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From: "JVB " <jvb3000@my-deja.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Math Camp <*> {JVB} (mf teen rom 1st)
Date: Thu, 13 Apr 2000 13:10:10 -0400
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This is my foray into the Summer Camp Romance genre common here on a.s.s.*.
I started it a while ago, so all three of you might notice a couple of
similarities to "Love and Subtractive Synthesis." Please let me know what
you think! -- JVB <jvb3000@my-deja.com>
--== Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/ ==- Share what you know.
Learn what you don't.
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MATH CAMP
by JVB <jvb3000@my-deja.com>
Math Camp was supposed to be different. I certainly was not
going to repeat last summer's disastrous month at Judo Camp. The
brochure promised that I would learn self-defense and build
self-confidence. Instead, my daily beatings continued, but with the
added consent and encouragement of the camp's staff. At least I got
plenty of practice in curling into a fetal position. Math Camp was
supposed to be different; there, I would be respected and revered for
my ability to solve first-order differential equations at age 15.
People would push and shove to watch me integrate expressions. Math
Camp was supposed to be different, but not half an hour after my
mother kissed me goodbye, I was standing with my back to a wall,
silently watching kids aged 10-17 run back and forth, greeting their
friends and introducing themselves to each other. I sighed.
After we received our cabin assignments and unpacked our stuff, a
counselor cheerfully told us that there would be no classes on the
first day, and instead we would play some games outside. We assembled
on the field where we broke into teams for, as if anyone needed to
guess, dodgeball. Kids, of course, are the craftiest of Earth's
creatures, and thus had no difficulty spotting me in the crowd; soon
enough, in a roar of Darwinistic bloodlust, a red rubber ball screamed
toward me and into my cheek, sending my glasses skyward and me to the
ground. In my daze, I faintly heard someone exclaim, "Awesome shot,
Derek!" I groggily grasped for my glasses and crawled to the "out"
area, where I lied face-down on the grass for the rest of the
afternoon.
That evening, the entire camp was gathered in the log-cabin
auditorium for a "Meet the Staff" assembly. The campers were calm,
drained by the afternoon's activities and sedated by stomachfuls of
"Welcome to Camp" spaghetti and meatballs. My stomach had been
not-quite filled with "Welcome to Camp" bread sticks and water, in an
effort to avoid the painful allergic reaction that would have
inevitably followed the slightest consumption of tomato sauce. I was
sitting in the front row, about six feet from the stage, carefully
scrutinizing the industrial grade carpet at my feet when the head
counselor stepped up to the podium and began his welcome speech. I
didn't listen to a word, of course; a similar speech last summer
turned out to be terribly misleading, and failed to mention the
sadistic seventh-graders obsessed with destroying me.
Instead, I examined the counselor-instructors that were seated in
a row behind the podium. As I scanned their faces from left to right,
I only found two that were interesting enough to make me pause. The
first was a guy who looked sort of like a cross between a howler
monkey and a mackerel. He had really big ears, puffy cheeks, and
bulging eyes that didn't seem to blink quite as often as they should.
"Alouatta scombrus insularis," I joked to myself. I also noticed a
girl seated toward the right, between two Ivy-League types. Indeed, I
more than noticed her--I became transfixed by her. She dressed as
though she were the result of high-speed particles of personality from
each of the last five decades colliding and fusing into one: burgundy
saddle shoes, a light green knee-length skirt with a weird Indian
design, a worn-out 3/4 sleeve tee shirt with a faded Atari logo, and a
pair of silver-blue cat eye glasses. She sat with her knees together
and feet a bit apart with her toes pointing at each other, carefully
listening to the speaker--I assumed so, anyway; it was impossible to
tell for sure, since her eyes were hidden by the reflection in her
lenses. I imagined that if I could see them, they would have been big
and attentive, which in my mind matched her shoulder-length dark hair
and fair skin, colored by an inexplicable blush. I watched her
absent-mindedly rub the hem of her skirt, remove badly-behaved strands
of hair from her mouth and scrunch up her nose when her glasses slid
down, and would never have stopped if she hadn't stood up with the
other counselors. They took turns stepping to the podium to introduce
themselves and announce which class they were teaching. I glared
resentfully at them.
