01. Chapter One
WHISPERS AND CHUCKLES
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Vivienne's hesitant steps echoed softly across the weathered linoleum floor as she was about to enter the classroom, the subtle shuffle of her shoes harmonizing with the distant murmur of students settling in. The air, pregnant with the scent of aged wood and well-worn textbooks, enveloped her like a familiar embrace.
Rows of neatly arranged desks stood in silent anticipation, each one a potential sanctuary for a day's worth of learning. Dust motes, caught in the gentle rays, pirouetted around the room, momentarily distracting her from the task at hand. Vivienne's gaze flitted across the room, searching for that elusive perfect spot ─ a balance between proximity to the front, yet comfortably nestled in the background. The shuffle of her classmates, already ensconced in their chosen domains, created a symphony of rustling papers and hushed conversations.
Annick and Vivienne were the last two people to enter the classroom, leaving a slim choice of available seats. There was only two places left to sit and both already had someone sitting there. One was occupied by Henri Pichon ─ he was sitting in the first desk. Vivienne knew who he was, considering his family was rich. The Satre's and Pichon's often had dinners together when Vivienne and Henri were little. They haven't really seen each other since then, although Vivienne did keep in touch with his sisters. Pichon sisters weren't really her first choice of friends per se, but her parents would say how they were a 'respectable family', leaving her no choice but to hang out with them sometimes.
Second available spot was near the end, in the same middle row. Whereas she knew Pichon, Vivienne had absolutely no idea who the boy sitting in that desk was. He had curly hair and he was wearing a yellow shirt. The boy, engrossed in arranging his notebooks, seemed oblivious to the dilemma unfolding beside him. Logically, she should've sat next to Pichon, but he was sitting in the first desk and Vivienne hated sitting in the front.
Annick was the first to choose her spot and luckily for Vivienne, she sat next to Pichon. Vivienne had to stiffle her laugh ─ Pichon got flustered the second Annick sat.
Vivienne made her way over to her designated seat. With a calculated nonchalance, she lowered herself into the chair beside him, her every movement echoing the weight of a decision made against the backdrop of societal constraints. The boy next to her didn't react whatsoever just looked her but then reverted his eyes to the front. To his left, in the row closest to the door, was sitting the guy from earlier; the one who smirked at her when she was entering. Vivienne mentally facepalmed herself.
The sharp cadence of the teacher's footsteps echoed through the room as she looked at both girls, a stern furrow etched into her brow. The air seemed to tighten with the unspoken tension as the classroom collectively held its breath, a captive audience to the unfolding drama.
"I am miss Giraud, your homeroom teacher," she introduced herself. "Both of you, stand up", she was talking to Annick and her. "What are your names?"
Fuck. Annick was the first to introduce herself. "Annick. Annick Sabiani, miss." The blonde was still standing up when Vivienne spoke, "Vivienne Satre."
"Where do you girls think you are?" Miss Giraud started glancing between the two, judging them more than anyone else. "In what world do you think it is okay to sit next to a boy?" She walked closer to them.
Of course, she was calling them out for simply sitting next to someone who wasn't a girl. What a joke. Vivienne wanted to explain herself ─ to tell her they didn't have anywhere else to sit but she gave up on it. Just by looking at Miss Giraud she could tell she was one of those women who were manipulated into thinking girls are the cause of all problems.
"Gather your things," she spatted. Annick started taking her stuff and Vivienne was about to but then Miss Giraud continued, "No, you." It was directed to Pichon.
"Get up, go sit at the back," she looked at Vivienne and Pichon. "And as of you, Miss Satre, go sit next to Miss Sabiani."
Pichon uncomfortably looked at her. "But, I can't see from there," he started protesting.
"Back row, now," she answered coldly. Pichon reluctantly gathered his belongings, shooting an apologetic glance at Vivienne as he moved towards the back row. Miss Giraud's stern gaze followed him until he took his seat, separated from the girls by an invisible barrier of disapproval.
Vivienne exchanged a quick, sympathetic look with Annick before complying with the teacher's directive. She moved to sit next to Annick, feeling the weight of judgmental eyes on them. The tension lingered, and the air seemed thick with unspoken frustration.
