“I’m ready…” I said looking through the crack in Angélique’s door. She was pulling up her hose and stepping into a nice pair of shoes. Hearing my voice she looked up at me and her eyes just lit up.

“Oh your gorgeous!” she said with a huge smile. She waved me into the room and clasped her hands together. “It looks wonderful.”

I walked into the room feeling a little stupid. I was wearing a foofy, girly, uncomfortable dress; but at least it set Angélique abuzz with happy sounds. Her voice was just about in song again as she came up to primp and finish out the last few details I’d missed. I was happy that I had at least relinquished her anger.

“Thank you Alouette. I really appreciate what you’ve done. I’m sorry I was mad earlier, but I’ve decided if I’m going to care for you, I’m going to do it like I teach my classes. I’ll be your teacher first, and your friend later.”

I heard “merci” coupled with my name. There was also another long thread of speech with it, but I think they were just more praises that I’d given in and done what she’d asked.

All smiles now, Angélique went to a drawer and got out a white ribbon. She came to me and started to play with my hair. I stifled back the urge to bolt and let her do what she wanted. I’ve come this far, might as well let her have her day. Taking a handful of hair from the right side of my head, and then another from the left side, she started to braid it together; she left the good majority of the hair in the middle going straight down my back. In the end, I had my hair braided into a pony tail, on top of straight hair in the back, with a white ribbon on the end. The overall process wasn’t too horrible, but I still felt a little more girly then I would have cared too.

“Perfect,” Angélique said with a smile. She finished getting ready just as church bells began to ring somewhere in the town.

“We’re going to church?” I said a little curiously. The clothes and preparations suddenly made a lot more sense now. Angélique didn’t answer my question, probably because she couldn’t understand it, but it didn’t matter, I knew the answer. It had been a long time since I’d been to church. My family is a Christmas and Easter family as far as church is concerned.

As for me personally, I guess you could say I’m spiritual. I was raised being read the bible by my grandma, but you could probably only say I’ve taken it half to heart. Still church would be interesting. It would be like my debut upon the town.

“There’s St. Oren’s bells. Let’s be on our way.”

Once again my hand was grabbed and off we went; down the stairs and out the door and into the little town once more (yay, it rhymes).

The church was on the east side of town. We weaved around the lower hill, having only to walk about four blocks once we were actually in the town. From the looks of things, everyone went to church on Sunday. Families and neighbors were all in their best and on their way to where they had heard the bells calling. Angélique said “bonjour” to half a dozen people about every block we passed and answered what I assumed to be inquiries about me.

“Who’s that Angélique? One of your students?”

“This is Allouette, an American girl who will be staying with me for a while.”

“Well doesn’t she look pretty!”

“Mommy, she doesn’t really… walk like a girl.”

“Shhhh, that’s just how American’s walk. Don’t make fun.”

The church was very pretty. I realized I’d passed it my first day here. It was next to the little catholic school, and looked about as old as that accursed winery. Its stone structure and large double doors were inviting all to come in, including a little stranger like me.

Angélique led me in, saying a bunch more “bonjours” mixed in with polite gossip, and a nod to one of the priory standing at the door. I did my best to keep my eyes on the floor, and avoid everyone’s questioning gaze. Apparently a new face in a close-nit church was cause for stares.

Taking a moment to sit and brush the damn foofy dress flat, I noticed that I wasn’t the only one my age. There were at least ten or fifteen boys and girls about my age. I could even see that girl whose house we’d stopped by the other day. She was sitting with her mother and father, and also the two other children of her family.

Further down the rows, I could see Inspector Facet, who shot me a mean smirk. I stuck my tongue out at him and he mouthed the words in English “that’s a nice dress” to which I was about to flick him off, but Angélique caught my hand before I could do it and gave it a gentle slap. A few more rings of the bells and the organ started to play. The chatter of the congregation died down and everyone started to fish out the hymnals from the pews.

Now if you’ve ever been to a foreign movie with no subtitles, then you’ve had an experience like I have at St. Oren’s. The pastor was very animated and proceeded to shout fire and brimstone in that French eloquence that I have no comprehension of.

Boredom gripped me in less then ten minutes. As a rule, I’ve always considered myself to have a mild case of attention deficit disorder. All the way since elementary school, I’ve found my mind wanders away from just about everything that doesn’t have a TV or computer screen attached to it. Sightseeing didn’t count, because there was the novelty of something new attached to that, but as far as church went, there was nothing new about this church, only the language selected for its sermon.

I got to fidgeting, which didn’t please Angélique. I switched gears to just flipping through the hymnals and prayer books, hoping for something interesting. In the back of the prayer books they had some pictures, so I amused myself a little while looking at them and making up a story to go along with them. I’d share them here, but most of them were fairly blasphemous, so it’s probably better left undone.

