“Winslow wants you to learn this"- he waved a few sheets of stapled pages- "and that." He pointed to the book in my lap. Fifty French Conversations. It was one of our textbooks. I'd stopped at the seventeenth: Mon hamster a mange trop de fromage. Il a mal au ventre maintenant. "The rest is the Bainbridge Method.""You have a method?""Patented and proven."I waved the book. "Does it include greedy, cheese-guzzling hamsters with stomachaches?"He nodded. "Absolutely.French conversations is nothing without rodents and cheese.Is there something shameful in your past involving either?""Not that I can think of off the top of my head.""Tant pis.""And that means...?""Fuhgeddaboudit," he translated, grinning.I sighed. "Do people make Russian jokes in your presence?""How do you get five Russians to agree on anything?""How?" I asked."Shoot four of them."I thought for a sec. "I'm not sure that's funny.""No," Alex said. "People don't tell many Russian jokes in my presence.""I should start my three things, huh?""Yeah.That would be good."I did some speedy translating in my head. "Je n'ai jamais lu Huckleberry Finn, Beloved, ou Moby-Dick.""Ella,no one has read Moby-Dick. The French was passable, but as far as revelations go,that sucked.""Ah, but there's a part deux. All three of those books were required reading last year in my American lit class. I used SparkNotes.""You're kidding, right?""See?" I daintily brushed Dorito crumbs from my fingertips. "Changes your perception of me, doesn't it?""No,I mean, 'That's a revelation?' You can do better than that.""Maybe," I agreed, "but it's still early in the game.”

“Honestly, the pair of you" was Edward's response. I brushed cracker crumbs off my homework folder; I'd needed a snack after giving up most of my lunch. "Silly infants. Don't you know the way people see you has absolutely nothing to do with the way you actually look? Beauty is all sleight of hand. Just ask Holbein. Or Bobbi Brown.""I thought Beauty was Truth," I said wearily. I had a headache, and three pages of French to translate."That is Keats. I am not overly fond of Keats. Had he not died so poetically early, people might have realized he was not quite what they thought he was.""The same could be said of you," I shot back. I was a little annoyed by the "silly infants" comment. "Oh, so clever. What's the worst-case scenario, should you give the Bainbridge boy a try?""Well,gosh.Lemme see." I ticked off a few possibilites on my fingers. "Humilation, humiliation, mortification, and humiliation."Edward sniffed. "Qui craint de souffrir, il souffre deja de ce qu'il craint.""And what does that mean?" I recognized it from the second page of my homework."Well,gosh,darling Ella.You'll just have to ask your new tutor, won't you?" he said silkily. Right before he went back to emulating a lump of metal.”

“When Sebastian, cearly delighted to be treated like one of the guys, didn't move, Alex bared his teeth. "Depeche-toi!"Sebastian depeched. Alex turned back, all Cheshire cat smile."No," I said."No what?""No,you are not going to teach me all the cool words so I can go to Chamonix and be conversational.""Good." He leaned in so I could see the faint dusting of freckles on his nose and smell spearmint gum. "Chamonix is so 1990s. Everyone who is anyone goes to Courchevel these days."I turned on my heel and started to walk off."Jeez. Ella." He loped after me. "What if your problem? Conversational, my ass. Talking to you is like dancing around a fire in paper shoes."I stopped. "What is that supposed to mean?""It's an expression my Ukranian babushka likes. I'll explain it at our first turtoring session."I scowled at his shirt. This one had what looked like a guy riding a dolphin instead of the ubiquitos alligator or polo player. "There isn't going to be a tutoring session.""Winslow seems to think otherwise.""Wouldn't be the first thing she's wrong about," I muttered.He gave an impressive sigh. The dolphin lurched, but the little guy on it held tight. "You don't want to fail French, do you? That would be a serious admission of weakness from an Italian girl."I almost smiled. Instead, I announced. "Fuhgeddaboudit. I'll buy a 'Teach Your Poodle French in Ten Easy Lessons' online. Problem solved, and Winslow will never be the wiser.""Yeah. Good luck with that. So how's this Friday? I don't have practice." When I shook my head, he demanded, " What is it? I'm a good tutor. Ask Sebastian. I was just teaching him how to tell the obnoxious French dudes on the slopes that they suck.”

“Just out of curiosity, do they know I'm here?""Yep." My Mother did, anyway. Mention of a French tutor had effectively headed off any possibility of shopping."I take it they trust you not to do anything inappropriate."I couldn't tell if he was being serious. I assumed not. "Absolutely. In fact,my mother would probably pay you to do something to make them trust me a little less." I took a look at his face. He looked a little stunned. "Oh,no. I didn't mean-"Or maybe I did. But Alex was backing away from me, hands raised. "okay.""J'etais stupide."He sat down heavily on the edge of my desk, narrowly missing the biscotti. "I wouldn't say that. But your use of the imperfect is improving.""Just what I always wanted," I said sadly, "to get better at imperfection.”

