A/N: I'm back! I'm strongly considering making this a two-shot because there are three more scenes I really want to write that would come after this part chronologically. Please let me know in the reviews if you think I should add a part two. I think all the French in the story is translated, but feel free to open Google Translate in another tab it you want :) Hope y'all enjoy since there's no Emison on the show lately
January 2009
"Why French?" Emily asked as she watched her new class schedule slide out of the printer.
When Alison announced she would change their classes to align with each other's, she hadn't quite expected her friend to go through with it. Yet here they were, hunched over a computer in the counseling suite on the first day of spring semester. Emily was in charge of keeping watch while Alison inputted new classes into the system.
"Why not French?" Alison asked, raising an eyebrow at Emily.
"Spanish seems way more useful. I don't know of any native French speakers in suburban Pennsylvania," Emily answered, still looking over the schedule.
Alison brushed off her reasoning with a dismissive wave. "Please, even if you did take Spanish, it's not like you would retain any of it after finals. It's too dull. French is a classier language than Spanish and Paris is far more exciting than Rosewood could ever dream of being."
"You sound like you're planning a trip," Emily mused. She tilted her head to look quizzically at the other girl.
Alison smiled at her, but it wasn't the honest, heart-warming smile the brunette loved to see from her in moments when they were alone. It was too close to a smirk and there was an unmistakable glint in her eyes. Emily knew what would come next.
"You know, Paris is the city of romance," Alison said, curling the syllables just enough to sound flirtatious. She looked up at her friend from under long lashes. Beneath the feigned innocence, her expression was bold. Say something, Em, her eyes said. I dare you.
"Oh," Emily squeaked. Her thoughts were rushing by too fast to form an intelligible response. Blushing furiously, she turned toward the door before she could humiliate herself any further.
"L-lunch is almost over," she said, hastily changing the subject. "The counselor will be back any minute."
From the corner of her eye, Emily could see Alison's smirk fall away. She stared at the brunette for another minute, waiting or searching for something. Then she muttered, "almost done," and continued tapping at the keyboard. While she typed, Em tried to calm her nerves and convince herself that the brief exchange meant nothing. It was best to drop it and move on.
Being friends with Alison DiLaurentis was something Emily could never quite get used to. It was a rollercoaster experience, full of ups and downs and surprise twists, but the lowest lows could never overshadow the exhilaration that came from being in Ali's group; being able to talk to her, laugh with her, be with her, even if only as a friend.
Each passing day made it harder to convince herself she didn't crave more than friendship from the other girl. By now she didn't believe her own lies. Obviously Alison didn't either. She was well aware of the effect she had on the brunette. The thing was, Ali was never direct when it came to secrets. She always danced around them, saying just enough to drive one person crazy while others scratched their heads in confusion. And worse, her actions were completely unpredictable. She was explosive like a firecracker; stunning yet dangerous to be close to.
Emily knew this, yet she still prided herself in being the one closest to Ali. Sometimes, when she was lucky, she got to see sides of Alison no one else was allowed to know about.
"Ready for class?" Ali asked once she had printed her own brightly-colored schedule.
Emily felt her muscles relax when it was clear Ali had given up on teasing. "I'm not sure I'm ready for French. I don't even have the textbook," she answered, frowning.
"Then we'll share mine. You'll be fine, ma chère" Alison said, linking arms with Emily. The brunette smiled against her will. Out in the crowded hallway, upperclassmen parted to let them pass as if they'd been given orders.
Maybe, with Alison by her side, French class wouldn't be so bad.
March 2009
Introductory French was simultaneously the best and worst part of Emily's daily schedule. She didn't particularly like the language. Verb tenses were difficult to memorize and each word she attempted to pronounce came out sounding stilted and unnatural.
Class would be completely unbearable if she didn't sit next to Alison. For this hour each day, Emily had her friend's undivided attention. It was more than having a listening ear and a person to talk to; Ali showered her with affection she would never dare to show in front of their other friends. It took Emily off guard at first, but she was quickly learning to soak up every bit of it while it lasted.
That was probably the reason French was so hard to grasp. Alison was definitely a distraction.
Today was no exception.
