*Chapter Two: Many Meetings*
I was starting to settle in with Arthur and his housemates. I'd been added to the roster yesterday, and started doing my chores today, starting with cooking dinner for the nine of us tonight. Ah well, that should be interesting to try. I hope they don't mind stew: I'm not going to risk a curry until I'm certain that they'll all be able to handle it. Yesterday had been rather busy, as Arthur and myself moved the wardrobe out of the bedroom (I think he'd been intending to move it all by himself, which seemed a bit surprising to me; ah well, he didn't object to me taking the other end of the thing). Mark and Pip had got to and installed some bookshelves (with the help of some power tools and ladders) and offered to give me a hand putting the books away too. I accepted, and the job was done in jig time.
I'd also met the first of the locals. I'd been going to the nearby shop (a sort of corner store place, not very big, but it did sell both asprin and sanitary supplies, both of which I'd discovered that I'd forgotten) and had walked past a rather scrappy looking place. Definite bogan sign there, right down to the car up on blocks in the driveway. The strains of AC/DC were thumping out of the place as well, while the three gilded youths who sat on the verandah were sort of singing along. Or at least, they would have been singing along if they'd been in the same key. Or on the right tune. As it was, they were just shouting along in vaguely the same tempo as the lyrics of the song. When I walked past, two of them started yelling out the mating call of the common hoon: "Hey, check the tits on that, willya!" I ignored them, and kept walking.
Whoops, wrong bloody thing to do. That just made them more eager to get some attention. Any attention, even the finger. Plus, they were just about largered up enough that they'd do something to get it. I was right. Catcalls, wolf whistles, and comments regarding my sexuality ("She's a lesbo, must be!"), topped off by the great beery ritual of dropping their daks and mooning. That last did get a response.
"Gidday fellas, I was wondering if you could tell me who the three arseholes that were talking earlier were?" I commented. Then I ran like buggery for the end of the street, before the comment sank in. Laughing all the way, I must admit
I got into the shop, and the guy behind the counter commented to me, "I see you've met our local entertainment."
I grinned. "Oh, is that what they were? I was thinking I'd found the special school."
"Naah, those three are just dumb," he commented. "I should know, I live with 'em. Name's Don Drake, but most folks call me Duck. What can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for asprin and ummmm..." How do you ask for things like that? Especially in front of someone who seems really nice? Fortunately he took pity on my confusion.
"Down the back, on the other side of the rack with the loo paper."
I nodded, got the bits & pieces I needed, and came back to the checkout.
"So, you're new in town?", Duck asked me as he ran my purchases through the register. I nodded.
"I've just moved in with my uncles, up at number 33. Moved here to study at the university. I'm doing IT."
"Hey, no kiddin'? So'm I! Well, at least you'll know one face in the classes, anyway." He seemed fairly happy about the whole business. "So which one of the guys at 33 is your uncle?"
"Arthur."
"What, Mr DelConda? Hey, cool! I had 'im for history last year. He's a pretty nice guy."
"Yeah. I just moved in yesterday. Down from Northcote."
"Okay, that lot'll be $9.35. Northcote, eh? D'you know the Johnsons?"
"Yeah, I was in the same year as Terry in school."
"35 cents change, and here's your stuff. Ah, Terry's me cousin. I'll tell 'im you stopped by, if you like?"
"No, you don't need to. I didn't know him all that well. Nice to meet you. See you tomorrow at enrollment day?"
"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out, okay?"
I headed back home, thinking that Duck was a nice enough type. I noticed as I headed past the house that Duck shared that the three who'd been out the front had apparently gone inside. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn't have to put up with their comments on the way back. Or at least, that's what I'd thought. Instead, I found that they were waiting for me with a bucket of water. Which they proceeded to drench me with. How nice. Not. I was drenched, and slightly startled by the whole business. Which is probably why one of them got close enough to go the grope. Fortunately for me, I'd spent a bit of money last year in doing a self-defence course (one of those ones which is intended for women living in awkward situations). He'd come up behind me, and certainly wasn't expecting the elbow in the gut that he got. He fell to the ground, gasping. I could feel the mood of the other two change. Up until now, they'd been planning to just have a bit of a grope, pay me back for ignoring them (it's worth noting that like most bullies, they had to act in concert). Now I'd hurt one of theirs, so they wanted to hurt me back.
