Trust is Dangerous- Russia x Germany

Breaking Ice

The rest of the day went by quickly. Even quicker than I expected. Slovenia felt chatty in our German class and did most of the work for everyone and even did all of the homework before class ended and shared the answers. Why she was in such a mood today, nobody knew. I even forgot that classes were cut short and I asked our Calculus professor, Greece, why we were going out early.

"Half-day," she said, erasing the whiteboard. "Forgot?" A smile played on her lips.

"Oh, yeah," I stammered. "But, I still need help on these..."

"On infinite sequences?"

"Specifically convergence and divergence behaviours."

"Hmm, we'll see. Try this," she waved to the board. On it she wrote down some simple equations. After a few minutes, she explained how to figure it out. "Russia, maybe you should be taking Multivariable Calculus. It is for the engineering track. Maybe you would be interested? This does seem pretty easy for you. We don't go over Infinite Sequences till May..."

"That would be nice," I conceded.

"Yes, since Calculus 2 isn't really a good match for you. I can void the selection and get you into a higher level. I'm sure they haven't gone over much. The professor likes to take it slowly." She typed fast on her computer and then took a bowl of Dolmades and olives and ate in front of me. I got the feeling that she didn't care that I was plainly staring at her or that olive juice was running down her chin and onto her blouse. Greece was a woman of comfort and cared more about her well being and easement than what she looked like. Most of the time she ate in front of the class and her stylish white blouses would have stains by the end of the class. She always managed to get them cleaned though. She liked gold, and had several thick gold bracelets around her blue arms and I noticed a thin chain around her neck with a crucifix on her neck, a little fancier than mine.

"Okay, thank you."

"Have a good rest of the day," she waved back and settled down to eat her meal. I went down the light bathed hall of the mathematics centre which was more glass than concrete. It was generally a quiet and sophisticated place, and the only sound being my footsteps, which I tried to lighten. Coming out, I carefully avoided the sidewalks and pathways, and walked on the other side of the hedgerows. I spotted some students imitating me and some falling down on the icy pavement. It took me two tries to unlatch the lock from the college door. Even the little stairwell leading up to my floor felt frozen. I quickly went to my room and found Iceland unpacking some beaten skates.

"Hi Russ," he greeted me. The blast of hot air hit my face as I entered. He managed to keep it plugged in the whole time. "I found my hockey skates." He brandished the red and blue skates. The blade looked pretty smooth, but the laces were grey and worn, and a word in Icelandic was written across his left boot.

"What does 'elskan' mean?"

"What!" He looked down at his boot and sighed. Apparently it wasn't a good one. "It means baby. Seriously, Sweden probably wrote it. In permanent marker no less. I'm taping that up." He took a piece of duct tape and wrapped it around his boot. "Do you have skates?"

"Indeed." I said, taking out a pair.

Iceland looked at me with scepticism. "Figure skates."

"So what?"

"Figure skates."

"And? I left my hockey ones back at home. Sorry. These are better anyway. My ankle rotates less in them."

"Please," he huffed. "I thought you'd be more manly."

"Does having hockey skates make you manly?" I challenged. "At least I have toepicks. The good kind." I showed him my Graf grade platinum picks. He seemed unimpressed. "Hey, they're black at least! And they're Riedells. My younger brother still has those white skates."