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Authors: Regina Doman
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bit of a neat freak, and Rose knew she would have to clean it up as soon as she could. A happy roommate meant a happy living situation.
Besides, I like a neat room, too , she thought, closing the door on the shambles behind her and going down the hall.
As she rounded the corner of the hallway, she almost ran into Donna. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she stuttered, seeing who it was.
Donna was tall, with straight blond hair, a narrow face with a perfect Grecian nose. But there was something about her eyes that made her face unpleasant. Now she fixed her cold blue eyes on Rose with a strange expression, and kept her eyes on her as she stepped disdainfully away and swept down the hall. Rose shuddered as she hurried down the hall.
It had been like this ever since play practice had started. It was common knowledge among the cast that Donna, a seasoned actress who was playing the part of Goneril, had wanted the role of Cordelia badly and resented losing the part to a greenhorn like Rose. Rose had a feeling Donna was playing some kind of payback game, and disliked it intensely.
She freaks me out, and she probably knows it , Rose thought to herself. Donna had given her that stare during play practice. On stage, it worked, but off stage, Rose wasn’t sure how much was acting and how much was real life.
A damper on her spirits, she hurried out into the lounge and out the door to class.
She tried hard to enjoy the day, with its blue skies and brisk wind. So different here than in New York. There were no buildings and comparatively little smog. Green trees instead of gray concrete. She enjoyed that.
She was passing the smallest male dormitory, a long low building running along three sides of a square courtyard, with the name Sacra Cor , Latin transliteration for “Sacred Heart,” on the sign in front. That was where Paul, Alex, and Leroy lived, she had found out. It was the smallest of the men’s dorms—the other two dorms, “Lumen Christi” and “Mater Dei,” were the size of the women’s dorms.
As she passed the courtyard, she heard a shout, “Sacra Cor!” in a huge, magnified tone. Paul charged through a doorway, a silver sword flashing in his hand. He bolted up a nearby slope and stood with his back to her, facing the door he had exited, brandishing the weapon. Rose had never seen such a sword, which was at least three feet long and looked heavy. It well matched Paul’s physique, and despite herself, she took a second look.
Then she saw Leroy rush out of the dorm, flourishing another sword. They faced each other, weapons out, and for a moment, Rose wondered if they were going to fight. But then Paul jabbed his sword into the ground, turned a flip—she had learned by now that it was as easy for him to do as breathing—and stood up in an attack stance. Leroy thrust his weapon into the grass as well and advanced. Then abruptly both guys threw themselves at each other in a full-fledged wrestling match, landing on the ground. Rose couldn’t help laughing, and waited to see the outcome.
Alex emerged from his room, a curved wooden sword in his hand, ambled over to her, stuck the point of the sword in the ground in front of him, and watched the two meditatively. As usual, he was in black—this time, wearing a t-shirt that proclaimed “Abortion is Mean.”
“Not bad,” he reflected. “Another semester of training, maybe, and Leroy’ll be ready.”
“For what?” she pursued.
“Knighthood. Paul’s ready. You can tell. His training has paid off.”
“Do you train them?” she asked solemnly.
“Yes,” he answered in the same tone. “Martial arts, swordplay, wrestling—all necessary skills for any man in today’s world.”
“Really,” she said.
“And for women too, though most of them around here aren’t as interested.” He pulled the sword from the grass and handed it to her. “Try this.”
She took it curiously, and looked at it. It was a curved sword, light and strong. “What’s
Besides, I like a neat room, too , she thought, closing the door on the shambles behind her and going down the hall.
As she rounded the corner of the hallway, she almost ran into Donna. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she stuttered, seeing who it was.
Donna was tall, with straight blond hair, a narrow face with a perfect Grecian nose. But there was something about her eyes that made her face unpleasant. Now she fixed her cold blue eyes on Rose with a strange expression, and kept her eyes on her as she stepped disdainfully away and swept down the hall. Rose shuddered as she hurried down the hall.
It had been like this ever since play practice had started. It was common knowledge among the cast that Donna, a seasoned actress who was playing the part of Goneril, had wanted the role of Cordelia badly and resented losing the part to a greenhorn like Rose. Rose had a feeling Donna was playing some kind of payback game, and disliked it intensely.
She freaks me out, and she probably knows it , Rose thought to herself. Donna had given her that stare during play practice. On stage, it worked, but off stage, Rose wasn’t sure how much was acting and how much was real life.
A damper on her spirits, she hurried out into the lounge and out the door to class.
She tried hard to enjoy the day, with its blue skies and brisk wind. So different here than in New York. There were no buildings and comparatively little smog. Green trees instead of gray concrete. She enjoyed that.
She was passing the smallest male dormitory, a long low building running along three sides of a square courtyard, with the name Sacra Cor , Latin transliteration for “Sacred Heart,” on the sign in front. That was where Paul, Alex, and Leroy lived, she had found out. It was the smallest of the men’s dorms—the other two dorms, “Lumen Christi” and “Mater Dei,” were the size of the women’s dorms.
As she passed the courtyard, she heard a shout, “Sacra Cor!” in a huge, magnified tone. Paul charged through a doorway, a silver sword flashing in his hand. He bolted up a nearby slope and stood with his back to her, facing the door he had exited, brandishing the weapon. Rose had never seen such a sword, which was at least three feet long and looked heavy. It well matched Paul’s physique, and despite herself, she took a second look.
Then she saw Leroy rush out of the dorm, flourishing another sword. They faced each other, weapons out, and for a moment, Rose wondered if they were going to fight. But then Paul jabbed his sword into the ground, turned a flip—she had learned by now that it was as easy for him to do as breathing—and stood up in an attack stance. Leroy thrust his weapon into the grass as well and advanced. Then abruptly both guys threw themselves at each other in a full-fledged wrestling match, landing on the ground. Rose couldn’t help laughing, and waited to see the outcome.
Alex emerged from his room, a curved wooden sword in his hand, ambled over to her, stuck the point of the sword in the ground in front of him, and watched the two meditatively. As usual, he was in black—this time, wearing a t-shirt that proclaimed “Abortion is Mean.”
“Not bad,” he reflected. “Another semester of training, maybe, and Leroy’ll be ready.”
“For what?” she pursued.
“Knighthood. Paul’s ready. You can tell. His training has paid off.”
“Do you train them?” she asked solemnly.
“Yes,” he answered in the same tone. “Martial arts, swordplay, wrestling—all necessary skills for any man in today’s world.”
“Really,” she said.
“And for women too, though most of them around here aren’t as interested.” He pulled the sword from the grass and handed it to her. “Try this.”
She took it curiously, and looked at it. It was a curved sword, light and strong. “What’s
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