Sweet Caroline

"Hey, Pink Panther!"                                        

Caroline's eyes flashed when she heard the loud laughter. The scene that met her eyes was what she had imagined it to be at the University of Foreigners, Perugia in Central Italy. There was a vast green campus with groups of students sprawled on a well-mowed lawn. They were from all around the world, representing their countries like how Caroline represented India.

But just because she was dressed in pink right down to her underwear, they did not have to call her a Pink Panther. She adjusted her low waist jeans that outlined her long legs, her delicate feet in matching stilettos, combed a manicured hand through her black glossy hair and did the catwalk with incredible difficulty.

She eyed the tall American who had the most beautiful green eyes and an army crew cut. "Pink Panther at your service, Ghostbuster!"

He was leaning against the high compound stone wall where he had parked his silver Harley Davidson. He wore his denims and the white open collar tee with casual grace, and she was doing what her countrymen were accused of doing, "staring."

"Close your mouth before flies venture in!" he said.

"Why you arrogant, macho, overconfident—" She searched her mind for worse names and came up with a blank. In the meanwhile, he was giving her a lazy white smile.

 "I'm Rod," he said and gestured towards the parking area where his friends were perched on their Vespas. "Matt, Joe and Raphael."

 Her chin lifted, and she said, "Caroline Carmichael," presenting herself as if she were of some royal descent.

The enormous green campus began to swell as students entered in groups, some of them staying in the neighbouring guest houses with Italians. Caroline preferred to rent an apartment and share it with a roommate of her choice. Her parents did not mind the extra cost as Caroline had bagged a hybrid scholarship and did not have to pay in full.

Her head swung to the handsome, fair-haired boy at her side as he and his friends accompanied her through the paved corridors where the classrooms were situated.

A strong arm wound around her waist, and she squirmed in discomfort. But American Boy was the University's heartthrob. The envious glances she received from the International Female Tribe made her resist the urge to shake off the arm. And this was her first day on foreign soil; she needed all the support she could get.

If only she had not worn these high heels, she could have walked on that stoned pathway without any help. But, instead, here she was, balancing on steep heels on corridors filled with cracks and cement-worn joints, and she was forced to hold on to the arm or fall flat on her face.

They swept into one of the many classrooms that seemed more like an auditorium. Students were already settled in the chairs that were arranged in semicircles. The desks sported laptops and ipads, and the centre stage had a table and a chair with a board and felt pens.

Caroline took the third row, and Rod and his friends sat behind her. She felt the American's breath warm on the back of her neck and turned to give him one of her freezing glances. He winked.

"Buon Giorno!" A deep attractive voice greeted them.

Caroline's head swerved, forgetting all about Rod, her mind conjuring images of the face that would match the voice. Would this professor be like the Mills & Boon professors: tall, tanned, handsome and wealthy?

She looked up and towards the stage as she heard the creaking of wood. Was Professor Pedro riding into class like a knight in shining armour? Why was the floor thundering as if a thousand soldiers were marching on it? Her smile died, her eager eyes dimmed as she saw the short pot-belly man with a bald head and hooked beak gallop inside.

“Buon Giorno, Professore!” She joined the chorus of voices.

He tucked his fingers beneath the suspenders holding his trousers in place and rose on his toes. "You are here only to tax your brains—nothing else."

Caroline raised her hand, a mischievous smile on her face, the initial disappointment adding to her brave demeanour.

"Professore, I have a doubt."

"Already? I haven't even begun!"

She leaned forward, thrusting her chest out. "Why can't I tax other parts of the body?"

"Mamma Mia! Not a bad idea at all," Rod said amidst desk thumping and whistles. Professor Pedro wiped his bald head as it started to sweat.

"Ms Carmichael," he said, sliding his fingers beneath the bands of the suspenders that cut into his fleshy shoulders.

 "Call me Caroline," she said, aiming a sweet smile at him.

He rose on his toes as he repeated with stubborn insistence, "Ms Carmichael!" Then, he descended on his heel with an abruptness that made him lose momentum.

For a minute, he forgot what he was about to say as his hands shot out to cling to the back of the chair. "I know you are the great-granddaughter of Signore Henry— a wonderful man." His tone implied that she could not be of the same race. "However, you will not distract my attentive students in this prestigious…."

A collective groan overrode his voice, making it impossible for him to continue. Finally, with a sigh of exasperation, he grabbed his books and bounced out of the class, the wooden stage once again creaking as he galloped towards the exit.

Caroline slid down her chair, content that she had ascended in popularity.

Rod beamed as he approached her and draped himself over the desk. His gold-streaked hair took a shade of yellow light that passed through the window over their heads.

"Wanna caffè?' He drew her to her feet and stood up. 'There's a small cafeteria on the campus. Think you could manage on those sticks?" He gave her shoes a disgusted snort.

Caroline left her bag on the chair and followed him out of the classroom. As they darted through the crowd of students, Rod kept a firm hold of her arm.