All I can say is thank all the gods for the slowing effects of beer. These guys didn't so much telegraph their punches as send two weeks advance notice by courier. So when the next one tried to hit me in the gut, I was able to drop so that the punch missed me, and then sweep his feet out from under him. The third one grabbed me by the shoulders, trying to pull me in close. One knee to the groin later, he was crumpled up in his own world of pain. I checked around - all of them were too busy recovering to try and stop me any further. I made my getaway.
There had been all kinds of questions when I got back home, drenched to the skin and swearing furiously, but although George was close to going down there to "teach those lads a bit of manners", I managed to persuade him not to. After all, they'd been beaten up by me on my own, which was quite embarassing enough. Hopefully that would teach them not to try anything in future. I'd been toasted as a "mighty warrior" at dinner time, which embarassed me quite enough, thanks.
Anyway, there I was for my first real visit to Southport campus of Fairmont University. It was a fairly new place, about five years old, so a lot of the architecture hadn't quite got the shiny rubbed off it yet. It was in various shapes and structures of "architecture award", with the main building materials apparently being plate glass and concrete. Given that my own preferences tend more toward federation-style brick and less toward ultra-modern office block as an architectural style, I thought it looked hideous. So did at least one or two of the gardeners, by the look of things. There were a lot of trees planted in strategic places, to shield the public from some of the more dramatic architectural features. Or at least, they would when they'd grown to full size.
I'd been dropped off by Arthur, who'd said that he'd pick me up on his way back from the high school at about four o'clock in the afternoon, and gave me the number for the staff room at the high school if I decided to head back home prior to that. I made my way up to the enrollments area, checking that I'd brought everything I needed: TEE results, birth certificate, driver's licence, handbook, novel to read in queues, purse. Looked like it. I followed the signs pointing the way, and joined the queue. I was given my enrollment form, and told to fill it out with the classes I wanted to do. Ach, damn. I'd forgotten one important thing: a pen. I scrabbled about in the bottom of my bag, to see whether the one I could vaguely remember having put in there was still there. No such luck. I was so distracted by the search that I didn't hear the person coming up behind me.
"You might find this useful."
A hand on my arm, and a pen proffered. I turned to face the person offering it. A tallish girl, with dark hair, and brown eyes. She offered her hand to shake, after I'd taken the pen.
"Hi, Maggie Pierce. I'm down from Georgetown to study here."
"Sarah Barker. I've just moved here myself, from Northcote. Pleased to meet you."
"So, what are you studying?"
"I'm planning on doing IT," I told her, as I swiftly filled out the main administrivia bits of the enrollment form. "How about you?"
"Sociology. I'm having a bit of trouble selecting the breadth courses, though."
"Same here. I've had two recommendations, both from the people I'm sharing a house with now. One told me to avoid English Literature, the other to skip philosophy and philology."
"Well, at least that's a start," Maggie laughed. "Look, I'm interested in learning something about computers and the internet, so which of the IT courses would you suggest?"
I looked down at the list. "Hmmm... how about this one: The Internet: A Socio-Technological Introduction?", I suggested. "Sounds like it's right down your alley."
Maggie looked at the description. "Sounds interesting," she agreed, "but I'm looking for something which shows me how to use one of these computer thingies without it biting me back."
I smiled at her. "Okay, in that case, I think there's this one which might help a bit. Internet Computing. Most of the assessment is practical exercises."
"Hmmm... you may be right," she said, looking at the description.
"Well, I have to do it as a compulsory subject for my first year," I told her, "so if we're lucky, we'll wind up in the same class."
"You've convinced me. Now, what about you? What do you want to do to broaden your knowledge base?"
I laughed. "Wrong question. Ask what I *don't* want to do instead. You'll get a shorter list. As it is, I'm looking at history for one of them. My uncle teaches history at the local highschool, and I figure I can always ask him for some help if I need it." I looked through the available first year units. None of them really caught my imagination, to be honest.
"How about this one?" Maggie suggested, pointing one out. "Culture and Society. It looks interesting."
I glanced over the description. I had to admit, it looked more interesting than sitting in a classroom having the events of World War II dinned into my head (again). I put it down on the list. Okay, one more elective each. I wound up chosing "Exploring Technoculture", while Maggie picked a unit in introductory anatomy and physiology. Then we made our way into the queue to get everything checked over by the university's Administrative staff. Once this was done, we picked up our book lists, collected about a thousand different forms to fill in, and looked at one another. It was about ten o'clock, and I could do with a drink.
"Shall we adjourn for a bit, before starting the next stage of the day?" I asked her, pointing to a sign which stated "This way to the Refectory". She nodded, looking as though she could do with a drink too.