The sermon dragged on for the better part of an hour. Then everyone was on their feet, and singing in high volume; followed by offering, sacrament and communion, second offering and finally, more singing. I went through the motions, and even started to sing along to “Ave Maria” which was played during second offering. I knew a little bit of Latin, and that song was obviously the same in the US as it was here, so I got by with that tiny piece of vocal familiarity. The only problem was that my singing voice was not familiar, although, I must say with a blush, I can sing rather well now.

After church we lined up in wait to meet the pastor. It seemed the whole town gleefully got in line to shake his hand and say hello. Angélique of course, was in no rush so we were towards the back of the line. I really wanted to be in a rush, but I didn’t know what I needed to rush for. I really didn’t have anything to do, except try and find out some very important questions that I had no idea how to start answering.

“Angélique, you bring a new face to my flock?” Father Salade asked warmly.

“This is Alouette, Father. She is from America , and going to be with me for a little while.”

Angélique was talking to the pastor, and after saying my name, he extended his hand to me. I shook it a little nervously tried not to look into his eyes very much, but he seemed like a nice enough individual. I gave him a weak “hello.”

“Ah, so this is the girl that Inspector Facet and Bedeau had mentioned. You know, that’s an awfully nice thing you’re doing for her.”

“Thank you father. I couldn’t help it really. Her story just broke my heart.”

“Her story?”

“I don’t know it really. I found her drunk in the ditch in the back road behind town. She can’t speak French, and everything she said in English seemed to be nothing but lies to try and confuse us. Truth be told, I think she’s been a runaway for a few years now, and it just made me sad to think how long she’s been living on the streets.”

“You have a heart of gold Angélique, and everyone will smile at you for it. Bless you child.”

The pastor and Angélique exchanged pleasantries for a while, and occasionally, the pastor would look down at me with this horrible expression. He looked like he wanted to say “Oh you poor pathetic thing.” It made me feel rotten, because somehow I think my story was starting to get around, and from what I’d gathered, it read something like “Young runaway, drinks a lot, winds up in ditch… pees herself.” That last part I’m not sure if everyone knew, because I think up to now it hadn’t happened publicly, which I was hoping to keep that way. Still, it felt miserable to be the outsider, and even worse to be the pitiable one.

We left the church and started walking back towards Angélique’s house. I wasn’t really sure what the rest of the afternoon held, probably some French lessons. Angélique seemed in high spirits, like her big day on the town had gone well. I think more like she was happy I didn’t cause a scene like I’d done everywhere else.

As if on cue, I froze. Angélique stopped walking as she felt my hand tug at hers from the stop of momentum. A small trail of liquid rain down my leg and pooled around my shoes on the cobblestone, staining my stocks as it traveled over them.

It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to start the waterworks in my eyes. Angélique had a rising look of anger in hers, until she saw the tears forming. She quickly bent down and her face changed to a serene look of care and concern.

“Awww Alouette, you really can’t help it can you?”

She was giving me that same pity look the pastor had.

“Come on, let’s get you home quick.”

We hurried home a little faster. It was almost routine now what we did. She had me take off the wet things, and then hop in the tub. When I was out, I came back to the room, and Angélique had a few more of the cloth diapers lying on the bed.

“NON!” I shouted when I saw them. Angélique looked at me a little torn.

“I knew this would be a delicate situation. It was like this last night too.”

“I’m not wearing. No. Non.”

Angélique pointed at the laundry bin again. I shrugged. “So what? I’d rather make mountains of laundry then wear a diaper all day.”

Angélique could see the frustration written on my face. “I’d be upset if I were you too. I know you can’t control it, but it’s just easier this way. I was hopeful last night when you made it to the bathroom, but you’re just going to have to deal with this till I can help you get better.”

She patted the bed next to her. I didn’t budge. I could tell by her voice she wanted to reason with me, but I was beyond reason. She’d gotten me in a dress earlier, she should be happy with that. She came over and grabbed my hand. I resisted, but only half heartedly. My towel was starting to fall off, so I used my free hand to grab at that while still resisting her grip on my hand.

“Non… I don’t want too….” I said softly. It was hard because I knew that I probably should be wearing them. With the exception of that one time, it seemed like I just wet whenever my body felt like. Angélique lifted me by the waist and laid me down on the bed. I started to cry softly, but gave up resisting.

“Awww it’s okay Alouette… This will just be a temporary solution…”

I imagine her words would be much more comforting if I could understand them. I laid there like a whimpering puppy, as she powered and diapered me. My will was broken now, on top of being a girl, I’d have to accept the fact that this girl was not well potty trained.