"Where are you from, Beautiful?" His breath fanned her earlobe.

"India, the country of culture and tradition."

"I'm from the land of opportunity."

"I'm not surprised."

He grinned. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"The overconfidence did sound American."

"So they tell me."

They entered the noisy cafeteria. Most of the tables were occupied. She found a rail, climbed on it and sat with her legs dangling on either side, the risk of unbalancing and hitting the stone pavement greater than her desire to act like a lady.

Rod had managed to order two cappuccinos and was chatting up a few ladies on his way back.

Caroline had removed her painful footwear and was massaging her toes while Rod mounted on the rail. She pretended she did not see the smile dart across his face as he sensed her discomfort. Then, finally, she cleared her throat and broke the silence. There was no use giving this guy hope. The sooner he knew he could not get anywhere with her, the better it would be.

"I'm a virgin," she blurted.            

Caffè latte came spurting out of his mouth. Blond brows almost disappeared under his hairline. "You are?"

"Don't be surprised. It happens. "

"I kinda like it," he said with a boyish grin.

"Good! So do I," she said.

He burst out laughing, and it was several minutes before he could get a grip of himself. She tried not to squirm as he continued to look at her with an engaging smile.

"Are you normally this direct?"

"Saves time."

"Not all Americans are bad boys, you know."

"I just thought you could use your charm elsewhere and be rewarded."

"Wow! Now that we've got that out of the way, can we be friends?"

Entering the class, she felt someone staring at her. The girl was in the same age bracket as Caroline, with wavy hair and a timid smile. Caroline's lips widened as she recognised a fellow Indian and hurried to her side.

"Hi, I'm Caroline," she said, greeting the girl with a high-five as she squatted beside her.

"I know," she replied. Caroline's brows arched in surprise. 

"I mean, it is difficult not to know who you are."

She already liked her. Her name was Marsha, and she was from north India. "I'm from the south. I suppose you know that too?" Caroline said with a teasing smile.

She nodded somewhat apologetically. Caroline laughed.

"I hear you're very naughty?"

"Life is too boring otherwise," Caroline shrugged.

Even as the words left her mouth, she was thinking of the next two hours of Italian Art and Architecture. Unfortunately, they had the same pot-belly professor. If the reviews were correct, he was the most boring professor at the University. So two hours with him was out of the question.

She glanced at Rod. He grinned, reading the mischief in her eyes. Then, rising slowly from his chair, he strode towards her desk. "What's cooking, Beautiful?"

Marsha looked at them wide-eyed, unsure whether to join them or opt-out. After a while, she followed them towards the stage. Caroline asked her to stand guard while they worked.

"But what work do you have with that chair?" Marsha asked as her black eyes darted around her. Rod had brought his tool kit with him and was on his haunches, muscled arms bunching as he drew on his strength to tear the legs apart.

Marsha swallowed a nervous giggle. "Don't you think this is highly dangerous?" she wiped the sweat off her brow as if she were the one who had undertaken the strenuous task.

"Not really, we could do with some entertainment," Caroline said, as they re-fixed the legs superficially.

The three of them darted to their place, waiting in anticipation.

 "But don't you care that he may get hurt?"

Caroline paused, losing the smile on her face. Marsha was right. What if their professor fell and hurt his back and was paralysed? What if they questioned the students and found out that she was behind it? They would expel her from the University.

She groaned in dismay as heavy footsteps sounded on the wooden floors. Wobbly- Tummy was trotting towards his desk, the short walk turning him breathless. Caroline closed her eyes and prayed that he would remain standing for the next two hours.

Fool! Fool! Fool!

"Buon Giorno, come sta?"

She eyed the nourished bottom on its descent and lunged over the desk, stretching out her hand towards him. "Professore!"

He grabbed her hand as the chair gave way under him, his eyes popping out of its sockets. But instead of lifting himself, his weight pulled Caroline down. She tumbled onto his protruding belly and sat on it transfixed.

Amidst whistles, applause, and laughter, she heard Professor Pedro voice.

"Per favore, can you please get up?" 

Seething in embarrassment, Caroline sprung upright. But her feet entangled with his suspenders, and to her utter horror, she landed back on him.

"Santa Donna!"

The class was howling. Caroline wanted nothing more than to bury her head under the desk. She could not believe that this was happening to her. If only her mother came to know that Caroline could not do a neat pivot after all those ballet classes she had attended, she would be indignant.

"You are very fond of my belly, Ms Carmichael?"

She stood up carefully this time, making sure her feet were firmly placed on the ground and not on anything else. Then, cautiously, she stepped away from him, ignoring the smiling faces around her. She could not remember the last time she had been this clumsy in her life. So much for wanting to be entertained, she had made a spectacle of herself.

Rod was still laughing as she passed his desk. "Wish you had landed on me that way!" he said in between chuckles. "Lucky professor!"

"Shut up!" she said, but her lips trembled. Professor Pedro looked at her fearfully, making sure to keep out of her way for the rest of the day.