Ali leaned over onto Emily's desk and doodled on her notebook while the teacher droned on about the verb avoir in a heavy accent. Emily picked up a pen to write down the verb chart and found her eyes drifting to what Alison was writing on the opposite page. There was a little Eiffel Tower drawing, the name Alison DiLaurentis written in curly cursive about ten times, and a French phrase Emily didn't recognize.
"What does that mean?" Emily whispered, pointing to the phrase.
"That's for you to figure out," Ali winked. Leaning against Emily's arm, she continued adding details to her Eiffel Tower drawing. Somehow she could completely block out the teacher and still manage to make A's on her quizzes.
Emily was far past questioning how Ali could be successful in whatever she set her mind to with less than half the effort everyone else had to put in. It was easier to simply admire her, watch the slight smile on her lips as she concentrated on her doodle. After a few seconds, she looked up, brushing a blonde curl behind her ear, and asked, "So, are you going to figure it out or not? I'm waiting."
Blushing, Emily nodded and looked down at the words Alison had written. Mon meilleure amie a de très beaux yeux.
"Amie means friend," Emily said quietly as she scrutinized the sentence. "Wait…doesn't belle mean beautiful like for a girl and beaux is handsome for a guy?"
Ali barely suppressed a giggle. "No, not quite."
"Just tell me, please?" Emily looked at her helplessly, knowing that the injured puppy dog expression sometimes made Ali give in.
"Ugh, fine. I'll spell it out for you," Alison relented. Taking the pen in her hand again, she wrote My best friend has very beautiful eyes.
She turned back to Emily after, waiting expectantly for a response. The swimmer furrowed her brows, unable to make sense of the words until something clicked in her brain and the realization hit her- oh!
"My eyes?" Emily asked. The way Alison was watching her set off a nervous, fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"Mademoiselle Fields, could you share with us your response to number four on page quatre-vingt deux?" the teacher interrupted.
Just like that, her attention was diverted. A surge of panic rushed to her head as she frantically flipped through textbook pages.
The teacher looked pleased with herself for having caught her off guard. "In case you missed it, the assignment was to translate 'I am scared'."
I am. Partial relief surged over her at the words. Practically everything they had translated so far in class used the same basic structure. "Je suis…peur?" Emily answered hesitantly, struggling with the final word.
"Incorrect!" the teacher called out louder than what was necessary. Emily flinched in her seat and looked away from her classmates' amused gazes.
"If you were listening, you would know we're using the verb avoir, not être. The correct answer is 'j'ai peur'. And peur is not pronounced like the sound cats make."
"Sorry, Madame. I'll try to remember that next time," Emily sighed, sinking into her seat as if leaning back far enough could make her disappear.
"What a bitch," Alison whispered after the older woman went back to teaching. She crinkled her nose like she smelled something awful. "That woman needs a hobby that doesn't involve tormenting fifteen-year-olds. It's pathetic."
"I should've been paying attention," Emily muttered, still staring forward at the dry erase board. She didn't dare look away now. Not when it would give the teacher a chance to embarrass her further.
Ali leaned close to her ear and said, "Sorry for distracting you, ma sirène. But I can't say it wasn't fun."
Emily knew she shouldn't engage in whatever Ali was saying, but class was winding down and the French words she used always left the brunette with a burning curiosity. She was hopelessly entrapped by this girl. As much as she wished she could get through a single class without being drawn in by the mysterious blonde, she knew it was a battle she'd lost long ago.
"Ma sirène?" Emily asked, still staring forward. "I thought I was your chère."
"I looked up a new word. And, no, I'm not spelling this one out for you," Alison said.
The bell rang- finally- and the room filled with the sound of chairs being pushed in. "Don't forget to pick up your progress reports. Only two weeks to bring these grades up!" the teacher yelled before students could scramble out the door.
Emily grabbed hers on the way out, ignoring the pointed look she got from her instructor. Her eyes flew to her printed grade and she felt a stab of disappointment.
"How'd you do?" Alison asked after they'd met up with Spencer outside the classroom.
"Not great," Emily said, deciding not to go into specifics. "At least I won't have to deal with my mom since this isn't the real report card."
"Let me see," Ali said, taking the paper from her hand. Spencer hovered behind Alison's shoulders to read it and her brown eyes widened.
"Ouch," Spencer said.
"It's not that bad," Emily defended herself.
