Penelope (20 page)

This, Penelope felt, was a good excuse as any to leave the dance floor. However, when she tried to make her exit, Gustav motioned her over to his group.

“Ah, there you are,” said Gustav when Penelope got within earshot. “You must really, really like Michael Jackson.”

“I like Janet better,” said Penelope.

“Do you think our DJ is remiss? To be honest, I didn’t really like the look of him. Rather small yet wearing a huge hat. No sense of proportion,” said Gustav.

“Penelope, the S— flew this DJ in from, where was it, Gustav, Belize?” asked Emma.

“Yes, or somewhere in that godforsaken swamp that is South America,” said Gustav.

“Aren’t you from South America?” asked Emma.

“That is why I can say that with authority,” said Gustav.

“I think this DJ is fantastic,” said Bitty. “Really, just fantastic!” She fell backward again. This time, she leaned against a wall and closed her eyes.

“Penelope,” said Gustav, stroking his chin. “Although I have only met you just now, I am very impressed by your dancing skills. Can you do that moonwalk again, in this corner?”

“Actually, Penelope,” said Emma, “we really should go. I am super-tired and I have to get up early tomorrow to write a paper. I’m sorry, guys. Gustav, are you coming to Harvard-Yale?”

“Yes, believe so. Have to get my bearskin dry-cleaned, of course. Are you sure you ladies have to go right at this moment? I am almost positive I could convince Jesus to play Michael Jackson again, if that is what it takes.”

“No,” said Emma. “We really have to go. But I hope we will see you soon!”

“It was nice meeting you, Penelope. Emma. Always a pleasure,” said Gustav. “Bitty, darling, wake up! The wall is not a bed!”

“So did you have fun?” asked Emma halfway through the walk back from the party.

“Oh, yes,” said Penelope. Penelope was not one to get carried away on the wings of fancy, but in a short time, she had come to the conclusion that Gustav was the funniest, most interesting, most agreeable man she had ever met. She could not believe that he had talked to her. She could not believe that she had had the strength to answer any of his questions. “I had a fine time.”

“I’m so glad you got to meet Gustav,” said Emma. “He and I are really close, and it always makes me happy when some of my friends meet others of my friends.”

“How do you know him?” asked Penelope.

“I met him the first week of school. But I had heard of him before that. His family is extremely famous.”

“Oh, really?”

“They are originally German royalty. But then they went to Argentina after World War II. Gustav told me it was because they needed to hide out for some reason. But then they started some business. And now his dad does something with Formula One cars!”

“Why do you think they did needed to hide out after World War II?” asked Penelope in a nervous voice.

“Oh God, I don’t know. How should I know?”

“I thought he was British,” said Penelope.

“He went to school in England. All rich people do. But he’s not British. He doesn’t sound British to me at all. He sounds very German. I think it’s because I have met a lot of Germans. I recognized it immediately.”

“Oh,” said Penelope.

“I always feel weird around Bitty when I am with Gustav, so I was glad you were there with me. It kind of cut the tension.”

“What tension?” asked Penelope.

“Well, Bitty and I are like really good friends, of course. And Gustav is kind of involved with her. They knew each other from before Harvard and I think they have been hooking up casually for like years. It’s weird though, because the first week of school, I hung out with Gustav one-on-one for like a long time, and it’s been weird ever since.”

“Why?” asked Penelope.

“Well, nothing happened. It was four in the morning and I was in his room and I was drunk. It was totally platonic. The thing is, we’ve always had some weird tension between us ever since. Did you notice it?”

“Not really,” said Penelope. “But next time, I will look for it.”

“Are you sure?” said Emma. “I feel like it’s so obvious.”

“Well, let me think. I guess I did notice some tension.”

“You did?” asked Emma. “When?”

“At points,” said Penelope.

“Yeah, I know. It’s sort of ridiculous,” said Emma. They were back at Pennypacker and climbed the stairs to their room. Penelope did not feel like sharing this story with Ted and Catherine, so she went straight to bed.

