TO BE FRANK

CHAPTER TWO, the physical jerks

    He meets her gaze once again—an action that Juliette fears will happen a lot more than she would like. He winks at her, a sly little action as if to say, you caught me, keep this between us. It was then Juliette had to remind herself (once again) that he was not worth a single second of her time.

    "Your name?"

    The boy shrugs, "It wasn't me."

    "It wasn't me," Mr Douillard repeats, scoffing under his breath at the audacity, "All culprits seem to have the same name. You all must be related. Okay, Mr It-Wasn't-Me—"

    "My name is Laubrac," he cuts through the air in a restless tone.

    "Monsieur Laubrac... are you the boy from foster care?" the teacher's sudden speculation caused an eruption of murmurs throughout the classroom, "Some nobody's son is trying to graduate? How amusing. Didn't anyone teach you discipline in the care system?"

    Juliette sinks deeper into her seat with her bottom lip wedged between her teeth. Her light fiddling fingers were now picking at each other furiously. The taste of iron seeps through her mouth as resentment for this lousy man grew by the second. How can a teacher, the person supposed to support their pupils no matter their background with knowledge for the future possibly treat them like second hand citizens? Perhaps she had grown lucky enough to have decent teachers throughout her schooling career, though, it seems as if her luck had finally ran out.

    "I won't let a bastard disrupt my class," he spits, motioning towards the door. "Get out."

    "He didn't do anything!" came a voice from the other side of the room, capturing the rest of the classroom's attention.

    Oh Michèle, Juliette thinks as realisation sinks into the girl. In her also very short and unfortunately interrupted meeting with her before class began, she did not seem like the type to pull such a stunt, let alone on their first day. Though it might not have been the best decision, Juliette applauded her nonetheless. At least she had the guts to do something Juliette hadn't had the courage to.

    "Did no one teach you how to raise your hand at your girls' school, mademoiselle Magnan? Or maybe you think you have a free pass because your uncle is the dean?"

    Commotion erupts in the classroom once again as Juliette's eyes widened, nails digging deeper into her skin. This time it was much louder and the whispers travelled quickly.

    "Why don't you escort your new friend to your uncle's office. He'll give you detention, too." says Mr Douillard.

    He could barely finish his sentence when Laubrac pivots towards the door, not even waiting for Michèle as she follows a few paces behind him.

    When the door shuts, the classroom remains silent for a few beats as if Douillard wanted them all to simmer in the tension thick air. Annick and Juliette share a look of indignation as their teacher walks back over to his desk, muttering under his breath.

     "It's not fair," Juliette thinks, but rather the words come out as a whisper before she knew it. And with the silence lingering in the room like a soggy, wet blanket, she could have very well shouted into oblivion.

     Mr Douillard turns as if he had heard a terrible rumor, eyes wide and threatening, "What did you say, mademoiselle Bellemare? Not fair?"

     Juliette shakes her head furiously with sweating palms, "I'm sorry, I did not mean to—"

     "No, I'm sorry for not treating fairly as apparently letting you into this school was not fair enough!" The man before her huffs, approaching the poor girl. "Though, I should not be surprised of the actions of a girl who hailed from a privileged boarding school. I'm sure you're used to doing anything you'd like without repercussions, right mademoiselle?"