I picked up a bottle of water, while Maggie bought herself a coffee, and then we found a table to collapse at. We drank our drinks, perused the maps of the university we'd been given, and filled in some of the plethora of forms which appeared to have been handed to us. Student Union, student allowance, and I got about halfway through the one for the gay and lesbian student alliance before I bothered to read it, then tore it up, blushing.
While we were sitting there, I heard a familiar voice calling me. "Hey, Sarah!" It turned out to be Duck, in tow with another boy of about the same age.
"Hey, Duck!" I yelled back, beckoning him over to our table. "How's things?"
"Well, me housemates woke up feeling very sore and sorry for 'emselves this mornin', particularly Wazza," he said, laughing. "I've just finished the challenge of tryin' to get through the enrollment form without me brain crawlin' out of me ears. Oh, this is Eric Perkin. 'E's doin' business."
"Maggie Pierce," said Maggie, introducing herself. "Sociology."
"Sarah Barker, IT."
"Duck Drake, IT as well," Eric introduced his friend to Maggie.
Maggie turned to Duck. "Did your parents really christen you Duck?" Eric started laughing, as Duck mock-punched him.
"Nah. It's me nickname."
"Ah, I thought it might be something like that," Maggie said. "Take a seat, gentlemen."
Duck grabbed a chair and turned it around to lean on the back of it, while Eric dropped off his bag, and went to get a couple of Cokes for the pair of them.
"So, how're your housemates?" I asked Duck again, wanting to make sure I hadn't done any permanent damage to any of them.
"Well, Bazza and Dazza are both okay. Both of 'em have bruises to remind 'em not to try pickin' on you again. Wazza's walkin' a bit carefully though," he told me.
Maggie looked over at the pair of us curiously. "What's this? I sense a story. Tell, tell, tell!"
Duck obliged her with the story (he'd apparently been watching the whole thing from the shop) while I blushed tomato-red. Maggie gave me a round of applause at the end of the tale, while Eric, who'd walked up halfway through the whole thing, looked at me in astonishment. Luckily, a distraction was provided by a rather attractive blonde girl hailing Eric from the other side of the room. He waved her over, kissing her on the cheek as she arrived.
"Sheryl, meet Sarah and Maggie. They're both new in town."
Sheryl stuck out her hand to shake, grinning the whole time. "Pleased to meet you both! Where are you from?"
We gave our various locations. Sheryl looked a bit surprised that Maggie had moved down to a country town from Flinders, so we got the explanation behind that one. Turned out that Maggie was another one like myself, who got along better with her family when there was a bit of distance between them.
"It's been even worse these past few months," she said. "I spent twelve months in the UK last year, on a working holiday, and since I got back, I've just felt like I'm being smothered. So I decided to come down here and study, that way I'm doing something that Mum and Dad both approve of, but I'm still being my own person."
Sheryl turned out to be the middle daughter of a local farming family, who was doing a Commerce degree "in the hope of being able to run something more complex than the CWA cake stall", as she put it. She agreed to take us two out-of-towners under her wing, and show us all the best spots in town.
At this point, Maggie and I remembered our booklists, which weren't getting any smaller. "We've got to be going," Maggie explained. "We've got these books to pick up".
We made our farewells, swapped phone numbers with Sheryl, and headed on our way to the bookstore. The queue to pay for books was almost out of the door. We looked at each other in dismay. It would take *forever* to get through that. I started thinking quickly.
"Okay, let's split the workload here," I said. "I'll stand in the queue here, you go fetch the books, and bring them back here. I carry the books and stay in the queue, while you go to the student union and hand in our forms there."
Maggie nodded enthusiastically. "Sounds like a good idea. Cuts down on the amount of time we're each standing in queues." She dove into the scrum of the bookstore, clutching both of our booklists, while I took my position at the end of the cashier's queue. About five minutes later, she came back, carrying half a dozen large textbooks. "The queue goes past the sociology books, so if you can grab them off the rack as you go past, that'd be great. Give me your student union form?"
We juggled books, bags, and everything else, trying to sort out money, and soforth. Maggie pointed out the shelf with the sociology books on it, and then disappeared with the two student union forms to go and get those paid for. About five minutes (and six places further up the queue) later, she came back, looking flustered.
