La Femme Nikita. Adam Samuelle. 080. Why?.
Title: Just Do It
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Characters: Adam Samuelle; one OC
Prompt: 080. Why?.
Word count: 886
Rating: G
Summary: Ask me no questions
Author's Notes: Spoilers through mid-Season 3
*To preserve continuity, this story should be read directly following ”Twinkle, Twinkle, WHAT?”.*
Just Do It
“Adam? Come here, please. It’s circle time.”
Adam marked his place in the book he was reading with his finger and turned his head in Mlle Durand’s direction.
“I’m fine,” he told her politely, and went back to the exploits of Clifford the Big Red Dog.
Marie Durand gritted her teeth. Again. It had been like this all month, ever since she had agreed to admit Adam Samuelle into her Jardin d'enfants. He was really six months too young; four was the minimum age at which she usually accepted students. But his mother insisted that he be allowed to begin his studies early, and Adam was undeniably bright. He was also, at times, an undeniable pain in the derrière.
The boy refused to grasp the concept that the school did not exist for his convenience, and that he could not pick and choose in which activities he wished to participate. The other students sat quietly on the floor on the outline of a circle, waiting for her to read “Les Trois Petits Cochons,” but Mlle Durand waited for Adam. It wasn’t that the boy was causing any real trouble, and the Clifford book was his own he’d brought from home, but Mlle Durand was determined to teach young Adam some discipline.
“Adam, put the book away in your cubby and come to the circle. Now, please.”
“Why?” He thought he’d made it clear that he had no interest in pigs or the big, bad wolf, but Mlle Durand wasn’t catching on.
“Because I said so. Do it now.”
Adam didn’t like Mlle Durand, but Mommy had made him promise to be a good boy, so he did as he was asked. He let a melodramatic sigh and an eye-roll indicate how lame he found the entire kindergarten process. Adam knew he learned more from Sesame Street and talking with Mommy and Daddy than he did at school, but he *had* promised to give it a try.
After circle time, the other students went to their cubbies and retrieved little sleeping mats, spreading them out in neat rows per Mlle Durand’s instructions in preparation for nap time. Adam went to his cubby as well, but retrieved his Clifford book instead. He started to return to the table where he’d been reading before he was so rudely interrupted.
“Adam, I told you to put the book away. Get out your sleeping mat.”
“Why?” Adam blinked. He wasn’t tired. He’d threaded pasta on a string, sung a song about the letter “J,” practiced tying his shoe, and listened to a dumb story. Nothing strenuous enough to require a nap.
“Because it’s nap time,” came the exasperated answer.
“But why?” Adam was beginning to gather support from fellow non-nappers.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Why, Mlle Durand?”
“Do we have to take a nap if Adam doesn’t?”
“Don’t ask any questions,” his teacher snapped at Adam and his classmates. “Just do it.”
Gee. Mlle Durand sounded kinda mad. But Adam still wasn’t tired, and he returned to his book, figuring his teacher would catch on. Grown-ups were supposed to be smart.
“Adam Samuelle! Do you want me to phone your mother?”
Adam shrugged. He didn’t particularly *want* Mlle Durand to phone his mommy, but he had no objections if she wanted to do so. Why was she asking him?
“Why?” He voiced his question aloud, perplexed.
“Because it’s nap time and you won’t take a nap!”
She didn’t have to yell like that. Look. All the kids who *were* napping were wide awake now.
“Is nap time done yet?” This from a little boy who’d never actually made it to a reclining position; the interchange between Adam and his teacher too entertaining to miss.
“Nap time is over.” Mlle Durand conceded defeat, clapping her hands to rouse any child who may have lapsed into a coma and actually needed to be awakened.
“Everyone to the table for coloring. Everyone,” she repeated, looking at Adam significantly.
Adam put Clifford away in his cubby. He liked coloring. He was a good drawer. Mommy put all his pictures on the refrigerator.
They weren’t drawing today. Instead they had a worksheet with different shapes on it, and Mlle Durant gave everyone three crayons: red, yellow, and blue.
“All right, boys and girls. Now pay attention.” Even Adam’s eyes were focused on his teacher. He had spotted a potential problem, and wanted to see how she handled it.
“We’re going to color the circles in red. Can everyone hold up the red crayon?” Everyone did. “We’ll color the squares blue.” The children held blue crayons aloft. “And finally, we’ll color the stars yellow.”
“Why?”
“Why ‘what’, Adam?” Mlle Durand ground out.
“The directions say to color the triangles yellow, not the stars. We’re supposed to color the stars purple, but we didn’t get purple crayons.”
“Don’t worry about what the directions say, Adam. Just color the stars yellow. Can you do that? Please?” Mlle Durand stared at the clock, willing the hands to move. Only 45 more minutes and little Mr. Why would be gone for the whole weekend.
Adam wanted to ask why he couldn’t just have a purple crayon and complete the assignment correctly, but Mlle Durand looked all prickly and her mouth was kinda funny; like she’d just sucked on a lemon. He wondered why.