“So, I have been hearing through the grapevine that some of you are having problems with your e-mail,” said Jared. Everyone in the section gaped at him silently. Jared glared at Penelope. Penelope drew a face on her new notepad, which she bought for just this occasion.

“If you are having problems with your e-mail, that is no excuse not to do your work or honor your obligations. You need to go to computer services and get your server fixed if this is the case. In the meantime, I can print you out handouts if you come to my office hours. Is that clear?”

Everyone nodded.

“Good,” said Jared. “We can finally get started in our discussion.”

Penelope stared at Gustav as she drew eyelashes on the face she was illustrating. This was the first time she had seen him since the party. He was wearing a chocolate-brown cardigan, tan suede boots, and very dark, very tight jeans. The night before, Penelope had had a dream about Gustav in which he took her up in a helicopter and tried to make out with her, at which point she realized she was in a car seat made of lead. Even though there was a chain saw lying on the floor of the helicopter, it
was useless in the face of the car seat’s restraints. Suddenly, the helicopter took a rapid dive and the car seat tumbled out of the helicopter. She woke up just as she was about to hit the ground. It was hard to say what that meant. It depended on whether you thought dreams predicted the future or told you about your subconscious self. Penelope was feeling more and more like she was in the former camp.

The class was interminable. Today the discussion consisted of an extended question-and-answer session about the upcoming quiz. Everyone loved these kinds of sections, it seemed, as there was much active participation and shouted questions.

Penelope spent the entire class wondering whether to talk to Gustav when the class was over. Should she acknowledge that they knew each other? Or should she pretend that she had forgotten that they met? It was difficult to know.

As the class was filing out, Penelope had just reached the decision to ignore Gustav when he called out to her.

“Hey, Penelope is it?” said Gustav. He was a little behind her and jogged slightly to catch up with her as she was heading down the stairs.

“Oh, hi,” said Penelope.

“I thought it was you. Did you have fun the other night?”

“Oh, yeah. It was fun,” said Penelope. “I was glad I got to moonwalk at some point.”

“As was I,” said Gustav. “Are you going to the Barker Center?”

“Yeah, I have another section, actually.”

“Oh, woe is you,” said Gustav. “What’s yours for?”

“Images of Shakespeare,” said Penelope.

“I never really understood what that was,” said Gustav.

“It’s self-explanatory,” said Penelope. “What’s your section for?”

“Oh, I don’t have a section,” said Gustav. Was he just walking her to the Barker Center for no reason except her company? This was a stressful thought that made her unable to talk. Luckily Gustav was able to rise to the task of explaining his conduct and fixing on a subject.

“My dorm’s just this way. Are you going to Harvard-Yale?”

“I don’t know,” said Penelope. “What is it exactly?”

“It’s a football game.”

“Oh, that,” said Penelope. “Everyone who I talk to keeps saying they have too much work to go.”

“Why, that’s just ridiculous!” said Gustav. “What kind of Jehovah’s Witnesses are you talking to now? Excuse me, of course, if I insulted your religion.”

“The people in Pennypacker,” said Penelope.

“That is what your problem is. I have never even known anyone who lived in that wretched dorm. The housing isn’t as random as they say. My father told me that much. Pennypacker is above the radio station, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” said Penelope.

“Are you worried about ham waves?”

“Of course,” said Penelope. “But I have a helmet.”

“Well, I hope it’s steel plated,” said Gustav.

“It’s for rollerblading,” said Penelope. “And I gave it to my roommate when she was training our cat to do an obstacle course.”

“Why would she need a helmet if her cat was the one doing the obstacle course?” asked Gustav.

Penelope was just about to answer when she saw Ted. He was standing in front of the Barker Center, arms crossed. Ted and Penelope had this section together, and when they weren’t avoiding each other, they waited for each other outside the Barker Center and walked into class together. Penelope had forgotten that they were not avoiding each other anymore. She sort of wished they were still avoiding each other, now that she thought about it.

