ROSE
"Detention ? Seriously, Rose ?"
I was sat on the couch of our living room, face cast down while my father was lecturing me about what happened a few weeks ago in Herman's classroom. It's right when I got back from the store, after my weird encounter with Descamps, that he had called out my name, saying that he just got a phone call by a certain Monsieur Bellanger and he just wanted to talk about it.
"Why did you do that ?" he asked with a frown, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Dad, it's a mistake I swear. I didn't stole these frogs, I—"
"So, you're basically telling me that this man called me and lied to me ? That is what you're saying ?" My father said and I stayed silent. "Because if it's the truth, I'll immediately call him back to tell him that my daughter did nothing wrong. Except that this isn't the case, right ?"
"Dad..."
He shook his head and closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose before looking back at me. "You know at first I didn't believed him. My daughter stealing frogs ?" he scoffed. "Yeah, and what's next ? But he found your ring and you literally admitted your fault. What others proofs do I need ?"
"What do you want me to say ? I'm sorry," I muttered reluctantly, letting myself sink into the couch. This was so embarrassing and I just wanted to disappear.
"Rose... this isn't some sort of game, this is your future."
"Dad, it's just frogs—"
"It's not just frogs, no !" he snapped. "You are a girl, in a school full of boys, where the teachers are not very happy that you can benefit from the same education as them, you know what I mean ? These types of mistakes could cost you your place."
I looked away, feeling a little too exposed by his piercing gaze. "I know that !"
"You know it and yet you still did that !"
My mom came out of the kitchen to put in front of me a plate of food and a glass of water. "It's alright, I knew someone who was worse at sixteen."
"Yeah, you," my father said bitterly.
"You've got such nerve sometimes, Thierry..."
"Oh, please," he waved her off. "Not now."
"Who's that boy by the way ?" my mother asked. "The one Bellanger mentioned. Deschamps."
I can't help myself but scoff. "It's Descamps, mom."
"Yeah, that's what I said. Who's that ? A friend of yours ?"
"Who cares !" my father yelled. "Your daughter just got detention because she stole frogs at school and you're asking her about a boy ?"
"It's just one of my classmate, mom," I replied, ignoring my father's complaints. "He's punished for something else."
"What did he do ?"
He just brought a porn magazine at school but I'm not going to tell you that. "He punched some guy, I think."
"Hm..."
My father grabbed his journal. "I'm going to bed, have fun talking about boys."
"Jealous ?" my mother taunted him but he ignored her, heading to the stairs without a word.
She sat on the couch, just next to me, while I was playing with my fork. She slapped my hand. "Don't play with the food."
"I'm not really hungry," I mumbled, pushing away my plate of pasta.
"You know your dad love to play it rough, but he's a sweetheart in reality. I'm the uncool parent."
Saying that my parents were strict would be a lie. They always let me do whatever I wanted —within reasonable limits of course— and I knew I was very lucky, especially with my dad. While my mom could be sometimes a little more annoying, about manners and all the things a girl should always be, he never really cared.
He was so protective, but in a good way. He would always come to my rescue whenever someone would made a comment about my looks or my attitude. He would always remind people that marriage wasn't the only thing that mattered and that studying could actually be an option, even to my own mother, which was a bit ironic, since she chose her career first when she was young.
But I could never complain about them, not when I noticed how Michelle was treated by her family or how Jean's father could be extremely strict with him... my parents only wanted my happiness.
I shook my head. "You're not. You're just... overprotective."
"Hm," she hummed, looking right into my eyes. "and that's why the circus I've got you into at Georges Sand will be something I'll never forgive myself."
"It wasn't that bad you know... Georges Sand. I liked it, before..."
"Yeah, but I almost lost my little girl out there," she said, grabbing my hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. I swallowed hard, feeling myself burning with shame. "This school is like a second chance, Rose. I don't want you to ruin it."
Jean's word came back to my mind.
I just think it's easy to fall back into old patterns.
I yanked myself free from her grip. "It's just a detention, mom..."
"I know. But it starts like that. You're sure this boy didn't encouraged you to do this with him ? It was his idea, wasn't it ?"
It would be easier to tell her what she wanted to hear. That Descamps was the one who corrupted her sweet girl, that I did nothing wrong, but it would be a lie and I didn't wanted to lie, neither to her or myself.
Besides, I didn't wanted to smear Descamps' name. I would've done it a few weeks ago without hesitation but right now...
I just think I should take responsibility for what I've done, that's all.
