a nightmare—she kept stopping to explain really basic stuff to me just as if I couldn't keep up with the rest of the class. Me! The one who audited that summer physics class at the UW!
Holly and I sat together and she wrote me notes about who everyone was. But the really exceptionally cool thing was at lunch, Aidan was in line—gah, queue—for the gack they served as food, and he told me to cut in.
Now you know there is nothing, nothing worse than that feeling of going into a cafeteria when you don't have anyone to sit with, and you don't know where the cool spots are, and what the rules are, and stuff like that. So when Aidan rescued me from certain lunchtime hell, I could have kissed him. Hahahahahah!
We had lunch together, him and some of his sixth form friends. At last, I was with my own kind! And they were nice, too, not like the nasty fifth formers. I wanted Holly to come with us, but she slipped off and sat at the end of a table by herself. It made me feel very bad, let me tell you. I'm going to tell her tomorrow she has to eat lunch with me and the hip guys. It will do her good.
Aidan...what can I say about him—he is the perfect Mr. Emily. He introduced me to Peg and a ditzy redhead named Lalla. Ditzy, but nice. Peg I'm pretty sure is a lesbian. She talks really fast and laughs very loud, and she wore her tie tied up really tight under her collar, not loose like the rest of the girls (they made me un-bow-tie mine). She was nice as well, and we all chatted about stuff, and they felt really bad that I was stuck in the fifth form with a bunch of brats who were so nasty.
ITC was great, although these people have a lot to learn about Net savvy. Honestly, the school Web site is positively archaic! I told one of the IT teachers, Miss Ryan, that I worked on our school's Web page, and had done an online class in web design this summer, so she signed me up to work on revamping the Web page, which will count as part of my ITC work. Very cool! I think I'm going to try to set up a chat room for the students. You know how much fun we had in last year's chat room.
And now what you're waiting to hear—the French class. I thought the stupid schedule they'd given me was wrong or something, but I went to the class anyway. I figured I'd tell the teacher that I'd never had French, that I took Spanish at our school, but I didn't even have a chance to open my mouth. I walked into the class, and whammo! I was hit with a wall of French.
“Beaucoup merci frog legs, escargot?” the teacher asked me, pointing to a chair. The two evil Snickerers (as I have named them) sat in the front row and immediately started snickering as I stood there trying to decide what to do.
That was pretty much all it took—I decided right then and there that I would not give them anything more to snicker at, so I just nodded my head and said, “Gracias. I mean, merci,” and took the seat the teacher was pointing to. Snickerer Ann leaned over and rattled off a mouthful of French at me, then laughed when I didn't respond. Honestly Dru, it's bad enough to have people be mean to you when you can understand them, but when you don't even know what it is they're saying about you—gah!
I ground my teeth (again) and swore not to let them see that I cared what they said (again). And as for French...well, I knew that sooner or later the teacher would find out that I didn't speak French, but until then, I would be uber-coolio Emily and pretend nothing was the matter.
Get this—there was not one single word of English spoken during the whole class! I thought England hated France? Every time the teacher came around to talk to me, I had to pretend I had something in my throat and hacked and coughed and wheezed until she (I have no idea of her name, I think it’s Madame Garcon or something) moved on to the next person. So I spent the whole of the class pretending that I understood, nodding, and saying, “Oui, oui!” a