis, many of these will appear tomorrow at lunch.”

I walked the few hundred meters to Maya’s class, just a bit before the measurers’ place on Bohr. It’s not a big room because it’s Iyengar. If you haven’t done any yoga, Iyengar is boring. You stay in poses a long time, and it’s hard to pay attention to the details you’re looking for if you don’t know something about the details you’re looking for. Being “in the pose” - feeling your own body and how it reacts to the pose, not making lists of things or watching birds flying outside - isn’t that easy.

If, on the other hand, you happened to get a first teacher who could inspire you to not concentrate on the next motion, but stay with the pose you are in, you had an introduction. Such was Abby, my first teacher. She could teach cows and donkeys yoga, I think, so I was not out of place there.

I came into the studio finding it bearably crowded, meaning people’s mats had a few inches of space between them. I unrolled in a space between empty mats, no doubt their owners were changing or renewing membership or something like that. I put down my blankets and blocks, and started warming up.

The shadow cast on me was Raúl Maas, all 220 cm and 135 kg of him. Raúl is beautiful, when Maya wanted an example she would either show us herself or ask for his help. He nodded, “good afternoon, Ash”; “good afternoon, Raúl.”

Maya headed to her place front and center, and the laggards got quickly to their mats.

We went through poses that had an aim and I suspected that aim was padmasana, “lotus pose”. Lots of statues show the Buddha in padmasana, seated, tops of feet resting on opposing thighs. It looks simple, and that is one of its problems. Some of us tried it when I was nine, and we called it ‘pretzeling’ but we were doing it wrong and Katy Unruh’s mom made us stop: if you are not stretched and aligned right, you can make a mess of your knees getting into it. On my own I could do it if I were careful, but following Maya’s instruction it was easy and almost all the class got there. One tries, and if it doesn’t work, that was still the work.

We unfolded from padmasana, did tadasana (mountain pose, standing straight) and a forward fold uttanasana, then assumed the supine position savasana (corpse pose). During this pose one is supposed to integrate the sensations of the body, and I always ended up with a mental list of do’s and don’ts which would go in a transcriber next to Mr. Iyengar’s book.

Maya ended the class, I rolled up my mat, turned to leave and she was waiting. “Oh, Maya, sorry...?” “Will you speak with me a minute or two?” “Sure.” So we took a couple blankets down.

Maya said “Ash, it’s a confusing time in your life, I understand. What I would like to know is whether I, or your classmates, can help you gain balance. The motions you make are precise, yet they are precise like machinery. You need both your analytical and intuitive sides with you, not just because your yoga will become more beautiful as well as easier, but also because you need your emotions to help you navigate the coming of your physical adulthood. Would you please take a little time with friends and your family, talk with them about this, and talk with me again on Tuesday?” “I will, thank you, Maya.” “Namaste.”

There were plenty of things to do before Danni got here and I found the fam on deck. “Just wanted to make sure you were around, I’m gone tonight.” “Homework?” asked Dad. “I got ahead of the game. Bang-ja and I have a lot of it done, almost through Litha, but I need help explaining chirality to her and Ali.” “We’re off again tonight, let’s try and take it up tomorrow. You and Serge probably have ‘it’, and you got it from design. It’s hard to communicate that. Let me think about it.”

I did kisses all around and let them know Danni would be here around 1900 - and I had packing to do.

I got out another uniform set on its hangers and the bra and shorts, and started going through Danni’s transit box. I knew I couldn’t wear blue or grey or black; I knew I could wear red, pink and green but Danni probably couldn’t so I found a half-dozen items to try on - and I’d need to have a thong at least.

The thongs in the transit had a lot of, er, accessories I didn’t understand so I unrolled my futon and parked a bunch of them there. There was a plain thong I put on just to try some of the clothes.

These were ... different. The shorts looked like leather but they clung and were form-fitting to a degree that surprised me and made my nipples rise. The tops - wow, none school-safe at all. Half of them were open-tip and the others had indents that would have allowed a few millimeters of extension but mine were still constrained and -that- excited them. I left out the best of them and jumped in the shower. Twenty minutes later I got out, put a small dose of oil on my skin, put on any old shorts and a top to welcome Danni.

Who was a show piece, wearing not much of anything. Her nostrils were flaring and she had a wild look. “Just looking at you makes me hot.” “That’s how you’ll be in a little time.” I gave her a brief and careful kiss, she nodded. “Let’s get this under way.”

I took her hand and we went to my room. “Ash, that’s perfect. You sorted out which things will look the best on you. All we need to do now is get your lingerie together.”

She put down her small carrier, took from the items on my futon a complicated thong and a light set of gold chains. “I can’t wear gold nearly as well as you can. This is going to be delightful. Thong first. Strip.” I did. She stared at my breasts. “You have the prettiest breasts, Ash, I want to know them a whole lot better.” “They’re sensitive, I hope you like playing with them.” “And you are completely hairless?” “Another genetic accident. Nothing below my neck.” “Lucky for you, some people have to work at it. OK, I will have to have your help on some of these things.”

She shook out the thong. “Look at this, Ash. Here’s how your balls are confined, here is how your clit ... er, cock is confined.” She helped me put on the thong. “It’s so much easier to put on when you’re not fighting a boner, but still ... Once this is complete I predict you will be a perfect sex animal - these are dating clothes. That’s how you are supposed to be on a date and I want this to be a real date.” “Wow, I really did not know this.” “ Someone thought that was a good idea a long time ago and here we all are.”

She shook out the mass of chains. “This is a bra, it is a little confining.” She started by pulling my nipples through a set of loops. They started to rise but after a point they were stuck and they complained. “Your nipples are so beautiful, Ash, it’s a trial to not start licking them.” Then she pulled my areolae through larger loops and they were stuck. “Perfect. OK, now here’s how we light them all up. On your knees, on the futon, legs spread wide. She petted me. “Good, you are about there. Take this toy in your ass.” I opened, she put the toy in - thick thing, which I tried to suck in, and she said “Now close down around it.” My cock was trying to rise and I closed on the toy. It gave me some kind of jolt and my ass tightened around it. “Now I have you, Ash. You can’t push the toy out, and your cock is hardening. It will be constantly arousing but not painful and that is what I want on our first date.” She showed me a telecommand. “I own your ass with this, Ash, I want you hard the whole time.”

She was right. My cock was trying to break the thong and be free but it could not; the feel of the toy in my ass made me want to, um, something, and all that action was making my nipples and areolae extremely hard.