My fanfic100 prompt table is here.
Fandom: La Femme Nikita
Characters: Adam Samuelle; one OC
Prompt: 080. Why?.
Word count: 886
Rating: G
Summary: Ask me no questions
Author's Notes: Spoilers through mid-Season 3
*To preserve continuity, this story should be read directly following ”Twinkle, Twinkle, WHAT?”.*
Just Do It
“Adam? Come here, please. It’s circle time.”
Adam marked his place in the book he was reading with his finger and turned his head in Mlle Durand’s direction.
“I’m fine,” he told her politely, and went back to the exploits of Clifford the Big Red Dog.
Marie Durand gritted her teeth. Again. It had been like this all month, ever since she had agreed to admit Adam Samuelle into her Jardin d'enfants. He was really six months too young; four was the minimum age at which she usually accepted students. But his mother insisted that he be allowed to begin his studies early, and Adam was undeniably bright. He was also, at times, an undeniable pain in the derrière.
The boy refused to grasp the concept that the school did not exist for his convenience, and that he could not pick and choose in which activities he wished to participate. The other students sat quietly on the floor on the outline of a circle, waiting for her to read “Les Trois Petits Cochons,” but Mlle Durand waited for Adam. It wasn’t that the boy was causing any real trouble, and the Clifford book was his own he’d brought from home, but Mlle Durand was determined to teach young Adam some discipline.
“Adam, put the book away in your cubby and come to the circle. Now, please.”
“Why?” He thought he’d made it clear that he had no interest in pigs or the big, bad wolf, but Mlle Durand wasn’t catching on.
“Because I said so. Do it now.”
Adam didn’t like Mlle Durand, but Mommy had made him promise to be a good boy, so he did as he was asked. He let a melodramatic sigh and an eye-roll indicate how lame he found the entire kindergarten process. Adam knew he learned more from Sesame Street and talking with Mommy and Daddy than he did at school, but he *had* promised to give it a try.
After circle time, the other students went to their cubbies and retrieved little sleeping mats, spreading them out in neat rows per Mlle Durand’s instructions in preparation for nap time. Adam went to his cubby as well, but retrieved his Clifford book instead. He started to return to the table where he’d been reading before he was so rudely interrupted.
“Adam, I told you to put the book away. Get out your sleeping mat.”
“Why?” Adam blinked. He wasn’t tired. He’d threaded pasta on a string, sung a song about the letter “J,” practiced tying his shoe, and listened to a dumb story. Nothing strenuous enough to require a nap.
“Because it’s nap time,” came the exasperated answer.
“But why?” Adam was beginning to gather support from fellow non-nappers.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Why, Mlle Durand?”
“Do we have to take a nap if Adam doesn’t?”
“Don’t ask any questions,” his teacher snapped at Adam and his classmates. “Just do it.”
Gee. Mlle Durand sounded kinda mad. But Adam still wasn’t tired, and he returned to his book, figuring his teacher would catch on. Grown-ups were supposed to be smart.
“Adam Samuelle! Do you want me to phone your mother?”
Adam shrugged. He didn’t particularly *want* Mlle Durand to phone his mommy, but he had no objections if she wanted to do so. Why was she asking him?
“Why?” He voiced his question aloud, perplexed.
“Because it’s nap time and you won’t take a nap!”
She didn’t have to yell like that. Look. All the kids who *were* napping were wide awake now.
“Is nap time done yet?” This from a little boy who’d never actually made it to a reclining position; the interchange between Adam and his teacher too entertaining to miss.
“Nap time is over.” Mlle Durand conceded defeat, clapping her hands to rouse any child who may have lapsed into a coma and actually needed to be awakened.
“Everyone to the table for coloring. Everyone,” she repeated, looking at Adam significantly.
Adam put Clifford away in his cubby. He liked coloring. He was a good drawer. Mommy put all his pictures on the refrigerator.
They weren’t drawing today. Instead they had a worksheet with different shapes on it, and Mlle Durant gave everyone three crayons: red, yellow, and blue.
“All right, boys and girls. Now pay attention.” Even Adam’s eyes were focused on his teacher. He had spotted a potential problem, and wanted to see how she handled it.
“We’re going to color the circles in red. Can everyone hold up the red crayon?” Everyone did. “We’ll color the squares blue.” The children held blue crayons aloft. “And finally, we’ll color the stars yellow.”
“Why?”
“Why ‘what’, Adam?” Mlle Durand ground out.
“The directions say to color the triangles yellow, not the stars. We’re supposed to color the stars purple, but we didn’t get purple crayons.”
“Don’t worry about what the directions say, Adam. Just color the stars yellow. Can you do that? Please?” Mlle Durand stared at the clock, willing the hands to move. Only 45 more minutes and little Mr. Why would be gone for the whole weekend.
Adam wanted to ask why he couldn’t just have a purple crayon and complete the assignment correctly, but Mlle Durand looked all prickly and her mouth was kinda funny; like she’d just sucked on a lemon. He wondered why.
My fanfic100 prompt table is here.