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The Student	By : Faline Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 4010 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Orlando Bloom. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 5 - Alone in Paradise

School had official started that morning at 11 AM for me, and I was officially bored off my gourd at about 2. I had made it through a couple of classes already, History of Greek and Latin and also an ancient art course, which could be very interesting indeed. The two teachers I had met already were both nice and tried to help me out around the campus as much as possible. My History teacher, a corpulent man of importance, was named HenryWidgWidgeons and my art teacher was a woman my own height of 5’5” with a withered expression permanently fixed to her aging face named Maggie Rice,. I hadn’t met anyone of terrible interest yet and the whole thing felt like a dream.

Of course, my feelings were revolting against me as my sane, rational self- tried to push down the feelings I had for Orlando. He was no longer in the picture. He had left and gone home. He had abandoned me, just as Viggo would at 7 AM the next morning. It was just the ways things went.

The trek from my second and last class was cross campus. It was truly beautiful here. It was of course still summer in Auckland. The trees were tall and green and there was a multitude of colorful shubbery and sweetly scented flowers doting the square half-mile campus. The college was crowded, with people lounging around on the sloping lawns and people studying at randomly placed benches and picnic tables. And the best part of all, was that everyone had the best accents ever.

I jogged up the steps of the English department building with a light step. They had made me take Intro to Poetry simply because it was a prerequisite for their ‘Writing for Publication’ class, which was teacher talk for the school newspaper, which I was dying to take. So, I found myself standing outside a quiet classroom staring dismally through the window and late.

I took a deep breath, recalled what I had been instructed to tell the teacher and opened the door. “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” A tall, petit blond finished the first line of Shakespeare’s immortal words and I checked the room number. An older looking man looked up from a stack of papers the size of ten college Biology books and smiled at me, motioning in.

“Is this Intro to Poetry?” My voice was high pitched and nervous. I hated to speak in front of people and I hated to make a screen of any kind. The man stood and smiled, beckoning me closer into the room.

“That class has been canceled because the teacher took a maternity leave. That class has been switched over to Second Level Shakespeare.” He smiled as he handed me a book. “As you like it” glared back at me from its well- used and tattered cover. “Welcome, welcome. Please have a seat Miss . . . “

“Mortensen. Laura Mortensen.” I shrugged off my backpack at the closest seat I could find, in the front row. My teacher, who didn’t have a name apparently, turned to the board and started writing down characters from the play. My heart leapt a foot in the air when the name Orlando was produced from the chalk. I had forgotten that he was a character. A tear came to my eye as a feeling of loneliness swept through my chest. Alas, Orlando was 300 miles away.

The girl next to me leaned over. “You’re from America aren’t you?” She was of Maori descent and had a kind face. I nodded and she whispered again. “I have friends who live in New York. Where are you from?”

“Michigan and Idaho.”

“Cool.”

She leaned back over when the teacher turned and glared at the whispering behind his back. I smiled. It was good that even though I was half the world away, school was still the same. “By the way, my name is Eve.” She stuck out her hand we shook hands. The teacher turned back around with a smile of smug satisfaction written on his face.

“Your assignment for tonight is to memorize Shakespeare’s poem, “All the World’s a Stage.” This assignment is to be ready for class next Monday, not excuses.”

I groaned, burying my head in my hands. I needed to get out of this class. I had already taken a Shakespeare class three times and if I had to hear about how Juliet loved Romeo enough to kill herself one more time, I’d kill myself!

Silently adding up the time until this class would be over, I was happy to discover that I had missed a good thirty minutes in the stroll getting here. That left only twenty minutes to hear the pinhead of a teacher babble about a subject that I most likely knew more about than he did. This was the last class of the day, and I only had one class on Tuesday. Things were looking pretty good when the bell rang and I picked up my books, practically running out of class.

Someone caught my arm at the door. ‘Hey.” It was Eve. “Where are you staying? Do you have rellies here or are you staying on campus?” We both stepped out into the crowded hallway and pushed out of the building before I even tried to answer.

“My uncle owns a house on the corner of Wyndham and Nelson St. I’m staying there.”

She gasped and smiled brightly. “I live a block a way, on Fanshawe.” I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where anything is!” I laughed at the hopelessness of the situation. Eve nodded and we began to walk towards home for both of us, to the west.

We talked the whole way there about men and school and the best place to buy clothes. True girly talk at it’s prime. I found myself relaxed in Eve’s presence and for the first time in 24 hours, I wasn’t thinking about the dark-eyed actor who had kidnapped my heart and drove 300 miles away. Our walk was short, just over 15 minutes, and before I knew where we were, I was standing at the end of Viggo’s short driveway. His Ranger was there, so he was home.

When Eve saw the house, she squealed. “You’re Viggo Mortensen’s NIECE!?” I backed away slowly, pretending to be very scared. She laughed at me and slapped my arm. “You didn’t tell me that he was your uncle!”

“You never asked. Besides, what’s the big deal. He’s just a man.”