"You forgot to sign yours, Sarah!" she scolded, passing me back the form and her pen, then turning her back so that I could lean on her and sign the form. Then she grabbed the form, the pen, and whisked off again to the student union. Meanwhile, I stood in the queue, chatting to the person in front of me, and the person behind me. Both of them were first-year students, from some of the comments they were making. One law, one commerce. Dale and Vicki. I was about halfway down the queue when Maggie reappeared, to collect the books from me.
"You'll need to go up to the student union yourself, I'm afraid," she told me. "For some obscure reason they want you to pose for your own student ID photo."
I grinned at her, handed over the pile of books, performed introductions, and then squeezed through the crowd to get my student ID card set up. This took about twenty minutes by which time, I discovered, Maggie was holding Vicki's books for her, as Vicki had gone to get cups of coffee for the three of them in the queue. I slotted into Vicki's place, and grabbed her books and my own, while we all waited for her to come back. We were about six to eight places from the front of the queue (or at least, Dale was), so the time hadn't been wasted, anyway. Vicki came back bearing coffees when we were all about four places from the front, and I gave her back her books and soforth. By the time we'd all got out of there, it was lunchtime, and I for one was good and hungry.
I raised the eyebrows of my companions, all of whom were dieting, by going for a hamburger for lunch. I wasn't too worried. After all, it didn't matter how much I dieted, I was never going to be a skinny minny, quite frankly. Not with my bone structure. So I had the hamburger, and probably enjoyed it more than they enjoyed their salads. I don't eat them often, but the university ref does a pretty good burger. Toasted bun and all. Very nice.
By the end of lunch, we'd all swapped our life stories (and caught up with Duck, Eric and Sheryl, who'd come to join us, bringing along a couple of their own contacts from the local area; a rather snooty-looking girl called Keighleigh, and a red-haired boy named Ted). I looked over my various belongings. It looked like I'd done all that I needed to, and when we all cross-checked, we'd pretty much completed everything. Time to head home, I think. Duck offered me a lift home, which was very nice of him, so I phoned up Arthur, and left a message with the teacher who answered, to say that I was getting home under my own steam, and wouldn't need to be picked up.
Duck dropped me off at home, and I went in and started putting my books away. I also got out the Yellow Pages, and looked up the local internet providers. I didn't want to have to deal with Telstra; I'd heard that they could be inconvenient when they wanted to be, and they apparently wanted to be inconvenient all the time. Then I sat down with my mobile, and phoned all the relevant ISPs in the town. There were two large-ish ones, both of whom provided a reasonable service, although both of them were rather on the pricey side for what I wanted. I phoned a few of the smaller ones, but couldn't get anywhere. Either they didn't supply the services I was after (I wanted a relatively stable web server, a well-connected news server, and access to IRC) or they cost even more than the local big two. I eventually gave it up as a waste of time, and headed into the kitchen to start preparing dinner.
There was some pretty nice steak in the fridge, and after checking with Gus, who said that no, nobody had laid claim to it, and yes, it probably was for dinner tonight, I started doing some preparation. It was a warm enough day that steak and salad sounded like a good idea to me. I put the steak on to marinate with some marinade mix from the cupboard (first rule of cooking in strange larders: use named brands of things you recognise) and started getting the salads together. Just some simple stuff, really - a garden salad, a bit of cold meat, some bread, cheese and various other bits & pieces out of the fridge. Once I'd got everything organised and set out on platters for serving, I covered it all over with cling-wrap, and retired to my room, to play "Civilisation 3" for a while.
Dinner that night was a success. I hadn't tried anything fancy, just asking them all how they liked their steak done. Most of them preferred it very well done (boot leather, what a horrible thing to do to steak) although Gus and I both went for medium-rare. I put all the salads onto the table, and everyone could help themselves. I got praise from most of them, for my efforts, even if some of it sounded suspiciously like praising with faint damns, given that the comparisons between myself and Claire were cited. Claire, apparently, wasn't a good cook. I, on the other hand, had been learning to cook since I was tall enough to see over the counter, and old enough to ask to lick the bowl after Mother had been cooking cakes. It was something I was good at, and it was a simple enough hobby. Very relaxing, too. But it had been a long day again, and I was glad to see my bed that evening.
***
"I didn't know you could inherit vocabulary."
"What do you mean, Pip?"
"Well, she's descended from Aragorn on six branches, from Boromir on five, and from both of them on a further three. She's certainly inherited their fighting spirit, and from what we heard on Sunday, she's inherited their list of swearwords, too."
Laughter from the other three hobbits.
"I just want to know whether she's related to any of you four. She's got the height, and the cooking skill for it."
"Well, now that you come to mention it..."
