Kennebec Academy by Roger F. Duncan

“Cause we flunked it, dummy.”

They pounded down the stairs into the basement room, stared around at the dull cinder block walls, high windows, dull blue carpet, piano, six chairs, Two drawer file cabinet with the corner of a sheet of music sticking out of a drawer, paneled lockers along one side, two music stands shoved into a corner.

Feet on the steps outside the door, and in came Alice!

The boys were startled. Here stood a woman, a young woman in neat red slacks, a white shirt and a blue scarf under a down ski jacket. She carried a tote bag. Is she the teacher? A woman teacher?

“Bonjour, mes amis,” with a smile.

Butch gobbled, “uh ... Hi.” “Mes amis! Quelle gaucherie! Je m’appelle Elise. Bonjour Elise. Alors, encore.” She turned and left the room. The boys looked at each other, at the closed door. It opened.

“Bonjour, mes amis.” “uh ... Bonjour, uh... Miss,” from Billy. “Ça va mieux, mais pas assez. Bonjour Elise, Elise! Comprenez vous? Elise. How you say en anglais? Alice? En francais, Elise. Mais, Encore” Again the closed door. Again, “Bonjour, mes amis.”

“Bonjour Elise.”

“Ah, tres bien, tres bien. Comment appelez-vous?” to Billy. “Je m’appelle, Elise.”

“Uh ... Bill Edwards.”

“Enchanté Guillaume.” She shook his hand. “Et vous?” to Butch.

“Oscar Hummelman.”

“Enchanté” “His name’s Butch,” interjected Alec.

“Butch, en francais? C’est Butch, non? Butch, je suis enchanté de vous faire la connaissance.”

Alice got all their names, chattering in French all the time. Then, without a moment’s hesitation she pulled from her bag a fish line with hook and sinker, sprang cross-legged to the top of the file, hung the line from her finger to the floor and started jigging, saying mournfully, “Pas de poisson, pas de poisson.” Then, pretending to have a fish and hauling it in, “Aha, la grande morue!”

“Pechons!” She passed out lines. The boys picked up the game quickly. After catching two or three codfish, Billy pulled mightily on his line, suddenly let it go slack.

“Beeg poisson. He got away.”

Alice helped him. “Grand poisson, trés grand.” She spread her arms. “Il s’éschappe. Au diable!”

Butch most mournfully caught “pas de poisson” for a long time, then put up a terrific fight, got his fish right up to the edge of his chair. “Hey, it’s a grand Tiburon” “Un gros requin, Butch. Garde vous. Les dents, très pointus” Coupez la ligne. Le couteau. Coupez,” She reached over and cut.

“Très bien, mes pecheurs. Maintenant retournons au port.” She rowed. “Nous ramons le bateau.

Tout le monde rame. Alec, Butch, Ramez vous.”

“Alors, arrêtez. Nous sommes au quai’: A demain, mes pecheurs. Bonjour.” And she was out the door.

“Quest que c’est shark en francais?” asked Butch.

“How the hell should I know,” answered Arthur with a Gallic shrug.

Next day.

“Bonjour, mes amis.”

“Bonjour, Elise” “Questions?” she asked, looking inquiring.

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