I had been in Montreal for just over three months and was starting to feel more settled. I was staying at the houses of residence in a room, cramped and narrow. I shared it with a girl with big blonde hair and close-set blue eyes who weighed everything she ate on a food scale. She was a Physical Education major and was obsessed with everything that went into her mouth. Lynn, short for Marcheline, wore frosted lipstick, only pink and blue tracksuits, and listened to the Canadian rock band Rush. She was from a village in northern Quebec and spoke French and fluent English, which was apparently unusual for some Quebecois.

My parents made sure that all of us spoke English because we’re against any kind of referendum. We want to be part of Canada, she said with pride.

Her breakfast was peanut butter on a rice cracker. Lunch was salad with chicken breast. She snacked on bran muffins and lite cola and had pasta for dinner, alternating between cream and tomato sauces. I love cheese, but it has soo much fat! She never varied her meals and never changed the way she dressed.

Pete was in my Philosophy class. He was from Manitoba, with the lightest eyelashes I’d ever seen. I think he found me intriguing. My name, where I came from, the way I dressed—all fascinated him. I felt his eyes on me all the way from the back of the class right from the first day and it took him a week before he talked to me.

Delonix. What kinda name is that?

It’s Latin.

Delonix. Delonix. Put ma pants in a twist. Twist it. Come on, come on, twist it.

I walked away. He ran after me.

Hey, I was just teasing, you know. Sorry.

It’s not funny.

Yeah, I know. Let’s hang out sometime, okay?

Whatever.

I shrugged and walked away. I could feel his eyes on the small of my back. I didn’t like him, but I was a little flattered that he had talked to me. Books were my main preoccupation and hours were spent in the library or the many bookshops around the city. Sitting in cafés, reading and drinking coffee, nibbling on fresh buttery croissants, daydreaming, writing, studying. That was what I did most days after classes. And then I’d collapse on the narrow bed and sleep hugging my pillow hoping to squeeze out my homesickness, dreaming of rainforests and snakes, longing for rain.