Second Chances

Chapter 2: Insults in French

Update in the same week? Whaaaaaaat? Actually, I have quite a few chapters already written, but I want to have them lined up. I'm having so much fun writing this story, and I hope you guys are enjoying it too (lol, who am I talking to. Nobody reads this).

Warning: Google translate French (ew)

Much Love, Krissy

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8th Grade:

"Can anyone tell me what age you remember your past lives, if you've had them?" our Health teacher asks. My hand shoots up.

"Ms. Reama?" She asks, pointing at me. My hand drops, and I grin at her.

"After you turn eighteen. Specifically, it's the day and time that your last life or lives ended. In rare cases, you remember before you turn eighteen, which usually happens in cases where they died before turning eighteen," say. She smiles at me.

"Very good. Now, who knows the general number of lives a person has lived during this era?" she asks, looking away from me and looking around the class. I know the answer to this one too, but she doesn't usually pick me twice in a row. John looks at me and I mouth three at him. He nods and we both look back at the teacher. There's giggling in the back of the classroom, and I glance toward it over my shoulder. There are two girls there, laughing their asses off.

"Ms. Malore?" Our teacher asks. One of the girls looks up, giving a deer-caught-in-headlights look.

"Um...seven?" she asks, voice two octaves higher than usual. Our teacher clicks her tongue.

"Idiots complets (Complete idiots)," I mutter. John covers a laugh with a fake cough, but I can see him hiding his grin in his hair.

"As I thought, you were not paying attention. Could anyone remind Ms. Malore of the answer?" Mrs. Stewer asks. The room is silent for several moments. I nudge John, and he looks at me. I motion with my head, and he quickly shakes his. I take his hand and give it a squeeze, giving him a reassuring smile. He looks back at the teacher and swallows, before raising his hand. She looks pleasantly surprised by his offering of an answer, and points at him.

"Yes, Mr. Laurens?" she asks. I give his hand another squeeze.

"Usually it's three or four, but the most common is three," he says, voice shaking ever so slightly. Mrs. Stewer grins at him and nods.

"Yes, Mr. Laurens. That is correct. Well done," she says. John brightens and turns to look at me.

"It's just because he got fed the answers, the dumbass," I hear muttered behind me. I turn my head to the side ever so slightly, eyes still on Mrs. Stewer.

"What was that, cul grossier (rude ass)?" I mutter lowly. John gives me that "leave it alone" look. He doesn't want to get in trouble...Again. I know how much the other kids piss him off. It pisses me off too. I won't stand for it.

"What did you say?" The kid - I now recognize him as Isaac - growls. Despite the intelligent sounding name, he's a complete idiot and loves to pick on John.

"I said you were being a cul grossier, you morceau de poubelle (piece of trash)," I growl back. The bell rings, and John and I start gathering our things.

"What did you just call me you immigrant bitch?!" Isaac screams, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head down, smacking it on the table. My ears ring and my vision is blurry, but I still see the moment John punches him in the jaw. I can hear screaming, but John is quickly taking up my field of vision, brushing hair out of my face. The ringing in my ears is still there, but I can hear him talking to me.