“I have to go to class,” said Penelope bluntly to Gustav. The closer she got to Ted, the more she realized that his stance was exactly that of Yul Brynner in
The King and I
. It was a disturbing revelation.

“I have to go as well actually,” said Gustav, looking at his pocket watch, which was looped in the folds of his cardigan.
“But you should come to Harvard-Yale. The S— is having some sort of a tailgate afterward, I think. Of course, it will be a small affair. I wouldn’t bring the teeming mob if you know what I mean.” Gustav looked at Ted, who, to Penelope’s chagrin, was waving at her now as if they were bosom buddies. “Bouncers and all that. Let me get your number and I can text you if anything actually materializes.”

“OK,” said Penelope. She mumbled her number in shock. “Maybe I should learn the rules of football.”

“Darling,” said Gustav, “batting around an olive-shaped rugby ball in a contest for pituitary supremacy is not football. I’ll see you soon, I hope. Oh, hello there,” said Gustav to Ted.

“Hi,” said Ted.

“Bye, Penelope,” said Gustav. He took a sharp right and walked in the direction of the upper-class houses.

“Bye,” said Penelope to Gustav’s fading figure. She and Ted went up the stairs.

“Who was that guy?” asked Ted.

“Oh, he’s just this guy I know,” said Penelope.

They opened the door to the section. The class was assembled around a table. Ted and Penelope walked to the back of the table and sat down next to each other. The TF gave them an exasperated look. She was a short, round little woman who looked far older than she probably was. She wore a burnt orange cropped roll-neck sweater and clogs every day regardless of weather.

“Melissa was saying that this image of Shakespeare looks bloated,” said the TF, whose name was also Melissa and who therefore favored student Melissa in a shameless manner. “What do you all think about that?”

There was silence.

“Bloated? I don’t think we can start just throwing a word like that around without problematizing it a little,” scoffed a tiny boy in a herringbone vest. He was especially contrary when he wore the vest, Penelope had noticed.

Everyone disagreed. When the section ended, Ted and Penelope filed out of the classroom.

“Hey,” said Ted. “Do you want to get a cup of coffee in the Barker Center café? We can do our homework in there.”

“OK,” said Penelope. She had a bad feeling about this. Hanging out with Ted in a group was one thing, but she had not really hung out one-on-one with him since the incident. She wondered what he wanted to talk to her about.

The café was on the first floor in a glass rotunda. It sold organic coffee and old sushi and was always very cold or really hot because of the windows. It might have been Penelope’s least favorite place on campus, aside from the radio station. Ted threw his backpack, which was royal blue, on a table near the entrance.

“I really hate that kid in the vest,” said Ted, sitting down at the table.

“He is kind of mean,” said Penelope, also sitting down.

“I just don’t understand rolling your eyes while other people are talking, or, for that matter, banging your hand on the table when you yourself are talking,” said Ted.

“He reminds me of William Jennings Bryan,” said Penelope.

“Yeah,” said Ted doubtfully. “Do you want any coffee?”

“I might,” said Penelope.

“I’ll get it,” said Ted. Before Penelope could really say anything, Ted had already sprinted to the coffee line. He came back a few minutes later coffee in hand.

“You like yours with just cream, right?” asked Ted, putting one of the coffees down in front of Penelope.

“Yeah,” said Penelope.

“I thought I remembered that,” said Ted. Then he looked at Penelope in a serious and pained manner that could not but strike fear in her heart.

“Actually, Penelope,” Ted said, “I was really hoping we could talk.”

“Oh.”

“About the other night.”

“Really? OK.”

“What do you think about it?” said Ted.

“What do I think about it,” said Penelope. What did Penelope think about it? She had been trying to figure that out herself. At the time, the experience wavered from unpleasant to pleasant at parts. In the contemporary moment, it was firmly unpleasant.