Title La Fille Danse (translation will be found at the end of the story. NOT the chapter--the STORY)
Rating PG-13 for now
Notes/Warnings/Kinks None for this chapter. Translations can be found at the bottom. Oh--this is going to be an EPIC, ladies and gents. Therefore, I'm going to take my time building up the dynamics. If you're in for the long haul, I can make this awesome. Know that I'm a FEEDBACK-WHORE. I love hearing what you guys have to say, even if it's negative, so PLEASE feel free to tell me anything. Thanks in advance.
Pairing Derek/OFC, mentioned Casey/Sam
"I can give you a ride." He smirks, overhearing his step-sister's conversation with her friend as he leans against her locker. "Casey and I don't live far from you, right?"
Casey sighs and closes her locker, "You know, Derek, there are a lot better things to do than stalk my friends and me."
"Oh, trust me, I know." His eyes narrow slightly as she throws him a sarcastic smile, and all the meanwhile, her friend is caught in the middle of the crossfire.
"Thanks anyway, Derek, but I think I'm just going to walk." Ignoring the step-siblings' fight, Johanna runs a hand through her dark, dark brown locks, moving the layers back from her face. The lace detailing of her royal blue tank top is revealed by the V-neck of her black sweater, bringing out her deep, ocean blue eyes.
"Your loss," Derek says with a shrug, turning his attention to a passing redhead that giggles as he winks at her.
"But, Johanna," Casey makes sure to pronounce the "jo" as a "yo" and roll her "a" just a tad bit so that it comes out as "Yo-hah-na" and not "Jo-han-ah", a mistake she made when she first spoke to the transfer student, "It's freezing outside!"
The other girl laughs, patting Casey's shoulder, "Case, I think you're forgetting—I moved here from Germany. This—this is not cold. Besides, it's only October," Her "c" comes out as a thick "k", revealing the accent which usually isn't noticeable, "The weather is at its best right now."
"Come on, Klutzilla, or I'm leaving without you."
Casey exchanges a few more words with her friend before joining Derek in walking the opposite direction from Johanna. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her pull out a black beanie and slip it over her straight locks, shoving her hands in her pockets. He knows that they're in Canada, and it's pretty cold, and that Johanna's used to worse, but something tells him that after spending a summer in such heat, she is going to mind the cold after all. So, in a last minute, completely un-Derek-like, chivalrous decision, he turns around,
"Jo!" The nickname, which, unlike her full name, is pronounced as plain old Jo, echoes through the halls. The young girl turns, eyebrows cocked.
"Yeah?"
"You sure you don't want a ride?"
Johanna looks at the doors behind her before looking back at Derek. After a short moment, she smiles softly, "Nah, really, I'll be fine. Thanks, though."
Derek may not know her as well as Casey, but he knows her well enough to know that she knows all the answers to the questions the French teacher is asking. She's just modest enough not to answer them.
That kills him. He wants to know how she does it. Casey is always the first to have her hand in the air, answer prompt and ready like an essay question. When Derek doesn't know the answer, which is most of the time, he shouts out something random and funny that makes the class laugh and pisses off the teacher. But Johanna just sits in her desk with a small smile that never seems to leave, eyes focused on the teacher as her head dips towards the window that's providing the sunlight streaming over her.
Casey told him that the reason she's so fucking good at French is because she grew up in Rhineland-Palatinate, the westernmost state of Germany, which happens to border France. Apparently, German schools start foreign languages in 3rd or 4th grade and students take on more as they graduate each level of school.
All Derek can say is that it sucks to be a German kid.
"Mr. Venturi—care to answer the question?"
His head snaps towards the teacher as he searches his head for what the hell they were just talking about. Coming up with nothing, he shakes his head, "Uh…no."
Mr. Portiere sighs, "How 'bout paying attention, alright, Derek? Johanna, would you translate, please?"
Johanna locks eyes with Derek, laughing softly before turning her attention back to Mr. Portiere and speaking ever-so-fluently, "Dans lequel section de Paris est la Tour de Eiffel?"
