Date: Tue, 19 Feb 2002 16:20:20 +0000
From: Hessa Meena <hessa_meena@hotmail.com>
Subject: (lesbian high school) Gutless, pt-3

SMITH college seemed woven from the same fantasy. The campus ambled behind
an old iron gate over a hill, and had a looming, ancient feel.  It almost
looked like Columbia, but had an older, spookier vibe to it. The smell of
clean old wood was everywhere, and Amy almost forgot they were there to
perform. It seemed too picture perfect. Amy and Katarina grabbed their
instruments and walked up the dorm's long path.

Katarina, the teenage ashtray, had a cigarette lit immediately out of the
car, and didn't put it out once they got inside. Despite protests and
warnings from Beat, Dalia and Amy, smoked her way up the stairs.

"Girl, you're going to get us thrown out. I'm not sleeping in the woods so I
can play jazz for society girls." Dalia grumbled pulling her bag closer to
her body.

"You're such a pain," Amy sighed looking back at Katarina, who remained
impassive, but puffing. Amy didn't see where she was going, and bumped into
a red headed woman in jeans and a T-shirt that said: "SMITH COLLEGE: A
HISTORY OF WOMEN COMING TOGETHER."

The red head rolled her eyes like someone who spent too much time
babysitting, and tapped Katarina on the shoulder. "Excuse me, this is a no
smoking dorm." She stopped in the stairwell and surveyed the four young
women. Katarina screwed her lips into a bratty scowl and pinched the
cigarette's glow out with her left fingers. They were so callused from years
of bass, she barely felt a thing, and enjoyed performing this routine for
strangers. The rest of the Quartet shifted uncomfortably on the stairs.

"Uh huh, and you must be the Brooklyn Prep Jazz Quartet." The red head said
sounding amused by the prim sounding named as she glanced over such a
slouching bunch of girls. And when her eyes met Amy's for a moment, she
realized how much she hated the name of their Quartet, she felt like she
should be handing out milk and cookies.

"Awright, I'm Rachel," the red head said. "I live here, I'm the dorm
monitor." She was tall and freckled, and her jeans were faded and beginning
to fall apart. "Please don't get locked out. Don't get wasted and not clean
up after yourselves, and please...enjoy SMITH." She laughed. "Ok, sorry for
the lecture, I get paid to say that. We're supposed to feed and take care of
you, so let me know if you need anything. There are locks on the doors, keys
inside and smoke detectors," she glared at Katarina, "in every room. I gotta
run, you guys were late, and there's a lecture I need to check out!" Amy
found herself smiling at the confident, red haired woman as she bounded down
the carpeted stairs.

The recital was flawless, and the audience was obscenely polite. "Ohmigod,
if this is college, please tell me I'll have a life," Amy thought to
herself. The ensemble smiled politely as Mr. Murphy warbled through his
"We're such cultured New Yorkers" introduction to "Take the A Train." And
Amy managed not to freak out during her solo, and even enjoyed herself. She
was getting better, or maybe it just felt easier. The memory of Mr. Murphy's
crazed pep talk the previous week popped into her head. "You're our horn
section, you're on TOP of that solo. Go girl! Sing! Sing with that guitar!"
As much as everyone wanted to call him a weirdo, Mr. Murphy's inspired,
freaked out seventies fashions and complete love for music made them all
play better.

One night as they packed their equipment, Amy told Beat and Katarina about
her vision of Mr. Murphy as the mad nun in the boat and they cackled like
birds.
Mr. Murphy made playing jazz, somehow rock.

After their show, Mr. Murphy told everyone to get a good night's sleep and
left for a fundraiser at Amherst College. Katarina and Beat talked about
attending the social they'd been invited to by the music department, but
Beat said it would only put her to sleep.

"Hey Dalia, you're the one with the ticket tonight, you gonna call him?"
Katarina grinned at the pianist and raised her eyebrows over her cigarette
smoke.

"Naw girl," Dalia shook her head, "I'm too tired to MOVE." They all laughed.
Beat and Dalia said their goodnights and made their way back to their rooms.
The college gave them doubles: Beat and Katarina shared one room and Dalia
and Amy were in the other.

"Looks like we should've roomed, `eh?" Katarina asked. Amy stiffened.
"Relax, I wouldn't get you in trouble." She smiled, but her eyes narrowed, a
look Amy couldn't place. She knew Katarina well enough to stay away from her
in moments like this. Even completely sober, her eyes shone danger.

"It's not that..." Amy managed to mumble.