“Sorry, the whole country is excited about the movie and stuff. He’s practically a hero!” She nodded solemnly when I snorted and muttered something about if they only knew what he looked like first thing in the morning.

My watch started beeping and I glanced down at it. It was 3:00. I had a hot date with a bathtub and some body scrub. “Hey, thanks for walking me home. Maybe we can do it the next time our schedule coincides.”

Eve nodded. “Yeah. What classes do you have tomorrow?”

I thought for a second. “Something about mixed media art. I don’t remember what the real name is, but I know it’s a sculpture class.”

“Sounds like fun. Well, I’ll let you alone and I hope to see ya round! It’s been fun Laura!” She waved before she turned and left. I made my way into the house. It was all quiet downstairs, but I could hear the faint, woeful notes of Pachebel’s Canon in D minor and knew he was working on some form of artwork. I dropped my bag beside the door and jogged up the steps, stopping in front of the room that the music was coming from. It was directly across from my room, but I had never been inside. Viggo had simply said it was a storage space when he had given me the grand tour that morning. A storage space my ass. I pushed open the door without knocking.

Vigg was inside, humming along to the music, and bent over an artist’s desk, working on assembling an array of random pieces, which were spread along the surface of the desk itself. This was a workshop, for an artist. More specifically, a painter or a photographer. I shook my head. He never gave up his dream of seeing his niece follow in his footsteps. “Viggo, what are you doing?”

My voice cut through the fading last notes in the Canon, and his head popped up. He smiled. “You’re home early!”

“Not really. My classes got out a half an hour ago.”

He ignored my earlier question and continued to screw and hammer little screws into place. “How was your first day?”

“They canceled that class that I didn’t need in the first place and gave me a Shakespeare class.”

He stopped and shook his head in amusement. “Shakespeare? You could teach a class on Shakespear.” I nodded and he went back to work. “Well, what are you gonna do. Are you gonna drop it or hang in there and see if Hamlet doesn’t die in the end after all?”

“I met a really nice girl. She sits next to me. I think I might have some fun if I hang in there.”

“Good for you.”

“Viggo?”

“Hmmm?”

“You didn’t answer my question?”

“I’m sorry. What did you ask hun?”

“I asked what you are doing.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “That.” Straightening his back, he grinned as the lamp clipped smartly onto the corner of the desk and he pushed the whole thing to the space in front of the window. “I’m making a place for you to escape if you ever need an out from college. I know it’s hard. Hell, my art was the one thing that helped me through college.”

“You made me a work room?”

He turned and wiped his sweaty forehead on his shirt. “Precisely my dear Laura. Now, I think I need a shower. Did you wanna go out to eat one last time before I leave or did you wanna stay at home?” I shrugged.

“I don’t care, but I am taking a bath before I do anything. A nice, long, hot bath.” I groaned in anticipation.

“Alright. We’ll go out. Just a quick bite. I have a lot to tell you about the bills and stuff and where to send them until you have a job, which I suspect will be soon.” He emphasized soon and raised an eyebrow at me.

“Yeah yeah. I’m looking into it this weekend.” With a final eyebrow wiggle, he bounced out of the room and off to his own room I followed his lead and retired to my bedroom for my first bath in a week and a half. Showers are nice, but nothing compares to the feeling of utter lethargy when your body is completely suspended on a blanket of liquid silk. Nothing.

I joined Viggo down in the kitchen about an hour later feeling much better. He was talking animated on the phone with what sounded like, from his eccentric one-sided conversation, an answering machine.

“Yeah, my regular pants today and Laura just walked in. She took a bath and looks like she enjoyed it. Anyway, give me a ring. I’ll be here tonight and back in Wellington tomorrow. Just let me know.” He hung up and turned, clapping his hands excitedly. “I got a call from my friend in Los Angeles. They want me to make a book of my photography!” I squealed in excitement and gave my uncle a well-deserved hug.

“Good job! I knew you’d have to publish all that stuff eventually.”

“Yeah, I think I knew it too, deep down inside of myself. I just didn’t want to think rationally. But, he got me a show and everything! Next year sometime!” He yelled in excitement and I laughed with him. He was finally going to get some very serious recognition as an artist.

We bantered back and forth for about twenty minutes before deciding on Oriental cuisine for dinner. So, we journeyed to the Lotus Palace a couple of blocks away. While we ate, Viggo told me everything that I could possibly need to know to keep the place running smoothly. Cancel any channels that I don’t need, keep the heat where it’s comfortable, and most of all, don’t use all the water. He cautioned that the heated water tank was limited and the Water Company was very picky about that type of thing. His rules were simple enough and I was starting to feel like an independent woman once again.

He came in and kissed me goodnight, promising that he would come back and visit. Maybe I should come down and visit Wellington and hang out with the cast. Viggo had big plans for my first break, coming up in May, which included turning me into an elf and making me an extra. I agreed whole heartedly with all the plans that we made and we both promised to keep in touch.

When I awoke the next morning at 9, Viggo was gone, and I realized that I was now truly alone in paradise.
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The Student