10.
“Isn’t it great?” Jenny asked Monica at dinner in the cafeteria. From the smell, dimensions, and general décor, it was reasonable to suppose the building was a converted barn. It even smelled like animals had been inside. “We can go wherever we want, whenever we want. We don’t even have to go to class.”
“This is only a preview,” Monica said, shoveling away a thick slice of chocolate cake. She had to admit, they did know how to cook here. “There won’t actually be classes.”
There were classes – they began Wednesday evening with Astronomy classes taught by some weedy old man, who gradually impressed with his passion. In general English, the girls had the best discussion of Dante’s Inferno they had ever had. Chemistry was fascinating. Trigonometry opened up possibilities. The teachers were funny, charming, and they certainly knew their subjects.
Jenny adored the look, feel, and sound of the music auditorium, where she spent most of her time these days. Monica did not hear her talk about Ancient History at all. She would have asked, but there hardly seemed to be ten free minutes between classwork and sleep.
Within a couple of days, Monica had a report due for her journalism class. She was supposed to research a subject that interested her. She immediately asked permission to use the sole computer in order look up some information on Patricia Longbone.
Jenny adored the look, feel, and sound of the music auditorium, where she spent most of her time these days. Monica did not hear her talk about Ancient History at all. She would have asked, but there hardly seemed to be ten free minutes between classwork and sleep.
Within a couple of days, Monica had a report due for her journalism class. She was supposed to research a subject that interested her. She immediately asked permission to use the sole computer in order look up some information on Patricia Longbone.
It only took an hour to find everything she needed: biographies, critical essays, articles, The best photo of the journalist printed in color behind the pages of research. Monica could make a book out of the information collected.
She even had some extra time on the computer, so she logged into her email. The inbox had thirty-seven messages. Her parents had written about the cruise and the weather, a taco hat and an old man in a speedo. Not once had they written to ask how she was doing. Monica thought that was odd, especially after how long she had been here. She wrote a reply summing up her classes.
"It's going better than I expected," she typed. "Even though it's been - " How long had it been? She glanced at the lower right corner of the screen. The time display informed her that it had been precisely two weeks.
She even had some extra time on the computer, so she logged into her email. The inbox had thirty-seven messages. Her parents had written about the cruise and the weather, a taco hat and an old man in a speedo. Not once had they written to ask how she was doing. Monica thought that was odd, especially after how long she had been here. She wrote a reply summing up her classes.
"It's going better than I expected," she typed. "Even though it's been - " How long had it been? She glanced at the lower right corner of the screen. The time display informed her that it had been precisely two weeks.
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