Enivré en France

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Smallville, but I'd like to own Chloe.

'I can't believe we're going to France!' exclaimed Chloe. 'I mean, I know we're studying agriculture, but do we really need to go on a field trip all the way to France?'

Chloe, Pete and Clark were standing in the hallway between classes, having just been informed by Mr Reynolds that their field trip this Fall would be to the wine-making region of the Dordogne in France.

'What's the matter, Chloe?' asked Clark, puzzled, 'I would have though you'd be stoked at the idea of a foreign trip.'

'Yeah to Paris, maybe, or Marseille. But the Dordogne? Nothing but farms and villages that make Smallville look like Metropolis. The only signs of life are old men in berets carrying baguettes.'

'Oh come on, Chloe! We're gonna be visiting a winery. That should be fun, at least,' said Pete, grinning and rubbing his hands.

'A winery?' said Clark. 'I think they call them vineyards, actually Pete.'

'I don't care what they call them,' pouted Chloe. 'I'd still rather go someplace where they've heard of the twentieth century, let alone the twenty-first.'

'Hey, stop whining, Chloe…' Pete said, smirking.

Chloe and Clark looked at him pointedly.

'Stop "whining"?' they said in unison.

'Pete, man' said Clark patronisingly, 'I think you need to work on your puns a little. But he's right,' he continued at Chloe. 'I think this trip could be really neat.'

'Neat, Clark?' said Pete, ready for round two. 'Neat…? Dude – the nineteen thirties called. They want their lingo back.'

Before Clark could reply, Chloe retorted, 'Pete – JD and Turk called. They want their lines back.'

'Huh?' said Clark, looking from Pete to Chloe and back again.

'You so stole that joke from Scrubs, Pete!' Chloe said accusingly, as the bell sounded for next period.

'Oh yeah?' said Pete, unrepentant of his plagiarism. 'Scrub this!'

And with that he tapped out a short bongo rhythm on Chloe's cheeks before bounding off down the corridor to class.

Chloe, stone-faced, watched him go, then turned to Clark and raised an eyebrow.

'I think,' said Clark carefully, 'that Pete's quite excited about the trip.'

*     *     *

'Yes, Monsieur Ivrogne. It's the best I can do, I'm afraid.'

John Reynolds was hunched over his desk, supporting his head in one hand and spending a not insubstantial portion of the school's budget on an international telephone call.

'I know what the deal was, but I can't take any more time off. This is the only way I can get there. It's only a bunch of kids. They'll be no problem at all.'

He paused, and tapped out a rhythm on his temple.

'Oh, I don't know. Don't you have a barn we can put them in? Give 'em a few bottles of wine to keep them out of trouble?'

At this point Reynolds had to hold the receiver some distance from his ear.

'Yes… Yes… Okay. Fine. We'll sort something out. Don't worry about it. If you want me to bring the new yeast preparation you'll have to put up with some inconvenience.'

Another pause. Reynolds sighed.

'Yes, I do know what you're paying me, but like I said, it's the best I can do. I'll make it up to you.'

He looked up at the ceiling and studied its paintwork carefully.

'Yes, Okay. I'll see you then, then… Au revoir to you too, you belligerent French bastard,' he replied after he'd put the receiver down.