Chapter 2

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"Ellie, you certainly have done much better work than this. I expected more from you than this." Ms. Henson shook her head disapproving.

I closed my eyes together, she was right.

This was terrible.

"I know," I whispered.

"I'm afraid this isnt going to look good on your final grade. But I have an alternative. We have some French exchange students, who need American mentors. So I carefully picked out my favorites from the class to aid them." She explained to me. French exchange? Of course.

"Is this for extra credit?" I asked, already feeling anxiety rush over me.

She nodded, "Also to help make up for this nausating essay," She replied.

Okay she didnt have to rub it in. I groaned in my head.

"When do I begin?" I ask, in an irritaed tone.

"Now," as she motioned her view to the incoming kids, the ones from yesterday in the library. Followed by my lazy sister.

"Jessica, you're just in time for your assignment." Ms. Henson said smiling, smoothing her dress and standing up. Jessica frowned, and made weird angry faces at her and pretended to squeeze her head together while her back was turned.

"Students, attention." She said her voice light and all the students turned to look at her.

"Uh, um, You will all be given le aid, to le help you, to le adjust to le Americane life." Ms. Henson used hand movements and fake accents to try to get their attention. But they all just laughed, Ms. Henson thought they were laughing with her...but it was at her so she laughed too.

She began assigning students from my class to the foriegn exchange students.

When it came to me, I was assigned to a girl named, "Courtney Durand." She was a short petite red head, it wasnt natural no doubt.

She was a Freshman in college and spoke fluent English. I led her to a short table in the class room and tried to start conversation but was completely distracted by the knowledge that my lazy selfish sister was paired up with my mystery boy. Damn her. I gritted through my teeth, and became enraged.

But I tried to ignore the feeling, because I barely know him. He wasnt mine anyway. "So what part of France are you fron?" I asked, pulling my sleeves down trying to make eye contact. Something I'm not good at. "Castelmoron-d'Albret, my mother died at a very young age, and she was a single women so my American aunt came and raised me there," She explained. Explains the fluent English.

"I'm sorry to hear that, what brings you here to Boston, Mass?" I asked, my attention completely averted to her. Her eyes were a soft light brown and she sniffled.

Was she sick? Perhaps the sudden change in climate? Was it even cold in France? "The experience. Also my aunt missed living here, so I thought I should tag along for educational puposes as well." I heard her accent, it was thick, but i could understand easily.

"Do you know any French?" She added quickly.

"Bonjour," I muttered.

"Comment etes-vouce?" She smiled. I knew that much.

"Bien, et vous?" that was easy enough. I gave myself a personal high five in the back of my mind.

"Bien, Je vois que tu sais un peu de francais." She smiled, as if she got me. Which she did. I did not follow. What the hell? "Whaa?" I asked. She giggled.

"I said, I see you do know a little French." She replied.

"Oh, I took a course for a half a semester my Freshman year," I solemnly admitted. "Oh, I can tell we're going to be great friends!" She exclaimed. I smiled, knowing deep inside, I was wishing she was someone else.

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