Bad Idea ── Joseph Descamps.

01. WHISPERS AND CHUCKLES

Fuck. Annick was the first to introduce herself. "Annick. Annick Sabiani, miss." The blonde was still standing up when Vivienne spoke, "Vivienne Satre."

"Where do you girls think you are?" Miss Giraud started glancing between the two, judging them more than anyone else. "In what world do you think it is okay to sit next to a boy?" She walked closer to them.

Of course, she was calling them out for simply sitting next to someone who wasn't a girl. What a joke. Vivienne wanted to explain herself  ─ to tell her they didn't have anywhere else to sit but she gave up on it. Just by looking at Miss Giraud she could tell she was one of those women who were manipulated into thinking girls are the cause of all problems.

  "Gather your things," she spatted. Annick started taking her stuff and Vivienne was about to but then Miss Giraud continued, "No, you." It was directed to Pichon.

"Get up, go sit at the back," she looked at Vivienne and Pichon. "And as of you, Miss Satre, go sit next to Miss Sabiani."

Pichon uncomfortably looked at her. "But, I can't see from there," he started protesting.

"Back row, now," she answered coldly. Pichon reluctantly gathered his belongings, shooting an apologetic glance at Vivienne as he moved towards the back row. Miss Giraud's stern gaze followed him until he took his seat, separated from the girls by an invisible barrier of disapproval.

Vivienne exchanged a quick, sympathetic look with Annick before complying with the teacher's directive. She moved to sit next to Annick, feeling the weight of judgmental eyes on them. The tension lingered, and the air seemed thick with unspoken frustration.

   Miss Giraud, seemingly satisfied with the rearrangement, resumed her lesson. The room gradually returned to normal, but for Vivienne and Annick, the incident lingered, shaping the dynamics of their introduction to a world where unwritten rules held more weight than reason.

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Next class they had was latin. Latin was one of her stronger subjects, yet she hated studying it. Generations before her, the Satre family had a rich history of classical scholars who, for centuries, had passed down their love for ancient languages. Vivienne didn't understand why were they teaching a dead language. Mr. Douillard was her professor.

   "Who can tell me what this means?" Mr. Douillard asked. He had written a latin sentence on the board. His handwriting made it awfully hard to read what he had written, but Vivienne understood it. It was a line from Ovid's Metamophorses.

"Did he write dodum dectum?" She heard a boy next to her whisper to his friends. Unluckily for him, girls to his right got the answer first.

  Annick and Vivienne both raised their hands at the same time ─ yet it was like they were invisible to Mr. Douillard. He was purposely not trying to call them to answer the question. By his logic, girls were incompetent to know anything, especially latin, that he considered sacred.

In the corner of her eyes, she can see someone raise their hand. It was the boy with long hair. "Yes, Mr. Descamps," professor called him up to answer. So his name was Descamps ─ she had almost been certain she heard that name before. Vivienne had to refrain herself from rolling her eyes; why didn't he choose Annick or herself?

  Vivienne saw Descamps smirking and looking in between the two girls, but his gaze lingered on the brunette. He smirked, "I think they raised their hands." He glanced back at her but she was already looking at Mr. Douillard by then.

"Indeed, yes," Douillard uncomfortably shifted his glance towards the first desk girls were sitting in. "You," he was pointing at Annick. "What's the answer?"