"Mom, I swear, it was mine. I've just acted stupidly."
She looked away with a sigh. "Fine... Have you bought a gift for grandma ?" she suddenly switched topics and that did not surprised me. I even felt relieved.
"Nope," I shrugged. "We're not gonna see her until New Year's Eve, are we ? We're having dinner at Jean's for Christmas, like every year, no...?"
But the look on her face told me otherwise before she even replied, and I sighed loudly. "Sorry, honey. But my mother is really pissing me off these last few days. She's calling me everyday to see her granddaughter... Christmas' dinner will be at my parent's house."
"But mom... grandma is..."
A real pain in the ass.
"I know honey, but we have no choice."
"...Fuck."
"Language."
***
At the doorstep of Simone's house, I make sure that everything is alright. That the fabric of my dress is perfectly straight, that my hair are in place and even if the plate of cookies I'm holding look presentable enough. The truth is, I couldn't care less about these three factors, I was simply afraid to press the doorbell.
Today was a normal day at Voltaire. Guiraud was a real pain in the ass like always, Lamazière made another dirty joke about some girl's tits and all the boys laughed. The food was delicious and the dessert was disappointing. We climbed up the rope one last time, since we won't see Moreau from the rest of the week and I had now the palms completely irritated, despite having spread on them a big amount of the ointment Madame Bellanger gave to me and Michelle.
A normal day, really.
Except that Simone wasn't there. She didn't came.
I was worried. Of course, periods could hurt and all, but something was off. If my memory wasn't playing tricks on me, Simone had her periods less than two weeks ago. I remembered that she had to go at the infirmary to get some pads... or maybe I was mistaking her with Michelle ?
Fuck it, I thought to myself as I finally pressed the button.
It's Simone's aunt who opened the door. "Oh, hello Rose."
"Hello ma'am, is Simone—"
"Simone ! Your friend is here !" her aunt yelled over her shoulder before she looked at me again. "She's coming."
Lovely as always.
A minute later, Simone was in front of me, only dressed in a white pyjama dress. "Rose," she greeted me by kissing my cheeks. "Don't stay outside, come in."
"I brought this," I said, handing her the plate of cookies as I stepped into her house.
Simone smiled. "You made them ?"
I rolled my eyes with a smile. "Well... I helped my mom."
She laughed as she made her way towards the kitchen, followed closely by me. "Want some tea ?"
"I'd love to," I said in response and I sat down at the kitchen table.
While her aunt eclipsed herself upstairs, Simone started to make tea and I only watched her in silence. She looked like she was good, but there was still that strange feeling that didn't wanted to leave me since this morning. Painful periods were horrible, I could tell, but Simone looked very... tired. And I've immediately noticed how her eyes were swollen when she came at the door, as if she had spent the whole night crying...
Or maybe she just didn't sleep very well and I was just making all of this up in my mind.
"How was school ?" Simone asked.
"Great," I replied. "Couret made us sing in english."
"Sing ?" she said, turning around to face me. "That must have been funny ! I wish I was there."
"Felbec has a terrible voice," I told her and she chuckled. "But don't worry, Couret said there will be other sessions."
Simone laughed again and then we just started to talk about everything and nothing. How she missed Alger and her family, how school sucked these times and how we couldn't wait for the holidays, that pretty dress she had seen last weekend but was way too expensive for her, everything but nothing about Jean-Pierre.
Clearly unusual from her part, since she always had something to say about him. Even when Michelle was around, she'd still talk about him by using the name of Eugène. I swallowed hard, wondering if he had anything to do with her swollen eyes and her very noticeable tiredness and sadness.
There's only one way to know.
"Are you okay, Simone ?" I cut her off mid-sentence. "Like, really. What did Madame Bellanger told you ?"
Simone's expression turned into something less joyful than a few seconds ago when she was mentioning her older brother. She looked down at her feet, her face distorting itself in something very sad. "I had a miscarriage," she finally confessed in a whisper.
My heart missed a beat. A miscarriage ? "You... you were pregnant ?"
Simone nodded. "But I didn't knew it until I lost the baby. Or should I say... the foetus."
I grabbed her hand in mine and squeezed hard. "I'm sorry." That was all I could say. I couldn't imagine the amount of pain she was feeling right now.