"It's a C, and a low one at that. You can't call it good," Spencer reasoned, as expected. Nothing less than an A was in the Hastings vocabulary.
Emily sighed loudly and grabbed the progress report out of Alison's hands. "We can't all be geniuses, Spencer."
"Don't be so quick to judge, Spence," Ali said. "You don't even know the teacher. She's completely unreasonable and she has a personal vendetta against Em."
"Wait, really?" Spencer asked, narrowing her eyes. "If there's evidence of unfair treatment I can get my parents involved and-"
"That's not necessary!" Emily cut her off. "Madame isn't the best person, but…"
"She's a bitch. Go on Em, you can say it," Ali told her.
"Okay. She's a bitch…but she only calls me out when I'm not paying attention, so it's not like we can build a case against her. I'll be fine. I just need to do better on the next test."
"You will," Ali said, resting a hand on her arm. "I can tutor you."
"Why you? I'm the one who actually volunteers in the tutoring center," Spencer remarked.
It was a harmless comment in Emily's opinion, but judging by the way Alison snapped her head toward Spencer and glared, it may as well have been a personal threat. That was another thing about Ali. You had to be careful with your words around her. It was strange how Spencer could be so intelligent yet struggle with understanding that simple rule.
"Believe it or not, you're not the only one who's smart here. I don't have to be a super nerd to be good at French, so yeah, I can handle it," she spat at the taller brunette.
Spencer took the cue to back off before it escalated. "Jesus, okay, Ali. You can tutor her," she said, holding up two hands in surrender. Neither of them asked Emily her opinion. As with most things, it had already been decided for her.
"I have swim practice every day at five," Emily reminded them. One way or another, she needed to be part of this conversation.
"That still gives us plenty of time after school lets out. Meet me at the Brew at three," Ali decided, phrasing her words in a way that left little room for disagreement.
As usual, Emily decided to comply. The path of least conflict was always the easiest to take.
The Brew was always overflowing with students from Rosewood High. It was one of the few hang-out spots in town and the only one easily accessible to freshman who couldn't drive. From outside, Emily could see that the table her friends usually claimed was already taken by a group of sophomore cheerleaders. She stepped in, schoolbag in tow, and settled at a different spot by the window, just big enough for two people to sit.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she eagerly checked it, expecting it to be Alison. Instead she saw Ben's name and her smile faded. As she typed out a generic message asking him how his day was, she tried to bite back the guilty feeling constricting her throat.
Or maybe the feeling was something deeper than guilt; something closer to shame. Normal people don't forget they have boyfriends. She should be happy when reading texts from Ben, not anxious. She should think about him more. Whenever she tried, her thoughts always drifted to someone with fairer skin, long blonde curls, and unfaltering confidence that could strike fear into an entire crowd.
In her heart of hearts, Emily knew exactly why she would never love Ben, no matter how hard she tried. It was a truth she'd never asked for. One she didn't yet know how to handle. She couldn't even say the word out loud…
The bell on the door chimed when Alison stepped into the coffee shop. Emily ducked her head, immediately feeling disgusted with herself for noticing Ali's short skirt and for admiring how the girl walked with her head held high- so sure of herself all the time.
She looked up briefly and saw Ali's eyes flash to her, then to their usual table. Without another look in the swimmer's direction, Alison marched over to the group of cheerleaders to reclaim their spot.
Emily looked down again, doing her best to block out Ali's verbal threats. She had an acidic tongue and wasn't afraid to use it. It was uncomfortable to listen to, and Em had the urge to plead her to be just a little nicer. All the while, she wondered why she was the one who was spared Ali's temper.
Soon the sophomores were on their way out the door. One of the girls stopped in her tracks and turned back to face Alison. "You win this time, your majesty, but don't think your reign here is going to last forever. You'll get what's coming to you. I've already heard of plans."
Alison stood in place, arms crossed. "Oh honey, don't hold your breath. I'm not going anywhere. Unlike you, I don't throw around empty threats. I suggest you leave now, unless you want Daddy to find out about your little trip to Planned Parenthood."
The cheerleader cursed under her breath and walked out after one last glare in the queen bee's direction. Alison looked proud of herself. Emily tried not to let her disappointment in the girl's actions show through her body language. She chose to focus on transferring her books to the new table.