"Whatever." Katarina stubbed out her cigarette and threw the filter into the
trash by their dorm. "I'm sure there's a party somewhere, wanna look?"
Katarina had her ready-for-anything face on, and it made Amy envious. She
wished she could take advantage of situations the way Katarina did, but
instead she thought she should clear her head, get some sleep. They had to
play another show tomorrow at 11 am, and she wanted to be fully awake for
it.

"Be good." Her parents' voices chimed in her head.

Amy trudged up the stairs to the dorm. She wondered what it must be like to
live this far from home. As she entered the room she realized that Dalia, as
usual, was asleep before she hit the pillow, but try as she might, Amy
couldn't drift off.

Between Dalia's snoring and the thump thump of dance music downstairs, she'd
never get to sleep. The dorm they'd been placed in didn't seem like the
Ivy-League halls of the prestigious SMITH press kits, and Amy thought she
should have followed Katarina in pursuit of a party.

Amy wandered into the lounge and peered into the fridge, it was empty save
for a half-bottle of catsup and some cat food.

"Couldn't sleep?" Amy jumped at the voice, and looked up to see the dorm
monitor, Rachel, in pajama bottoms and a tight, sleeveless  "Girls Rule"
T-shirt. Her red bob accentuated clear blue eyes, and Amy found herself
admiring Rachel's shoulders.

"Nah," Amy mumbled, embarrassed to be caught rummaging through a stranger's
fridge. Amy noticed what must be Rachel's open door down the hall. "I was
looking for something to..." she realized that admitting to her quest for
alcohol might not be the best idea. She was a visiting high school student,
merely a tv actor in this fantasy world of college. Poof it would all be
gone the day after tomorrow.

"You want to listen to music?" Rachel paused, "I mean...I'm sure you hear
enough, but I'm working on a paper, so it's mellow." She shuffled back into
her room and Amy, with nothing better to do, followed, mesmerized by the
rich guitar sounds fluttering behind the door.

"This re-write was due yesterday, but...I guess I work best under pressure.
Make yourself comfortable," Rachel gestured to the bed in the corner. The
pillows were propped against the wall and a patchwork quilt covered a full
sized futon.

"What's the paper on?" Amy asked, and began to feel how tired she really
was. She stopped thinking about what she was doing on a stranger's bed, and
started concentrating on the luscious guitar flowing from Rachel's speakers.

"Bertold Brecht." Rachel made a face. "I'm supposed to compare melodic
structure to the evocation of space." Amy mumbled in return and closed her
eyes.

"Thrilling, I'm sure," Rachel laughed.

Amy concentrated on the sound of Rachel typing and the melody building out
of the stereo. She opened her eyes to see Rachel's on hers, smiling.

"Some of my friends are having a party tomorrow, if you're still around."
She turned down the volume. "Come by, it's at Tenny House, up the road. I'll
leave an invite with directions." Amy felt Rachel's eyes burning into hers
and from far away heard Rachel say, "I'll put my number on it."

Amy nodded. She is really cute, why is she being so nice to me? Amy forced
herself to imagine the notes transcribing themselves in front of her eyes.

"This would be beautiful on the violin, but it's so powerful the way it is
." She opened her eyes and saw that Rachel wasn't typing anymore.

"What's it called?" Amy asked.

"Huh?" Rachel seemed suddenly distracted.

They both blushed and Amy tried again. "What's the song called."

"Oh..." Rachel laughed and looked back at her desk, as if to move something
around. "`Mom's Mercedes.'"

"Hummm," Amy mumbled, increasingly aware of how content she felt. She
settled into the pillows and looked around at the posters on the wall. Band
names like THE BUTCHIES, TRIBE 8, THE NEED, TEAM DRESCH, and THE THIRD SEX
covered every inch of wall space behind Rachel's desk. Amy realized that all
the pictures in the room were of women with instruments.

"You play violin, too, right?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah, since I was 5." Amy answered, but felt her voice trail off. She took
a deep breathe and tried to take mental inventory of Rachel's room. A
scented candle mingled with coffee, and maybe she smelled marijuana. Amy
smiled at the thought of her `no smoking' lecture directed at Katarina. She
grew more relaxed, but became increasingly aware of Rachel. Amy listened to
her busily type at her computer, and occasionally sneer at a correction on
the paper in front of her.

Finally Rachel stopped. She stretched, rubbed her arms and yawned.

Amy could feel Rachel's eyes on her again, and willed herself to sit up. She
had only felt this comfortable with someone without instruments when she and
Louis shared a room at their parent's timeshare in Maine. But they were nine
then, "Sixteen Blue," Amy quoted a Replacement's song, she certainly didn't
feel "sweet" or "little".

As much as Amy wanted to stretch out and lose herself to Rachel's room, she
realized she had to snap out of it. Any more time in here, and Amy felt
she'd have some explaining to do, and the questions piled in her head.