Because yes, having a miscarriage now was certainly better than giving birth at only sixteen. If she hadn't lost it, if she'd stayed pregnant... Her family, Jean-Pierre's family... They maybe wouldn't have welcomed the news with kindness and understanding. They maybe would've abandoned her. And abortion wasn't legal in our country, so she would've been forced to deal with it. Losing that baby... that foetus, was maybe a blessing in disguise after all.
And yet... judging by the way she looked, how her shiny smile was nowhere to be seen, it made me wonder if she mourned, in a certain way, that lost.
I felt so stupid. I shouldn't have come. She needed to be alone, not to make tea and hold a stupid conversation with me to keep up the facade !
Simone let out a slight chuckle as she wiped off a single teardrop that had rolled down her cheek. "It's okay... although it was a huge shock, I think I'm well now. Madame Bellanger and Madame Couret really helped me. Thanks to them, my aunt hadn't heard of all of this..."
"Are you gonna tell Jean-Pierre or just keep it for yourself ?"
"I don't know, Rose. I'm still figuring all of this shit out... I'm kind of afraid of his reaction."
"You shouldn't be. And if you want to say nothing then don't. You're the one who's been through all of this suffering. Not him."
She slowly nodded, averting her gaze from mine, as if she was deep in thought. "Hm. You must be right."
Simone stood up from her place to go grab the teapot, before she poured us two cups of tea. She had her back to me. "I'm really happy that you came, though. I've only been absent one day and I felt so alone. The fact that you remembered me and decided to come...this means a lot, so... thank you," she said in a more joyful tone, although I could heard her voice slightly shaking.
My lips stretched into a smile. "That's what friends do. Michelle was supposed to come too, but her mom needed her at the butcher shop."
She turned around, holding both of our cups. "I understand. But shall we talk about something else ? I'm tired of crying," she let out a light chuckle and I mirrored her.
"Gladly."
"So... tell me," Simone sat back and handed me my cup. "Which boy sing the most beautifully ?"
"Laubrac," I replied without hesitation.
She clapped her hands. "God, I knew it !"
***
The last week of school before the Christmas holidays had passed so fast. In the blink of an eye, we were Friday and I was sat on a bench in the middle of the empty courtyard, my head resting on Jean's shoulder, who was waiting for my detention to begin with me since I didn't wanted to stay alone.
"I don't wanna go," I whined like a child. "Look at that, everyone is home and we're still here."
"To be honest, I'm still trying to understand why you tried to steal these frogs," Jean said.
"To win private lessons with Annick, for what else ?" I said sarcastically and that made him chuckle. "Seriously, Jean, I've already told you it was because Michelle—"
"Michelle was afraid and she didn't wanted to get a zero, yeah, but still. Couldn't she do it herself ?"
I wonder what face he would make if he knew that I was actually the one who dragged her into that mascarade.
Lying wasn't good but I couldn't tell him that Michelle didn't really cared about the frogs and that I was only jealous that he had found some interest in Annick... that would be embarrassing.
"What am I even going to do ?"
"Work, essentially," Jean replied and I sighed loudly. "But it's not going to be that bad. And Joseph will be there too," he added with a chuckle.
I rolled my eyes. "That's even worse."
I didn't wanted to go to detention mostly because of that. I didn't cared if I was on holidays an hour after everyone else. I just didn't wanted to be alone with him.
Think about an answer for my question, because I'm really not going to give up on that subject, Rose.
Since days now, Descamps' words were playing in my mind nonstop. I've been feeling so anxious all week, apprehending this moment and thinking about the perfect answer, the one that will finally shut him up... but now that it was finally time for it, I still didn't have any answers to provide him.
What could I say ? Well, Antoine is the ex boyfriend of my old best friend. I know, he's way more older than us but he was making her feel special and... me too, in a certain way.
No way.
It's the sound of the bell that pulled me out of my thoughts, and I sighed, knowing that it was time for a very long hour.
I straightened myself up and looked at Jean. "You'll wait for me ?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "My dad needs me for something..."
My lips pursed into a thin line. "Traitor."
"Come on Rosie, take this as an opportunity to be nice with him," Jean said, motioning his head towards something behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw Descamps lazily dragging his feet towards the hall's entrance.
"Right."
***
"I'll ask you to put your bags at the entrance of the classroom. We wouldn't want for any of you to cheat, right ?"
I frowned. "Cheat ? Is that a detention or a test ?"
After Jean had left, I eventually got into the hall and climbed the stairs lazily to go to my detention, not without wandering a bit in the corridors, in order to lose a few minutes... until I've finally decided to actually go to the detention.
