say it in French

She sat in the back seat, chewing on her thumb nail. “Sweetie, isn’t this fun?” hay-bales-sandra-cWhen they said they were sending her to France for her 16th birthday, this was not what she had in mind. She expected the Louvre, Champs-Elysées, the fucking Eiffel Tower. Not the annual Festival de Foin with her grandparents in east bumble-fuck France. Was this pay back for setting the garage on fire? “Sweetie, take a picture with your camera eyephone. Your friends will be so jealous!” “Oui, mémère, très jalouse,” she said with masked disdain. If she could roll her eyes in French, she would.