Dragging the harbour
It's rained all week, so much so you'd hardly know you were in Ontario in November. I've spent most of the past week in the library after school, and all the radiator there seems to do is spread the smell of wet wool uniforms. I'm seriously reconsidering my dislike of cotton.
Zenobia's been sick since Tuesday, so I've been doing most of the tutoring myself this week. Jeremy Jones came over with the pile of things his regular teachers are having him do to make up for his in-school suspension. For some reason, Zapata was tailing him.
Jeremy pulled some poetry out of the pile. "I missed this unit-- are we even supposed to be doing this in Grade 10?" He handed me a sheet.
"Keats, the Grecian urn...it's more like Grade 11 stuff, actually, with the frozen spots of time thing and all that." Jeremy looked more interested.
"Frozen time?"
"Yes, like the paintings on the urn. They're all frozen moments in time, never changing, which Keats both loves and kind of fears. These figures never age, but they never get to finish what the painter started. But then, they're only representations, and not real anyway." Jeremy took notes. "I don't think that's really what your teacher wants--she's not very bright and she hates poetry anyway."
"No, it's personal, sort of. So these pictures stop time, but not really? Like, if your public face stopped growing, you wouldn't actually stop?" This was getting a bit strange. Zapata's boyfriend turned up in the library at this time.
"Jeremy, you can't turn back time, even if you're Cher."
"So April's safe?"
"April? Safe from what?" I asked. Jeremy started to explain. "But doesn't that just mean that her crazy mother who puts that stuff on the internet just won't admit that April's getting older and less cute? Only her internet image won't change--she could move out and marry Arne, or do something equally insane, and that crap on that webpage wouldn't change. Hell, she could become prime minister and she's still be in that stupid pink hoodie for everyone to see."
"I've got to tell April," he said, and started to leave. Zapata came over and started talking about what sounded at first like plumbing supplies, but then sounded like she wanted to remind me that I hadn't seen Duncan much since Saturday since he had been studying math and panicking about the end of the month.
Zenobia's been sick since Tuesday, so I've been doing most of the tutoring myself this week. Jeremy Jones came over with the pile of things his regular teachers are having him do to make up for his in-school suspension. For some reason, Zapata was tailing him.
Jeremy pulled some poetry out of the pile. "I missed this unit-- are we even supposed to be doing this in Grade 10?" He handed me a sheet.
"Keats, the Grecian urn...it's more like Grade 11 stuff, actually, with the frozen spots of time thing and all that." Jeremy looked more interested.
"Frozen time?"
"Yes, like the paintings on the urn. They're all frozen moments in time, never changing, which Keats both loves and kind of fears. These figures never age, but they never get to finish what the painter started. But then, they're only representations, and not real anyway." Jeremy took notes. "I don't think that's really what your teacher wants--she's not very bright and she hates poetry anyway."
"No, it's personal, sort of. So these pictures stop time, but not really? Like, if your public face stopped growing, you wouldn't actually stop?" This was getting a bit strange. Zapata's boyfriend turned up in the library at this time.
"Jeremy, you can't turn back time, even if you're Cher."
"So April's safe?"
"April? Safe from what?" I asked. Jeremy started to explain. "But doesn't that just mean that her crazy mother who puts that stuff on the internet just won't admit that April's getting older and less cute? Only her internet image won't change--she could move out and marry Arne, or do something equally insane, and that crap on that webpage wouldn't change. Hell, she could become prime minister and she's still be in that stupid pink hoodie for everyone to see."
"I've got to tell April," he said, and started to leave. Zapata came over and started talking about what sounded at first like plumbing supplies, but then sounded like she wanted to remind me that I hadn't seen Duncan much since Saturday since he had been studying math and panicking about the end of the month.
posted by Zandra Larson at 1:48 p.m.
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