The Beautiful Girl and the History Class

Hajji Giray I: Thank you for the wonderful words, sir! You may be right about Becky not being a fun drunk. It's an interesting question too, the whole notion of whether it's better to read the posts as the updates come or in one bloc.

ForzaA: No, I just like collecting foreign phrases. And I know enough German that Dutch isn't alien to me.

Chief Ragusa: Luck or skill? How much of each, if any, plays into Orson's successes thus far? it's a fascinating question to ponder, though we have to see what the rest of his reign was like, first. As for Melody, who knows with that girl?

Dirty Harry said:

Jestor: Im more into the love-story then Southen European Middelage history, but the class room setting is brilliant!

Click to expand...

Thanks Incidentally, that's what most people are more interested in, with the exception of GhostWriter, who enjoys the historical lectures more

I intend to get an update in some time this week, but I just got back from a long, busy weekend in Paris, have to work on a bunch of stuff this week, and am currently dazed by a novel that I read today (one of two and a half) that's become one of my top 5 fave of all time.

Specialist290: Awesomeness.

Chief Ragusa: Yes, the parallelism is absolutely fascinating, though as I've said, it's more coincidence than anything else.

It's raining when I walk outside.

Caveman's furiously smoking a clove, his back turned to Drake, who's trying talk to him.

"Come on, Caveman. So what if Nick brought her? I mean, shit, you never acted like you were interested in her."

"I'm not."

"Then why so pissed off?"

"I'd like to know that, too", I interject as I stroll over to them, the torrent of water splashing on the blacktop and the overhang that keeps us from getting wet, "I mean, fuck, she's just a friend, man. It's not like I'm planning on screwing her tonight or anything."

Caveman turns around to flick his clove in a puddle. A brief plume of smoke rises out of the doused smoke as he gives me a withering look, brows and teeth clenched together.

"Fuck you, Nick! Just because you don't have the fucking balls to have asked Melody before she dumped your ass doesn't mean you've to got to snipe on my shit!"

Drake's gesturing me for to leave so he can calm Caveman down, but I'm too pissed to pay attention. Who the hell does this guy think he is? I mean, the one guy in the whole fraternity who talks to him on a regular basis and he's bitching me out for a friends date?

I open my mouth to answer, but the slam of door hitting door and the angry stamping of heeled shoes interrupts me.

It's Becky, storming out of the building and over to Caveman.

"What the fuck, Bobby? Why are you acting like such an idiot?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

I quietly sneak over to the wall, still irritated, but figuring it's best Becky handles this. Drake slides over to join me, whispering, "Damn. Look at her eyes. They're purple! Far out!"

Drake's right. She's so pissed her eyes, normally light blue, are a crackling purple, well more violet actually, as she reams into Caveman.

"What am I talking about?! I'm talking about you being a jealous asshole! What's your problem, Bobby? I've been waiting for months for you to notice me again! Why didn't you ask me to Formal if you didn't want to see me here with anybody? In fact, for that matter, why didn't you call me back?"

He glowers at her, lighting another clove and exhaling licorice-scented smoke in the air.

We wait for his answer, but he stays silent, looking away and smoking.

Becky stamps her foot in a way that looks cute because of how small she is, eyes flashing darker still, more towards true purple.

"This is bullshit, Bobby! What the fuck do you want me to be? Some cute Japanese girl who calls you baka when you're an idiot like right now and make you cute bento lunches and say no don't do that and blush when you're fucking me? Is that what you want? Well it isn't going to fucking happen, because I'm Korean! Not one of those stuck up Japanese bitches!"

Drake's laughing quietly and I have the urge to do it myself, but I bite my lip and just lean against the wall to enjoy the show.

Caveman shakes his head and finally answers as he ashes on the blacktop.

"No. It's because I didn't have to try for you. You were already there and already liked me."

She stares at him in shocked disbelief, at a loss for words. I have trouble believing it, myself. What kind of crack is Caveman on that he passes up a great girl just because she liked him first?

"If that was true, then why did you fuck me?" she at last responds, in a voice as small as her.

He shrugs, silent and stony again.

"You're an asshole."

No more than a lot of guys, I think to myself.

Caveman shrugs again and looks up to take a drag on his clove and survey the road.

"Oh, wow. A silver Porsche Boxter... I've always wanted one of those... Hard to believe that there's one here."

Becky flares up with anger again, "What the hell does that have to do with anything?!"

Drake and I exchange glances, simulataneously moving forward.

The four of us watch in silence as the sleek little car cuts through the rain and mist, turning on to the gravel driveway that leads to the administrative building and parking before it.