"Fantastique!" Mr. Portiere says with a wide grin, nodding towards her before turning to the rest of the class and repeating the phrase as he writes it on the board.
Johanna turns back to look at him, and he habitually sends a suave grin in her direction. Another soft laugh escapes her mouth, although this one sounds more like a scoff, before she shakes her head and turns back to face the board.
Venturi charm was no match for das Deutsches Kind.
The bell rings, but Derek already knows what he's in for. He'll be asked to stay in, get a tutor, and borrow someone's notebook, guaranteed.
Mr. Portiere cleans the board. "Derek, please stay. You too, Johanna."
Johanna's hands freeze over her book bag. Her head snaps to Mr. Portiere, head cocked to the side, "What did I do?"
"Nothing," the tall, Vietnamese man replies, "I want you to tutor Derek."
The words don't really connect with Derek simply because he is too busy wondering how a Vietnamese man could become a French teacher. Of course, he figured if one could learn a language well enough to speak it, they were fine teaching it. But he could have learned it from some weird Vietnamese teacher who taught it the wrong way and then the class—
"What?"
"Derek, if you don't get some help, you'll be off the hockey team. Is that what you really want?"
"Well…no…but I don't need a tutor! Come on, Mr. Portiere! One more shot! Please!"
Johanna looks between the two, waiting. Mr. Portiere strokes his chin. Derek wonders why a Vietnamese man has the last name Portiere.
"One shot, Derek. Either you get an A on this quiz Friday, or you get a tutor. Deal?"
A sigh of relief escapes him, "Deal." And, when he reaches the door, he can't help but ask, "Hey, Mr. Portiere? Where'd you get your last name from?"
The man looks up from his desk, face weary, and shakes his head. "Go home, son. Go home."
She lets out a heavy sigh as she searches through her locker, "I thought you didn't want any help, Derek."
"I don't." He replies with a shrug.
"Then why are you asking me?"
"Because if you help me with this one quiz, I can breeze my way through the rest of the year. I just have to maintain a C, after all. Even I can do that. But I have to make a 100 on this quiz or else I'm done. For the season." She doesn't respond, so he drops to his knees and laces his fingers together, prayer fashion, "Please, Johanna, for the love of God…and hockey!"
Johanna slams her locker and looks at him, her eyes search his face, trying to figure out if this is actually a joke or not. He feels as though he's under the microscope, almost, because the dark blue orbs dart quickly, studying the brown eyes and full lips of the young man. For a fleeting moment, Derek wishes he had that kind of discernment, that ability to pay so much attention to detail.
Then he notices that the redhead is back and leaning against his locker.
"…And you haven't been listening to a word I've been saying, have you?"
Derek doesn't even realize she's been talking to him this entire time. He's been too busy undressing the red head with his eyes. Shaking his head a little, he blinks, "What?"
Johanna sighs again, "Where's Casey?"
"She and Emily hit the mall or something." The girl's face falls a bit, but she quickly regains her…
She has a very attractive pout, he notices. Very, very attractive…no, no. She's Casey's friend. That's automatic points off on the Venturi meter of Hotness. Besides, she's foreign. That's just weird. Sure, there's a bit of European exoticness in the fullness of her lips and her eyes, and the darkness of her hair, and the sensual, luscious curves of her petite body, but…Derek completely forgets where he's going with this.
"And you're still not listening, are you?" She scoffs and walks away as he's forced to shake his head again and jog to catch up to her.
"Come on, Jo! Please?"
"You know, if you really wanted me to tutor you, you're making a horrible first impression."
"Well," He puts on a typical Derek Venturi smirk, "How was my real first impression?"
Johanna stops walking, eyebrows cocked and slightly knitted together, "You're kidding, right? It was worse than the one you're making now!" When Derek opens his mouth to protest, she waves her hands, signaling him to stop. "You said Casey was out with Emily?"
"Yeah."
"…An hour, Derek. But that's all."
Translations
Dans lequel section de Paris est la Tour de Eiffel In what part of Paris is the Eiffel Tower?
Fantastique Fantastic!
das Deutsches Kind the German kid
