Sketches

chapter 2

Roslin was scared. She did not much like change, but she'd have to get used to living with Colette if she wanted the hives to stop.

Colette crossed her arms at the doorway, scowling as the girl dragged her belongings in.
Roslin noticed, but tried to make a fresh start between them. "Look, I know you don't like me much and I know you must have really liked having your own room, but I hope we can become friends and learn to share it well!" She held out a hand.

Colette was taken aback by her manners, and also felt a pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach. The girl was never mean to her; Colette didn't mean to be so obvious about her disdain, nor did she realize that she was being obvious. Eyeing the girl sideways, Colette slowly accepted her hand, reassuring herself, 'she can't be real. She's just being superficial...' She still felt resentful that this girl should come and take her precious privacy away. They passed the rest of the night without another word while Roslin unpacked.

In the morning Colette was rudely awakened two hours earlier than usual because "little miss prissy pants" needed to fix her hair. 'Some start...' thought a groggy Colette.

She saw her again for her first class of the day, Sauté and Flambé Techniques. As she walked into the kitchen, Victor, a class mate, suddenly crossed her path, causing her to stop in her tracks abruptly to avoid walking into him. She shot him a nasty look.
"Bonjour, mademoiselle. How would you like to cook up some love later tonight? Haha—oofh!" Just as he leaned over to her and reached for her hip from behind, he suffered a sharp, well-deserved elbow in the ribs. "Oohh..." he whimpered as he hobbled over to his station.

"Ohh, Les hommes sont les bébés!"she muttered tartly under her breath.

Professeur le chef Favreau now walked into the classroom with his briefcase.
Colette sighed. Another lesson with Chef Favreau. This instructor always separated his classes into groups by supposed skill level. Oddly enough, the higher level groups seemed to consist of all boys, and the lower, all the girls. It perplexed Colette that she was the only one who seemed affected by this, stung. She scowled as the lesson began, and toward the end, once again the stupid boys were praised for their sautéed filet mignon. 'It would not be half as good if the girls did not prepare the produce for them!' she thought. Colette frowned as she watched Roslin happily chop away at the onions. She had not a care in the world. She was not even remotely aware of the turmoil that was running through Colette's mind.

Colette stormed into her dorm at the end of the day in a huff, surprised to find prissy pants already there, polishing her fingernails. She gagged at the scent of acetone, and ran to open the window with more force than was necessary.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is there a problem?" Roslin asked her, sweetly.

"No," Colette answered, deliberately avoiding Roslin's eye.

"Oh."
"Yes! – Argh, how do you put up with it!?" she finally exploded.

"With..."
"With the stupid old men making us do nothing while the stupid boys get praise for their stupid sauté?!"

"Oh, well, I never really noticed..."
"You never really noticed their bias? Their favoritism – no – sexism!? Chauvinistic pigs..."

"Um." Roslin was confused. Was this the reason for her roommate's stand-offish-ness?

"Never mind – this is not my day."
"I'm sorry," Roslin sympathized.

"Eh, don't be." Colette felt slightly guilty about exploding. Roslin did not exactly deserve it. "I'm sorry, I..." the rest was almost inaudible, but Roslin heard a muttering of 'PMS.'
She put her nail polish away and said, "It's okay, we all get that. Spill."

Colette opened her mouth a few times to speak, as though deciding how to word her current mood, but then sat on her bed. She heaved a loud sigh. Roslin watched, interested.

"Don't you feel degraded in these classes, or am I the only one?"
"Degraded?" Roslin asked. "Oh, no! I feel like I'm learning something each day!"
"Ugh," she groaned, falling backwards into a lying down position, her knees off the edge of the twin bed. Colette was exasperated at this point. "Then we can not be more different. I'll tell you. I am here to prove something to myself and to the world," she sat back up, "that I can accomplish anything anyone else can, and more! But how can I do it when those stupid old men don't give us girls a chance?!"
"Don't they"
"How can you not see it? We are all stuck doing the dirty work while the professors let the boys do the real thing. Why? I don't know. I guess because they are just men."

"Men?"
"Yes: Men." Colette sighed again.

Roslin had never heard anyone talk like this before. "What have you got against men?"
"They treat women like meat. As though we are lesser. They think – especially Victor, that they have the right to just 'take advantage of us, and that we are less talented, incapable of their own skills. You know?"
"N-no." A pause.

Colette stared at her. Then she gave up. "Okay. We are not seeing eye-to-eye. Never mind." Colette got up to walk away.
"No, wait. I always thought boys were charming... I never thought – but then, I've never been with any..." Roslin trailed off, slightly embarrassed.

Colette stopped and looked at her, puzzlement in her face. She thought Roslin must have dated many men. "You've never been with a guy before?" she inquired.

"No. I've never really found the right one for me. I mean sure, I've been asked out, but..." Roslin trailed off again. 'I can't believe I'm talking about this with Colette... ironic...'

"You rejected them?" Colette asked, nosily. The girl was smarter than she took her for. Roslin just shrugged.
"You sound like you have experience though," she giggled that silly girlish giggle.

"Moi? Non." Colette responded.

"No boy that you've been with has ever hurt you? I mean, why else would you have opinions of boys?"
"Well, no one particular boy, per se..." this was getting uncomfortable.

"Then what?"
Colette hesitated a moment. "My father."