(*'s mean that there is footnote in the Appendix)

Chapter One

h god!" a voice yelped. A hand banged down upon the now-silent alarm clock. Ten minutes later, a stylishly-dressed young blond woman rushed out of the building, clutching a black shoulder bag. As she flew down the sidewalk to her first class of the year, she thanked heaven for the millionth time that Vassar* was a small campus. She bolted through the heavy swinging double doors of New England* and ran down a flight of steps to the basement, checking her watch. Just in time, she thought, sliding into a seat and smoothing her boyishly-shorn hair. She stifled a yawn as the professor began to call roll.

"Emma Woodhouse?" The sound of her own name startled her, but she managed to respond with little embarrassment. Luckily, the professor started the lecture, allowing Emma to be swept away by film terminology and techniques. She sighed. The academic year had begun anew.

A few hours and two classes later, Emma was back in her room on the fifth floor of Davison House*. She tidied up the mess from the morning's scramble, humming along to the jazz music coming from the room directly across from hers.

"Court!" she yelled to her ex-roommate.

"Em!" a voice responded. Footsteps approached and Courtney Fong appeared in the doorway. "What happened in here? Our room was never this messy last year."

"I shut off the alarm this morning and went back to sleep. I woke up about fifteen minutes before class."

"Oh. No wonder I didn't see you when I got to film. Long lecture, wasn't it?"

"I know. Anyway, what's that you're listening to? I like it, especially this song."

"It's the soundtrack to 'Swingers.' This is Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. They're big in L.A."

"Oh, have you gone to see them?"

"No, because they play at the Dresden Lounge. I'm almost nineteen, so maybe in two years. Oh, here's one of my favorites," Courtney exclaimed, rushing back into her room and turning up her stereo. Emma could hear her singing along to Bobby Darin's "I'm Beginning to See the Light." She giggled as she finished making her bed. A knock sounded loudly above the music. Emma turned to see a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the doorway.

"Mr. Knightley! I didn't hear you come," she said happily, coming forward to greet him.

He smiled as he replied, "Courtney's fine singing seemed to have drowned me out because I knocked a few times and you didn't notice."

"I heard that, Mr. George Knightley!" yelled Courtney laughingly.

All three laughed, as Emma drew Knightley into her room. He sat down in the easy chair in the corner, crossing his long legs and settling himself down comfortably. "How was your day, Emma?"

"Rough," she replied, retelling the events of the morning.

"Why were you up so late last night? Oh, wait, you were helping Anna move into her town house* with Nick Weston, right?"

"Yeah, and then I stayed for dinner and one thing led to another and before I knew it, the clock struck three."

"You miss her having her so close, don't you?" Knightley asked sympathetically.

Emma nodded, thinking of Anna Taylor, her best friend since childhood. "Well, she's a senior, so she wanted to live off-campus with the other upperclassmen. Nick and her other housemates were lucky to get anything in last year's TH draw. So many students were competing with each other. I know she lived down the hall from me last year, but it's not as if I won't ever see her again. We do go to the same school."

"Who else lives in her TH besides Nick Weston?"

"Well, Nick's cousin, Frank Churchill, decided to transfer next semester instead of this one, so they're saving a room for him. Philip Elton is their other housemate."

Knightley looked puzzled. "Philip Elton? Who's that?"

"A junior. Religion major. Very serious, but a nice sort."

"Ah, yes. I remember him."

"He cooks well. He made a fabulous casserole dish last night."

"What a prize! Serious, kind, and he cooks!"

"Don't be rude. Hmm. Maybe I should set him up with someone. He seems kind of lonely," she said thoughtfully.

"Oh, Emma, I really don't think that's such a good idea."

"What do you mean? I got Anna and Nick together, didn't I?"

"If you mean that thinking they would be a good couple is matchmaking, then, sure, you got them together. You didn't actually do anything, though."

Emma frowned. "What about that day we went to the video store, huh? It started to pour the instant we left and, noticing that we were Vassar students, Nick offered us a ride home in his car. From that moment, I endeavored to bring them together and it worked! They've been going out for about a year now."

Knightley rolled his eyes. "I--" A timid knock interrupted him and a nervous-looking freshman peered around the door.

"Oh, hello, Harriet," Emma said. "Mr. Knightley, this is Harriet Smith, one of my student fellowees. Harriet, this is George Knightley, an old friend of my family." They exchanged a handshake. "Now, Harriet, what can I do for you?"

"Um, I just wanted the number for the front desk," she whispered. Emma retrieved it for her and Harriet quickly disappeared. A gleam had appeared in her eye that Knightley did not like.

"Emma, what are you plotting?" he asked sternly.

"Oh, nothing," she replied airily.