"Hi," she said as she stepped toward the microphone, waving to no
one in particular, "I'm Lissa and I'll be teaching Calculus II."
Calculus II. I gulped. Good thing I hadn't planned on learning
anything new, I thought to myself.
The following morning, I woke up late. Actually, I woke up right
on time, but had to spend some extra minutes getting up, since my
cabin mates thought it might be a good idea to duct-tape me to the
bed. So after spending forty-five minutes or so freeing myself, I
quickly got dressed, cleaned up and ran toward the cafeteria. Halfway
there, I had to stop to catch my breath. I took a moment to glance
across the field next to the path and saw Lissa leading a small group
of teenagers into the wooded area. I took a final gasp for air and
ran across the field toward them.
I arrived at "Classroom 'E'" (which was not a room at all; it was
a clearing with several rows of log benches and a portable chalkboard)
just as she was beginning to introduce herself. I collapsed on the
far left of the first log-bench, panting like a dying beagle.
Stopping in mid-sentence, she turned toward me and smiled.
"Hi Jason, glad you made it okay." I barely heard her. In fact,
I barely heard anything at all, and I was seeing red. Suddenly,
Classroom 'E' went dark and I felt my head hit the top of someone's
shoe.
I awoke with a dull headache, aggravated by the florescent lamp
that I found myself staring directly at. I blinked a couple of times
and tried to sit up, but felt dizzy and changed my mind. "Welcome
back," said a voice near my feet. Lissa was seated cross-legged on a
bench next to the table I was lying on, reading a thick textbook. She
got up and handed me a glass of orange juice. "Drink this, you'll
feel better." I took a few gulps and sighed.
"Why am I in the cafeteria?"
"The nurse's office was locked. I think she took the day off for
her girlfriend's birthday or something." She wrinkled her nose. "Are
you okay? What happened?"
I thought a few moments. "I guess I haven't eaten in a while."
She pouted her lips slightly, but didn't respond. Instead, she pushed
her book up the table toward my shoulder and sat down in front of it.
"You ought to rest some more," she said and returned to her book.
For the next forty minutes or so, the only sound was of her turning
pages. Finally I broke the silence.
"How did you know my name earlier?"
"You were famous around here even before you arrived," she said,
looking up from her book and giving me a smile. "Everyone knows about
the fifteen-year-old in Calculus II." She paused. "Oh, and we also
received a series of very memorable phone calls from your mother,
complaining that we didn't offer classes in discrete mathematics or
linear algebra." I grimaced. "It's okay, my parents were like that
too."
"How did you make them stop?"
"They seemed satisfied when I was granted early admission to
Carnegie Mellon once I graduate from high school." She blushed a bit
and looked down at her knees.
"Wow, how'd you manage that?"
"I've been a research apprentice at MU for a while--in number
theory," she added cautiously. I jolted myself into a sitting
position. She looked a bit concerned, but didn't say anything when it
became clear that I wouldn't faint. "Want to see what I'm working
on?" I didn't need to answer. She rummaged around in her bag and
produced a sheet of paper, on which she started to write in purple
ink; her handwriting was big and neat, and she dotted her letters with
little circles. After she finished, I looked at the page: it was a
short program written in Lisp. "Basically, it repeatedly sets 'n' to
3n+1 if it's odd, or n/2 if it's even," she explained. I nodded in
agreement, even though my agreement made no difference whatsoever.
This was math, after all. "Well," she continued, "there's a
conjecture that this function will eventually return '1' no matter
what positive integer we start with... we're trying to prove this is
true." My headache vanished. I started asking questions and she
happily answered them.
