Tristesse d' E'te'

Christine Wells is a normal teenage girl, recently healing from a loss. When she meets a new French teacher that thinks Christine can learn a whole new lot from French, Christine has a whole new life ahead of her.


1. Febuary 14, 2010; Albany, California

 We all stood at the edge of the dock waiting for the fish to come bite. So far, I had 2, Missy had 1, dad had 1, and Raymond had none.
"Are these fish ever going to bite?" I whined.
​"No-no, Rey!" Missy said. Raymond was leaning against the middle between the dock and the gap. She pulled his head close to her hip and didn't let go until he screamed.
"Look, a turtle!" I yelled. There was a turtle walking slowly across the weeds.
​"Let's feed it bread," Dad whispered.
​ We all took turns feeding him bread. I laughed at the sight of the turtle jerking it's head left and right and all over again so the bread won't drop on the floor just so it can have a clean meal.
​"Can we keep the turtle, Daddy?" I whispered.
"Now, Christine, you know that this is wildlife. You cant just take it away from it's Habitat."
"Shut up, Missy."
​Now that Is no way to talk to your mother like that."
"She is not my mother!"
We all turned to see where Missy was calling. But where was Raymond?
Suddently there was a splash from behind us.
​"Raymond!" Dad called. He quickly took off his shirt and dove in after him.
​"P-Paul?" Missy called out. We waited and waited for a response, a signal or something, but none came up from beneath the waters. After there was no response, I found the nearest couple and asked to call 911.
​ Once they pulled their bodies out of the water, I felt like diving in there to find their lively souls. But I knew that couldn't happen.
​Missy tried to pull my head to her hips, but I dodged her and ran for the car, locked it, and cried. I wanted to drive to heaven and say one last goodbye to them, but I couldn't. I just knew I couldn't. I looked in my hands, and realized that I had picked up Dad's shirt on the way to the car. I dug my nose into the middle. It smelled like Lavender. I stayed like that for a long time, scared to move an inch. I was scared to do anything else, fearing I would kill someone else. How could I live like this knowing I was part responsible of their death? How could I be so stupid? I didn't move until Missy came in the car. She hugged me, and for once I didn't move. I enjoyed the warmth her stomach made my forehead feel. Once she let go of me, I felt okay. But I didn't talk. I looked out the window the whole time and didn't move a muscle. Missy opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Then she tried opening it again, then closed it again. It happened the whole ride home.
​Once we got home, I did nothing but lay on my bed and hide under the covers. I used Dad's shirt - which I had been clutching on since the car - as a pillow. My tears washed the Lavender smell out.
My love was sudently washed away along with it, too.

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