Diplomat High

Chapter 7 - Justin's Interview

As the week passed by, you were beginning to relish in your progress. You'd managed to adjust school somewhat, and now you were adapting into a routine. You were now halfway through the interviews as the deadline and Homecoming neared. You'd need to get working this week and start editing as soon as possible.

You came to school early to meet with your next interviewee, Justin Trudeau.

"Early morning?" Lincoln greeted you.

You shrug. "Another interview."

"Can I say that I simply admire your gall to seek hard work. It's a very presidential trait, have you through about running?"

"Definitely not, and it'd be too late anyway." You furrow your brow. "You know, I forget you were president sometimes, how was that?"

"Average, I guess. Having to deal with the Civil War was annoying."

You pause for a moment. It's just now dawning you that Abraham Lincoln is standing right next to you, the actual 16th president of the United States. You could write a biography about him and earn so much money. Would anyone believe you knew the ghost of Abraham Lincoln? Probably not.

"Do you remember much from it?"

"It was literally over a century ago. I've been dead for ages, what do you want me to tell you? It was lots of work, I died, and now I've watched this country fall into diverse shambles."

"What about your descendants? Have you ever seen them?"

"I don't care about people who live their lives getting clout off my name," he scoffed. "But enough of that chat. You've got Justin Trudeau next?"

You nod. "He's in the French club."

"Ew, the French."

You roll your eyes. "Don't you have books to go read?"

"I guess so. I'll catch you later, au revoir!" He disappeared as you made it to the room of the French club.

It was open, and you could see students in there talking, but definitely not in English. You weren't sure how to get someone's attention, so you just stepped inside.

You're starting to realize what a mangled language French is; it's nonplussing. A tall guy stands at the front, and you gape at his appearance. He has a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and thick, wavy brown hair. Gazing at him is enchanting, but you're thrown off by the words coming out of his mouth.

"Ce week-end, Le Festivale Francais commence. C'est important vous allez. Nous aurons un stand, et tu as besoin d'etre là. Vouz comprendez?"

"Ouais," they respond.

Your eyes widen. How could they speak such a decrepit language? But they begin to disperse before you can ponder it.

Your heart thumping in your chest, either from the sight of Justin or just hearing French, you head towards him. He smiles at you. "Salut, je peux t'aider?"

How do you even respond to that? "Uh...?"

"Une second, attends."

He walked past you and spoke to another student, in French once again. You stood there in a daze until he finished, and he turned back to you with a smile. "Alright, what do you need?"

"Oh, I'm from Yearbook, and I'm supposed to be interviewing you since you're running for President."

"Ah, of course. Let me just lock up real quick, and we can talk outside."

He tidied up a few things, and you followed him out as he pulled out a ring of keys and locked the door behind him. "So, you're like a French teacher?" you ask.

"No, not really. President of the French club. I've been learning since I was a child, so I guess I sorta am a teacher."

"Sounds cool, but French is not for me."

He gives a slightly annoyed look. "I get that a lot, and I still don't know why."

"I think you'd be better off not knowing why." You get your stuff together. "But I guess we should start now."

"Alright, go ahead."

"What made you decide to run for President?"

"As French Club President, I interact with a lot of people from different backgrounds, and I truly want to lead this school into learning to embrace differences."

"What are important issues you'd like to address?"

"I'd like to decrease the severity of punishments and decrease the frequency of them. Putting students in detention and giving them suspensions is usually not conducive to them whatsoever."

"How familiar are you with your peers?"

"I guess they know me better than I know them. They just think I'm weird for knowing French, but I don't mind."

You could agree with that sentiment. "And lastly, how will you increase the awareness of the significance of your position to a wide range of students?"

"I'd prefer not to present myself as their superior, but rather just another student that happens to be President."

"Thank you." You write a few things down and smile.

"Yep. I just realized I've never seen you around. Are you new here?"

"Yeah, it's y/n. Nice to meet you."

He nods. "You as well. I take it you don't speak French?"

"Most definitely not."

He chuckles. "Well, most people don't. But I've got a whole festival to attend this weekend for it. It's supposed to be fun---besides the French part---and the more people that come, the more money we earn for our trip to Paris."

Your eyes widen. "Paris? You all are really going there?"

"Only willing that this fundraiser is a success."

"What are you selling?"

"Raffle tickets, clothes, popcorn, other things." He gazed over you. "Are you interested in coming? It'd be nice to see you again."

Your breath catches in your throat. "Oh thanks. I honestly have no idea. I'm so swamped with school, and I've barely had a chance to even breathe lately."

"Oh, right, you're probably busy. It's fine."

"No, no! I'll... see if I can make the time."

He gives you a glinting smile. "Thanks, I appreciate it, y/n. See you Saturday?"

"It's a date. Er, like Saturday is a date of the week, y'know?'

He laughs. "Yeah, I know. See you."

You wave at him as he walks down the hallway. Maybe you could make the egregious sin and forego the fact that he spoke French, because he was insanely attractive. And he invited you to his festival, and you didn't even speak French! But you were totally just going to support his French program, so they could go to Paris and all.

The bell rang, pulling out of your daze, and you realized you still had a whole school day to go through.