We continued our conversation for the next couple of hours. I
had some difficulty concentrating on anything, though. I got
distracted from the Collatz Problem by the smell of her shimmering
hair. When I was admiring her greenish-grey eyes through the side of
her glasses, my attention was captured by our discussion of efficient
algorithms for factoring large integers, and my mind wandered to the
pale skin on her neck while we discussed Fermat's Last Theorem.
Mersenne primes chased away the inevitable thoughts of her breasts,
her stomach, her thighs. My head was absolutely spinning.
Alas, we were eventually interrupted by a rampaging horde of
hungry campers. They brought with them from the serving line big
steaming bowls of tomato basil soup.
We spent as much time together as we could after that. During
those three and a half weeks, we covered all sorts of topics in
applied and theoretical mathematics. We even began to approach topics
outside the perfect world of math: the seemingly unbounded
expectations of our parents, our plans for the future, our childhood
memories, and how neither of us had ever been on a date. I was more
comfortable with Lissa than I had ever been with a human being. She
didn't complain when I dripped on her textbooks after being tossed in
the creek; she held her nose and pretended not to mind the smell of
the horse manure that my cabin mates used to fill my shoes; and when
the campers noticed our ever-increasing time together and started to
laugh and make kissing noises at us, she just smiled and blushed along
with me.
At night, I would lie awake, imagining her naked body glowing in
the dim light, and how her skin would feel under my fingertips, gently
gliding down her sides. I imagined our legs entwined and our lips
pressed tightly against each other's while she writhed in ecstasy,
like in the romance novels Mom keeps at the back of her bookshelf. I
imagined us together for the rest of our lives, saving each other from
loneliness and misunderstanding, and saving the world with our
combined intellects. When the sun came up and my eyes were still wide
open, I didn't feel at all tired. I couldn't conceive of being
happier.
But sooner than we wanted to believe, we met for the last time.
This meeting was different: there were no mandatory activities to
separate us, and no campers to jeer at us. It was past midnight, and
the camp was silent. We couldn't bare to let our previous hours
together be our last, so we sneaked out of our cabins in our night
clothes when everyone was asleep, and met at Classroom 'E.'
"Tarski's theorem states that the first-order theory of reals
allows quantifier elimination," Lissa told me, but without the kinetic
excitement of the past weeks. I couldn't muster any more enthusiasm
than she, so we gave up and just sat on the grass with our backs
against a log bench. I shivered a bit from the night air, so she let
me wear her cardigan. The embroidered flowers didn't look right on
me, but it didn't matter. She pulled my arm around her and leaned
against me, with her head on my shoulder; I leaned back.
For some reason, kissing her seemed to me the most logical thing
to do next; it was as obvious as the Contradiction Law. So I did: I
kissed her on the eyebrow. She raised her gaze to mine and kissed me
back, only she kissed my lips. It was not hard and passionate like I
had imagined. Our lips barely touched, and even when they parted, our
tongues almost imperceivably pressed against each other. A kiss that
delicate couldn't last forever, and thus out of necessity, it
intensified. Lissa twisted around to better face me, and wrapped her
arms around me, gently scraping the back of my neck with her
fingernails. I pulled her lower lip in between mine and ran my tongue
across it, and then she did the same. I couldn't touch the softness
of her skin, but I felt the warmth of her body through her flannel
nightgown. When I slid my hand up to the side of her breast, she
didn't object, and when I moved to cup it, she pushed herself harder
against me.
Our escalating passion had its effects on me. For one thing, I
wasn't cold anymore; Lissa pulled the flowered cardigan off me and
tossed it next to us, followed by my T-shirt. Also, my erection was
unromantically poking at her thigh. She shifted a bit and broke our
kiss. Her face was still close enough to mine that our noses touched.
I looked through her glasses into her shimmering eyes while my brain
whirred madly, trying to concoct something I could say that would make
her feel as blissfully powerless in my presence as I felt in hers.
