The Exchange Student
3rd July-Watching telly
She’s coming. She’ll take me over. She’ll become me, and steal my life. My family won’t tell, but she’ll soon take them over too. And she looks just like me…
“But I thought she was dead.” Interrupted Camilla, with a mouthful of popcorn. Camilla enjoyed interrupting.
“No, that was the other girl.”
“Well, don’t get mad at me! It’s hard to tell the difference-they’re both helpless, blonde teenagers.”
The girl screamed as the Grobraxian alien towered over her, and swallowed her soul. However idiotic and stereotyped this movie was, it beared a similar resemblance to another helpless blonde.
Me. On Monday. The French Exchange Student. And I’d be off to France.
LIST OF REASONS WHY THIS WAS A TERRIBLE DECISION
1. Frogs Legs. Enough said.
2. Five years of learning French seems so little now.
3. Snails. Enough said.
4. I’ve only ever slept away from my house once-and that was when mum forgot to pick me up from kindergarten (long story)…
5. My foster family are going to realize I’m a big French phony before I can even say, “Bonjour”
“Wendy? Wendy, get up.” Mum picks me up with a tired groan and dusts some popcorn off my jeans.
The credits are dripping down the black screen, and even Camilla, who is normally as active as a cheetah drenched in caffeine in a hurricane, is in bed, light out. Wow, how long have I been moping about my misfortune? I crawl to the bed miserably.
6th July-Miseraby Groaning
My “replacement” called us, and she sounded kinda nice. In a fatally perfect kind of way. You could tell that she was one of those girls who has loving and caring kindness oozing out of every pore. Her name was…Jeannie, or was it Jeanne?
Have you ever listened to a stranger on the phone, and known exactly what they’d look like? Like, let’s say you call your fathers office, and a dull, croaky voice replies. You simply invision that a dumpy, balding man in a grey suit is on the other end.
This girl had deep blue eyes and flowing blonde hair.
EXACT RECORD OF THE CONVERSATION;
Me; Hello? Hello? Phew, she’s not there…
O-Gorgeous-One; Yes I am! Is this W-Wendy?
Me; No, it’s Wendy…
O-Gorgeous-One; Oh! Yes! Oh! It’s you? Yes! Oh! Oh!
Me; Umm, is this a bad time?
O-Gorgeous-One; Oh, no! I am tres excited! Oh, hi! I mean, bonjour! ( Nervous, but still divine, laughter) Oh, I cannot wait! What is your family like?
Me; Oh, it’s, um, yeah…
O-Gorgeous-One; Do you ‘ave any pets?
Me; No, but we do have an animal.
O-Gorgeous-One; Oh, really?
Me; Yes, we call it Camilla.
O-Gorgeous-One; (More laughter) You are so funny! I can’t wait to meet you! Aurevoir!
Me; Aurevoir…
But do you what the worst part is? No-one cares that this next term is going to be hell.
LIST OF PEOPLE’S OPINIONS AFTER I SAID “I’M GOING TO FRANCE”
Mum-Lovely, doll.
Dad-Mm-hmm.
Camilla-Wow! Is it true that you can bungee jump off the Eiffel tower?
Gran-Oh, yes, yes, you want to dance, I see.
Old man at the fish and chip store-Why are you telling me this? And how many dim sum?
Little voice inside my head-Forget pretending you’re sick. Pretend you’re dead.
I don’t want to sound pessimistic, but I’ve seen Ratatouille, and even that didn’t convince me.
Viva la France.
9th July-Back row of a plane, squashed between two obese people
Do you know how many headphones they give you on a flight? Six. Six! One in the hallway to the plane, one which the flight attendant hands to you, one on your seat, one which the cabin attendant tosses onto your lap, and whaddaya know? They leave a little something extra in your seat pouch, just in case you lose the other five.
It’s almost like some genius said, “I know! Let’s make a squillion of these and throw them into the sky!” and they all incidentally landed on planes, and the planes want to get rid of them.
Bah. Lousy guy who throws headphones in the sky!
The man next to me is giving me the evil eye. Did I just say that aloud? The man has white-blonde hair that spiked upwards stiffly. He had a long scar down his face and a large nose.
“Sorry.” I barely said.
“Non, non. C’est non pas mal.”
Wait. Did that mean no, it’s okay, or two blue jumpers? My face crumpled in frustration at my pathetic bilingual skills, and the man cocked his head.
“No, no, it’s not you.” I assured him. “I’m just…not really confident on my French.”
The man bit his lip, then pointed to his head. “Un coupe on brosse, oui?”
Awkward silence.
The man spoke in a thick French accent. “Means hair that is…eh…spiky, yes?”
Then he pointed at the scar. “Un cicatrice. Si-Ka-Triss. Cicatrice.”
“Oh! Cicatrice means scar!”
Slowly, but thankfully, I had touched up on nearly all the subjects I knew. The man’s name was Marc, and he had a daughter called Emilie. She was rather pretty in the picture.
10th of July-Only just awake from long flight
When I got out, there was a curly haired blonde woman in front of me. If you want to imagine what she looked like, get a picture of the most gorgeous movie star in the world and draw a few wrinkles on it. I’m sure you’d have an exact duplication.
She hugged me tightly like an anaconda, then burped out a long line of French.
I smiled and nodded. “Oui. I’m, um, not really 100% sure in the field of anything French, so I’m not up for a frog-leg-sandwich.”
Her fair eyebrows basically shot into the air.
