CHAPTER TWELVE: FRENCH TUITION
After school, Mother said to me, “I’ve enrolled you and Ginny to go for French tuition class. Tomorrow onwards, you’re going tuition with her.”
“I don’t want to go with Ron,” Ginny said.
Mother scolded loudly, “He maybe stupid, but he’s still your big brother.”
Both of them stood there looking angrily at each other. I didn’t know what to do.
Ginny said, “No matter what, I’m not going to walk with him.”
The next day, on the way to tuition class, Ginny said, “Wait, I’ll walk in front and you follow behind,” then thought for a while and said, “Once we’re in class, don’t you dare say that I’m your sister.”
I nodded.
So I walked real slow, never daring to walk past her. But I have to keep an eye on her, or I’ll lose her. It’s really hard that way. I almost hit a trashcan on the way.
Finally we were there. We went all the way to the first floor. There’s air-conditioning in the classroom. That’s good. I’m beginning to like tuition already.
But Ginny didn’t seem to like it. She kept very far away from me and sat at the very front seat. I went all the way to the back and sat at a very big table.
A grownup came to me and said, “I’m sorry, this is the teacher’s seat. You go sit over there.”
Someone laughed and Ginny turned around and glared at me.
During class, a very beautiful yellow-haired teacher named Fleur Delacour, if I said it right, gave us textbooks. I opened and saw there were loads of words I couldn’t understand. The teacher said in a weird accent, “Let me give you all French names.”
She called out some names and said something I didn’t understand. She sounded even worse than Prof. Flitwick with her teeth hissing like a snake and tongue curling without control. And she kept talking like she was trying to remove phlegm from her throat but couldn’t. When she called my name, I raised my hand and stood up.
She smiled and said, “Ronald Weasley, you are the eldest in the class. Do you want to be a class monitor?”
I shook my head, “No, thank you. I already have a class monitor.”
She said, “But everyone else besides you are fourth and fifth grade. You have to work hard and be a role model to the class.”
Then she asked me with a smile and said, “What sort of name do you want, Ronald? Francois? Gaston?”
I said, “Francois is better.” I don’t like Gaston. Makes me feel gassy.
Why are French names so weird? I heard Ginny saying that she wanted to be called ‘Palais’. Sound almost like the football player Pele or something.
During recess, I felt bored. I saw Ginny going to the corridor to get a drink. I felt like having a drink too. I went there and told the two people beside her, “You know what? I’m not Ginny Weasley’s brother.”
The two people looked silly. They were looking at me like they didn’t understand what I was saying.
So I said, “Ginny Weasley is Pele, get it?”
Ginny stomped towards me and glared at me, saying quietly, “You’re gonna pay once we’re home.”
Sheesh! I was trying to do something good.
At home, Ginny said something to Mother, then suddenly cried. Mother said, “Your brother is getting behind all the other students at school, so I paid money to get him a little extra help. What are you crying for anyway?”
As she walked to her room she warned me, “Don’t ever speak to anyone in the tuition class, ever!”
I agreed. Besides the teacher kept asking us to speak as much French as possible in class, but I know only one French word, which is ‘I am Francois’.
Whenever I said it, they would laugh at me quietly. Why do I have to be called ‘Francois’ anyway? Am I a friend or a swat?
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