The plastic pants came up, and she handed me a training bra which we had bought yesterday. I got off the bed and stood up. I knew the mirror was in the corner, but I dared not turn to it, I didn’t even want to know what I looked like. Angélique handed me a pair of Khaki pants we’d also bought yesterday; I took them and tried to put them on, but they wouldn’t come on over the diapers. My tears refreshed anew as I tried to pull the pants on in frustration.

Angélique smiled that pity smile and kneeled down to hug me. I just broke down from there. It came out in rivers and heaves, my whole body shaking. I cried because I was a girl, I cried because I wasn’t supposed to be a girl. I cried because I was in diapers, and I cried because now I wouldn’t be able to hide it.

“There there… nono don’t cry. We’ll think of something.”

She waited till I was done, then went back down the hall and came out with a sundress. It was light-blue and very plain. She helped get it over my head and it fell over my hips, and extended slightly with the extra padding I was wearing. It came down to about my shins, so I was a little happier that I could perhaps hide this secret, even if it had to be done by a dress.

The day’s agenda seemed to be chores. For staying with her, she put me to work. First she made me brunch, since it was about mid-morning. Then she set me up with laundry, which, to be fair, was almost totally mine anyway. The machine was your every day standard and she asked some French question about it, I waved her off, saying I knew how to do laundry, but being as she didn’t trust anything about me, she did a mock process for the first load and watched me start on the actual one.

With laundry getting done, she had me start dusting some of the house. I felt like a little maid, but did the chores without saying anything. It didn’t take too long anyways, but when I’d finished that, it was to the French books.

Angélique and I had gotten some of the basics down. We had developed an understanding of hand gestures and oui and non for most things. I’d also learned important phrases like “Excusez-moi, je suis americain,” which was “pardon me, I’m American.” Angélique hoped I could use as an umbrella excuse for everything, including my bad manners, boyish behavior and nervous fidgeting (the main things she saw wrong with me).

After starting another load of laundry, Angélique wanted us to go somewhere. Being dressed and crinkling as I was, I didn’t like the idea of leaving the house. I dragged my feet and gave every impression I could that I wanted to stay, but I got the strong message that she did not intend to leave me alone to somehow get into more trouble.

We left the house, with me being as careful when I walked as if I knew the street was mined. If I walked with my legs just wide enough, the plastic panties didn’t seem to make as much noise since they didn’t bunch together. The drawback was, that my waddle made me look even more ridiculous then I probably already did.

We came back to the little grocer, and Angélique brought me to the pharmacy section. I was immediately unhappy we were there. She got two packages of the largest size training pants and baby diapers should could. My body was small enough they’d probably fit, and even though the packages were full of French writing, you can’t mistake the image on the front of a smiling toddler. I started fussing and complaining, till I noticed an older lady take attention to the commotion. I shut up because it was obvious who they would be for.

Angélique didn’t drag out our purchase, and I thanked my lucky stars the items fit into a large brown paper bag, so you couldn’t tell what she was carrying. As soon as we were out of the shop, she had me carry the bag. I promptly threw it down on the street when she gave it to me. She looked at me sternly for a moment and then picked up the bag and carried it herself.

“You know, I got these for you. They’ll be thin enough for you to wear them under normal pants. These pull-ups shouldn’t be any different then regular panties as far as you’re concerned. The diapers will cut back on your laundry too after your apparent nightly problem.”

I didn’t dignify her comments with a response; I just started walking back towards her house, in my proud, stupid, waddle. She sighed behind me and started to follow after she’d picked up the bag.

As we were heading back to her house, a gang of kids came up. They saw me and looked on with interest. My joints paralyzed. Angélique saw them and smiled and waved with her free hand.

“Bonjour!” She said excitedly. The gang sort of slinked away. They were all boys, roughly my age. One had a soccer ball and carried it under an arm. The gang kept leaving except for two boys who just stayed, staring at me.

“Who is that girl Angélique?”

“I’m your teacher Marcel, use better etiquette. Call me teacher or mademoiselle.”

“Who is that girl… teacher?” asked Marcel. His brother Gérard smirked at his defiance.

“This is Alouette.”

“Is she related to you?”

“Non, she’s visiting from America and staying with me.”

“Will she be in our class?”

Angélique paused for a moment. The thought hadn’t occurred to her. Why not, what else would she do the five days of the week she’d be teaching her classes? “Oui, she will be in your class. She’s a year older then you, she’s 15, like your brother.”

The two boys looked at each other, then at me again. Some of their gang had wandered back to see what the hold-up was.

“I don’t like her, don’t sit her near me.”

Angélique frowned. “That’s a not very nice, you don’t even know her Marcel. And I’d advise you to stop giving me orders… or you may just find yourself sitting next to her afterall.”

“Hey Alouette, do you play sports at all?” asked Gérard. He was usually Marcel’s handyman… funny how the younger was the boss.

