Mass, this Sunday, was a horrible experience for Ami. The poor thing could hardly force herself to listen to Father Bastien's sermon. Her attention was mainly given to Marshall, and as a result, Claire. Ami clearly noticed the 'covert' glances that Marshall was sending in Claire's direction. What was it about Claire Mercier that made young man trip over themselves in admiration? Ami honestly, had never hated Claire, until that very moment. That hour, was quite easily the worst hour Ami Dubois had ever spent in her life. So, when Father Bastien finally delivered, 'Go in peace to love and serve the Lord,' Ami nearly jumped for joy. The girl had planned to grab Marshall by the arm, and get him away from that church as quickly as possibly. Unfortunately, the Universe held other plans. Somehow, the awful, lecherous Claire had snuck up behind them, and tapped Marshall on the shoulder. It all happened so quickly, Ami didn't even see her rival coming. Long story short, Claire had invited Marshall over to her own house for lemonade. After all, according to Claire, 'if Monsieur Stoddard is going to work for Papa, he might as well become better acquainted with him!' What could Ami do? Resort to throwing a temper tantrum right there in the church pew? No, Ami grudgingly, had to let Marshall leave with that girl.

It was a short walk back to the Dubois household, and if her mother had increased her spirits earlier in the morning, poor Ami felt more shattered than ever before. Upon strolling through the front door, Ami immediately resigned to flopping herself into bed, so that she might have a well deserved cry. Ami had not laid down for more than two minutes, before there was a soft knock at her door. She rolled off her bed with a groan, and answered the door, only to see her dear mother in the doorway.

"Mama?"

Madame Dubois smiled at her, "Do you remember the little talk that I promised to have with you?"

"Non," Ami voiced innocently.

"Well, then," Paulette purposefully stepped into the room, "I'll just have to remind you. Ami, how many times have I told you to behave yourself at the market?"

"I don't know," Ami admitted, "I stopped counting long ago."

Her mother frowned, "Why must you be so difficult, Ami?"

"Entertainment?" Ami answered with a shrug.

Paulette Dubois disregarded her daughters statement for the moment, "Madames Dupont and Cloutier informed me..."

"Ugh," Groaned Ami.

Her mother sighed, "Did you really compare the Baker's son to a..."

"Oui," Ami said dejectedly.

"And did you say..."

"Oui."

Paulette's face contorted into that of pure horrification, "But why?... How could you?"

"Mama!" cried Ami, "Papa works hard to earn his money, and that corrupt Pierre Boulanger is taking advantage of all of Le Mans charging the prices he does! It isn't right, Mama... and before you go calling him an eligible bachelor again, know this: I would rather become an old spinster before becoming Madame Boulanger!"

"All I'm asking is for you to behave yourself, Ami," her mother finished in exasperation, "is that so much to ask?"

"I'm not doing anything wrong, Mama," Ami challenged, "someone has to stand up for what's right in this village! I'll make sure of that!"

"And as your mother," Paulette added with a semi-scowl, "I will ensure that you learn to act like a proper young woman."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you can start by scrubbing down every last floor in this house," Madame Dubois suppressed a small smirk.

Poor Ami's jaw nearly dropped to the ground, "What! But it's Sunday! Mama, you never give chores on Sunday!"

"This is not a chore, ma chérie," Paulette chuckled, "it's a punishment."

"Ce..." Ami abruptly cut herself off.

"Ce, what?" Her mother asked knitting her eyebrows together.

"Nothing, Mama," the teen answered sheepishly.

Now, Ami was positioned on all fours scrubbing furiously at the kitchen's wooden floor. Her brown hair was tied up in an old kerchief, and there was a black smudge on her nose from when Ami had scratched an itch, completely forgetting that her hands were dirty from her work. The young girl wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm. Shaking her head, Ami thought that she must look something akin to Cinderella... but in that fairy tale, Cinderella ended up with a handsome prince, and there was no Claire Mercier to worry about. Ami angrily grabbed the brush and scrubbed with all her might. Having no other outlet, the teenager was forced to take out her frustrations on the innocent wood flooring.

"Stupid Claire," Ami found herself whining, "ouch!"

Ami winced, and dropped the scrub brush. She had been scrubbing so hard with that brush, that Ami had accidentally broken a nail. Ami stopped then, to inspect her hands. They were chapped and red from her daily chores, and the fingernails that weren't already broken were badly chipped. Ami snorted to herself in disgust. Claire's nails were perfect, long and beautiful, and painted red to boot! Her mother was wrong. Ami hadn't a chance in the world against Claire Mercier. Ami buried her face in the palm of her hands, in an act of despair. The girl was not sure how long she remained in such a state, before she heard a voice just overhead.

"Ami?" the voice asked, in apparent concern.

The teenager lifted her gaze, to meet the sea green eyes belonging to Marshall, but for the first time, Ami was not pleased to see him. Marshall had walked into the kitchen tracking muddy footprints everywhere. Ami could have cried. She was nearly finished before he went and preformed this unspeakable act of cruelty!

Ami's right eye twitched, "Ce me fait chier."

Marshall then lowered himself to her level, and kneeling before her, he took her small chin in his large, calloused hands.

"We haven't started any french lessons yet, Ami," he began good-naturedly, "I haven't got the first clue as to what you just said."

Ami's jaw tightened in anger, "lesson number one," she growled, "c'est eau!"

Without a moment's notice, Ami lifted her pail of dirty water, and dumped its contents right on Marshall's head. Then standing, she pivoted her her heels, and left the kitchen in a huff.

Quick French Lesson

C'est eau = It's water or this is water

Ultra Special Blah Blah Blah

Ah, the return of Ce me fait chier! Now we know from where Xavier picked up that phrase!

If you'll please note, I mentioned the hands of Claire, Ami, and Marshall in this chapter. Claire's were perfect and beautiful, with painted nails, while Ami and Marshall's were chapped and calloused, respectively. Very interesting, but was that a coincidence? You tell me!

Sing sweet nightingale,

xJadeRainx