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“Yes. But remember it should also befun.”
Arabella tenses a little, looking abashed for some reason as she refuses to meet my eye. She doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who’s ever had fun before, but a political presentation might just be her version of it.
“Fun,” Rory scoffs.
Beside him, Finlay whispers, “Well,I’vegot an idea.”
I can sense Rory’s lack of enthusiasm from where I’m sitting.
The remainder of the lesson is devoted to the structure of governance in Scotland. I try not to feel like a fish out of water, or a girl out of America, but it’s difficult when I’m confronted by the reality of my new life. The political system is unfamiliar, the vocabulary is different — there are no houses or senate or judge.
I glance to the side, realizing Arabella’s stopped taking notes. Instead, she’s resting her chin on her hand, staring at Dr. Moncrieff as he gestures passionately about some aspect of Scottish politics that’s already flown over my head. She’s wearing an expression I can only describe as lovestruck.
I have a bad feeling about this.
Behind me, Rory closes his notebook with a slam and pushes it away from him. “This is such a waste of my time,” he drawls. “I don’t need to learn this rubbish.”
On his other side, Finlay quietly begins to sing something that sounds like a song my old Scottish grandma used to play on her accordion at New Year.Na na, the pipes are calling…Scotland the Brave. That’s when I realize itiswhat he’s singing. For some reason, this seems to irritate Rory all the more, and he scowls at Finlay as if to tell him to shut up. I have no idea what’s happening but I return to writing notes in the hope that something will manage to sink into my sluggish brain when I review them later.
“Oh, come on. Cheer up.” Finlay nudges Rory with the point of his elbow. “At least it isnae on America. Can ye imagine? Have youseenthe state o’ their politics? Ye’d need mair than an essay tae sort oot that shitehole.”
This at least seems to encourage some amusement back onto Rory’s face. At my expense, of course, and I can’t help but feel personally attacked.
Head down. Eyes on paper. Keep quiet, Jessa.
It’s the only way.