"Emma, you are her student fellow*. You are supposed to guide her through her freshman year, not wreck her. You were selected from a group of sophomores because you would be responsible and helpful, not demented."

"Demented! What makes you think I'm demented?"

"Never mind," he said wearily. "All I will say is that I fear for the twelve freshmen under your leadership, Miss Student Fellow."

The Beatles' "Let It Be" floated from Courtney's room, as Emma just smiled serenely, making plans.

To Appendix I

Chapter Two

n order to devise a proper strategy, Emma found it necessary to learn more about Harriet Smith. It's only natural to want to know one's student fellow group, she told herself. Perfectly natural--perfectly, utterly, and completely natural. A glance at the clock revealed an hour before her next class and just enough time for lunch. She smiled and picked up her bag.

Davison House #526's door was open, but no one was in sight. Emma rapped her knuckles on the door anyway, feeling odd as she did so. This had been the room she had shared with Courtney the year before and a twinge of nostalgia ran through her at the sight of her old Scotch tape marks and the hole Courtney had accidentally hammered into the wall. A wide-eyed head poked around one of the closet doors--her old closet door, Emma thought sadly.

"Oh, hello, Emma," said Harriet timidly. She was the only one in the room. Perfect.

Emma put on her friendliest smile. "Hi there, Harriet. I was just going to lunch and I thought I'd pop down to this end of the hall to see if anyone wanted to join me. Do you want to come?"

Harriet hesitated. Don't think about it, just go! her student fellow shouted mentally, though the kindly smile remained firmly in place. "Okay."

Less than twenty minutes later, Emma and Harriet were sitting across from each other at the All Campus Dining Center*. Where to begin? After some small talk to loosen Harriet up, Emma felt ready to begin the interrogation. She took a sip of her Coke, carefully formulating her question.

"So, you've known your roommate for a long time, right?" she inquired casually.

Gulping her food, Harriet nodded. "Elizabeth and I have been best friends for years."

"Really?" Emma arched her eyebrows. "And you guys are from...Maine?"

"Mm-hm. We lived next door to each other."

"I see. You two must've come here together."

"Yeah, with her parents and Mrs. Goddard. Oh, and Elizabeth's brother." Harriet blushed a little, but Emma was too caught up in her line of questioning to notice.

"Mrs. Goddard. Who's that?"

The freshman's head drooped. "My guardian." She paused and continued in a soft voice, "My mother died when I was young and my father--I never knew my father. I-I don't have any family, so Mrs. Goddard--Mother's best friend--adopted me."

Her blue eyes were teary, so Emma dropped her spoon and impulsively put her hand over Harriet's. "Oh, Harriet, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's okay. Really. Mrs. Goddard is wonderful and I love her, but..."

"You miss your mother," finished Emma. "My mom died when I was four. I understand."

Harriet looked up quickly. "Really?"

"Yes. I don't remember much about her; just bits and pieces." She turned her eyes toward the window. "I remember her brushing my hair every morning. And when she went out with Dad at night, she always wore Chanel No.5 and she'd bring back desserts for my sister and I. She was beautiful and cheerful--my mother--even in the hospital with cancer." Emma realized she had been running on unaware. Harriet was looking at her sympathetically. Clearing her throat, she changed the subject.

"Sorry." She sipped her Coke again. "So, why did you and Elizabeth decide to come to Vassar?"

"I thought it was the most beautiful place I'd ever seen," Harriet explained shyly. "And it was in New York. I've always wanted to live in New York. Plus, Elizabeth's brother goes here and he really likes it." The conscious blush reappeared; this time, Emma noticed it. Interesting.

"Do I know him? What's his name?" she asked carefully.

A small smile and then, "Robert Martin--he's a sophomore like you. He lives in Jewett*."

Emma just barely refrained from rolling her eyes. She knew him all right. That jock. She had seen him often, an athletic guy carrying around a ton of sports gear and hanging out with other jocks. He seemed nice enough, but, being a lacrosse and rugby star, it was obvious why he was at Vassar.

"Do you know him, Emma? Do you? He knows you," Harriet asked anxiously. "He's a math major and plays lacrosse and rugby and--"

"Yes, yes, I know of him," replied Emma impatiently. "I've never had a class with him and I don't hang out with jocks. I'm sure he's a nice person, though."

"Oh, he is, he is. Rob's exactly a year and fifteen days older than me--his birthday's June eighth and mine's the twenty-third. The Martins threw a birthday party for both of us this year and we sang a karaoke duet. He's a very good singer. Oh, and he loves to read. He usually reads magazines and the newspaper, but I'm trying to get him to read some of my favorite books. Like The Bridges of Madison County. He promised me that he'd read it." Emma cringed; she'd sworn never to read the book or see the movie, for that matter. However, since this was the most enthusiastic Harriet had ever been, she kept her opinions to herself.

