Contained by Love

Chapter 8 - Igniting The Flame

  And I thought my situation was bad. I barely knew Maya but already I felt more compassion to her than I had ever felt in my life.

   “Thanks.” I say, lost in thought and breaking the eye contact between us. She shrugs, the smile leaving her face. “Anything else you need?” She says after two seconds.

   I snap out of it, willing myself to feel sorry for this girl another time. “Actually, yes. I need you to do me a favor.” I half-smile at Charlotte.

  She looks at me expectantly and nods. I strain my neck to see if Madame was coming through the hall yet but we still had some time.

  I sneak the notepad out of my belt and open it to a fresh page. On the first line, I put a #1, make three columns, and hand the book to her.

   “I want you to write your full name there, and your age, and anything you can tell me about Madame.” I tell her, wanting to make sure she understood what I was saying. She returns the half-smile and takes the pen from my offering hand. I look over to her and see what she’s writing.

  I almost laugh when she dots the ‘i’ in her last name with a heart. I am also surprised when she writes that she is eighteen. She kind of looked like she was my age at the first glance.

  At the third column, which I had labeled “information about Madame”, she paused for a minute, before writing something in script. After handing the pad back to me, I eagerly look to that column, only to roll my eyes.

  Charlotte had written, “She has amazing taste in clothes. I’m pretty sure I saw one of her jackets on the cover of Vogue.” I sigh, and thank her anyway.

  One down, thirty-seven more to go.

  I realized something was different then. The class was completely silent. That was when I recognized the clack of Madame’s heels walking down the hall and into the classroom.

  She settled in her station and checked her reflection in a compact mirror, making Charlotte sigh in jealousy next to me.

  “Good morning, class.” She said, a warm smile spreading across her face. As usual, the girls repeated with “Good morning, Madame,” in sheer harmony.

  She clears her throat and takes a piece of chalk from her handbag. “Today, we will be learning how to cook Ratatouille.” She pronounces it like “rah-tah-too-wee”, while rolling her r’s.

 But it’s not like anybody corrected her. Even though I could have, being half-French myself. But it really wasn’t worth the trouble.

  “Now class, the first thing you should know about Ratatouille is that this classic recipe almost always includes bell peppers, eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, onions, garlic and fresh herbs. This sautéed recipe can be served in any number of ways, both hot and cold.”

   I tried to block out her voice and sneaked a peek at the girls sitting behind us. I pretend to drop my pen, so that I could get their attention. They give me a surprised look, recognizing me instantly. Not that I was surprised, given the stunts I’ve pulled so far.

  I hold up the notepad and point to it with my finger. I quickly put it on their table and mouth to them to pass it on once they’re done. They nod and the girl on the left grabs the notepad before Madame could see. I turn around, and don’t turn back for the duration of the rest of the class, hoping I would get some kind of valuable information when it was over.

  An hour later, just as Madame was walking around to test our dishes, the notepad was passed back to me while Madame was sampling the girls behind me. I snatched it and shoved it under my shirt as she came to our table. I bend over and put my head on the desk so my abdomen and outline of the book wouldn’t be seen.

  Madame samples our food with a spoon and smacks her lips delicately. “Nice work, girls. And good job, Vivienne.” She gives me a knowing look and walks on to the next table.

  I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding but don’t dare take out the pad for fear she would catch me. I gingerly placed it back in my belt just to be safe, however.

   “Alright, class. Since everyone’s Ratatouille came out absolutely delicious, we will be serving it to the boys at dinner. And this concludes another one of our wonderful cooking lessons. And remember what I said about not keeping your husband waiting too long!” Madame waves goodbye to all of us as we walk out the door. I try to walk out inconspicuously, but before I’m completely out the door, Madame stops me.

  “A word, Vivienne?” She asks.

  “Of course.” I say through my teeth. Of course she chose now to talk to me.

   “I’ve noticed a change in your behavior, and don’t think you won’t be rewarded.” Madame informs me while gathering her papers.

  The notepad felt like it was burning a rectangular shaped hole in my side. I remain silent, thinking that if I talked, I would say something I’d regret.

   “This is exactly the kind of model conduct that will get you good marks in my classes. Keep it up, honey.” She smiles kindly at me, making me want to gag.

  My fingers itch to open the book, but I control the annoying urges. I nod simply, keeping my face blank. 

   “Oh, Vivienne.” Madame crosses the distance between us. “This will be your first official welcome. To our family.” She gives me a tight hug.

  My hands form fists and I could smell the strawberry shampoo rolling off her perfect blonde hair in waves. I shut my eyes and pretend she’s not touching me. My breathing loses its steadiness and I could feel the anger build up inside of me. How dare she touch me?

  It took all I had not to beat up her sorry ass. I don’t think she noticed though, because when she emerged, the maternal look didn’t leave her eyes when she patted my shoulder and nodded goodbye.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran out of there as fast as my legs could carry me. When I reach my dorm, I hop straight into the shower, not caring about the pad, and scrubbed my skin so hard it became red and angry.

  I put on the bathrobe and settled onto my bed, lying on my stomach and finally opening the notepad.

  I counted eighteen names including mine, which was odd because there should have been nineteen even though Maya wasn’t there.

   I flip through the names, trying to memorize them, even though they came as a blur. Bella Cather, Zoey Davis, Naomi Ross, Brianna Taylor. All completely normal and extremely ordinary names.

  Aimee and Gwen were right. I was the youngest. Everyone else’s ages were ranging between sixteen and eighteen. Scratch that, one girl was nineteen.

  Impatiently, I skim through the third column, reading faster than ever. There was some junk, some complaints, some blanks, until one person. One girl. Her sentence stopped my heart for a split second.

  Her name was Leah Leonard.

And her sentence was Maya knows why she’s doing this.

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A/N: Not much news here, just same old same old. Hope you're enjoying :)