***
I was starting to settle in with Arthur and his housemates. I'd been added to the roster yesterday, and started doing my chores today, starting with cooking dinner for the nine of us tonight. Ah well, that should be interesting to try. I hope they don't mind stew: I'm not going to risk a curry until I'm certain that they'll all be able to handle it. Yesterday had been rather busy, as Arthur and myself moved the wardrobe out of the bedroom (I think he'd been intending to move it all by himself, which seemed a bit surprising to me; ah well, he didn't object to me taking the other end of the thing). Mark and Pip had got to and installed some bookshelves (with the help of some power tools and ladders) and offered to give me a hand putting the books away too. I accepted, and the job was done in jig time.
I'd also met the first of the locals. I'd been going to the nearby shop (a sort of corner store place, not very big, but it did sell both asprin and sanitary supplies, both of which I'd discovered that I'd forgotten) and had walked past a rather scrappy looking place. Definite bogan sign there, right down to the car up on blocks in the driveway. The strains of AC/DC were thumping out of the place as well, while the three gilded youths who sat on the verandah were sort of singing along. Or at least, they would have been singing along if they'd been in the same key. Or on the right tune. As it was, they were just shouting along in vaguely the same tempo as the lyrics of the song. When I walked past, two of them started yelling out the mating call of the common hoon: "Hey, check the tits on that, willya!" I ignored them, and kept walking.
Whoops, wrong bloody thing to do. That just made them more eager to get some attention. Any attention, even the finger. Plus, they were just about largered up enough that they'd do something to get it. I was right. Catcalls, wolf whistles, and comments regarding my sexuality ("She's a lesbo, must be!"), topped off by the great beery ritual of dropping their daks and mooning. That last did get a response.
"Gidday fellas, I was wondering if you could tell me who the three arseholes that were talking earlier were?" I commented. Then I ran like buggery for the end of the street, before the comment sank in. Laughing all the way, I must admit
I got into the shop, and the guy behind the counter commented to me, "I see you've met our local entertainment."
I grinned. "Oh, is that what they were? I was thinking I'd found the special school."
"Naah, those three are just dumb," he commented. "I should know, I live with 'em. Name's Don Drake, but most folks call me Duck. What can I do for you?"
"I'm looking for asprin and ummmm..." How do you ask for things like that? Especially in front of someone who seems really nice? Fortunately he took pity on my confusion.
"Down the back, on the other side of the rack with the loo paper."
I nodded, got the bits & pieces I needed, and came back to the checkout.
"So, you're new in town?", Duck asked me as he ran my purchases through the register. I nodded.
"I've just moved in with my uncles, up at number 33. Moved here to study at the university. I'm doing IT."
"Hey, no kiddin'? So'm I! Well, at least you'll know one face in the classes, anyway." He seemed fairly happy about the whole business. "So which one of the guys at 33 is your uncle?"
"Arthur."
"What, Mr DelConda? Hey, cool! I had 'im for history last year. He's a pretty nice guy."
"Yeah. I just moved in yesterday. Down from Northcote."
"Okay, that lot'll be $9.35. Northcote, eh? D'you know the Johnsons?"
"Yeah, I was in the same year as Terry in school."
"35 cents change, and here's your stuff. Ah, Terry's me cousin. I'll tell 'im you stopped by, if you like?"
"No, you don't need to. I didn't know him all that well. Nice to meet you. See you tomorrow at enrollment day?"
"Yeah, I'll keep an eye out, okay?"
I headed back home, thinking that Duck was a nice enough type. I noticed as I headed past the house that Duck shared that the three who'd been out the front had apparently gone inside. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn't have to put up with their comments on the way back. Or at least, that's what I'd thought. Instead, I found that they were waiting for me with a bucket of water. Which they proceeded to drench me with. How nice. Not. I was drenched, and slightly startled by the whole business. Which is probably why one of them got close enough to go the grope. Fortunately for me, I'd spent a bit of money last year in doing a self-defence course (one of those ones which is intended for women living in awkward situations). He'd come up behind me, and certainly wasn't expecting the elbow in the gut that he got. He fell to the ground, gasping. I could feel the mood of the other two change. Up until now, they'd been planning to just have a bit of a grope, pay me back for ignoring them (it's worth noting that like most bullies, they had to act in concert). Now I'd hurt one of theirs, so they wanted to hurt me back.
