#starter;christopher

“You’re Christopher, right?” Without even providing a proper greeting other than acknowledging the older boy’s name,  Iris approached him. “And you’re supposedly good at essay subjects, riiiight?” It was probably somewhat alarming that she was saying all of this without having introduced herself or provided any indicator of how she knew this, so she backtracked hurriedly: “sorry, my teacher said.... Mr Kipling? Teaches American Literature. Anyway, I’m failing and I need help. I’m Iris.”

“Je,” Marin said patiently, “ne comprends pas. Parlez-vous anglais?” He’d promised to help Christopher with pronunciation for the upcoming French speaking exam, but honestly he hadn’t quite accounted for how slow he was going to have to speak to be understood. He was too used to chattering away in French at way too fast a speed with Ches or his family, slowing down almost felt unnatural and he made a face. “You’re almost there,” he informed the other boy. “Close enough. They won’t knock you down for not sounding like a Parisian, it’s a second language course.” He shrugged. “You wanna take a break for a bit? We’ve covered.....” Marin glanced down at the page of notes. “A fair bit.”