Neither of us uttered a word. Without moving her eyes from mine,
Lissa grasped at the soft material around her waist and collected it
into a bunch, until half of her nightgown was scrunched up over her
belly button. Then in a single motion, she pulled the gown up and
over her head. My hand, as if of its own volition, extended toward
Lissa's exposed chest. At the last moment, my brain intercepted the
impulse, leaving my hand floating not a hair's width from her. I
exhaled sharply and stared at my hand without expression, like I was
intensely thinking; but I wasn't. I just stared, without really
perceiving anything.
"It's okay," she whispered, plunging me back into awareness. I
glanced up at her and she was attempting a comforting smile. Slowly,
I relaxed and let my hand form to the shape of her breast. We leaned
back into each other and our lips rejoined momentarily, then parted to
kiss and nibble at our chins, jaws, and necks. The space between us
diminished, and her breast now took the form of my palm. My free hand
dropped down the side of her belly to her waist and with my thumb, I
rubbed the elastic at the top of her panties. Lissa lowered her head,
sliding her cheek against mine. I could feel her shallow breath
tickling the hairs on my neck. Then, she shifted her weight onto the
side of her hip and slid her panties down her legs and off of each
foot. I raised my hips to push my shorts down, which Lissa helped
remove completely. She straddled my legs and embraced me tightly,
trapping my penis between our stomachs. We were both breathing hard
now, so I didn't kiss her. Instead, I closed my eyes and pressed the
side of my face to her shoulder while she slid up and down, massaging
me with her belly. I groaned deep in my throat when I felt her cold
fingers grasp my erection and guide it between her legs.
Her eyes were lightly closed and her lips were pressed together
as she laid her hands on my each of my shoulders and lowered herself.
I held my breath while I slid partly into her. She stopped when I
felt resistance. We remained motionless as I listened to her rapid
inhalations slow to a calm rhythm. "You have to do it," she finally
breathed into my ear. I nodded against her neck, and she reclined on
the grass while I crawled to my knees. I moved between her thighs,
which squeezed against me, and put my hands on the ground next to her
shoulders. It didn't feel right to hold myself over her like some
possessive oaf, but the peaceful expression on her lips and in her
eyes reassured me. So I once again pushed into her and met the same
resistance. As gently as I could, I pushed forward; when her hymen
broke, she winced, but didn't make a sound. I lowered my face to hers
and our lips melted together in a long kiss while I withdrew slightly
and then pushed back in. Not long later, I came; our lips were still
pressed together while our tongues slid against each other. The
pulsing heat in my groin dissipated as quickly as it had approached.
When it was over, I lowered myself against Lissa, and we rolled onto
our sides with our foreheads touching and our legs on top of one
another's. Gradually, the world around us fizzled into nothingness.
We weren't awakened by the gentle warmth of the rising sun, but
rather the impending threat of hypothermia from the early morning fog.
After quickly dressing, we grasped hands tightly and made our way
toward the cabins. By the time we reached Lissa's, tears were
streaming down her face and a lump had found its way into my throat.
We held each other as long as we could, her eyes moistening my shirt,
until the sounds of the meal crew forced us apart. "Bye," I mouthed
as she stepped inside her cabin and silently shut the door. That was
the last I saw of her.
I ate breakfast alone in the corner of the cafeteria. Two hours
later, my mom arrived to pick me up.
Now, I'm back at home, sitting at my desk, and desperately trying
to save the last four weeks forever. I can already feel it fading
away. Tomorrow I'll start high school, but it won't be any different.
Peter and Scott will corner me before class and take my egg salad
sandwich, and at lunch I'll get dumped into a trash can or pulled into
the girls' bathroom. I'll leave school early to take classes at the
community college, where everyone will pretend I don't exist. Math
Camp was supposed to be different. And it was. Too bad life isn't
math camp.
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