But my attempt to waste time was useless, because when I arrived at the class where I've been told we were going to spend the hour in, I've only found Descamps leaned against the wall and Camille desperately trying to unlock the door, until he noticed that they gave him the wrong key.
So we ended up in some random class, chosen by Bellanger himself. And here we were, asked to put our bags in front of the door as if we were going to pass the bachot itself.
"Well, it's a detention and a test," Camille said. "Did you thought that you would just sit there for an hour and then go home ? You have to work, Miss."
"But I already have some homework I could do—"
Camille sighed. "Listen, these are Bellanger's instructions and I just follow the instructions. So put your bag here and go to your sit."
With a sigh, I threw my bag on the ground next to the door, before I walked up to the back of the classroom and sat at the furthest desk.
"This is for you, Marcelin said it was a Christmas gift in advance," he said as he handed me a paper and I instantly knew my grade will be zero when I saw the philosophy text written on it.
"And this is for you, Joseph." Camille dropped a paper on Descamps' desk, who was playing with his lighter. "And put that away, if you don't want me to confiscate it."
To my surprise, he obeyed without any protests and Camille went to sat at the teacher's desk. "You may now start. And if you have any questions... don't ask me."
I looked down at my text and started thinking about a way to answer the question that was asked upon it, but I've never been really good at philosophy. I loved to read and all, but not that type of reading. I've always liked weird stuff about magic and great, impossible love story, clearly not something Sartre would write...
I much preferred math over any literary subject, but I suppose that was the reason they didn't gave me exercises instead of this... text. Philosophy was like a completely different language to me and this hour of detention seemed to aim only torture.
So I just started to draw on my answer sheet, since I have nothing better to do.
"I'm going to get myself a coffee," Camille said after a while. "I'll be right back, and I don't want anything going on while I'm gone."
He let the door open behind him when he left the class and I just looked down at my sketch, praying silently for this hour to end quickly.
"Finally," I heard Descamps mutter and I slightly turned my head to look at him. He stretched himself on his chair, arms up, and as his shirt rose from the effort, I accidentally saw a glimpse of his abs.
"Like what you see ?" he taunted with a smirk when our eyes crossed.
My gaze immediately returned to my text. "There's nothing to look at anyway," I said sarcastically and he laughed.
"Someone is still upset about last time... You know, that wasn't mean to be offensive. I just think you have small—"
"Stop talking," I cut him off. "I'm trying to focus."
"Come on, we both know you're not writing anything," he said but I ignored him.
I heard the sound of his lighter, which I chose to ignore too despite my curiosity, and then the smell of cigarette filled the air and I had no choice but to look at what he was doing.
"You're not allowed to do that !" I snapped when I saw him, feet propped up on his desk and a cigarette stuck between his lips.
The smoke was starting to invade the whole space, making me cough, which Descamps didn't seemed to really mind. He gave me a weird look, as if I've just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.
He raised his brows, a move full of disdain for me, before he asked the dreaded question, "So... who's Antoine ?"
I swallowed hard as I stood up from my chair, straightening my skirt before I moved to open the window next to me, breathing deeply into the fresh air.
"I told you I wasn't going to give up on that subject," he added.
"And I told you to mind your own business," I replied, my back still facing him.
"Is he your ex boyfriend ? Someone you used to sleep with ?" he said and I winced.
Just thinking about having sex with Antoine made me want to vomit my guts.
And yet, Antoine looked so nice and handsome, that any girl would want to catch his attention, if only for a second. I couldn't blame Descamps to have thought about it.
I remember many of our friends in Georges Sand, telling me that I was so lucky to be around him, and that Louise was even more lucky to be his girlfriend. He embodied that fantasy we all had, of a man who knows what he wants and that saw something special in us, teenage girls.
"Is Antoine going to pick you up tonight, Loui—"
"Amandine, would you please shut up ? I'm trying to focus on my makeup and your voice is bothering me !" Louise snapped, before she looked at her mirror again to apply lipstick. "Rose, are you ready ?!"
"Yep," I said in response, coming out of our shared bathroom.
"You're sure there's no one watching the dorm tonight ?"
I shrugged as I took a look at myself in the mirror. "I don't know, some girl told me that a boy told her that. Must be true. Hey, my hair looks a bit—"
"Please," Louise cut me off. "We're already late and your hair looks perfectly good, as always. Shall we go ?" she asked me and I nodded, putting on a long coat to hide my naked legs.
