French

[ 3 ] je ne vais pas mordre ... encore.

Charlie has been sitting in his car in utter silence for the past ten minutes. Should he stay or should he go? Sure, he thought the tutor was hot - hotter than Annette, even - and it would be absolutely lovely to get to see her again, but he didn't care about his grade in French. He didn't care about French. It was his least favorite class, was taught by his least favorite teacher, and took up his - now nonexistent - free period. 

You're already here, Charlie, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. Just go in and get it over with. Maybe the voice was right. Maybe he should just go inside the building and get the session over with. It'd be so much easier! Ms. Huff did agree to only one session. As long as he told her the session didn't help and he found it irrelevant. His father and teacher would see no point in Charlie attending another session. Exactly how he wanted it. 

Charlie reluctantly stepped out of his car and headed towards the public library that stood in the middle of town. While Lilac normally did her sessions at the school, Charlie simply refused to go if it had to take place at the school. He didn't want anyone to see him. He'd be called stupid or people would think he actually cared about school and his repuation as the resident bad boy would be ruined. And, although he won't admit to it, he really does care for his repuatation. Not because he cared what people thought of him, don't be fooled, but because he hated people talking about him more than usual. 

Charlie thought gossip was stupid. He truly hated when people pointed or stared too long. Nothing was some facade he put up anytime he was around people in order to seem cool. Charlie was always Charlie. And when people assumed otherwise, he wants nothing more than to beat them to a pulp. 

"You made it," the soft voice brought Charlie out of his thoughts of watching the new Ninja Turtles movie he'd seen over ten times already and look up. He noticed he was already standing in the back of the library where all the computers and round tables were placed in rows. Right smack in the middle of two tables, stood Lilac Bellerose, in all her glory. She looked different, Charlie noted, than the rest of the girls in this wacked up town. She was herself. She wore her own clothes - as of right now, a moon phase muscle tee, light blue wash shorts, and white high top converse - and she had little to no make up on. Charlie loved the originality. Everyone else wore uniforms, formal wear, or jeans and a solid t-shirt. 

"Well, take a seat," Her laugh was soothing; sweet; smooth - it was heaven to his ears. "Je ne vais pas mordre ... encore."