The door opens and a little jolt passes through me when Melody steps out, wearing a white wool jacket that runs to her ankles and an incredibly cute red beret. Without looking around, she walks to the door and enters.

"Come on. We're going in", Drake says with a slight grin, already heading towards the door that Melody went through.

There's enough alcohol in our systems that we all think this a fantastic idea and follow him out into the storm and across the lot.

Chief Ragusa: Cuz I know you ain't wearin' nothing underneath that overcoat
And it's all a show

Interesting theories on what will happen.

Tem_Probe: Caveman's idiocy does seem to be common consensus

J. Passepartout: I'd say it's the alcohol.

Hajji Giray I: Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. Amusing conversation you've got between the three, but remember, Melody and Becky already know each other and are in the same class, because Becky asked Melody for help with Tagore after Melody broke it to Nick that she's engaged.

Specialist290: Ah so many speculations people have. I think it's high time I put those speculations to rest, no?

We creep our way into the administration building. The hallway's deserted, allowing us to hear two female voices from three doors down.

Under Drake's direction, we inch forward, peering around the door's edge.

Melody's standing in front of a glass counter, golf clubs and equipment surrounding her. Apparently it's the club's golf shop. Behind the counter is a pretty, young girl, maybe about 24, with short, soft brown hair.

"So you'd like to reserve the course for January 5th?" asks the clerk.

"Correct. From noon until 11 pm", Melody confirms.

"I'm going to go check this out" whispers Becky, darting forward before any of us can stop her.

"Melody! Wow, fancy seeing you here!" she calls, the little Korean vixen in the white dress already upon my tall, blonde love before she has a chance to react.

Melody smiles slightly in that polite, aloof manner of hers, "Hello, Becky. I'm just here arranging a small party after the new year. What brings you here?"

"Oh, I'm here with Bobby Schwarzwald at the Theta Sigma Phi Fall Formal."

"Lying bitch!" Caveman hisses under his breath.

Drake's covering his mouth to keep from laughing as he whispers aside to us, "Stay here. I'm going to go have a little fun with this" and before we can say anything, he, too, is joining what is rapidly becoming a crowded counter.

"Ah, there you are, Becky! I've been looking all over for you!"

Becky giggles, sinking back into Drake's arms as he comes up behind her, "Sorry. I just wanted to get some fresh air and I thought while I was out there, I'd see what was in this building."

Drake laughs and shakes his head, winking at Melody as he offers his hand to her, "Becky can be so silly sometimes! I'm Bobby Schwarzwald, by the way. I don't believe we've met."

"Melody Suchet. A pleasure." she replies, briefly pressing his hand with a small smile. Drake has that ability to put anyone at ease, even an ice princess like this girl.

Caveman's eyes are narrowing as he's listening to this conversation and I grab on to his arm, muttering, "Hey man, keep cool. This is funny, right?"

"Is.... Nick Hunter there?" asks Melody, her look a casual one, though I can tell by the faint flush of her ears that it's not so idle a question for her.

Drake nods, "Yep, he's here. He didn't bring a date, though, because he said after you, there wasn't anybody really worth taking, so he's been hanging out with Caveman all night."

"His real name's Drake Winters, but everybody calls him Caveman", Becky chimes in.

"I see." Melody's lips are thin with distaste and disapproval, "Poor Nick, that he has to have such company."

"Yeah, Caveman can be a little weird", Drake admits.

"Weird? You mean a total and complete loser! I agree, poor Nick that he has to put up with that ass all night!" Becky's eyes are starting to get that purple edge again.

The real Caveman snarls and only a well-timed arm twist thanks to yours truly keeps him from darting out into the shop to defend himself. Trapped, he mumbles about how he's going to strangle us all.

Drake quickly glances back and sees Caveman struggling against my hold. He makes a subtle motion for us to get out of there while he turns back to the two women, who are comparing notes on what a pathetic human being Caveman is.

"Hey, Melody. I know a way you can save Nick from Caveman. Come hang out with us for the rest of Formal. That way he can tell Caveman to kiss off and he can hang out with somebody really cool, namely you."

Drake's suggestion draws another small smile from Melody.

"Yes. All right. I think I can do that, because no one should have to suffer a night with a boy like Caveman."

I pull the real Caveman away from the door and we rush out of the building as quickly and quietly as we can, his eyes murderous, mine gleeful.

Now we just have to get back to the formal in time to let everyone know who is who for the rest of the evening.

Chief Ragusa: So many questions, so few answers... for now

J. Passepartout: I'll see your Machiavelli and raise you a paraphrased Kissinger: Always make certain everyone goes home a little mad, but not mad enough to start another war over it.