I slip into these olive slacks and a baize button-up, so I’m looking pretty sharp. Since I’m not supposed to be at Columbia until 11:00, I drag the chair over to the window and sit down. It’s raining for what must be the first time in days, so I crack the window and let the cool damp air filter into the room. Before long, I’m inundated with the smell of wet concrete and metal. The sound is all raindrop-pattering and tire-sloshing over wet streets. Those dice-throwing boys must be indoors today. I wonder what games they play when it rains. I walk into the classroom at five minutes past 11:00, and wait until I’ve shaken Wittig’s hand to remove my sunglasses. It’s the ultimate I-am-a-Star statement—wearing sunglasses on a rainy day. But, you know, people expect this sort of thing from me now, and I’m not in the business of letting them down. I can tell you the class of fourteen students is pretty thrilled to meet me. Seven girls, seven boys, and they’re all sitting on the hardwood floor along the wall.