Ali ran a hand through her locks as she sat down. "I swear, cheerleaders exist just to fulfill the dumb blonde stereotype."
"I guess," Emily said, shrugging. "Can we start studying? I don't want to be late for practice."
The blonde rested her chin on her hands and looked at Emily intently. With a furrowed brow, she glanced at the door the cheerleaders had just exited through. Gears were spinning in her head and she was quickly able to detect the reason behind her friend's lack of enthusiasm.
Alison let out a tiny sigh. All traces of satisfaction were gone. Clearing her throat, she pulled a pink binder out of her purse. "Yeah, we should start."
She laid three sheets of paper side by side on the glossy surface of the table. "I made some cheat sheets for you during study hall. The main things you need to know besides vocabulary are verb structures. There's –er, –ir, and –re verbs, plus être and avoir. Most of them follow these patterns, see?" she said, gesturing at the notes she'd written.
Truthfully, Emily was a little surprised Ali had taken this seriously. It warmed her heart, made her feel fuzzy, that she had done this to help her. This was her Ali, and she was completely different from the girl who had just blackmailed somebody over a stupid table.
Emily gave her friend a warm smile and rewrote some of the examples in her own notebook. "I wish Madame would lay everything out like this. It makes it so much easier." She paused, then added, "I really appreciate this, Ali."
"Of course. Anything for you," Alison said, beaming back. "Here, let's translate 'you like to swim'. You need to use a second person ending. Don't forget the last verb is an infinitive, so you don't conjugate it."
Emily looked at the verb charts Ali had provided. Aimer was the verb for "to like". Drop the –er ending and add an –es. Leave the infinitive to swim alone. Taking a pencil in her hand, Emily wrote, Tu aimes nager. She read it out loud for Alison, sounding out the words phonetically.
"Too aims nager."
Ali stifled a laugh. "Well, you're not wrong. The pronunciation is a little off, but it sounds a lot cuter the way you say it."
"Madame isn't going to think it's cute when I fail the oral exam," Emily said, ignoring the heat that pooled in her cheeks.
"Don't be so dramatic. We'll work on that another day," Ali brushed off her concerns. "How about this one? Alison regarde très belle aujourd'hui. Can you translate that to English?"
Emily may not have excelled in French, but she recognized enough of those words to know where Ali was going with this. She couldn't meet Alison's blue eyes. The feeling of discomfort was back, gnawing at her stomach. Slight guilt and fear and a lot of confusion.
Alison had to be toying with her. She was undeniably straight, so why did she have to keep coercing Emily into these situations? What was the point of writing letters about how beautiful Emily's eyes are on her notebook and getting her all flustered and trying to make her flirt back? It had to be a game. She couldn't be serious, right?
Ali was giving her that bold, daring look she could never escape. Say it, Em. I bet you won't.
Whatever her motives were, Emily could prove her wrong. Today she would accept the dare. "You look beautiful today, Alison," she said, sitting up straighter and staring across at the fair-skinned girl.
Em watched as Ali blinked in surprise. She hadn't actually expected her friend to say it, but once the words were out, she gave the brunette a smug smile. "As always. Right, Em?"
She was deeper in the game now and she needed another move. Emily swallowed back the lump in her throat and felt her heart hammer in her chest. "It's ironic that you're the one tutoring me in French."
"How so?" Ali asked as she twirled a strand of her hair.
"We both know you're the reason I have a C in the class," Emily answered honestly. She was doing her best to keep her eyes on Alison. To not look scared.
"I thought you liked my little notes," the girl responded with a fake pout. "I've been wanting you to write some for me but you won't take the hint."
"I-I don't know French. I can't write notes." It wasn't what Emily had intended on saying, and it sounded so lame it made Emily cringe. She was growing more nervous by the second and Ali was as composed as ever.
"Last time I checked, you were fully capable of writing in English," Ali said. The gleam was back in her eyes and she leaned over the table, inching closer to Emily. "I've shared my thoughts. I wanna know yours."
"Something tells me you already know," Emily said weakly.
It was the closest she'd ever come to acknowledging her feelings outside of the safety of her own thoughts. Looking down at her hands, Emily found they were trembling. This wasn't liberating; it was terrifying, and her conscience screamed for her to stop before she said too much. "Can we not do this right now?" she asked, hoping Alison would understand what she meant.