Miss Giraud, seemingly satisfied with the rearrangement, resumed her lesson. The room gradually returned to normal, but for Vivienne and Annick, the incident lingered, shaping the dynamics of their introduction to a world where unwritten rules held more weight than reason.
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Next class they had was latin. Latin was one of her stronger subjects, yet she hated studying it. Generations before her, the Satre family had a rich history of classical scholars who, for centuries, had passed down their love for ancient languages. Vivienne didn't understand why were they teaching a dead language. Mr. Douillard was her professor.
"Who can tell me what this means?" Mr. Douillard asked. He had written a latin sentence on the board. His handwriting made it awfully hard to read what he had written, but Vivienne understood it. It was a line from Ovid's Metamophorses.
"Did he write dodum dectum?" She heard a boy next to her whisper to his friends. Unluckily for him, girls to his right got the answer first.
Annick and Vivienne both raised their hands at the same time ─ yet it was like they were invisible to Mr. Douillard. He was purposely not trying to call them to answer the question. By his logic, girls were incompetent to know anything, especially latin, that he considered sacred.
In the corner of her eyes, she can see someone raise their hand. It was the boy with long hair. "Yes, Mr. Descamps," professor called him up to answer. So his name was Descamps ─ she had almost been certain she heard that name before. Vivienne had to refrain herself from rolling her eyes; why didn't he choose Annick or herself?
Vivienne saw Descamps smirking and looking in between the two girls, but his gaze lingered on the brunette. He smirked, "I think they raised their hands." He glanced back at her but she was already looking at Mr. Douillard by then.
"Indeed, yes," Douillard uncomfortably shifted his glance towards the first desk girls were sitting in. "You," he was pointing at Annick. "What's the answer?"
Annick confidently stood up, her eyes fixed on Mr. Douillard. "Romans welcome Horatio with joy and congratulations and escort him to his house," she declared emphasizing each word.
Cheer. It was a honest mistake on Annick's end, but Vivienne knows Mr. Douillard will gladly enjoy pointing it out that she had made a mistake. Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears Descamps whispering something to his friends. "Looks like girls know their Latin," he chuckled writing something on a small piece of paper. "Wonder what else they know," earning a few chuckles from his friends. He threw the folded paper over to Laubrac ─ the boy she first sat to.
"The romans cheer Horatio," he said blantly. "Can you conjugate the verb ovare?" Just when Annick was about to answer, Mr. Douillard raised his voice, looking at the back, "What is that? Give me that. Give it to me."
Laubrac stood up, defeated. Vivienne knew nothing good was on that piece of paper ─ it was probably Descamps trying to be funny again. Unfortunately for Laubrac he got the shorter end of stick.
Mr. Douillard unfolded the paper. "Think this is funny," he was looking Laubrac up and down not trying to hide his judgement.
"It wasn't me." Laubrac answered, ignoring Douillard's initial question.
He looked at the boy. "Who is responsible for this masterpiece," he continued, "Your name?"
"It wasn't me." Laubrac was now looking at the floor and Vivienne could've sworn you could cut the tension with a knife. Descamps tried to look innocent in the back and Vivienne could see him trying to stiffle his laugh. She looked at him. He was always trying to impress everyone but now when he actually needed to say something he was dead silent.
"It wasn't me," the man repeated what Laubrac told him. "All culprits have the same name. They must be all related." He reverted his eyes from paper to Laubrac. "Okay, Mr. It wasn't me..."
The senteced boy was the one to correct him now, "My name is Laubrac."
Douillard chuckled. "All right, Laubrac," he continued, "Are you the boy from foster care?" It was clear Douillard's only mission now was to embarass Laubrac. "Some nobody's son trying to graduate? How amusing."
The tension in the air was thick. Douillard was speaking with malice, "Didn't anyone teach you discipline in the care system? I won't let a bastard disrupt my class. Get out."
Bastard. How could he even use a word like that? Vivienne felt bad for Laubrac ─ it wasn't fair. None of it was. Douillard's words echoed through the room with a venomous tone, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake.
Michele is the first one to break the silence. She stood up abruptly, "But he didn't do anything!"
