First message
Not seeing Helena for a whole week had been almost painful.
Missing that much gossip was basically a crime.
“So, what are you going to say about Stan? Is he really dating that girl from the other class now?”
Helena dropped into her computer chair so hard the monitor almost shook.
“Yeah. I liked him, actually.”
“I know…”
The door opened and a boy glanced inside.
“Dis, il est où, votre thé?” he asked, looking only at his cousin, not at the guest.
Helena’s head snapped toward him.
“Deuxième placard, troisième étagère. Les boîtes en métal.”
The boy left and closed the door behind him.
“Wait. Wait. What the fuck was that? Who was that?”
Helena smiled far too smugly.
“Malo. My cousin from France. Cute, right? He doesn’t understand a word of English, by the way. Don’t even try.”
The thought of immediately trying came naturally.