03 - The Cruise on the Channel

Chapter 1

Classes were heckled this morning.

The baptism committee and other seniors came during the break of the math class. They came to advertise Wednesday's baptism. They told us that there was still time to give up because they will have no mercy on us. Some people whistle because they hate all these ceremonies and folkloric activities. All the brats who use to sit at the bottom of the auditorium and spend more time in discussion and even read the newspapers rather than listening to the professor and then complain that they don't understand and force the assistants to explain over and over obvious subject.

They call some notorious blues, of which I am a part, to make them drink. We are also sprinkled with beer and flour attracting the disdain of the said brats and more and more people. I don't know why I attract more mockeries and awful words and whistles. Is it because some meet me in the tutorials? Or because I am always with Stephanie who doesn't want to speak to them, even not answer their lousy approach?

I have to continue the course quite uncomfortably. Stephanie is a little angry because I wear the shirt and the pants she bought last week.

At 10 a.m., I quickly go to my place to change before going to the math tutorial. At least I could sleep last night. I don't know how I could fall asleep as she plays with me without interruption. Even in the morning, she was awake before me, ready and stunning.

— So even when you are asleep your brain is out of your skull. You cannot accuse me, I was in the bathroom. Did you notice? I considered you and let you sleep last night. Am I a good girlfriend? Come on, breakfast is ready.

Is it normal? She enjoys too much my nudity. And when I ask to see her breasts, she screams I am a pervert.

She made me explain in details why my brain is below my belt even when I am sleeping. I checked that once in a book and could explain the flow of blood and testosterone, even when she is not around.

— Perhaps you are dreaming of me?

I didn't tell her I don't use to remember my dreams. I swear, not to her obviously, that I never wanted to have sex dreams where she was present. It's a blaspheme. Just recently, I close my eyes and I dream of her, her body, her boobs that I could see for only few seconds...

— You didn't tell me my usage, she told me while eating.

— What usage?

— Remember: I told you how useful you were, you cook, you carry my bags, you kiss me... You know. So how useful am I?

— Stephanie... you are not a thing... You are not useful.

— What? She seems angry. Are you telling me that I am useless?

— No, I gibber, no, I mean I don't have a usage of you, you are my girlfriend, that's everything, uh... you mean everything to me, and you are also my best friend.

She smiles.

— It's better. I thought you found me useless, I was shocked!

— Please, I would never think that.

She laughed. She was teasing me, but I can never tell, and I certainly don't want to upset her.

Sandrine and Annick thanked me. Apparently they had a long evening yesterday, lot of cocktails and the reading of my green notebook.

— You wrote nice things about us, said Annick.

— And what we could read about some girls we know is right. Jerky, but not untrue! Added Sandrine.

They kissed me in the amphitheatre, probably the reason why I attract more hatred.

I am just in time for the tutorial. Half of the students are absent, as if they already gave up. How can they give up on math? This is an exciting subject, and finally it goes at a decent rhythm. I should have come to university much earlier. Maybe jump from primary school to here. I could have studied math and sciences in the said faculties, then Latin and Greek also, French without the fucking analysis of texts destroyed by the teachers. How much could I have learnt in six years?