Part of Vivienne admired what she had done, she was standing up for what's right, yet Vivienne couldn't believe how stupid her act was. Mr. Douillard couldn't even bother to let Annick and her to answer the question until a male pointed it out. How did she think he will react to doing this?
Douillard's eyes were now at the blonde girl. "Nobody taught you how to raise your hand in your girls' school, Miss Magnan? Or maybe you think you have a free pass because your uncle is the dean?" He spatted, "Escort your new friend to your uncle's office."
That was the breaking point. The whole class started murmuring things, even Vivienne was shocked. She didn't expect that. But it made her realize the importance of her keeping her secret — a secret. If people reacted like this to someone being the dean's nice, how would they react to being Mayor's niece?
She will try her best to hide it.
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Lunch came fast and Vivienne was grateful. She was starving. What she wasn't grateful for was the lunch in question. She was wishing she had taken her mother's offer on packing her a sandwich. Vivienne was sitting with Annick, Simone and Michele and few of the other girls from school.
"Does the Latin teacher call on you?" One of the freshmen girls asked, "He ignores us."
Simone is the first one to answer the girl's question, "No, he ignores us as well." She continued, "Annick and Vivienne raised their hand and he didn't call on them until a boy said something."
The conversation is cut off by Pichon, who fell into Annick's plate. Like quite literally. Some of Annick's mashed potatoes landed in Vivienne's plate. Descamps and his goons were laughing as if it was the funniest thing in the world. The Satre girl can admit, it would be a bit funny if Pichon fell by himself but since Descamps tripped him it was no where as funny. Especially because she knew how Pichon was around Annick and now he was literally in her plate.
Pichon, red─faced, looked apogetically at Annick. "I'm so sorry, Annick," he spoke, stuttering on his words. "Do you want my plate?"
Annick doesn't have a chance to answer, Michele is quicker. "That idiot should give up his." She was clearly talking about Descamps. And he didn't like that.
Descamps turned to the girl with pigtails, looking her straight in the eyes, "Does the dean's niece have a problem. What did you tell your uncle?" He was now mocking her. "Laubrac is innocent, Descamps is the bad one. The dean's niece and bastard, what a love story."
He earned a few laughs. He looked at Vivienne to see if she was laughing but the girl didn't even spare him one look. The look was subtle and unnoticed by everyone. She was minding her bussiness, eating her food ─ truth to be told, she was annoyed with Descamps but Michele was going on her nerves as well. Pichon was a big boy and so was Laubrac; they could defend themselves.
But Michele was never the one to be silent. "Why don't you tell us what you wrote in that note, anyway?"
If Vivienne wasn't paying attention before, she for sure was now. She wanted to know what was in it, especially if Douillard reacted that way.
"It was a drawing, actually," he spoke taking the sauce bottle in his hand, "I'll show you." Descamps was now drawing on his plate of mashed potatoes. "It's a portrait, although you weren't my muse." He was looking towards someone else at that table.
He showed a drawing of boobs, earning a chuckle from the entire cafeteria. Michele was clearly embarassed. So Simone decided to intervene. Short haired girl broke her sausage she got for lunch in half. "This remind you of anyone?"
Vivienne wanted to stay silent, she really did, but it was way stronger than her. Descamps needed to be humiliated really badly. She raised her almost eaten sausage ─ there was one third of it left, maybe? She doesn't know, she was never good at math, but what she did know is that it was really fucking small. She spoke loudly, looking directly at Descamps, "Should've used this to demonstrate, Simone. It would've been more accurate."
Descamps was left completely humiliated. The entire cafeteria was laughing, laughing at him, even his goons. And Vivienne could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. Was it weird that seeing him squirm like that was the best part of her day?
If only she knew the consequences of said words.
✶ Author's note...
another chapter y'all !! hope u guys enjoyed. thanks to anyone who votes and comments, it really does give me motivation to write.
english is not my first language so i do understand that i may not be the best writer but i am already loving the dynamic between vivienne and characters.
it only gets more tense in the next chapters so stay tuned 👀
and lmk your thoughts on the chapter
angie, xoxo.