Caitlyn, s’il vous plait!” Madame said, whacking the blackboard with her stick, its end pointing to the irregular verb devoir, “to have to.” She
wanted Caitlyn to conjugate it.
Caitlyn felt the class’s attention turn to her, and a clammy sweat broke out in her armpits. Her brain stopped in its tracks, unable to move under
the pressure. A vague sense of having known how to speak French in her dreams tickled at her brain, but the skill was as lost to her in the waking
world as was Raphael.
“Devoir,” Caitlyn croaked. “Er. Je dev? Tu dev?”
Madame gaped at her, horrified.
Caitlyn shook her head; she knew those words were wrong. “Er … I mean, uh …” And then out of nowhere came, “Egli deve, lei dovrebbe …”
These words felt right. He must, she must …
Several girls burst into laughter.
“What?” Caitlyn demanded.
“You’re speaking Italian!” one girl shrieked, and collapsed into hysterical giggles.

Author: Lisa Cach