“Okay.First things first. Three things you don't want me to know about you.""What?" I gaped at him."You're the one who says we don't know each other.So let's cut to the chase."Oh,but this was too easy:1. I am wearing my oldest, ugliest underwear.2.I think your girlfriend is evil and should be destroyed.3.I am a lying, larcenous creature who talks to dead people and thinks she should be your girlfriend once the aforementioned one is out of the picture.I figured that was just about everything. "I don't think so-""Doesn't have to be embarrassing or major," Alex interrupted me, "but it has to be something that costs a little to share." When I opened my mouth to object again, he pointed a long finger at the center of my chest. "You opened the box,Pandora.So sit."There was a funny-shaped velour chair near my knees. I sat. The chair promptly molded itself to my butt. I assumed that meant it was expensive, and not dangerous. Alex flopped onto the bed,settling on his side with his elbow bent and his head propped on his hand."Can't you go first?" I asked."You opened the box...""Okay,okay. I'm thinking."He gave me about thirty seconds. Then, "Time."I took a breath. "I'm on full scholarship to Willing." One thing Truth or Dare has taught me is that you can't be too proud and still expect to get anything valuable out of the process."Next.""I'm terrified of a lot things, including lightning, driving a stick shift, and swimming in the ocean."His expression didn't change at all. He just took in my answers. "Last one.""I am not telling you about my underwear," I muttered.He laughed. "I am sorry to hear that. Not even the color?"I wanted to scowl. I couldn't. "No.But I will tell you that I like anchovies on my pizza.""That's supposed to be consolation for withholding lingeries info?""Not my concern.But you tell me-is it something you would broadcast around the lunchroom?""Probably not," he agreed."Didn't think so." I settled back more deeply into my chair. It didn't escape my notice that, yet again, I was feeling very relaxed around this boy. Yet again, it didn't make me especially happy. "Your turn."I thought about my promise to Frankie. I quietly hoped Alex would tell me something to make me like him even a little less. He was ready. "I cried so much during my first time at camp that my parents had to come get me four days early."I never went to camp. It always seemed a little bit idyllic to me. "How old were you?""Six.Why?""Why?" I imagined a very small Alex in a Spider-Man shirt, cuddling the threadbare bunny now sitting on the shelf over his computer. I sighed. "Oh,no reason. Next.""I hated Titanic, The Notebook, and Twilight.""What did you think of Ten Things I Hate About You?""Hey," he snapped. "I didn't ask questions during your turn.""No,you didn't," I agreed pleasantly. "Anser,please.""Fine.I liked Ten Things. Satisfied?"No,actually. "Alex," I said sadly, "either you are mind-bogglingly clueless about what I wouldn't want to know, or your next revelation is going to be that you have an unpleasant reaction to kryptonite."He was looking at me like I'd spoken Swahili. "What are you talking about?"Just call me Lois. I shook my head. "Never mind. Carry on.""I have been known to dance in front of the mirror-" he cringed a little- "to 'Thriller.'"And there it was. Alex now knew that I was a penniless coward with a penchant for stinky fish.I knew he was officially adorable.He pushed himself up off his elbow and swung his legs around until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "And on that humiliating note, I will now make you translate bathroom words into French." He picked up a sheaf of papers from the floor. "I have these worksheets. They're great for the irregular verbs...”

“Whatever you want," he said. "Will you please come here now?"I slipped a piece of protective tissue over my drawing and flipped the book closed. A piece of blue scratch paper slid out, the line I'd copied from Edward;s poetry book. "Hey. Translate for me, Monsieur Bainbridge."I set the sketchbook on my stool and joined him on the chaise. He tugged me onto his lap and read over his head. "'Qu'ieu sui avinen, leu lo sai.' 'That I am handsome, I know.""Verry funny.""Very true." He grinned. "The translation. That's what it says. Old-fashionedly."I thought of Edward's notation on the page, the reminder to read the poem to Diana in bed, and rolled my eyes. You're so vain.I bet you think this song is about you..."Boy and their egos."Alex cupped my face in his hands. "Que tu est belle, tu le sais.""Oh,I am not-""Shh," he shushed me, and leaned in.The first bell came way too soon. I reluctantly loosened my grip on his shirt and ran my hands over my hair. He prompty thrust both hands in and messed it up again. "Stop," I scolded, but without much force. "I have physics," he told me. "We're studying weak interaction."I sandwiched his open hand between mine. "You know absolutely nothing about that.""Don't be so quick to accept the obvious," he mock-scolded me. "Weak interaction can actually change the flavor of quarks."The flavor of quirks, I thought, and vaguely remembered something about being charmed. I'd sat through a term of introductory physics before switching to basic biology. I'd forgotten most of that as soon as I'd been tested on it,too."I gotta go." Alex pushed me to my feet and followed. "Last person to get to class always gets the first question, and I didn't do the reading.""Go," I told him. "I have history. By definition, we get to history late.""Ha-ha. I'll talk to you later." He kissed me again, then walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.”

“I have these worksheets. They're great for the irregular verbs...""Not today."He shot me a look and kept shuffling papers."Okay," I said. "D'accord.Pas de papiers aujourd'hui. S'il vous plait,Alex. Je...je fais les choses la derniere fois.""Prochaine.""What?""La prochaine fois," he correct. "Next time. Derniere fois is 'last time.' I'm not even going to start on your verb usage.""Right.La derniere...sorry...prochaine fois. How do you say 'I'm begging you'?""Jes t'en supplie," he answered. Then, "You are aware that in order to speak better french, you actually have to speak French.""Oui,monsieur. But the Eiffel Tower will still be standing next week, and french fries will still be American.""Belgian," Alex sighed. "French fries started in Belgium. Look,I'm not going to force you to work. It's your choice and not my job.""Next week," I promised. "I promise.""Right." He rubbed the back of his head, pushing his hair into a funny little ducktail. "Okay,fine. How 'bout a movie?"Worked for me. "Sure.”