The first class of the day they had was English. Problem was, Vic had been concentrating so hard on his Geography homework that he forgot to catch up on the novel they were discussing. Marcia, however, was all over it, and so was a guy named Sabor.

“I’m just saying, the way the narrator describes the woman’s neck, it clearly comes off as tender even if some the language is misguided.” Vic loved it when Marcia put up her hand to speak in class. Not only because whatever she would say always sounded smart to him, but because when her hand was raised, it pulled at her shirt in just the right way to better reveal the form of her breasts underneath.

“Yes, but a ‘goose neck’? Really? You know what they did to goose necks backs in those days right? They wrung them.” Sabor was one of those students at Dampgate that looked a little older than eighteen, especially with the faint dark stubble that grew to complement his dark eyes and dark hair. Even new to the school, Vic was quick to catch on that Sabor was one of the smarter students, and also that Sabor knew it – by the arrogant look in his eyes and the constant crooked smile he wore whenever he spoke up in class. “I don’t think that’s a description you want to bring up when you’re trying to be sensual.” There he was again, leaning back in his chair once he was done, glancing briefly around the room as if gauging for reactions to his presumed brilliance.

Marcia did not wait to be called to answer, and continued, “There’s also the saying from those times about a ‘Christmas Goose’, which tells me that it may have been considered a special occasion meal. I think the intended audience here would have much more likely thought about this image of a rare holiday meal than the wringing of goose necks.” Marcia, for her part, took on a deathly serious demeanour whenever she was making her point, and Vic admired the straight line that her brows made when she did it.

“But hold on,” Sabor said, holding up his book. “Look here just two lines later he talks about her well-tanned skin. Everyone should know that beauty standards at the time favored light and pale skin, because tanned skin was associated with menial labour, especially outdoors. So it’s clear that his a critical eye to the subject, not a passionate one.”

“If you want to rely on history so much, then you should also know that the author was known to be an avid sympathizer with common workers. He wouldn’t be suffering from the same kind of bias the rest of society had at the time.”

There was a flash of frustration in Sabor’s eyes that gave Vic no small satisfaction. “Overall though, I think it’s pretty obvious from a male gaze that this was not meant to be a love letter.”

“And maybe it’s because it was a love letter to a woman, and wasn’t written for your gaze?”

There were a few “oohs” from around the class, but before Sabor could open his mouth again, which had lost most of its smile, their English teacher stepped in. “Thank you, Marcia. Thank you, Sabor. That was very enlightening.” The thing Vic noticed most about Ms. Tsoi was that she had worn shirts that were cropped a little short – not to show skin all the time, but whenever she would stretch her arms above her head, she would reveal a little line of soft belly, something that attracted the boys’ stares almost as much as Mrs. Laramie’s legs.

With her rival successfully vanquished, Marcia gave a little snort and sat back, letting someone else put up their hand and weigh in, while Sabor went back to his book, seemingly furiously rifling through pages to find his next retort.