All I can say is thank all the gods for the slowing effects of beer. These guys didn't so much telegraph their punches as send two weeks advance notice by courier. So when the next one tried to hit me in the gut, I was able to drop so that the punch missed me, and then sweep his feet out from under him. The third one grabbed me by the shoulders, trying to pull me in close. One knee to the groin later, he was crumpled up in his own world of pain. I checked around - all of them were too busy recovering to try and stop me any further. I made my getaway.
There had been all kinds of questions when I got back home, drenched to the skin and swearing furiously, but although George was close to going down there to "teach those lads a bit of manners", I managed to persuade him not to. After all, they'd been beaten up by me on my own, which was quite embarassing enough. Hopefully that would teach them not to try anything in future. I'd been toasted as a "mighty warrior" at dinner time, which embarassed me quite enough, thanks.
Anyway, there I was for my first real visit to Southport campus of Fairmont University. It was a fairly new place, about five years old, so a lot of the architecture hadn't quite got the shiny rubbed off it yet. It was in various shapes and structures of "architecture award", with the main building materials apparently being plate glass and concrete. Given that my own preferences tend more toward federation-style brick and less toward ultra-modern office block as an architectural style, I thought it looked hideous. So did at least one or two of the gardeners, by the look of things. There were a lot of trees planted in strategic places, to shield the public from some of the more dramatic architectural features. Or at least, they would when they'd grown to full size.
I'd been dropped off by Arthur, who'd said that he'd pick me up on his way back from the high school at about four o'clock in the afternoon, and gave me the number for the staff room at the high school if I decided to head back home prior to that. I made my way up to the enrollments area, checking that I'd brought everything I needed: TEE results, birth certificate, driver's licence, handbook, novel to read in queues, purse. Looked like it. I followed the signs pointing the way, and joined the queue. I was given my enrollment form, and told to fill it out with the classes I wanted to do. Ach, damn. I'd forgotten one important thing: a pen. I scrabbled about in the bottom of my bag, to see whether the one I could vaguely remember having put in there was still there. No such luck. I was so distracted by the search that I didn't hear the person coming up behind me.
"You might find this useful."
A hand on my arm, and a pen proffered. I turned to face the person offering it. A tallish girl, with dark hair, and brown eyes. She offered her hand to shake, after I'd taken the pen.
"Hi, Maggie Pierce. I'm down from Georgetown to study here."
"Sarah Barker. I've just moved here myself, from Northcote. Pleased to meet you."
"So, what are you studying?"
"I'm planning on doing IT," I told her, as I swiftly filled out the main administrivia bits of the enrollment form. "How about you?"
"Sociology. I'm having a bit of trouble selecting the breadth courses, though."
"Same here. I've had two recommendations, both from the people I'm sharing a house with now. One told me to avoid English Literature, the other to skip philosophy and philology."
"Well, at least that's a start," Maggie laughed. "Look, I'm interested in learning something about computers and the internet, so which of the IT courses would you suggest?"
I looked down at the list. "Hmmm... how about this one: The Internet: A Socio-Technological Introduction?", I suggested. "Sounds like it's right down your alley."
Maggie looked at the description. "Sounds interesting," she agreed, "but I'm looking for something which shows me how to use one of these computer thingies without it biting me back."
I smiled at her. "Okay, in that case, I think there's this one which might help a bit. Internet Computing. Most of the assessment is practical exercises."
"Hmmm... you may be right," she said, looking at the description.
"Well, I have to do it as a compulsory subject for my first year," I told her, "so if we're lucky, we'll wind up in the same class."
"You've convinced me. Now, what about you? What do you want to do to broaden your knowledge base?"
I laughed. "Wrong question. Ask what I *don't* want to do instead. You'll get a shorter list. As it is, I'm looking at history for one of them. My uncle teaches history at the local highschool, and I figure I can always ask him for some help if I need it." I looked through the available first year units. None of them really caught my imagination, to be honest.
"How about this one?" Maggie suggested, pointing one out. "Culture and Society. It looks interesting."
I glanced over the description. I had to admit, it looked more interesting than sitting in a classroom having the events of World War II dinned into my head (again). I put it down on the list. Okay, one more elective each. I wound up chosing "Exploring Technoculture", while Maggie picked a unit in introductory anatomy and physiology. Then we made our way into the queue to get everything checked over by the university's Administrative staff. Once this was done, we picked up our book lists, collected about a thousand different forms to fill in, and looked at one another. It was about ten o'clock, and I could do with a drink.
"Shall we adjourn for a bit, before starting the next stage of the day?" I asked her, pointing to a sign which stated "This way to the Refectory". She nodded, looking as though she could do with a drink too.