"Remember, Amandine, we'll be back at seven in the morning. Stay awake," Louise ordered and Amandine only nodded obediently.
"Yes..."
Every girls used to be jealous of us way before Louise started to date Antoine, though. Georges Sand wasn't really a school for girls only. The school was separated in two sections : one for each gender. During the day, we were under our professors' watch, but as soon as the night would come, boys and girls would cross the very forbidden to approach wire mesh that separated them.
Despite the fact that our dorm was carefully watched, Louise and I always managed to sneak out outside to go party. And that's how she met Antoine... at a party we shouldn't have attended.
"Rose." Descamps' voice brought me back to earth.
"Why do you care ?" I asked, turning around to face him. "I've never slept with that guy, if that's your only question. Now, if you could please forget about it—"
"Fine, then who's Louise ?"
"Oh my god," I mumbled to myself. "Since it's time for questions, who's Paul then ?" I returned to my sit, careful to avoid his piercing gaze by looking at the board before me.
"I asked first," Descamps said.
I scoffed. "Sorry, but that's not how things work."
"How does it work then ? Tell me," he insisted. "Maybe I'm a little too childish to understand, compared to a certain—"
My eyes darted to him. "People just mind their own business and don't ask intrusive questions."
"Intrusive ?" he repeated as he returned to a normal sitting position. "So you were actually sleeping with that guy ?"
"The obsession you have for my sex life is very disturbing, Descamps," I smirked up at him as I turned on my chair to face him.
He mirrored me. "Two questions and you already call me obsessed ? You think highly of yourself, Delaunay..."
We were now facing each other. He had a determined look in his eye, the look of someone who was seeking for answers and will inevitably finds them if we keep up this way.
I have to distract him. At least until the other asshole comes back from his coffee break.
"You know I haven't forgotten what you did to me. The bite," I specified when he frowned. "It hurts. I can't even sleep on my left side, now. Because of you."
"Are you saying you think about me in bed ?" he said with a chuckle.
I rolled my eyes. "Even if that was the case, it would be nothing but insults."
He shrugged lazily. "Well, I like when it's dirty too—"
"Shut up !" I yelled. "God, did your mom never taught you how to speak to girls properly ?"
If I didn't stir up his pity, maybe I'll stir up his anger. He must be used to my provocations now... Just like I got used to his.
"Oh come on," he laughed softly, crashing his cigarette's end on his desk. "You're the one who's being filthy here. I said you're thinking about me, not... whatever you thought about."
"I..."
Tell him this isn't true for god's sake. Insult him, do something !
But I felt myself blush so hard that I quickly turned my head to the window next to me, suddenly very interested with the nature outside. I heard some noise in the classroom, a chair being pushed and the sound of footsteps coming, but I didn't averted my eyes from the window, until I heard Descamps sit next to me, the smell of his cologne starting to invade my senses.
I unconsciously closed my eyes.
He smell so good.
"Isn't it exhausting ?" he cooed in my ear and for some reason, I didn't pushed him away. "To keep the facade in front of everyone. To be so nice and polite and just perfect. You're so much more than that, aren't you ?" Descamps asked me with a deep voice.
I stayed mute and his hand slowly moved away some of my hair that were on my side, leaving my neck and collarbone in display for him.
"Get your hands off me," I said in a low voice, making him scoff.
"Tell me, Delaunay, have you never thought about it ? Me and you," he added and my eyes fluttered open.
"Never and I would never," I replied with a shaky voice.
"Liar," he chuckled in my ear, and I felt like the sound was just reverberating throughout all of my body. "I've thought about it," he confessed, his hot breath brushing against my skin.
My nails sank into my thigh. "You're being indecent."
"And I'm sure you love it. Come on, don't be shy now, I want to see you."
Descamps grabbed my chin to make me look at him and he smirked proudly when our gazes met, while I felt exposed. He must have notice how red my cheeks have become and how speechless I was. God, this is exactly what I dreaded.
I felt powerless in front of him.
He finally let go of my chin and I slightly moved backwards, although there wasn't that much space for me to escape him.
"Whatever games you're playing Descamps, you can stop it—" I cut myself off when I looked down at his hands. "That's—"
"May I ?" he asked gently, holding my ring between his fingers.
I scoffed. "Definitely not—"
But Descamps quickly grabbed my left hand before I could blink an eye. "Thank you."
I tried to pulled my hand out of his grip but as always, it was impossible. Descamps pressed my hand into his in a harder way than usual and I immediately stopped moving, a small whimper of pain coming out of my lips.
