"SO, JONAH, ARE you in agreement that for now on you'll change your attitude, and apologise to Madame Leroy?"
M. Dupont studied Jonah's slouched posture. Giving him the once-over, the teacher was unaware that he was under just as much scrutiny. Jonah had years of experience reading body language, and currently, he was putting it to use.
From his tapping foot and constant glances at his watch, it was clear to Jonah how the teacher couldn't be any less interested in his and Mme Leroy's one-sided 'altercation' from last week, if he tried. Jonah thought of it as almost comedic watching the headmaster's estranged attention metamorph into discomfort from the surges of rage courtesy of Mme Leroy. It was beyond obvious how he would have preferred to be anywhere else but entrapped in the classroom with them, alone.
Jonah bit the inside of his cheek. "But I thought we had already established that I did nothing wrong?"At this, Mme Leroy no longer attempted to disguise her sneer, letting the aggravation seize free rein of her face.
M. Dupont ignored his remark. "Madame Leroy has apologised for her lapse of judgment, earlier," he reasoned on behalf of the woman, whose scowl was intensifying by the second.
Her hair was crisp, layered so thickly with mousse that Jonah thought if he bent a strand between his fingers, it would snap. The leering she was directing Jonah's way only emphasised her wiry features, nearly as rigorous as her drive to put a wedge in Jonah's day-to-day life, just because she can.
He suppressed the urge to call her a name which would most definitely land him in hot water. Mme Leroy's 'apology' for unjustly losing her temper with him, was her feeding to M. Dupont how 'they both acted poorly' that day; not that she had been a complete and utter cow unprovoked, admitting to nothing. However, Jonah acknowledged that pushing for more than what luck had already granted him would be fighting a war he couldn't win. If a promised 'clean slate' was all the compensation he was to be offered, he'd take it.
Whatever Matthieu said to M. Dupont had worked wonders because he was willing to let Jonah get off with no more than a slap on the wrist, rather than the suspension Mme Leroy demanded when she found out he never made it into the headmaster's office. Matthieu had more than smoothed things over, to say the least.
Both of the Dartmoore siblings have remained elusive since Jonah's last encounters with them, with the exception of English lessons with Matthieu and the handful of classes he shared with Opal. They would consist of pining stares Jonah would secretly send her way when she wasn't looking, as well as the moments he'd find himself at a loss for words when Matthieu would call on him, because his thoughts had been entirely at the mercy of Opal.
However, his wandering thoughts couldn't keep the glass of his bottled-up resentment from cracking. The sheer audacity of this woman was sending him into orbit.
"I'm sorry for being rude to you, Madame Leroy. I hope we can both move on from this," Jonah gritted out, his eyes burning holes into her head.
Mme Leroy said nothing, accepting nor denying his apology. The only thing to change was her stance, shifting to cross her arms, whereas the headmaster visibly relaxed.
"Alright. Thank you, Jonah. Now off you go," M. Dupont dismissed.
His chair scraped loudly as he rose from the graffitied desk, it displaying the irritation he couldn't. His rucksack was thrown carelessly over his shoulder while he marched past the teachers, not bothering to bid them goodbye as he decided that he couldn't withstand seeing Mme Leroy's face for another minute; he was sure he'd say something he'd regret. It wasn't often people could push him this close to his wit's end, but Jonah was sure this woman was specifically bestowed upon him for something he did in his past life.
He felt his mood dampen further when the empty table he and his friends would meet at caught his eye. Neither Henri nor Elise showed up for school today, leaving him with no choice but to resort back to his days of being a loner.
If it were a few months ago, this wouldn't have bothered him. Jonah had spent more break times with only himself for company than he could ever recall, as it had been the norm for the past sixteen years of his life. But slowly, he was warming up to the idea of having more people care about him than just those in his immediate family— he was changing. To say his mother was thrilled with this development would be an understatement.
She had always worried about Jonah not having enough friends. Being that nearly every time without fail, on the once-on-a-blue-moon occasion he'd been gifted the invitation to go out with someone, he'd decline. His mother would tell him how it wasn't healthy to be isolating himself, and that he needed to dedicate spending more time with people his age. She was unaware of the fact Jonah was content with obtaining his daily dose of socialisation by people-watching, or in the scenarios when someone would talk to him and he'd have no choice but to communicate.
But Jonah was questioning if he was still the wallflower he always thought of himself to be. He liked being around Henri and Elise. Albeit he required periods in between to recuperate when his social capacity had run flat, for the first time in years, he had made friends that he wasn't morally obliged to be around; he genuinely appreciated them for who they were. Whether it was their strange quirks, Elise's habit of spilling every thought that appears in her mind, Henri's inability to keep his snide comments to himself, or the way they welcomed him into their inner circle without complaint. The main thing was, their presence wasn't a test of his tolerance.
It was safe to say he wasn't the same, distrustful boy who came to Bêtemont a few weeks ago; he was evolving. The two teenagers were unknowingly persuading Jonah to reconsider giving people a second chance— tempting him against his better nature. He felt like Eve in the Garden of Eden being lured by the forbidden fruit. No good would come from it, but he wanted a taste, regardless.
Jonah chewed on his bottom lip. As insightful as they both were in aiding Jonah's newfound perspective of friendship, a part of him also saw them as a threat. By deserting his loner mentality, he would be freely handing over his vulnerabilities to let his friends hang over him as they pleased, if he agreed to place his signature on the metaphorical contract.
