Faking Elegance H.S.

XXXVIII

On Thursday, I was groggy and getting out of bed in the morning seemed like an impossible task. I managed with the help of coffee- of course- but even throughout the day, I felt lethargic and glum, the cloudy, overcast weather reflecting my mood perfectly.

There were only two highlights to my day. The first was getting the results from my Art Theory exam back.

Professor Jenkins gave us a copy of the original test questions along with returning our Scantron sheets, which had the correct bubbles marked off next to the answers that were incorrect. I got an eighty-two percent, and I was quite content with that, but I was a little disappointed because, somehow, I'd managed to get most of the questions about American artists wrong, including one about Norman Rockwell. It was kind of ironic because I was actually the only American student in the class.

The second highlight was very minor, but it still brightened my day a bit. After I was done with classes and was settled back in my dorm, I was making another cup of coffee while looking out the window that overlooked the quad. It had started raining sometime after I'd gotten back to the dorm, and I got the pleasure of watching some guy slip and fall down the steps of the North Building. He got up and was fine- I think- so I didn't feel too guilty about laughing.

Friday wasn't any more eventful, for me at least- classes were normal and my interactions with people were regular, though I did have a particularly good salad for lunch in the cafe- but the residents of the Styles had a turbulent morning.

Louis had succeeded in his mission of glueing Mr. Browne's desk items to the ceiling, so I'd received a picture of the feat at 3a.m. as well as text updates from both Niall and Louis updating me on Mr. Browne's reaction. Apparently, everyone in the building had been woken up around 7:30 and had been called down to the lobby to be met with a fuming Mr. Browne, who had, in only minutes prior, walked downstairs to see his possessions wildly misplaced- it obviously wasn't the way he wanted to start his morning. He demanded that the perpetrator make himself known, or that if anyone knew who did it, that they turn him in. No one did, however, because mostly everyone thought it was amusing, so there wasn't really any way that Louis could get caught because there were no indoor security cameras in order to uphold the original architecture and designs- basically to keep the buildings aesthetically pleasing to the more traditional aristocrats. And, Louis, ever-committed to his craft, wore gloves for the operation.

All of that had caused some commotion on campus- some students took pictures of the newly cluttered ceiling and others made detours to walk into the lobby of the Styles Building and gawk at it, almost like it was some modern art display.

I sent a picture- the one Louis sent me- to Harry, just to keep him up-to-date because he'd been there when Louis proposed the idea, and I knew he would find it funny.

Throughout Thursday and Friday, Harry had been texting me sporadically, adding items to a list of things to pack for Paris as he thought of them. At first, I didn't know if he was keeping the list for himself, or if he was reminding me of things that I should bring, but either way, it was useful. Some texts were simple, like 'sunglasses' or 'several dinner outfits' while others had an explanation tacked onto them, like 'a coat, in case it gets cold.' I didn't respond to all of them, but one I did choose to respond to said 'make sure you bring at least one pair of pants or shorts'. I was planning to anyway, but I was curious as to why he felt the need to ensure I would pack them, so I asked why it was so important. He just responded with 'you'll see.' So, I added that to my personal checklist.