“And no snails, either. This girl wasn’t built for snails-actually, she wasn’t really built for anything, but anyway. My basic rule is that if it’s ever moved, and it’s slimy, it doesn’t belong in my belly.”
Her head bowed down, and she started shaking. Had I sent her into a seizure?
No. She was laughing. Laughing! I didn’t enjoy France.
13th July-Coming to sudden realization
Okay. Remember everything I’ve ever talked about here? Get that, and forget it. France rocks, rules, and dominates. I love it. I lurve it. I luv it. I L-O-V-E it!
5 COOLEST THINGS ABOUT FRANCAISE;
1; Forget Froot Loops. For breakfast here, you get a croissant and hot chocolate/chocolat chaud!
2;Lots of people live in apartments on top of shops, so if you want a milkshake? Bam! Just walk downstairs with a few euros and you’re done!
3;Most of the people I meet laugh at my dreadful French and instantly like me.
4;Bad news; There’s only kind of two areas. Good News; Those areas are down by the glimmering lake, or inside the gloriously glamorous city.
5;Teeny Tiny little avenues and narrow alleys make the town square a hide-and-seek must.
Rather sad, really, how 1,2 and 3 are about food. And speaking of food, I’m almost getting used to itsy bitsy meals that fill you up in one bite, even though I’m sure I’ll never get sick of them.
My foster parent’s names are Leann (the gorgeous one at the airport) and Bernar (Looks like a cross between a supermodel and Arnold Schwarzeneggar). I wonder if my exchange wants to stay in my family permanently, too? Although, Camilla makes all the difference…
16th July-Doomsday
I swear, it must tear my exchange apart to leave this place, ‘coz that’s what it’s doing to me! I’m going back tomorrow! No! Not Australia! Can’t talk. Weeping uncontrollably.
REASONS I CAN’T GO BACK
1 Camilla!
2 The food here! Mmmmm….
3 The food there…Eugh…
4 The flight back will give me plenty more headphones…great…
5 Camilla! Oh, I said that?
17th July-OMG!OMG!OMG!OMG!OMG!OMG!OMG!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! AaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
MAJORLY MAJOR DISASTER! WAAAAAAAAAGH!
It’s so depressing, I’m not even gonna write a list.
We were at the airport, and I was about to push the ticket through the beepy thing and kiss my chocolat chaud goodbye when I found-there was no ticket. We searched everywhere, and even retraced our steps to back outside the terminal, but the taxi had gone! I guess I’ll be stuck in France forever. And I know what you’re thinking-I should be happy, right? But for some alien reason, I’m…not. Could I actually be-gag-missing my home?
18th July-Haaaaaallelujah! Haaaaaaaaallelujah!
YESSSSS! AWESOME! Yet so sad….BUT STILL VERY COOL! TRES COOL! You’ll never believe it!
You know those narrow streets I told you about? Well, I was walking through one of them when I saw someone I thought I’d never see.
“M-Mum?”
She just grabbed my hand and piled me into the car. We zoomed around the streets so fast a turbo-powered cheetah couldn’t keep up.
“Mum? What are you doing here?”
“WhatdoyouthinkI’mgettingyoubackfromwhereyouare!We’regoingbacktoOz!Pleasedon’ttalktothedriverwhentheyareaccessingthevehicleand/ordrivingit!”
Her words came out in a panicked blur, and I couldn’t make out a single word. Then I realized something.
They actually-gulp-wanted me to be with them.
They didn’t trade daughters and take Mademoiselle Gorgeous. They actually wanted me to be with them.
“So, mum…You were worried about me?”
The car screeched to a halt. “Of course I am!” she reached into the back seat and hugged me.
“Doll, we would never trade you for that girl. Although she was very nice…”
“Um, mum?”
“…it was a little bit bewildering to have a 12-year-old cook better than me…”
“Mum, the traffic is building!”
“…and she was kind of a show off, I mean have you seen her hair?”
“Green light! Go, mum, go!”
“She must be the world’s largest source of plastic littering with that over-conditioned hair.”
I beeped the horn, and mum jolted. “Oops! Sorry, I’ve been blabbing a bit, haven’t I?”
I smiled. “Yeah, you have.”
List of things Mum hates
1. Soggy Casserole
2. Reality TV (but she watches it anyway.)
3. Tattoos (perhaps that’s why she hasn’t been exactly happy with her brother, our Uncle Morris.)
4. Girls with skirts that are about as wide as an eyelash
5. The way that words are in one day and out the next. (Thus her use of words like “Diggity” and “Dawg” at my birthday party. I cry every time I think about it.)
6. Neighbours with nice gardens, or “Show-offs”
20th of July-Oh joyous joy! Oh happy happiness!
I met the exchange student, and I think I may be psychic, because she looked exactly like I thought she would. Except she wasn’t happy.
As soon as I saw her, she rolled her eyes and sighed.
“Why didn’t you warn me about Camilla? She’s a demon!”
I shrugged. “I though you might not come if I said anything…”
She picked up a flowery suitcase and said in the coldest, meanest voice ever;
“It must be hard for you leaving France and coming back to this pit.”
I grinned. “Actually, it’s not, because this pit is my house.”
As I looked after her, I noticed a patch of something sticky on the back of the exchange student’s head-It was one of Camilla’s Gooey-Ghost Toys.
List of things I learnt
1. People who look like angels can be evil inside.
2. France is much more awesome than I thought it would be.
3. Blond Hair does not mix well with Gooey-Ghost-Glue.
4. The place that you come from will always be your home, even if it sucks.
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