I was honored to be a part of this amazing cult and, having spent only a couple of hours in the territory, had no idea how I could study elsewhere.

It took me a couple of hours of walking through the University's territory to study all possible routes and visit the open buildings. By the end of the day, I was filled with the same excitement as the rest of the Harvard fans.

"You're glowing!" Jackson smiled at me when I got home.

"I can't wait to start the semester and visit all the classrooms, read all the books, have lunch in the canteen, and meet the professors!"

"I think you've caught the Harvard fever!" Jackson squeezed me in his arms.

"Is this how you call the delight of being in Harvard at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology?"

"No. This is my know-how!" he laughed and we began to kiss, rolling back and forth on the mattress.

It was hard to understand Jackson Wink. We had known each other for more than 10 years, but I still had not reached the depths of his knowledge. He was only 3 years older than me. Though, sometimes it seemed like he was 30 years older. He knew literally everything about everything, could build unthinkable mechanisms from scrap and repair any equipment. At the age of 21, he patented two inventions, which provided him with a position of the trainee in the Development Department of the Boston Dynamics Company. I was terribly proud of him, though I felt bored at times when Jackson was entirely devoted to his inventions.

In these frequent moments, I liked to admire his perfect complexion and well-shaped constitution. Sceptics from the outside could call him the standard of male beauty. He was of an attractive appearance with no zest and no charisma, which was typically shown on the cover of some tabloid. For me, there was no better man in the world but him. I loved stroking his short hair, which tickled my palms, massaging his mighty shoulders, which he inherited from his ancestors that made everybody get madly envy and consider the existence of such a body without the slightest effort to be unfair. Jackson's only drawback was poor eyesight, which caused him to wear glasses, as he categorically rejected the lenses.

According to karmic laws, it was incomprehensible that I, being of no remarkable appearance and mind, was able to get this guy. Yet he loved me for some unthinkable reason. I was sure that he was only loyal to me and I reciprocated, realizing that I have the best of men. It was very presumptuous to believe at such a young age that this circumstance could not be changed, but something suggested that one way or another, our lives would be bound until the end of our days.

"Darsy Black, do you know you're the most amazing girl in the world?" Jackson suddenly asked, having stepped aside.

"When I look into your eyes, I start to believe it."

And, indeed, it was impossible to doubt something that was said in such a tone. His eyes reflected the depth of these emotions. Those beautiful hazel eyes simply were not capable of lying.

"Pasta or risotto?" beside everything else, he was a skillful cook. He was a perfect man. My stomach growled piteously.

"Pasta!"

"Good choice!" Jackson winked at me and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. "With seafood, right?"

"It's my favorite," I smiled, anticipating a small feast.

After having a delicious pasta and washing dishes, I got a call from my mother.

"How are you doing?" I was worried.

"Nothing unusual. It's noisy and dirty. Mary doesn't want to fall asleep without your bedtime story. I could barely stand until she calmed down yesterday."

"Put her on the phone."

A minute later, I heard my little sister's voice in the receiver,

"You left us!" she whimpered.

"I know, my angel! It's not forever! I need to study. And I will visit you on weekends. You should help our mother with the boys because only girls can keep everything in order around the house, right?"

"Yes, but everything is different without you!"

"I understand. Don't be sad. Mom says you don't want to fall asleep without a bedtime story… Let's make a deal that I will tell you stories every evening and you will help Mom. Deal?"

"Ok!" the sister got enthusiastic.

"What story would you like to listen tonight?"

"About the Dragon and Prince Charming!"

I started telling her a fairy tale. It has been six years since I began telling my little sister fairy tales every evening without which she refuses to fall asleep. She is only eight years old. She looks so much like an angel with her blonde curls and so unlike me with brown hair. We often came up with stories together and we always imagined ourselves to be princesses, who were depicted on the covers of children's books, being completely different in appearance, but with similar stories that must necessarily end well. Soon, she will grow up and stop believing in happy endings, and hopefully learn to live in real life. Otherwise, her life will be filled with sorrowful disappointments, because life is full of imperfections, and everything is much more prosaic. Every such disappointment changes you into a different person, not as pure as in childhood.

One could hear the child's puffing on the other end, and the mother picked up the phone again.

"What would I do without you? It's amazing how you get along!"

"How are the boys? How is the father?"

"Everything is great, but I miss you. We all miss you madly. We're waiting for you this weekend after you get settled in a new place. How's everything with Jackson?"

"Everything's great! You know he will not let me get into trouble. I went to the campus. I can't wait until the classes start! I also signed up for two interviews, and I hope to get at least one job offer."

"You're gonna make it! You're a good girl."

Mother's praise was priceless. She sounded tired, and we soon said goodbye to each other, so that we both could get rest.

Two days later, as Jackson predicted, my friends arrived. Each visit of Rosy and Mickey usually turned into some chaos. It was literally like a natural cataclysm – unstoppable, destructive, and devastating. They flew in like a whirlwind, made a disorder and left back home, leaving others to mop up the mess. But, personally, I loved these two noisy ladies, who at the moment were constructing something unimaginable on my head – "evening coiffure".

"This is the latest trend. Everyone will be amazed!" happy Mickey was chattering. She was the brains, and Rosy was the brawn.

"Who are you talking about? Will someone tell me where we are going?"

"This will be a surprise, babe! But, trust me, you'll be delighted with our choice," Rosy said.

My friends would always repeat that phrase at the beginning of each crazy adventure that ended, as a rule, very badly: with injuries, robbery, accident, or something like that. And every time it started with a surprise. That's why I didn't like them… And where did this strange love for such adventures come from?

When my appearance finally was accepted as satisfactory, the four of us took Jackson's car and headed in unknown direction. This time, Rosy dressed me in her short skirt and a suede top with thin straps. This was far from my style, but I did not want to argue with friends.

According to global standards, Boston was not a big city. It was spanning among the modest hills. Majestic skyscrapers filled the night city with colorful lights, making Boston even more beautiful at night than during the day. This city never slept.