Chapter 4 [[Year 7]]

Chapter 4 [[Year 7]]

Veronique’s POV

 

We both looked up at the same time so see Marie standing infront of us with a tight black skirt and a tank top on. She was holding hands with some guy.

“So, mommy’s little girl, Veronique, isn’t the angel she plays to be.” She said smugly crossing her arms.

“Marie! Please don’t tell Maman! I just want to help Marc-Andre get into the NHL. He’s going to be the next Patrick..” I informed her.

“Roy. Patrick Roy.” He said slightly impatiently, pacing.

She shrugged. “If I “tattled” on you, you would tell on me. I’m technically not supposed to be out..but I’m in charge of my own life, so screw it. Just don’t kill yourself.” She added before walking off with that boy who was just staring at us the whole time.

Marc looked at me with wide eyes. “You’re sister scares me.”

“Same.” I agreed before we gathered Marc’s hockey equipment and headed back to our houses, giving each other high fives before “sneaking” back in. I immediately collapsed into bed, I mean it was 11:00 PM! I’ve never stayed up this late!

 

Next Morning

Marc’s POV

 

I rolled out of bed and walked down stairs in my superman pajamas with the footies on them. {{haha you know the ones with like the built in slipped type things?}}. I ate the bowel of Frosted Flakes Maman had set out for me. I sighed annoyed, the flakes were soggy from the milk. I ate quickly before running upstairs and putting on my blue shorts with the white shirt with the huge stain on it. I went downstairs to Papa’s office, where Marylene was in her playpen.

“Papa, do you mind if I go over to Veronique’s house for a little?” I asked him cutely.

“Please look before you cross the street and make sure you ask Mme LaRosee before just walking to her room.” He told me without even looking up from the screen of computer.

“Merci!” I yelled before running out of the office and through the front door. Like I promised Papa, I looked left, then right, and then left again before crossing the street. I rung the doorbell and waited for Mme LaRosee to open the door. Instead it was Marie.

“Oh Marc, Marc, Marc.” She said smirking.

“Um, bonjour Marie?” I said nervously, Veronique’s older sister had always scared me.

She laughed. “Veronique is upstairs in her room. She’s on a make over spree, so be careful.” She warned before opening the door to let me in. I nodded to her before sprinting up to her room and opening the door. It still disgruntled me with all the pink and lace she had in her room. And not one hockey thing!

She looked up from one of the dolls she was doing something torturous to with a stick of something black. “Bonjour Marc-Andre!” She exclaimed excitedly.

I stuck my hands in my pockets nervously. “What are you doing Veronique?” I asked nervously.

She looked at me, her eyes going wide as if she were realizing something.

“Marc! Marc! Can I please, please, please give you a make over?!” She begged me.

“Uhhhhh…”

“I help you practice something you want to be when you grow up, so you should help me.” She pointed out.

I groaned. “Fine…” I sat down at the chair in front of the little table with the mirror built into it.

She started going through a big box of stuff. “What color nail polish do you want?”

“Nail polish?! Um..green I suppose?” She grabbed one of my hands and went to work with a light green nail polish. Her hand was sort of shaky, so she got some off of my nails. After she finished both hands, I put them back towards my body.

“No! Maman told me for a good..whats the word. Munica…I think that’s the word. For a good munica you need two coats and then a clear coat over that.” She said impatiently.

“Sure?” I said confused about this all. I think I’m going to stick with hockey.

 

She probably worked on me for a few hours. Since I hadn’t gotten my hair cut in a while, she could put it in little pony tails at the top of my head. She put on some bright red mix on my cheeks, I think it’s called blush. Then she called Marie in and made her put some eyeliner and muzara. I think that’s what it was called..

Finally I had enough of this, I mean I was a boy. I mean man, a strong man. For some reason I thanked her, before walking across the street making sure no one saw me. I got home and my papa was in the kitchen.

He looked at me and started cracking up. “Marc-Andre, what happened to you?” He asked.

“Umm Veronique needed a model.” I explained.

He shook his head still laughing. “You know you have hockey practice in fifteen minutes, right?”