I picked up a bottle of water, while Maggie bought herself a coffee, and then we found a table to collapse at. We drank our drinks, perused the maps of the university we'd been given, and filled in some of the plethora of forms which appeared to have been handed to us. Student Union, student allowance, and I got about halfway through the one for the gay and lesbian student alliance before I bothered to read it, then tore it up, blushing.
While we were sitting there, I heard a familiar voice calling me. "Hey, Sarah!" It turned out to be Duck, in tow with another boy of about the same age.
"Hey, Duck!" I yelled back, beckoning him over to our table. "How's things?"
"Well, me housemates woke up feeling very sore and sorry for 'emselves this mornin', particularly Wazza," he said, laughing. "I've just finished the challenge of tryin' to get through the enrollment form without me brain crawlin' out of me ears. Oh, this is Eric Perkin. 'E's doin' business."
"Maggie Pierce," said Maggie, introducing herself. "Sociology."
"Sarah Barker, IT."
"Duck Drake, IT as well," Eric introduced his friend to Maggie.
Maggie turned to Duck. "Did your parents really christen you Duck?" Eric started laughing, as Duck mock-punched him.
"Nah. It's me nickname."
"Ah, I thought it might be something like that," Maggie said. "Take a seat, gentlemen."
Duck grabbed a chair and turned it around to lean on the back of it, while Eric dropped off his bag, and went to get a couple of Cokes for the pair of them.
"So, how're your housemates?" I asked Duck again, wanting to make sure I hadn't done any permanent damage to any of them.
"Well, Bazza and Dazza are both okay. Both of 'em have bruises to remind 'em not to try pickin' on you again. Wazza's walkin' a bit carefully though," he told me.
Maggie looked over at the pair of us curiously. "What's this? I sense a story. Tell, tell, tell!"
Duck obliged her with the story (he'd apparently been watching the whole thing from the shop) while I blushed tomato-red. Maggie gave me a round of applause at the end of the tale, while Eric, who'd walked up halfway through the whole thing, looked at me in astonishment. Luckily, a distraction was provided by a rather attractive blonde girl hailing Eric from the other side of the room. He waved her over, kissing her on the cheek as she arrived.
"Sheryl, meet Sarah and Maggie. They're both new in town."
Sheryl stuck out her hand to shake, grinning the whole time. "Pleased to meet you both! Where are you from?"
We gave our various locations. Sheryl looked a bit surprised that Maggie had moved down to a country town from Flinders, so we got the explanation behind that one. Turned out that Maggie was another one like myself, who got along better with her family when there was a bit of distance between them.
"It's been even worse these past few months," she said. "I spent twelve months in the UK last year, on a working holiday, and since I got back, I've just felt like I'm being smothered. So I decided to come down here and study, that way I'm doing something that Mum and Dad both approve of, but I'm still being my own person."
Sheryl turned out to be the middle daughter of a local farming family, who was doing a Commerce degree "in the hope of being able to run something more complex than the CWA cake stall", as she put it. She agreed to take us two out-of-towners under her wing, and show us all the best spots in town.
At this point, Maggie and I remembered our booklists, which weren't getting any smaller. "We've got to be going," Maggie explained. "We've got these books to pick up".
We made our farewells, swapped phone numbers with Sheryl, and headed on our way to the bookstore. The queue to pay for books was almost out of the door. We looked at each other in dismay. It would take *forever* to get through that. I started thinking quickly.
"Okay, let's split the workload here," I said. "I'll stand in the queue here, you go fetch the books, and bring them back here. I carry the books and stay in the queue, while you go to the student union and hand in our forms there."
Maggie nodded enthusiastically. "Sounds like a good idea. Cuts down on the amount of time we're each standing in queues." She dove into the scrum of the bookstore, clutching both of our booklists, while I took my position at the end of the cashier's queue. About five minutes later, she came back, carrying half a dozen large textbooks. "The queue goes past the sociology books, so if you can grab them off the rack as you go past, that'd be great. Give me your student union form?"
We juggled books, bags, and everything else, trying to sort out money, and soforth. Maggie pointed out the shelf with the sociology books on it, and then disappeared with the two student union forms to go and get those paid for. About five minutes (and six places further up the queue) later, she came back, looking flustered.
