Cream of Tartar

Chapter 5: Getting an Education With the Rat Boyz

I'm exhausted by the time I sink into my chair, that interaction with Tar was exhausting. Who does he think he is? Stopping people from borrowing the best-selling children's book the Rainbow Fish? Is he trying to refrain my rights not enumerated in the Constitution from being retained? Next time I see him - not that I want to see him again - I'll show him the 22nd amendment.

I'm about to print a copy of the U.S. Constitution when someone sits in the chair next to me and is noisily pulling out the equipment from their messenger bag. I'm about to berate them for being so inconsiderate to the other students when I spy a sphygmomanometer on their desk.

"You measure your blood pressure at regular intervals too?!" I squeal.

"I do!" the noisy boy with the sphygmomanometer on his desk replies.

"I can't believe it! Everyone from my high school used to make fun of me for this," I gesture at the sphygmomanometer, "They called me 'Stingray' because they have low health literacy and didn't know what a sphygmomanometer was actually called and I just called them dumb for not wanting to measure their blood pressure at regular intervals because blood pressure is-"

"-one of the strongest predictors of overall cardiovascular health," the noisy boy finishes.

I gasp, "It's like we're the same person."

"I know right, but I bet we have different names," he winks, "I'm Laim."

"I'm Cerma. It's nice to meet you, Laim."

"You too, Cream. I feel like this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

"And definitely not the start of a romantic relationship because you are so not my type, no offence," I smile sweetly.

"None taken. I'd rather eat glass than go on a date with a troll like you," he says as he pretends to puke and then actually pukes for real.

"Hey! That was mean," I admit with a frown.

Laim stops vomiting for a second, "But you said I wasn't your type?"

"Yeah I know what I said," I roll my eyes, "But I didn't call you a troll."

"But you saying that I'm not your type implies that you don't find me physically attractive. That's basically the same thing as calling me a troll," Laim says as he wipes the contents of his breakfast from his desk with his forearm.

"Oh," I say lamely, "I didn't think about it that way. You have feelings too?"

Laim furrows his brows, "Everyone has feelings, Carem."

I raise my eyebrows at him, "If that's the case, explain Tar."

"Tar is a dark brown or black viscous liquid of hydrocarbons and free carbon, obtained from a wide variety of organic materials through destructive distillation. Tar can be produced from coal, wood, petroleum, or peat. Mineral products resembling tar can be produced from fossil hydrocarbons, such as petroleum (Wikipedia, 2021)."

"Not the stuff they make roads with. That guy that looks like an Abercrombie model who keeps pouncing on me for no reason."

"Uh," Laim scratches the back of his neck, "I have no idea who you're talking about," I look away with a sigh. It's like my best friend doesn't get me. "but that doesn't mean you can't tell me about him."

I beam at him, "So there's this guy called Tar that looks like an Abercrombie model-"

"-who keeps pouncing on you for no reason," Laim finishes.

"You do know Tar!" I exclaim.

"I do not. I just repeated what you told me a minute ago."

"Oh. So I was at the library yesterday," I begin.

"You read too?" Laim gushes.

"I do! I'm not like most girls," I say as I toss my long and luscious but totally boring chestnut hair over my shoulder. "Plus," I say with a smug grin, "I know all my long vowels and consonant digraphs."

"No way! Me too! What's your favourite book?" Laim asks, our conversation about Tar all bar forgotten.

"During," I answer without skipping a beat, while pulling my skipping rope out of my backpack and standing up to skip.

"I haven't heard of it. What's it about?"

"It's about these college students who have a really toxic relationship," I say as I sit back down and pack away the rope.

"Yikes."

"Yikes is right. They have an emotionally abusive relationship and the author does a really good job of showing that just because your partner doesn't physically harm you, it doesn't mean they aren't abusing you in other ways, for example, by controlling what you can do and who you can see, constantly criticising you, invalidating your feelings, gaslighting you, stalking you, and guilting you into staying with them."

"Wow. It's so important that emotional abuse is accurately represented in literary works so that people in similar situations can recognise the warning signs in their own relationships."

"Exactly! It would be so damaging if these kinds of relationships were romanticised, especially given that the target demographic is primarily young and impressionable," I confess.

"Does the couple stay together in the end?"

"No way! They break up and the girl's friends and family support her through it."

"That's good. It sounds like During discusses some rather serious issues."

"Yeah, it does deal with some pretty heavy themes, like abuse, violence, sexual assault, drug addiction, and death, but the author handles them with the respect they deserve. They're not just things that are brought up to catapult the plot forward and then forgotten about in the next chapter."

"I'm glad to hear that the sensitive topics aren't being used as cheap drama."

"Right! My favourite thing about During is how realistic it is. Like it's so clear that the author has either done her research or experienced similar things in her life."

"That's awesome! I hate it when authors write about things they have no idea about. It's embarrassing."

"Ugh don't get me started. I once read this book called-" but before I can recite my 2 hour and 43 minute monologue about my most hated book, the professor taps his ruler on his desk to the rhythm of Chopin's Fantaisie - Impromptu (Op. 66) and screams, "Eyes up here dickheads!"

Because I am a good student, I stop talking and look at the professor.

"My name is Professor none of your goddamn business," he begins.

I wonder if Nunovyagudairmbiznis is a French name?

"It is French," Professor N answers my thoughts, or at least I thought they were my thoughts, "Has my lecture interrupted you?"

Yes, I was in the middle of telling my friend about the worst book ever written.

"Is that so?" Professor N responds.

What the hell? Is he some kind of mindreader?

"I don't have to be a mind reader. You are saying everything you think out loud."

Argh I hate it when that happens, I think as I stand up to bang my head against the furthest wall.

"Now that we've sorted that out, it's time for the Introduction to English Literature Written by Upper Class Straight White Men Whose Books Have No Relevance to the 21st Century, assholes."

Laim and I share a grin, ItELWbUCSWMWBHNRtt2C1000 is notorious for being the most intellectually stimulating course in the northern hemisphere. This was going to be good.