Initiation (Canterwood Crest) by Burkhart Jessica

Author:Burkhart, Jessica [Burkhart, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin
Published: 2012-01-03T00:00:00+00:00

EXCUSEZ-MOI?

“BONJOUR,” MME. LAFLEUR SAID. “Bienvenue á la classe de français!”

“Merci,” the class said together.

Mme. LaFleur turned around to the whiteboard and uncapped a blue marker.

Je m’appelle Madame LaFleur.

She glanced back at the class and nodded at a girl in the first row. “Comment vous appelez-vous?”

I relaxed a little. I’d expected to walk into French III and have the teacher speak entirely in French, not use a word of English for the entire period, and lose me in translation. Instead, Mme. LaFleur started off easy by asking each of us our names.

“Je m’appele Jordan,” the girl said.

“Enchanté,” Mme. LaFleur said.

Mme. LaFleur looked to the student behind Jordan. She started to ask the same question when the classroom door opened.

“Je suis désolé,” Riley said. “Je m’appele Riley.”

Mme. LaFleur folded her arms, listening to the apology.

“I was in the cafeteria,” Riley continued. “One of the lunch staff dropped a stack of trays with food. I couldn’t just walk around them and leave them to clean it all themselves. Again, I’m incredibly sorry. And no, I didn’t want to make any excuses—I’m late. It won’t happen again.”

I raised an eyebrow. No way would Mme. LaFleur buy Riley’s lame lunch lady story.

“Non, Riley. C’est très bonne. Merci pour ton assistance,” Mme. LaFleur said. “Maintenant, s’il vous plaît.” She gestured toward an empty seat.

“D’accord,” Riley said. “Merci.”

She hooked her Chanel over the back of the chair. The second Riley’s back was to Mme. LaFleur, she smirked right at me.

For the rest of the period, I didn’t glance in Riley’s direction once.

Mme. LaFleur explained what we’d be learning throughout the semester and we went over a few intermediate phrases that had become a little rusty for me over the summer. My head stayed bent over my desk as I took copious notes.

Mme. LaFleur dismissed us at the end of the period without any homework—win!—and I was one of the first students out the door, leaving Riley behind. Are you going to let her run you out of the room after every class you share? I asked myself as I slowed in the hallway.

The answer came immediately:N-O-N.

I was in autopilot all through gym. In my gym uniform— hunter green shorts and a white T-shirt—I made a lap around the outdoor track, stretched, and did whatever else Coach Warren told our class to do.

Riley and Clare were in gym with me, but they stuck together and left me alone. Testing had me so preoccupied; I didn’t even realize until I left to change that the guy I most definitely was not crushing on from the Sweet Shoppe—Drew—had been in my class.

That pulled me out of my haze a little. I tried to remember if I’d done anything embarrassing during class. Not that it was important. I wasn’t interested in boys right now—school and riding would be my two true loves . . . at least until the end of first semester.

But for those few minutes I thought about Drew, I stopped thinking about testing.

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