At first look, Eliza Pariseau is a normal girl. Like all seventeen-year-old kids of her country, she goes to a boarding-school-like Prep School to start getting ready for University. But there's something that differs her from the other students: s...
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Monday, 24th March - In my bed, almost midnight
I think the universe is trying to show me that I shouldn't complain about Portia. When I was finally able to get rid of her, I got into the most boring class possible of Art History.
I don't even know why we have to start so far back. I like art. Obviously, I chose it because I wanted to get into the Art House when all of my family members had been from the Science one. I mean, all of them since the educational renovation.
But, still, does it need to be this deep? Can't we start at an age in which painters already knew how to draw? And, preferably, jump through surrealism and cubism? I have no desire in studying Salvador Dalí and Picasso. The only reason why I like going to the Pompidou when I'm in Paris is to see the view from the escalators.
Whatever. I survived. And Portia was so busy in the afternoon, that I didn't even need to go hide in my room. On the contrary, I stayed in the cantine with April and Jane until dinner.
She's friends with everybody here, always has been. It must be easy to please people when you have no personality. And even easier being pleased when you have no standards.
Anyway, she's really friends with everyone. Not even April can hate her as much as I do. Sitting at the table, which The Arts House girls consider theirs, I was able to watch her jumping from group to group, talking to every possible type of person. While I took too long to start talking to the girls that share the room with me, she seems to make everyone notice her.
Even Matthew, Jane realised, while the three of us observed her walking towards him. It was almost dinner time, the only reason for her to be without a book under her arm.
One of the girls that share the room with Portia is Valentina, a girl that's glued to him at every time she possibly can. That's the only reason why she knows him, I'm sure. Maybe everybody likes her, but Matthew had to be the different one. He couldn't just talk to everyone.
"What do you think she's telling him?" Jane asked, without turning her eyes away from them.
We were at the other end of the cantine, the game didn't involve lip reading, but guessing.
"You're so strong, Matthew," April pretended to imitate Portia's voice. She soon laughed like a silly schoolgirl. "And so funny!"
"He's crossing his arms," Jane commented. "That's a sign that he's not liking the conversation."
"He's showing off his muscles!" April cried. "Didn't they teach you this in biology?"
"Whatever," I said, taking my eyes off them.
A bit less obviously than us, other girls nearby also seemed to be discreetly aware of his presence, even from far away.
"What? You don't think she has any chance?" April just looked away for a few seconds.
