I know Eden will do better than I will. Chemistry. I know Stevie will do better than I will. And American literature. I’ll do the best in that one. Since all that is predetermined, what difference does my studying or not make?The thing is that I don’t think I know how to study anymore. I know what I used to do: I used to sit on the sofa in the living room or on the floor in my room, and read over all my notes, look over the passages I’d highlighted in textbooks and novels. I’d sit there and I’d read for two hours at a time, sometimes more. But now, for the last week, I can’t do it. I mean, I can still read. I can still carry my books around the house and lay them out just so.But I can’t sit still. I read one sentence: Henry the Eighth appealed to the pope for an annulment of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon. And then I try to keep reading. I look at the next sentence; I even know, more or less, what it will say: how the pope denied it, why the pope denied it, how many times Henry asked.