One of the boys was talking to me. He looked at me and said my name coupled with a few things. I didn’t really know what he was saying so I just nodded.

“She only speaks English Gérard. She can’t understand me.”

“Well she’s nodding like she can.”

One of the gang behind them rolled the soccer ball my way. I think they were gauging me up for a game or something. I smiled ruefully and started to move, but heard the crinkle crinkle under my dress. I slowed down and stutter stepped causing some of the boys to giggle.

Hearing their giggle only poured some fuel on the fire and I lined my foot up perfectly with the ball, attacking it from an angle. I’d spent a few years playing pick-up games, true my sports were rugby and baseball, but that doesn’t mean I can’t handle a soccer ball.

Like a white/black round rocket, the ball shot right into Gérard’s face. He started to duck, but didn’t quite react in time and the ball glanced him on the right side of the face. I smiled, and Angélique laughed a little.

“Wow, you’re pretty good Alouette,” Angélique said.

I could tell some of the other boys were impressed, but not the two that had stayed behind to talk. They sneared at me and the taller one who had questioned me ordered them all to move along. They did so with reluctance and Angélique and I left on our way. I was happy our encounter hadn’t turned to exposure, and that I was able to at least display a little of my lost manliness in front of Angélique.

She chatted right along till we got to our house. I think she was impressed with my athletic display and maybe had put me a notch higher in her book (so now I was one rung above teenage-wino).

We got the finished laundry and I folded it. Angélique got on the phone and made a phone call to someone and kept saying my name which worried me a little.

“Yes, that girl I brought to church today. I’d like to enroll her in my class. Alouette only speaks English, which may be a bit of a problem, but I’m tutoring her every day, I think she’ll pick up the language quick since she’s in a sink or swim situation as it is… Uh huh, I’ll just get her to change into one of the uniforms when we get to school tomorrow morning… thanks for allowing her in.”

Angélique hung up the phone and looked at me with a smile. I raised an eyebrow cautiously…

“Okay, why are you smiling? Did you just order really girly clothes for me or something?” I asked. She didn’t answer and walked by playfully patting me on the head. I shrugged and finished folding laundry.

It was well on into the afternoon by now. Angélique had gone to her books, and I had gotten to memorizing the numbers.

“Un, duex, trios, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit…” My voice trailed off to a whisper. I felt my diaper growing warm. The sudden quiet got Angélique to look up from her book. I bit my lower lip, getting a bit nervous and not really sure what to say.

“Are you okay?”

Angélique noticed my change in demeanor. She got up and came to my chair. I sat still biting my lip.

“The only time you get that quiet…”

She started to reach down for my dress but I brought my hand out and stopped her. I didn’t say anything; I just put the book down and nodded. I started walking up the stairs feeling a little defeated with myself. Angélique came up a moment later. I waited awkwardly by the bed.

“How do you want to do this?” I asked as she came in with the brown bag from the store. She quietly patted the bed, and I laid down. She got out the package of pull-ups and tore the top, taking one out. She then took down the plastic panties and undid my diaper. In the package she’d also gotten some baby wipes and things and she took one of those out.

There was a pause of hesitation and an awkward moment between us. I think it was more for her then me, because of what she was doing. I didn’t much care, because I considered anything below my waist foreign territory to me that I really had no intention of exploring anyway.

She wiped me up and then helped me slide into a pair of the pull-ups. When I had them on, I really must admit, they were a lot better then the bulky cloth diaper. Felt much more like regular panties… I mean underwear… geeze, got me thinking they’re panties now.

With these new pull-ups I got out the pair of khakis I hadn’t been able to wear earlier. I pulled them on with ease and felt a little better now. Angélique smiled.

“And you through them down when I asked you to carry them.”

I realized she must have been commenting about my reaction earlier. I looked meekly at her… “Merci.”

She smiled again and tussled my hair. “It’s a good thing I got them. I can’t imagine how embarrassed you’d be if you had to wear those cloth diapers to class tomorrow.”

Angélique kept talking, and I listened but didn’t understand. I went over to the dresser and found one of the t-shirts we’d bought. It was just a plain white t-shirt with a nike logo on it. I put it on and felt much less like a girl. I did notice however that the pull-up came up a little high, and was a bit obvious if my shirt rode up. I hoped that wouldn’t be much of a problem sense we didn’t seem to leave the house much anyway. I was kind of glad that Angélique seemed to be a homebody.

We went downstairs and she started on dinner while I got back to my French. She made a game of naming off every item that went into our dish. She’d say it, show it to me, and I’d repeat it. After a while she’d just say “ha” and hold something up, like a little visual quiz, I’d repeat it (if I knew it). We did this till dinner was ready and I was more then ready to eat.