"He gets along well with Elizabeth and his parents. They were always going to his games and sometimes he'd take Liz and I to the parties afterwards. It was a lot of fun. He was very popular with everyone," she concluded with a small sigh.

Before the next flow of information could begin, Emma spoke. "Harriet, I think I should warn you that the athletic crowd here is probably different than the one in Maine. They party a lot and it can be dangerous. I'm sure Rob doesn't do it all the time, but people act differently in groups. I only tell you out of concern for your welfare, as your student fellow--" Here Emma leaned in for the kill. "--and as your friend."

Flattered, Harriet's face lit up. "Thank you, Emma, I won't forget." Satisfied, Emma smiled.

As they left ACDC, they ran into Robert Martin, chaining up his bicycle. Harriet immediately engaged him in conversation. Emma just smiled frostily and busied herself with checking her bag for all of the necessary texts for her next class. She had rummaged three times before Harriet bounded over with a big grin on her face.

"What a coincidence that we saw him, Emma! He doesn't usually eat at this time, but he got out of class early because it's only the second day of classes, you know. I asked him if he'd read Madison County yet, but he hasn't picked it up. He said he'd see if it was at the library tomorrow." Emma highly doubted the Vassar library would have it, but she'd seen stranger things before in her nineteen years. Harriet continued in the same rapid fire succession, "Oh, Emma, do you think he's cute?"

Oh, great. "He's not my type at all. He's not...sophisticated-looking enough. You've met my friend George Knightley--he is an excellent example."

"To be sure. Rob is not like him. I doubt there are any like him."

"Yes, Mr. Knightley is quite a gentleman. Or how about Nick Weston or Philip Elton? Phil is particularly kind, probably more than the other two. When he met you and the other freshmen in our hall a few days ago, he seemed especially impressed by you."

"He was?"

"Yes! Let's see, what was it that he said? 'That girl who lives in your old room, Harriet Smith, seems very sweet. Pretty, too.' And when he said it, he blushed and smiled."

"Really? Wow." With stars in her eyes, Harriet flushed. When they parted in the College Center*, she had a dreamy look on her face and floated away. Seeing that the seeds of love were taking root, Emma congratulated herself as she walked to Sanders Classroom*. Take that, Robert Martin. Nothing can save you now. Not even The Bridges of Madison County.

To Appendix II

Appendix I

Vassar College is a small liberal arts college founded in 1861 by Matthew Vassar in the town of Poughkeepsie, New York. Once solely a women's college, it has been co-educational since 1969.

New England Building is one of the classrooms at Vassar. Among other subjects, anthropology, American culture, and film are taught there. The swinging doors throughout the building are lethally heavy and can give you a major whack if you don't go through fast enough. The film classrooms are in the basement.

Davison House is one of nine dorms on campus, where Meryl Streep lived during her years here. A co-ed building, it's known variously as "the quiet dorm," "the friendly dorm," and "the family dorm." At present, it's my second year here. #526, rumored to be the largest one-room double on campus, was my freshman room. Like Courtney, I accidentally hammered a large hole into the wall. The room now serves as a comfortable triple. Emma lives in the designated student fellow room, #513 (exactly one floor above my current room), and Courtney lives in #514, which I've had my eye on for ages. Both rooms have tiny windows, but the skylights more than make up for it.

Town houses (THs) are Vassar-owned residences across the street from the school. Four to five juniors and seniors live in them independently. The TH and TA (terrace apartment) draws at the end of every year are always fast and furiously competitive.

The student fellow program is designed to help incoming students (freshmen, international and transfers) adjust to Vassar life. The student fellow is always an upperclassman, who gets assigned a certain number of students or "fellowees." Emma's group is particularly fortunate because the fifth floor has only a few rooms, so the student fellowee group is a small one.

Appendix II

All Campus Dining Center (ACDC) is where all of the dorm residents eat. Until about 1970, meals were served in the dorms themselves. The food is decent, but it's not home cooking or anything. The Sunday brunch is the best meal (where else do you get The New York Times for free and live music?), followed by the weekday lunches.

Jewett House is the tallest dorm on campus--nine stories. It must have some sort of reputation, but nothing springs to mind. I do know that Edna St. Vincent Millay lived there. My personal impression is that a lot of athletes live there, but this probably isn't true.

The College Center is located in Main Building and is, as the name implies, the center of Vassar. Most of the administrative offices are located here, as well as the post office, a cafe, a coffee bar, a snack bar, and other necessities of college life.

Sanders Classroom is the home of the English Department. Since English is the most popular major on campus (30% of the student body), the building is hopping. It's my second home, since most of my classes are there.