French, when you are forced to talk to each other — and say, “Hi there, I know we’ve never really spoken, other than to say
‘Bonjour, je m’ appelle Jessica. Comment vous appelez-vous?’
in a very bad French accent, but I’ve recently found out that I’ve got a magical superpower and, hey, guess what! I think you might, too — even if you don’t know it yet — so I thought maybe we should try being friends!”
And I was pretty sure that wouldn’t be classified as secretly staking her out, either. I’d have to figure it out as I went along.
I walked through the door just before Ms. Hadley got there. I glanced around the room and there was just one seat left — next to Heather! Normally the worst seat I could have landed myself with; today it was ideal.
I slid in next to her and gave her a big smile. She glared at me, then looked away.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
A moment later, Ms. Hadley closed the door behind her and looked around the class. Her eyes zoned in on me. “Jessica, were you late?” she asked.
“Um. I don’t think so. I was here before you,” I said, with a cheeky smile, hoping she’d find me funny and cute.
“Détention,”
she said. In French.
I sighed as Ms. Hadley told us to get our books out. Then I nearly fell off my chair as Heather nudged me.
“Whoa. That was harsh,” she whispered.
“Thanks,” I said with a grimace. OK, so it wasn’t exactly “Hey, now that we’ve exchanged five words, let’s be BFFs,” but it was a start.
I spent the rest of the class with two aims. Aim one: avoid getting into any more trouble with the teacher. I achieved this, as she called me over at the end of class and said she’d decided to let me off the detention since I’d contributed so well, and could I please try to keep that up in the future.
Aim two: smile at Heather as many times as possible so that by the end of a forty-minute class she’d forget our year and a half of animosity and not walk off if I tried to start a conversation with her.
It was during one of these smile attempts that I noticed her hand. She was wearing that sparkly ring again. I was sure I’d never seen her wearing it before last Thursday. Admittedly, I didn’t look too closely at her as a rule, but it was bright yellow and shiny and definitely looked new. Might she have gotten it as a birthday present? Was it possible that my suspicion was right — that Heather had already discovered that she had a superpower?
At one point, she caught me staring and I glanced away, but not before noticing that her cheeks had flushed a little and that she quickly put her hand in her pocket.
A bolt of excitement surged through me. I was right! I was sure of it. Well, not
sure
— it was just a feeling, but a strong one. By the end of class, I was too impatient to spend the next few days secretly staking her out. If Heather was like me, I had to know. Now.
She was in front of me as we filed out of the classroom. Once we were in the hall, I seized the moment before my brain seized my courage.
“Hey,” I said in my best
now-that-we’ve-bonded-in-French-class-I’m-sure-you-regard-me-as-one-of-your-best-friends
voice.
Heather turned around.
“Nice ring,” I said, pointing at her finger.
Her face clouded over for a second. The way it might have if I’d said, “Hey, you’re looking a bit drab today. You almost look as plain as the rest of us.”
She recovered quickly, though, and gave me a tiny smile. “Thanks, it’s citrine,” she said, holding out her hand and looking at the ring. “It was a birthday present.”
“Me too!” I burst out. “I mean, I got something for my birthday, too!”
Duh! Most people do get presents on their birthday! Heather was giving me an
OK-I’m-going-to-walk-slowly-away-from-the-crazy-person-now
kind of look. I had to rescue this.
I reached under my shirt. “I mean, I got jewelry. A necklace. On my birthday. Same day as yours.” Smooth, Jess, smooth.
I watched
‘Bonjour, je m’ appelle Jessica. Comment vous appelez-vous?’
in a very bad French accent, but I’ve recently found out that I’ve got a magical superpower and, hey, guess what! I think you might, too — even if you don’t know it yet — so I thought maybe we should try being friends!”
And I was pretty sure that wouldn’t be classified as secretly staking her out, either. I’d have to figure it out as I went along.
I walked through the door just before Ms. Hadley got there. I glanced around the room and there was just one seat left — next to Heather! Normally the worst seat I could have landed myself with; today it was ideal.
I slid in next to her and gave her a big smile. She glared at me, then looked away.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
A moment later, Ms. Hadley closed the door behind her and looked around the class. Her eyes zoned in on me. “Jessica, were you late?” she asked.
“Um. I don’t think so. I was here before you,” I said, with a cheeky smile, hoping she’d find me funny and cute.
“Détention,”
she said. In French.
I sighed as Ms. Hadley told us to get our books out. Then I nearly fell off my chair as Heather nudged me.
“Whoa. That was harsh,” she whispered.
“Thanks,” I said with a grimace. OK, so it wasn’t exactly “Hey, now that we’ve exchanged five words, let’s be BFFs,” but it was a start.
I spent the rest of the class with two aims. Aim one: avoid getting into any more trouble with the teacher. I achieved this, as she called me over at the end of class and said she’d decided to let me off the detention since I’d contributed so well, and could I please try to keep that up in the future.
Aim two: smile at Heather as many times as possible so that by the end of a forty-minute class she’d forget our year and a half of animosity and not walk off if I tried to start a conversation with her.
It was during one of these smile attempts that I noticed her hand. She was wearing that sparkly ring again. I was sure I’d never seen her wearing it before last Thursday. Admittedly, I didn’t look too closely at her as a rule, but it was bright yellow and shiny and definitely looked new. Might she have gotten it as a birthday present? Was it possible that my suspicion was right — that Heather had already discovered that she had a superpower?
At one point, she caught me staring and I glanced away, but not before noticing that her cheeks had flushed a little and that she quickly put her hand in her pocket.
A bolt of excitement surged through me. I was right! I was sure of it. Well, not
sure
— it was just a feeling, but a strong one. By the end of class, I was too impatient to spend the next few days secretly staking her out. If Heather was like me, I had to know. Now.
She was in front of me as we filed out of the classroom. Once we were in the hall, I seized the moment before my brain seized my courage.
“Hey,” I said in my best
now-that-we’ve-bonded-in-French-class-I’m-sure-you-regard-me-as-one-of-your-best-friends
voice.
Heather turned around.
“Nice ring,” I said, pointing at her finger.
Her face clouded over for a second. The way it might have if I’d said, “Hey, you’re looking a bit drab today. You almost look as plain as the rest of us.”
She recovered quickly, though, and gave me a tiny smile. “Thanks, it’s citrine,” she said, holding out her hand and looking at the ring. “It was a birthday present.”
“Me too!” I burst out. “I mean, I got something for my birthday, too!”
Duh! Most people do get presents on their birthday! Heather was giving me an
OK-I’m-going-to-walk-slowly-away-from-the-crazy-person-now
kind of look. I had to rescue this.
I reached under my shirt. “I mean, I got jewelry. A necklace. On my birthday. Same day as yours.” Smooth, Jess, smooth.
I watched
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