Not only that, but Jonah was compelled to recognise his growing attraction for Opal. The longer she possessed his thoughts, the more profound he realised his fondness for her ran— and not in just a friendly way— which scared him. It didn't help that somehow she was cast a role in Matthieu's horror theatrics, no matter how minor it was. The last thing Jonah wanted to do was end up on her brother's hit-list, so for the time being, he'll have to be mindful of where he treads.
He knew that eventually, the day would come when he'd have to confront his feelings, but for now, he would focus on coming to terms with his new circle of friends.
As for Opal, he settled on taking it as it comes. Why forcefully pry open a flower when it's perfectly capable of blooming by itself? Only the following weeks would tell where their connection will end up— if anywhere— that is.
Jonah snapped back to reality when he heard a chair being ungraciously pulled out beside him, and a bag flung onto the table, which resulted in his water rolling onto the floor.
"What do you want?" he grunted, and Jade's smirk broadened, which sent alarm bells ringing in his head. Never would she willingly be seen in school with him, let alone be seated at the same table. This was out of character, and with the way excitement had her staring him down, it was evident she was bursting to get something out.
She bumped her rucksack into his. "Where's your girlfriend?"
Jonah rolled his eyes. If anyone of the opposite sex showed him a slither of attention, or vice versa, they were immediately deemed as his girlfriend, in Jade's eyes. However, he couldn't deny the fact that his mind didn't instantly recoil from the assumption, like it would in every other circumstance.
"Why do you care?" he fired back, sliding his bag off the table.
It was strange how different their interactions could be. Some of them were almost pleasant, whether it was a topic as insignificant as their day, or a casual conversation. Others were of utmost hostility, but when they would meet again for their next exchange, all had been forgotten.
"Because I know why you're sitting here like a Billy-no-mates," she laughed.
Jonah raised his eyebrows; a silent request for her to elaborate.
"Jay-de, there you are!" a girl scolded, butchering his sister's name. Setting herself down next to Jade, another girl, who had been trailing along behind her, joined them.
"Have you heard what that nutcase did to Colette?" she gushed, rubbing a hand on the girl's— whom he presumed was Colette— shoulder. Just then, Jonah registered the snot running down her snivelling nose, and tearful eyes.
"What happened?" Jade's eyes darted between the two girls with false apprehension. Whatever tale either one of them was going to spin, she was already aware.
"It was in gym class," the girl, Colette, began. It soon clicked for Jonah that she was in the same year as him, though, they didn't share any classes. "We were out on the field— b-because we were doing cross-country." The words fragmented off her brittle tongue like shards of glass cutting her soul, draining her composure with each incision. "A-and she just went for me! I didn't even do anything," she declared; it wasn't tears of sadness she was crying, but ones of anger.
Jonah's interests were perked; for some reason, he felt like he already knew the identity of the offender. "Who?"
"Opal." She made a gesture with her hands, pointing to the red scratches inflaming her neck. "I went to overtake her. I think I might have tripped her on accident— or she tripped herself— I don't know. But she got up and fucking tackled me!"
"You should have seen her," the other girl interjected. "Monsieur Lambert had to pull her off. The way she was... it wasn't normal. It was like she went—"
"Rabid," Jonah finished.
"Um, yeah. Exactly."
A deep-rooted fear he didn't know he had begun to branch out in his chest. Perhaps Opal wasn't so different from her brother— a murderous killer.
The idea made him sick, comparing her to a monster. In the stories he heard about werewolves, they were men, not girls. Whatever curse was chained to Matthieu, surely it would have skipped Opal?
Doubt made a home in the back of his mind. Soon, Jonah would need to find closure, but now was not the time. He'll worry about that later.
"Where is she now?" Jonah directed his question towards the girl comforting Colette, not wishing to prod the bear further.
Jade answered for her. "Suspended."
Jonah played with the strings of his hoodie. At least he now knew what she had been so smug about. Seeing the suspicion in everyone's eyes, pondering on the mannerisms she used to attain knowledge of this information, Jade added, "I saw Monsieur Lambert taking her to the headmaster's office."
"Serves her right," the nameless girl chided. "At least you got her pretty good in the nose."
Amused, Colette shook her head. "Yeah, I guess I did."
When she ran a hand through her hair, Jonah didn't miss the brown pigment of dried crimson blotting the underside of her fingernails, putting him in the position to question if the tiny patch of red staining her hairline was her own blood or Opal's.
The picture his mind conjured of Opal injured and bleeding, delivered him a wave of nausea. He had to do something. It would be against his usual way of going about things, but Opal wasn't a usual girl. Jonah needed to know that she was ok. Opal went out of her way to save him in the forest, so it's time he returns the favour.
It's only fair, Jonah assured himself.
And of course, that was his only motivation for going to see her. Jonah affirmed to his conscience that his newly chosen quest to find Opal had nothing at all do to with his conflicted feelings for her. His minor crush had absolutely no influence over his decisions.
On the off-chance that Opal was... like Matthieu, she wouldn't be able to change in broad daylight, rendering him safe— to an extent— despite her seemingly unprovoked attack on Colette.
A lot of it about, he thought humourlessly, recalling a familiar version of the story orchestrated by a certain teacher with a grudge against him.
Jade and the girls who had invaded his table seemed to have long since changed the topic, now in deep discussion of something else, gossiping at a pace incomprehensible to Jonah. His chair made a less-than-pleasant noise as he went to depart from the table, announcing his leave to its occupants. The girls' conversation died and Jonah could sense all their eyes pinned to his back, but as curious as they might be, they were definitely not getting an explanation as to where he was going.
For he was going to find Opal.