Chapter 6: Mary

It's really amazing how much work they expect you to do in Freshman year. Every instructor seems to hand out enough work to keep you busy full time, but you take four to six courses. The reading requirements are incredible. But my cousin Beth says it really doesn't get better, you just get used to it. I really think Anne has a good idea with this study group.

She's a good roommate. She picks up after herself, does her share. She's fun, and now we sleep together, she's good sex, too. We had a few lonely days that we filled by getting used to each other in bed. No problems there. She said eating each other isn't enough, and I agree, but it helped until we found some guys who fit in with us.

We went looking down the hallway on this floor after we got our room set up. No one there who looks like a potential lover or even much of a friend. There's a girl next door who seems okay, but that's all, and her roommate is a slob.

Once classes started, things got better. I have English 101A (that's for kids who can read), Economics 101, American History, Humanities, and Statistics 101. The reading list for Humanities is huge, same for English and Eco. But that's all right. It looks like Statistics is going to be a bitch. I hope we can find a study partner for that.

There isn't much spare time, and I miss that. I'm looking for someplace I can get on a horse, ride a little. I heard there's a University riding club, but I haven't had time to look into it. I hope it isn't all English-style riding. I don't know anything about that, just how to get on board a horse and get it to do what I want. Maybe later

When I got to my Humanities section the first day of classes, I sat near the front. Not in the front row, so as not to look eager, but to one side in the second row. I could see the action, how the others were maneuvering for position. Most of them sort of slouched toward the back. There was actually an empty space between the back-of-the-room guys and the Front Row crowd.

The professor came in, middle-aged, pretty good looking. I had met him in counseling. He had given me a pretty good once-over when I sat down in his office, but he didn't say anything strange or make any remarks. He stood at the front, looked around.

"Good morning. For those I haven't met, I am Stephen Halleck, your instructor for this section." Then he went through the group from the back. Most of the people he called by name — very impressive — those he did not know, he asked to introduce themselves. He came to me and said, "Ms. Travis, have you had a chance to read any of the books on the reading list?" I answered that I had read one or two of them previously, and was working on the list from the top down. He talked about how he planned to cover the material, when we could expect exams and so on. The class was over sooner than I expected.

Next hour was English 101A. The instructor was younger, she started out by saying, "You all know why you are here. It's because you have demonstrated that you can read and write. My plan for the rest of the year is to make certain that you can, and that you get a lot better at it. You are going to have to read a lot, as you already know from the reading list. You are also going to have write a paper each week on a variety of subjects and in a variety of styles. When you are though next spring, you may be able to write well enough to complete your work at the university successfully." She sounded tough, but she looked like she would be helpful and informative.

There was a guy in the third row I had seen in the Humanities section. When the bell rang, I went to him. "Hi," I said.

"Humanities. Second row. Ms. Travis. You got a first name? Can you say something besides 'Hi'?"

"I'm Mary Travis, I can talk when I have something to say, and anyway, I got what I wanted from you. You are Mr. Harrison, and I don't know your first name either."

"I'm Tom. Do you eat lunch? I'm hungry. We could go to the Union and you can watch, or you can join me. I like to talk, and if that's what you're after, that's what you'll get. Were you kidding when you told Halleck you'd read 'The Mill on the Floss'?"

We wandered toward the Student Union, talking as we went. I'd read the Eliot in High School, hadn't liked it. He is from Michigan, somewhere on the lake. He didn't like 'Floss' too much either. He had been on the school newspaper at high school. He's going to specialize in economics — he's even going to be in my section. We had a good time over lunch, I was hungry and I ate a good one. He seemed surprised.

"Why shouldn't I eat a good lunch?"

"Most of the girls I know won't eat in public. They think it makes them look greedy. Then they go off and gobble up junk food and wonder why they get pimples."

"I'm used to working hard and eating good meals. I don't get pimples. What's the matter with these girls, anyway?"

"I think they got terrified in junior high by the trends and the fads. Haven't gotten over it."

"I think a lot of them got terrified by the guys who harassed them."

"That, too," he agreed. "Junior high's been a pretty rough place lately. And it slops over into high school. A lot of the ideas and attitudes. Mostly, the guys are worse than the girls. They think they can do what they want and that girls are there for them to feel up and make them look macho. Sometimes it's a vicious situation."

"Are you any different?"

"Hey, easy! I don't care for women who don't think and who run like chickens after every fad. I like a woman who can stand up straight and say what she thinks — and who has something to say. I won't be pushed around, and I won't do that to anyone else, either. Back off."

"Fair enough. You're right about a lot of girls. They've given up their souls to rock and roll and MTV. So have the guys. Heavy Metal does not make an attractive man. I grew up working hard on the ranch every day and staying a couple of jumps ahead of the lesson plan in the bargain. If you're something like me, we'll get along."