'Oh great, Miss Krushaweema first,' moaned Johnny.
'Who?' I asked as I truly didn't know her.
'You've never heard of her? She's a nightmare! You'll see!'
At this I felt slightly uneasy as seemed Jasmine, the new girl. Then again, I suppose that when you're in a new school with lots of unfamiliar faces, you would be uneasy!
'Assez-tus' came from Miss Krushaweema. We al sat and listened to her talk. And talk. And talk. She started with a usual, 'Thankyou for taking French!' followed by a very unusaul, 'This subject will increase your knowledge not only of french, but love!' She went on, disregarding the classes grimaces to say, 'If you've had plenty of break-ups and are losing faith on the girls of this year group boys, then you can always count on me... For learning some French to improve your chances of finding your true love, of course!' As I looked past her to the wall, I couldn't help noticing the peeling mouldy wallpaper that once said 'Adore!' and 'J'et aime!' that now read more like 'Adder' and 'Jelly'. The orange peeling wallpaper almost matched her fake tan pasted across her body too.
After the 'lecture' she commanded us to 'Fini avec les stylos' whatever that meant. Astoundingly though, no one asked what she meant, as if they were too scared to ask, as if they expected her to spit corrosive acid in their faces while explaining. I raised my hand and immidiately after, Johnny shot me a look as if to warn me to put it straight back down again.
(I'll finish this later.)