Common
I'm lying on my back, but not for the reasons you're thinking.
I'm lying on my back in our college common room. The inspectors are in, so waltzing into town to optimistically buy Solero's in tiny skirts, floaty tops and oversize sunglasses is strictly off the menu for a day. Instead, it's ruffle collared shirts, floating skirts or wide leg trousers and flats. Then again, I wear flats all the time- usually more flamboyant than my black Primark ballet pumps, admittedly.
We're packed like sardines into the common room, trying to keep from the rising heat. We're usually off adventuring, not all squashed into one place. How I managed to get two chairs to lie down on to myself is a small mystery, but I'm not questioning my blessings. Girls swan this way and that, uncomfortable in so many clothes, squinting to inspect the small-print calorie count on their pasta pots. K sits at the computer, selecting the perfect shots for her portfolio (modeling is her latest craze to boost her flailing self-esteem). The girls around me compare notes on the functions of the legislature for Politics next period. Of course, the room hums with the background chatter of who's shagging who, who wants to be shagging who and who wishes they hadn't shagged who. Someone's discussing the merits of Watchmen (which, of course, I've championed all along), and whether or not Dr. Manhattan is a detached superhero or just a big blue womaniser at heart. The board almost sags under the weight of the list of the fortnight's events- someone's dragging us to see their play, someone's organising a road trip to the beach (even though they may freeze in the process), someone's going out for a chinese- all are welcome.
And I just lie there, considering whether or not I can blag politics, letting all the chaos fall around me, and realising that our strict, all-girls affair isn't such a bad set up. Of course, an impromptu dance session starts in the middle of the room- a crazy mix of Those Dancing Days and the Jonas Brothers- and I have to abandon all thoughts of politics and school sentimentality to join in.
I'm lying on my back in our college common room. The inspectors are in, so waltzing into town to optimistically buy Solero's in tiny skirts, floaty tops and oversize sunglasses is strictly off the menu for a day. Instead, it's ruffle collared shirts, floating skirts or wide leg trousers and flats. Then again, I wear flats all the time- usually more flamboyant than my black Primark ballet pumps, admittedly.
We're packed like sardines into the common room, trying to keep from the rising heat. We're usually off adventuring, not all squashed into one place. How I managed to get two chairs to lie down on to myself is a small mystery, but I'm not questioning my blessings. Girls swan this way and that, uncomfortable in so many clothes, squinting to inspect the small-print calorie count on their pasta pots. K sits at the computer, selecting the perfect shots for her portfolio (modeling is her latest craze to boost her flailing self-esteem). The girls around me compare notes on the functions of the legislature for Politics next period. Of course, the room hums with the background chatter of who's shagging who, who wants to be shagging who and who wishes they hadn't shagged who. Someone's discussing the merits of Watchmen (which, of course, I've championed all along), and whether or not Dr. Manhattan is a detached superhero or just a big blue womaniser at heart. The board almost sags under the weight of the list of the fortnight's events- someone's dragging us to see their play, someone's organising a road trip to the beach (even though they may freeze in the process), someone's going out for a chinese- all are welcome.
And I just lie there, considering whether or not I can blag politics, letting all the chaos fall around me, and realising that our strict, all-girls affair isn't such a bad set up. Of course, an impromptu dance session starts in the middle of the room- a crazy mix of Those Dancing Days and the Jonas Brothers- and I have to abandon all thoughts of politics and school sentimentality to join in.
posted by Faire-a-Fête at
13:10
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home