Efficiency classes: boring, and way more useful for people who aren't her. Odette would probably just pull out a novel, but if she got terrible grades in every class that didn't matter to her, it would reflect badly on her professor father.
If only something interesting would happen.
"Leaves are green; the sky is blue; my eyes are grey; your eyes are...," he peers at them.
"Blue. My eyes are darker blue than the sky. The sky is lighter blue than my eyes."
"Darker, lighter." He locates some example leaves. "Darker green, lighter green."
She nods. "This flower is red," she says, pointing to a red carnation. "This flower is yellow." A daffodil. "This flower is white." A white carnation. She picks up a fallen rose petal and puts it on her head. "I am wearing the red flower."
"I am wearing a dress," she says, smoothing down the fabric. "You are wearing a shirt," she points, "and pants," she points.
"Purple, red..." he looks around for examples of the other colours to refresh his memory, "yellow, white, blue, green." He can't see his own eyes, but he blinks them for, "Grey."
"When the sun sets, clouds are many colors!" She realizes there are some words missing from his vocabulary. She points at the sun. "Sun. That is the sun. Red and yellow and white and grey and purple are colors."
"Colours. Many colours - many flowers?" he gestures around at the garden.
"Many flowers! There are many flowers in this garden. There are many hairs on my head," she says, grabbing her braid.
"Your hair is brown." He runs a hand through his own and raises his eyebrows expectantly.
"My hair is black. Black, white, grey, brown, red, green, blue, yellow, purple," with examples of each. "One two three four five six seven eight nine ten, twenty thirty forty fifty sixty seventy eighty ninety one hundred. Yes?"
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