How could anyone be friends or even lovers with an incorrigible boy?
Havoc ensues in changing , revolutionary time in France as girls are herded into a school full of boys.
(Enemies to lovers)
(Joseph Descamps & OC)
Mixte 1963/Voltaire high.
Latin worlds etched into the black board and although Dahlia was good at Latin she couldn't help to fight back the heavyweight that held her eyelids down. A whisper in the class makes her eyes flutter open as the boys in front of her let out a low chuckle, afraid the teacher would notice one slapped a hand over their mouth. A piece of paper is discreetly passed across the other table, when the teacher turns away from them. The boys heads whip back to look at her whilst sniggering suspiciously. Their abnormal behaviour hadn't gone unnoticed by the teacher whose brows knitted together almost touching like two grey peaks. "Hand it over." Mr Douillard demands his hand open in the air to receive the small note from a scrawny boy.
Descamps chortled trying to cover his smile with his hand. The girls shared looks of confusion as they sat silently anticipating what it was that was so humorous.
Mr Douillard carefully unraveled the note and instantly scoffed in annoyance. "You think this is funny?" He states waving the note in the air looking at the nervous boy. Dahlia squints trying to figure out from the faint outline what could it hold but was unlucky. The boy is quick to protest the blame, "it wasn't me." He said looking down at his desk shamefully. There was a joint feeling between the classmates, all knowing who had scribed the note. "Who is responsible for this masterpiece then? Your name?" He voice bellows through the classroom and each anxious boy denied ownership quickly one after the other.
He folded his arms huffing, "All culprits have the same name. They must be related. Okay Mr It Wasn't Me." He mocks the whole lot of them. A boy with curly hair insists for him to get his name right, "my name is Laubrac." cutting him off short. The students eyes widen and Dahlia would swear that a nerve had popped in Mr Douillard's face. "Alright then Laubrac. Wait aren't you from the welfare service?" He sneered as he brought up Laubrac's unfortunate background in front of all the students. For teachers who are suppose to teach the youth on being respectable in society and form are humanity, it these same ones who hold themselves above others, who fail us.
Like a child having a tantrum Mr Douillard's vile words roll of his negligent tongue, "Some nobody's son's trying to graduate? How amusing. Didn't anyone teach you discipline in the care system? I won't let a bastard disrupt my class. Get out." His fat finger pointing to the door, like a tyrant exiling its citizen. Laubrac had turned a little pink from humiliation and feeling like he had shrunken. How he coped with his scrutiny, Dahlia didn't know but it must of taken many people like Mr Douillard to create thick skin.
Daring Michèle slams her hands on to the table in a passionate fit, "But that's not fair!" She protested against Mr Douillard and something in Laubrac felt comforted. For she was the only one to speak against his disrespect. The teacher turns to the girl his eyes bloodshot with the rage of Aries, "didn't they teach you to raise your hand at the girls school?" Making her look uncivilised and out of control. "Or maybe you think you have a free pass because your uncle is the dean." He states changing the way everyone saw her act of rebellion. Rather than it being her standing up for someone it became an act of recklessness because she had the privilege to do so. Dahlia could not believe it and by the look of Michèle's face it was suppose to be kept a secret. The class were baffled into silence whilst they were both sent to her uncle's office for detention.
The girl behind her was Annick Sabiani, she was beautiful from her blonde hair that sat on her shoulders to the way she smiled. It was at lunch when Dahlia had plucked up the courage to sit next to her and the two girls from class. "This school might be the death of me." Dahlia stated already had enough of her fill of liberalism. Michèle shakes her head, "it's only the beginning." This was true and it only dawned on her now that she would have to get through this everyday till she's finished with school. She hadn't touched her food and only did as much to glance at it. It looked the same, unappetising. Michèle who looked like she could possibly kill someone says, "Mr Douillard is cow, I hate that man." Her grip got so tight on her fork Dahlia thought it would snap into two equal pieces in her hand. There were a couple of reasons why Mr Douillard had brought upon Michèle's resentment one being how he informed the whole class about how the dean was her uncle, the other being that he was horrible to that welfare child and sending her to detention when she had criticised him. "Horrible man." Simone agreed but her mind was across the lunch room staring at a table of boys with Jean-Pierre present.
Suddenly, Henri Pichon comes crashing down into Annick's plate with a thud. He gets up apologising immediately to Annick in stutters. It was Descamps who was behind this vile act who shoved him into are table. "Sorry Annick... would you like mine?" He offers stammering as everyone laughs at him. You could see how comfortable or more familiar he had become to public humiliation, it was a sorrowful sight.
Willingly I quickly push my food towards Annick, "No that's alright Pichon she will have mine I'm not very hungry you see." She turned to him smiling sweetly. However, fiery Michèle was quick to jump in, "No it's that moron that should give his lunch, he pushed him." She said loudly just so everyone could hear her words as she nodded towards Descamps whose laughter came to a sudden halt. Dahlia couldn't control the large smirk caused by Michèle's brave remark.
His face turned surprisingly harmonious, "What did you tell your uncle? Laubrac is innocent, Descamps is the bad one. The Dean's niece and the bastard what a love story." He said sarcasm dripping from his words, his intention is to make her blood boil. She folded her arms as if she was surrendering to him. His proud face turns to Dahlia to see if she had anything to add and then to Simone. This time she looked him in the eye, "What did you write on that note? Since it was so important that you had to show it to half of the class." Prying as she remembered how half of the class turned to look to her. A wicked smile drawn on his face, "not a note but a picture." Shaking his head slowly whilst correcting her. "Whatever, she asked you a question or do you not have enough wit to understand that?" Michèle snapped glaring at him. If Joseph wasn't a boy and if she wasn't such a respectable girl she would already be across the room with her hands around his neck ready to kill him. "Why are you jealous Miss Beaufort? I'm quite proud of my piece considering that I thought about you the whole time, you see your my muse." His ambiguous answer confused her, it must of been an overly exaggerated picture to mock her. "Here, I'll show you." He chuckled as he got to work with it with a bottle of gravy like he was some great artist.
He held the plate up making everyone got a sight of what was drawn on the plate. The room is filled with laughter of boys looking at her and then at the plate. She felt as if she had been exposed. Her mouth hung open as her throat went sandpaper dry. She turned her head away rolling her eyes at his childish perverted behaviour. "Why, you don't like it?" He looks down at the picture that were suppose to depict her breasts. "That's your portrait." He clarifies just incase she couldn't tell while laughing to her face.
"Does this thing remind you of anything?" Simone retorts holding a sausage in the air and brutally snapping it in half. His face fell ever so quickly drawn back to its sluggish cold look. The room filled with gasps and Dahlia turned to look at her with a smile so grateful for her. "You're so cool." She compliments to her in awe and return she squeezed her hand smiling back at her. "He's horrible I wonder what his mother thinks of him." Simone added loudly just enough so he could hear. "Here." Dahlia pushes her tray towards Annick. "You don't have to really," in response she pushed it even further towards the girl, "alright thank you." Her eyes glinting in the sun like sapphires. Dahlia hadn't been good at keeping friends around. They always found something about her to hate her for, all the little lies and underlying mocking to her face had left her secluded. She was glad that there being only few girls in the school had forced the girls to have a relationship with her. She always wanted a friend group like this, if everyone had it what had she done that she wasn't deserving of it? Was it some punishment?
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Writers note Thank you for reading this far tell me what you think please.
