Untitled

“Told you.”
“It’s not so bad.” He hands back my schedule and
smiles. “You’ll be reading the breakfast menu without
me before you know it.”
Hmm, maybe I don’t want to learn French.
Argh! Boys turn girls into such idiots.
“Bonjour à tous.” A woman wearing a bold
turquoise dress strides in and smacks her coffee cup
down on the podium. She’s youngish, and she has the
blondest hair I’ve ever seen on a teacher. “For the—”
Her eyes scan the room until they land on me.
What? What did I do?
“For the singular person who doesn’t know me,
je m’appelle Professeur Cole.” She gives an exaggerated
curtsy, and the class laughs. They swivel around to
stare.
“Hello,” I say in a tiny voice.
Suspicions confirmed. Out of the twenty-five
people present—the entire senior class—I’m the only
new student. This means my classmates have yet
another advantage over me, because every one of them
is familiar with the teachers. The school is so small
that each subject is taught by the same professeur in
all four grades.
I wonder what student left to vacate my
position? Probably someone cooler than me. Someone
with dreadlocks and pinup girl tattoos and connections
in the music industry.
“I see the janitorial staff has ignored my wishes
once again,” Professeur Cole says. “Everyone up. You
know the drill.”
I don’t, but I push my desk when everyone else
Anna and the French Kiss | 36