"You forgot to sign yours, Sarah!" she scolded, passing me back the form and her pen, then turning her back so that I could lean on her and sign the form. Then she grabbed the form, the pen, and whisked off again to the student union. Meanwhile, I stood in the queue, chatting to the person in front of me, and the person behind me. Both of them were first-year students, from some of the comments they were making. One law, one commerce. Dale and Vicki. I was about halfway down the queue when Maggie reappeared, to collect the books from me.
"You'll need to go up to the student union yourself, I'm afraid," she told me. "For some obscure reason they want you to pose for your own student ID photo."
I grinned at her, handed over the pile of books, performed introductions, and then squeezed through the crowd to get my student ID card set up. This took about twenty minutes by which time, I discovered, Maggie was holding Vicki's books for her, as Vicki had gone to get cups of coffee for the three of them in the queue. I slotted into Vicki's place, and grabbed her books and my own, while we all waited for her to come back. We were about six to eight places from the front of the queue (or at least, Dale was), so the time hadn't been wasted, anyway. Vicki came back bearing coffees when we were all about four places from the front, and I gave her back her books and soforth. By the time we'd all got out of there, it was lunchtime, and I for one was good and hungry.
I raised the eyebrows of my companions, all of whom were dieting, by going for a hamburger for lunch. I wasn't too worried. After all, it didn't matter how much I dieted, I was never going to be a skinny minny, quite frankly. Not with my bone structure. So I had the hamburger, and probably enjoyed it more than they enjoyed their salads. I don't eat them often, but the university ref does a pretty good burger. Toasted bun and all. Very nice.
By the end of lunch, we'd all swapped our life stories (and caught up with Duck, Eric and Sheryl, who'd come to join us, bringing along a couple of their own contacts from the local area; a rather snooty-looking girl called Keighleigh, and a red-haired boy named Ted). I looked over my various belongings. It looked like I'd done all that I needed to, and when we all cross-checked, we'd pretty much completed everything. Time to head home, I think. Duck offered me a lift home, which was very nice of him, so I phoned up Arthur, and left a message with the teacher who answered, to say that I was getting home under my own steam, and wouldn't need to be picked up.
Duck dropped me off at home, and I went in and started putting my books away. I also got out the Yellow Pages, and looked up the local internet providers. I didn't want to have to deal with Telstra; I'd heard that they could be inconvenient when they wanted to be, and they apparently wanted to be inconvenient all the time. Then I sat down with my mobile, and phoned all the relevant ISPs in the town. There were two large-ish ones, both of whom provided a reasonable service, although both of them were rather on the pricey side for what I wanted. I phoned a few of the smaller ones, but couldn't get anywhere. Either they didn't supply the services I was after (I wanted a relatively stable web server, a well-connected news server, and access to IRC) or they cost even more than the local big two. I eventually gave it up as a waste of time, and headed into the kitchen to start preparing dinner.
There was some pretty nice steak in the fridge, and after checking with Gus, who said that no, nobody had laid claim to it, and yes, it probably was for dinner tonight, I started doing some preparation. It was a warm enough day that steak and salad sounded like a good idea to me. I put the steak on to marinate with some marinade mix from the cupboard (first rule of cooking in strange larders: use named brands of things you recognise) and started getting the salads together. Just some simple stuff, really - a garden salad, a bit of cold meat, some bread, cheese and various other bits & pieces out of the fridge. Once I'd got everything organised and set out on platters for serving, I covered it all over with cling-wrap, and retired to my room, to play "Civilisation 3" for a while.
Dinner that night was a success. I hadn't tried anything fancy, just asking them all how they liked their steak done. Most of them preferred it very well done (boot leather, what a horrible thing to do to steak) although Gus and I both went for medium-rare. I put all the salads onto the table, and everyone could help themselves. I got praise from most of them, for my efforts, even if some of it sounded suspiciously like praising with faint damns, given that the comparisons between myself and Claire were cited. Claire, apparently, wasn't a good cook. I, on the other hand, had been learning to cook since I was tall enough to see over the counter, and old enough to ask to lick the bowl after Mother had been cooking cakes. It was something I was good at, and it was a simple enough hobby. Very relaxing, too. But it had been a long day again, and I was glad to see my bed that evening.
***
"I didn't know you could inherit vocabulary."
"What do you mean, Pip?"
"Well, she's descended from Aragorn on six branches, from Boromir on five, and from both of them on a further three. She's certainly inherited their fighting spirit, and from what we heard on Sunday, she's inherited their list of swearwords, too."
Laughter from the other three hobbits.
"I just want to know whether she's related to any of you four. She's got the height, and the cooking skill for it."
"Well, now that you come to mention it..."
***