Ali groaned in response. "Come on, Em. I was just…" the blonde trailed off, deciding against whatever she planned on saying. Emily was grateful for that. She didn't know if she could handle it if the next word would've been kidding.
"You know what?" Ali started again, gently this time. "You can take the cheat sheets home and memorize them. We'll do this again another day and actually study. For now we can just talk, if you want. Kill time."
"I'd like that," Emily said meekly. "I like just talking to you. Like how we normally do."
"Okay," Ali agreed with a feeble smile. "Before we leave French behind entirely, I wanted to ask if you looked up that word yet."
"Masirène? No, not yet, but I will."
"Just sirène. Good. You should do that," Ali said. She rested her chin on her hands again and looked out the window thoughtfully. "Maybe that's how I'll teach you vocabulary. I'll give you a new word every class."
"Where do you find all these words, anyway? You're way ahead of the rest of the class," Emily laughed.
"I have my ways. If I'm going to get to Paris someday, I have to be prepared," she said. "Even though literally any place is more ideal than Rosewood, I say go big or go home."
"I know you love Paris. When you talk about it, you seem…different," Emily decided. Alison raised a questioning eyebrow, so she elaborated. "It's a good different. You're not as hyperaware of everything around you. It's like you're mentally there in France, and you could go on about every part of it for hours and hours. I don't know, I just like listening because you're so passionate about it."
Emily didn't say it, but she could listen to Alison talk for hours and hours on almost any topic that didn't involve other people at school. She wanted to know all her quirks and favorites and passions. What was the first place that made her feel at peace? What movie would she watch to feel better when life got her down? She wanted to dig past the superficial. Whenever Em got a glimpse of the girl beneath the ice queen mask, it was hard to not to hold onto her.
She was perfectly content to sit in the Brew and listen to Alison tell her about everything Parisian, from shops to quaint gardens to the Louvre. The conversation went on until it was almost time for Emily to get back to school and change for swim practice.
The two of them hugged goodbye, as always. Emily was always careful not to linger into an embrace for too long, but she made sure to revel in every second of it. The scent of Ali's eucalyptus spearmint lotion was intoxicating. The brunette allowed herself to shut her eyes for just a second before she would have to pull away.
It caught her off-guard when Ali pulled back first. It startled her even more when Alison leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek and caught the corner of her lips.
Her heart jumped and her first instinct was to rapidly look around the coffee shop, make sure no one had seen and misinterpreted whatever just happened. Finally, she faced Alison, fully expecting the girl to be wearing her usual smirk.
She wasn't. Her expression was unreadable as she met Emily's eyes and touched a finger to her own lips. The gears in her brain were obviously spinning. Emily couldn't tell what she was thinking, and that made her beyond nervous.
Finally, she spoke. "Once the weather gets a little warmer, I should take you and the girls to the lake. There's a place nearby that I want to show you, but you can't tell anyone about it. It has to be our secret."
Emily struggled to speak over the lump in her throat. "Okay. You know you can trust me. I won't tell." Looking down at her phone, she added, "I really have to go now or Coach will be mad. Bye, Ali."
"Bye, Em. Text me later."
With a final nod, Emily escaped the Brew as quickly as she could and hopped on her bike. She wasn't sure whether she was riding to school or riding away from her confusion. Nothing made sense. Not Alison's actions, not her own jumbled thoughts. She could hardly think as she pedaled on her bike, but she couldn't fight the feeling that this was a turning point for her.
She either had to dive in right now and explore her feelings or back off completely. This in-between wasn't working.
At practice, she cleared her head completely, focusing only on her laps and time. She stayed in the pool far past the end of practice, cutting through water until a maintenance man tapped her head as she came up for breath and told her she had to leave.
Emily sent a text to her mom once she was in the locker room, telling her she would be home soon. Her gaze settled on the Internet app. She didn't have the new iPhone like Alison and Spencer. Internet access wasn't included in the phone service and her mom would probably have a fit over being charged for it, but Emily couldn't keep from clicking on it.
She went straight to Google Translate and typed in two words: Ma sirène
Translation: My mermaid