Searching for the Light

Searching for the Light - Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

Before turning and making my way to my new school, Mathieu, for the fifth time this morning reminded me that he would pick me up here at the end of the day, I nodded and gave a polite smile, swung my bag over my shoulder and turned away. After taking a deep breath, I quickly made my way through the car park and up the main stairs trying to avoid everyone's gaze. The office wasn't hard to locate. The lady on the opposite side of the glass window looked friendly, as soon as she saw me, she asked, "Hi there, how can I help you?" in a very confident manner.

The school uniform was complètement ridicule; the white blouse with a blue tie and black cardigan didn't bother me it was the fact that I had to wear a skirt that did, a very short blue one at that, with black knee-high socks and shiney flat ballet shoes. I think it was most likely lack of a social life that made me a little self-conscious, I never wore anything revealing but don't get me wrong, I love fashion, I lived in Paris, France all my life, till now at least. I am quite average in height and I don't need to worry too much about what I eat, my Mother's genes apparently. Slightly tanned complexion and big greenish-blue eyes thanks to my Father. Unlike girls my age, you can hardly notice my boobs and as far as my backside is concerned, I haven't got one.

Starting to get nervous, I played with the hem of my cardigan, I thought I wasn't even able to get a word out but surprised myself hearing the somewhat French accent, "Um, Hello, I just moved here". 

The lady's smile grew bigger, flashing her perfect pearly whites, "Well, welcome to Eastland high, can I have your name please?" 

Nodding politely, I managed "Marianne, Marianne Victoire Desmarais" 

She grabbed a couple pieces of paper from a folder and handed them to me. 

"Okay, here is your time table and a school map, If you need anything just come let me know, my name's Mrs. Marsh by the way" .

I returned her smile, walked a couple of steps to lean on the wall and put my bag on the floor. My timetable sucks, first I have homeroom for twenty minutes and then I have English, fun. After that, break, art, dinner then last but not least, music. I took a quick look at the map and set off to find my homeroom.

It took me ten minutes to find where I wanted to go so now I'm stood here, outside my class door, five minutes late debating whether or not I should just phone Mathieu to tell him to come pick me up. On the count of three I will open the door and walk in, I thought. One... I reached for the handle, two... I closed my eyes and wrapped my small hand around it, three... Oh god, what am I thinking? Shaking my head, I dropped my hand and started to back away but before I could get past two steps, the door opened and an elderly man stood there, narrowing his eyes at me. My eyes widened in shock.

"Can I help you?" His voice was strict and he talked fast, taking a step closer to me.  

I was dumbstruck, unable to say anything so I just gave him my timetable. He took off his glasses and started reading,  

"Ah, Marianne, my name is Mr. Norful, come in and take a seat..." he paused.  

The class room was painted a pale green, just like the corridor and had several windows on the back wall. There were two boards at the front and a big sturdy desk that looked like it had been around since the stone age. Just then I noticed how many faces there were in the classroom, my head automatically bowed and I started to play with the hem of my cardigan, again.  

"Here." Mr. Norful finished, I looked up to see him at the back of the room, pointing to a desk in the corner. I smiled then quickly took a seat. Even though I was at the back, every now and then someone would turn around and stare at me and I didn't like it.

Homeroom and English went by pretty fast; Mrs. Sullivan, my English teacher said I could stay behind at break to catch up with some work, which I gladly said yes too. So now, I'm on my way to art which isn't so bad. I liked art, painting was fun. Maybe if I practised more often I could be as good as Caroline? I sighed, peu probable.

When I got to my art class, everyone stopped what they were doing and just stared, at me. What is it with these people and staring? Just as I was about to duck my head again, the teacher came in waving her hand in the air telling everyone to sit down, saved by the teacher, I thought. Quickly, I went and sat down at the back again. The teacher, who I learned was called 'Mrs. Green' started saying we could draw whatever we feel like drawing this lesson when a group of boys walked in.  

"Ugh. This is the last time boys, next time I'm giving you detentions", it looked like she didn't care to be honest so after that I stopped listening. I listened to the song in my head that has been there for the entire day. Yirumu's Maybe began to get louder and louder and I almost started to hum. My sixth birthday is the birthday I will always remember, It was the day of my last present, how miserable. I remember the butterflies in my stomach when I touched the shiny white keys, the sounds it made when I pressed down on each and every one. Even though my parents weren't there, it was the best day of my life. I spent all that day trying to learn my mother's favourite song, Maybe. Even though it took me nearly 7 months to learn it with the help of Adele. Even though it was all I ever did, eat, sleep, go to school, play piano, she never listened to me play it.