The Greatest Lie Part 4

The dorm was quiet, but it was not my bed time yet. I took a valium and a boiling hot shower, flossed twice, brushed thrice, rubber tipped, and gargled for 90 seconds with amber Listerine. I am a nut for hygiene, especially dental care. Wrapped in my long thick robe, I went to my room and lay down in my bed. Aromas of Rick and our recent hot fuck surrounded me. It reminded me of what I had become: the love slave, and intellectual and spiritual guardian, of two big, strong, and dumb jocks: hockey players, the craziest, most violent and most anglo of all jocks. Oh well, I thought, I always loved women’s Olympic skating.

On Friday mornings, Math 101 met in small groups. The TA’s returned Bloomberg’s pop quiz, to the groans and complaints of the class. Everyone had flunked, except me: I had gotten a perfect mark. The TA kept the class overtime for a grinding review session, drafting me as his involuntary tutor. I was late to Starbucks, but my latte was still warm, and Rick and Randy were exultant. "Our whole fuckin classes flunked except us. We got 9 out of 10. Yur a fuckin genius. We’re sittin next to you for the rest of college."

"Wait a minute, it’s not going to work out like that. They’ll never let you copy the final, and besides, Math 101 is the only first year class I have. And if I let you cheat off me through Math 101, what happens in the next class?" They were stricken with fear. "Look, studying’s not so bad. At least if you’re studying with me" "Studying what?" asked Rick. "What I tell you, from 9 till 11. After that, you’re in charge." I knew the prospect of a sexual reward would keep them from drinking and partying until midnight. "It’s a deal for me," said Rick." "Where do we meet?" asked Randy. "See you at the research library at 9. Bring your math books." As I knocked back the creamy remains of my latte, and headed off to Chaucer, I complimented myself. God, I thought, I am a genius; I am perfect!