It was another gloomy day for me in Hampden, I couldn't stop thinking about the Greek class of Julian Morrow. As I was walking to my next class I noticed Julian and his pupils discussing the topics they had been reading about in class. I stopped and took the time to take in their looks and mannerisms. There were four boys and two girls.

Two of the boys wore glasses, curiously enough the same kind: tiny, old fashioned, with round steel rims. The larger of the two - and he was quite large, well over six feet - was dark-haired, with a square jaw and coarse, pale skin. He might have been handsome had his features been less set, or his eyes, behind the glasses, less expressionless and blank. He wore dark English suits and carried an umbrella (a bizarre sight in Hampden) and he walked stiffly through the throngs of hippies an beatniks and preppies and punks with the self-conscious formality of an old ballerina, surprising in one so large as he. "Henry Winter," said my friends when I pointed him out, at a distance, making a wide circle to avoid a group of bongo players on the lawn.

The smaller of the two-not by much- was a sloppy blonde boy, rosy- cheeked, and gum-chewing, with relentlessly cheery demeanor and his fists thrust deep in the pockets of his knee-spring trousers. He wore the same jacket everyday, a shapeless brown tweed that was frayed at the elbows and short in the sleeves, and his sandy hair was parted on the left of his face. One strand of that sandy mess fell in front of his bespectacled eye. Bunny Corcoran was his name, Bunny being short for an Edmund. His voice was loud and honking , and carried the n the dining halls.

The third boy was the most exotic of the set. Angular and elegant, he was precariously thin, with nervous hands and a shrewd albino face and a short, fiery mop of the reddest hair I had ever seen. He reminded me of Alfred Douglas, or the Comte de Montesquieu: beautiful starchy shirts with French cuffs; magnificent neckties; a black greatcoat that billowed behind him as he walked. It made him look like a cross between a student prince and Jack the Ripper. Much to my delight, I once saw him with a pince- nez, but only to find out they were not real. They only had glass in them and his eyes were sharper than my own sight. Francis Abernathy was his name.

And then there were a pair, a boy and a girl. I saw them together a great deal, and one point believed that they were a couple. Until I saw them up close and came to realized them to be siblings. Later on learned they were actually twins. They looked very much alike, with heavy dark-blonde hair and epicene faces as clear, as cheerful and grave. Being the only twins on campus, know as Camila and Charles Macaulay.

Last but not least was a girl. Her hair was a deep and dark shade of brown. She had a stoic yet slightly cheerful expression planted upon her face. Intimidating yet approachable. I later found out that this was Angelina Winter, Henry Winter slightly older sister by a year. She was walking next to Francis. They fingers were crossed intertwined together, I felt the jealously rise in my chest, then I remembered what Judy Poovey had told me about them, they were strictly just best friends nothing more nothing less, and they acted like it to.

(Time Skip)

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It had been a few weeks since I had seen Julian's grecophiles. Today I was in the library looking for a textbook for class, when I heard the deep yet soft melancholic voice that I've grown to have some elementary school crush on, I turned the corner and there sat Bunny, the twins, and Angelina. "I don't know about that," Angelina said while twirling her pencil in between her fingers. "If the Greeks are sailing to Carthage, it should be accusative. Remember? Place whither? That's the rule." This was Camila "Can't be." Bunny spoke this time. "It's not place whither, it's place to. I put my money on the ablative case." Bunny spoke with confidence while Charles was rattling through the papers. "Wait." Charles said. "They're not just sailing to Carthage, they're sailing to attack it." Charles spoke while skimming through his Greek text. "You're crazy."

This is when I cut in, also coincidentally the same time as Angelina spoke. "What about the locative case?" As I said "I'm sorry, but would the locative case do?" Me and Angelina made eye contact for a moment while the others turned and looked at us. "I'm so sorry Richard." Angelina said as she began to laugh quietly, and upon hear her say my name it seemed to roll off of her tongue like sweet honey. And I loved. "Locative?" Charles said flicking his eyes to me then to Angelina once, then twice, then thrice. "Yes, just add zde to karchido." "Are you sure it exists for Carthage?" Camila asked. "Maybe not," Angelina said "But I know for a fact that it works for Athens." Charles grabbed his textbook and leafed through it.

"Oh,hell, don't bother," Bunny said. "It sounds good to me." He reared back his chair, came up to me and said "I'd like to shake your hand, kind stranger." Offered his hand, I took it and he shook mine firmly. "Charles Macaulay."

"Richard Papen" I replied "Oh, so you're the one," Camila said "I'm sorry, what?" I asked her. "You came by to ask about the Greek class." Camila said with a cheerful demeanor. "You study Greek?" This was Charles. "Well I did in high school and figured that I would like to further broaden my spectrum on the subject." "Well, if you would like I could put in a good word for you to Julian; seeing that you know so much about the topic." Angelina asked. Just as I was about to answer Henry walked in and pretend not to see me. "Hello, are you finished?" He asked. "Look here, Henry, we've got someone to meet you." Bunny spoke sounding internally excited. "His name is Richard- Richard what?"

As I went to speak, Angelina spoke. "Papen, Richard Papen, Bun." I looked over to her mumbling a small thank you before returning my gaze to Bunny. "Yes, yes. Richard Papen. Studies Greek." "Not here, surely." He said. "No," I said meeting his gaze. Looking into his eyes is nothing like looking into his sister's. His eyes were cold and hard. Unlike, Henry, Angelina's eyes are soft, deep, and comforting, yet they still have a tendency to be just as cold at times. I had to cut my gaze from his as he continued to speak. "Looks like you have decided on archaic locative instead of?" "Instead of accusative, Hen." Angelina said to her younger brother. "Ah yes, very Homeric. Of course, it would be grammatically correct but yet perhaps a bit off." Henry looked back up to scrutinize me. "So, I suppose you're a Homeric scholar, yes?" I might have said yes, but I had a feeling he would be glad to catch me in a lie. "I like Homer." I stated meekly. "I love Homer. Of course, we're studying the more modern side. For example, Plato and the tragedians and so fourth." Henry spoke with a stone cold poker face. I tried to think of a response before Angelina spoke up again. "Now, Henry, no need to frighten a possible new Greek scholar." She said with a threatening look. It was the look a mother gives her child as she catches them doing wrong. Henry looked at her, glared at her slightly and continued to speak. "We should go." He said with the same hard look in his eyes.

As they all were heading out the door, Angelina turned to face me and said, "I hope to see you in class on Monday." After a kiss was placed on my cheek she turned, left, and caught up with her brother and fellow classmates. I internalized out moment for a second or two and slowly place my hand where her lips were placed two seconds ago. My daze was cut short by the annoyingly loud bell.