Why did I ignore that party  invite from the music department, but end up
HERE in the dorm monitor's room
...Make that BED.

Why am I so afraid to see if something will happen?

Amy pushed the thoughts from her head and reminded herself of the 11am
recital. She needed to clear her head, and this wasn't helping. She yawned
and heaved herself up off Rachel's bed and into a standing position.

"I gotta go to bed," she smiled at Rachel, and saw a question in her eyes.
"This music is um," she dropped her eyes from Rachel's and noticed the,
half-smile forming on her lips. What's she going to say? Amy felt her
stomach drop. She started again. What should I say?

"This music is really nice, I should play stuff like this." Rachel removed
her glasses and backed against the door to close it.

"Amy," Rachel squinted, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "What's stopping
you? You can do anything you want." Amy laughed nervously, Rachel's
fingertips were light on her wrists, and Amy could feel her heart beating in
her mouth. What's going on here?   Amy asked, although she realized she
already knew.

Rachel took Amy's face in her hands and kissed her slowly. Amy felt the
blood rush to her head, and stepped away.

"I..." Amy cleared her throat. She felt like she would cry. She was completely
sober, but felt sped up and terrified. "I...gotta go." Rachel nodded and put
her glasses back on.

"When you get to college..." Rachel smiled and stepped away from the door.
"It'll be a different world." She opened her door and stepped back so that
Amy could leave. "There will be all the time in the world for you to try
anything."

Amy looked up at Rachel, who had returned to her post at the computer, and
smiled awkwardly. "Thanks," Rachel made no effort to stand up, and nodded.

As Amy left she heard the volume increase with the sound of typing, and
wanted to beat her head against the wall. She walked down the hall and into
the room she and Dalia shared. It was time to brush her teeth and go to
sleep, so why did she feel like she was about to jump on stage? Her hands
were sweating and her stomach felt coffee-tight.

Ohmigod, What's wrong with me?  She squeezed some toothpaste onto the
toothbrush. She totally kissed me. Amy could feel herself blushing, and
wondered why she was still shaking.

No one had ever kissed her before, she told herself that Katarina's
drug-fueled harassment didn't count. Thoughts raced around in her head and
kept her from falling asleep, so Amy stared at the ceiling.

She didn't know what to do. Amy knew she wanted to walk back into Rachel's
room and try again. Rachel's words about "try anything" echoed in her head
and Amy almost cried.

If love was something that inspired such good things in people why did Amy
feel so pained? She knew she didn't love Rachel, she barely knew her. Amy
thought about Dori, and realized she definitely had a crush on her, but this
was something different, it wasn't romantic and it was right HERE. Amy's
body knew it, and that's what scared her.

She was almost asleep when she heard a knock on her door, but ignored it.
Surely Rachel wouldn't risk waking Dalia and was almost relieved to see
Katarina slouched by the door. She smelled like a bar, and smiled feebly as
she walked towards the bed.

"Howya doing?" She kicked off her shoes and lay down next to Amy on the
single mattress. Amy was close to tears already, and Katarina's warbling
wasn't going to help.

"I saw you go into that girl's room." Katarina whispered. She propped up on
her elbow and leaned over Amy, the smell of beer was everywhere. "What did
you do in there?"

Any hormonal convergence waiting to blossom from Rachel's room went into
overdrive with Katarina leaning over her. Amy felt her hips go rubbery and a
cold sweat take over her stomach. Oh no, not now, just go away.

"Oh," she said too quickly. "We just listened to music."

"You're a musician. What did you listen to?" Katarina was girl in charge,
placing her fingertips on Amy's collarbone. Amy tried not to swallow.

"Urmmm," Amy fought the approaching sleep to remember what the piece was
called, "The HIGH ART soundtrack," she mumbled. "Mom's Mercedes."

Katarina's eyes flew open. "What?" she sounded almost angry. Then in cool
admiration, "That's a hot piece." Katarina moved over so that she could lie
down on top of Amy. "I liked HIGH ART, did you see it?"

"HIGH ART?" Amy felt like a weak swimmer going down. Did she miss another
one of Katarina's movie make out sessions?  She thought about the notes
floating around in Rachel's room.

They stared at each other for a moment. All Amy could think about was the
ticking of Dalia's alarm clock and that she couldn't breathe. Katarina had
her frozen. She was drunk and their pianist slept six feet away. And if they
were going to kiss again, even if it was some warped page from The Amy
Fantasy Book, she knew it shouldn't happen.

Not like this.

"Katarina, don't you think we should get some sleep?" Katarina looked at her
for a few moments without saying anything and left the room. Amy felt numb,
almost relieved, and thought about asking Rachel about the bands on her
walls.