This model United Nations, like the last, I was hoping to fall in love. I’m only dreaming though, that kind of thing doesn’t happen twice very often. Nevertheless, I was on the lookout. I was seated beside a very cute Italy, and before the conference met a tall elegant United States, who said we would naturally be best friends. Unfortunately she was joking because I was actually the Islamic Republic of Iran. Italy was later moved across from me, and it turned out that the United tates had a boyfriend. We also all live approximately eight hours away from me. I know neither of their last names
The two days past incredibly quickly, and now I find myself on a bus back to the TOR, travelling through Quebec. Suddenly, my bus stops working, out of battery, just like most of us after this conference. We begin waiting and it gets colder. Even though its mid-March there is still way too much snow. I look around the bus. Out of forty kids there are three girls, there was supposed to be four but one had to bail. One I try to avoid, she makes me feel bad about humanity. The other one avoids me, I think I make her feel disappointed, we used to be friends but we never bothered to continue the relationship. There’s also one girl in my grade, but we just don’t talk, other than a couple words. She used to go out with my friend, but even then I never bothered to speak to her. She’s very quiet and it surprised me when she came. I refuse to talk to her though, its been too long since I’ve known her.
There’s also a barn and a house nearby. We decide to knock on the door to check if we can have a place to temporarily stay away from the cold. It sounds like the beginning of a horror story.
We knock and a pretty teenage girl answers the door. She seems very perky and asks us what we want, in the back we here some French show she must have been watching. Alors, most kids on the bus don’t speak French. I’m in the only French class in my grade, which has six people. There’s another kid who understands French, he grew up in a French Immersion school, he actually was France in a different committee. We tell her that our bus broke down and we would really enjoy a place to warm up. The girl explains that she will not let us into her home; we would later discern between ourselves that this was probably because her parents were away, and so many teenagers would create a naturally unsafe environment. France asks permission for us to stay in the barn. The Quebecois teenager hesitates for a moment and then relents and leads us anglophone teens into her barn. There’s not much in the room but for straw or her, I’m a city kid I don’t know the difference. My mind however is full of calculations, if the bus needs a battery it will probably take an hour to arrive, that gives me an hour to create a meaningful relationship, not nearly enough time. Dammit, even in my dreams I cannot create lasting relationships with girls.
Maybe we can become French pen-pals.