"There you go," he cooed, sliding the jewel on my ring finger.
I felt myself blush again, because I never wear my ring on my left hand, it's usually on the middle finger of my right hand.
That's all it takes for you to blush ? He just mistaken himself, you fool.
"I don't wore it there," I said as I brought my hand to take it off, but he stopped me by catching my wrist.
"Trust me, it's way more better now."
I chuckled nervously when I noticed how close he just got. "W-What do you want, Descamps ? This isn't funny, really."
He was way too close. My head was spinning because of his perfume and although it wasn't the first time, the feeling of his hand holding my wrist felt suddenly a bit too intimate for me.
"What do I want ?" he repeated slowly, his eye falling on my lips.
Oh God.
His face was just a few inches away from mine. If I just tilted my head a little bit more, our lips would—
He suddenly leaned back and started laughing. "You're all flustered Delaunay, did I do anything special ?"
The son of a bitch.
"You didn't expected a kiss, did you ?" Descamps taunted and I felt a twinge of shame in my heart.
"N-No," I stuttered out and he laughed even more.
"So that's all it takes ? A bit of teasing and you get all nervous... Come on, don't be mad," he said when I frowned at him. "That's cute."
He was right, what did I expected ? I certainly did not wanted to kiss Descamps, I couldn't stand being around him so let alone kiss him !
He was just... mesmerising in his own way. But not in a good one. He was like these creatures I've heard about in some Greek legends ; rotten from the inside, but young and beautiful from the outside, so charming, so... tempting. Like a forbidden fruit.
It was just a moment of weakness. Nothing more.
"Shut up," I muttered, feeling my cheeks burn, averting my gaze from his. And yet I couldn't help but look in his direction when I heard him laugh again.
I couldn't let him mock me like that, could I ?
"Have you ever been around a guy before or— Oh—"
"What did you just say ?" I asked, pulling up the fabric of my skirt to grind my naked leg against his clothed one.
An old trick I've saw in the movies. I didn't know if it was a real thing or just something people would do in the movies but... given the way he immediately stopped laughing and just stared at me, I suppose it was working its effect ?
That's cute, his words replayed in my mind like a mockery. It reminded me of the other day when Jean said I was innocent. We have the same age and yet these two acted as if they were ten years older than me ! I didn't knew a lot of things about love and seduction and... sex, but I wasn't that clueless.
Descamps' eye had turned a shade way more darker and I unconsciously brought my face closer to his again, to analyse every single reaction he'd had. After all, it was an experiment for me too.
"Rose," Descamps said, his voice slightly trembling. "I..."
"What is it Descamps ? You look all flustered, did I do anything special ?" I asked with a sufficient smile, moving the tip of my shoe under the hem of his pants, slightly pulling it up.
Without breaking eye contact, I put my hand on his thigh, feeling way more bolder than usual. His lips parted in surprise and all of my attention was focused on them now.
I wonder how it would feel. Kissing him.
I've seen him at many times talking with girls in the courtyard, making them laugh, playfully wrapping his arm around their shoulders... that's all I've witnessed but... he seemed to know how to handle women... God, I shouldn't even think about it.
Descamps suddenly wrapped his hand around my ankle.
I startled with surprise. "W-What are you doing ?"
"That's enough," he said dryly. "You can stop it."
I frowned. Did I upset him ? "I—"
"Joseph ? Delaunay ? What are you two doing ?" Camille suddenly showed up and Descamps immediately let go of my ankle.
I internally thanked God that everything happened under the desk, because I didn't knew if I could have dealt with Camille's questions...
"Go back to your sit ! Why is the window open ? it's freezing outside !" He stopped himself to smell the air like some sort of dog. "And why am I smelling cigarette ?"
***
Descamps was the first to leave when the bell rang. He hadn't even bothered to give back his answer sheet to Camille and just grabbed his bag before he fled.
I, from my part, took all of my sweet time. I pushed up my chair against my desk, did the same with Descamps', and gave back my answer sheet to Camille. I even asked him questions about philosophy, which he of course didn't knew the answers to, claiming that he wasn't Marcelin, before I took my bag and finally left the classroom.
Why ? Because I didn't wanted to run into him as soon as I would exit the school. I couldn't face him after what I've just done. At least not now. I needed to waste a bit of time.
And I was right to do so, because when I came out of the building, there was no Descamps in sight.
And he won't be in my sight for the next two weeks, now. Thank Goodness.
But it's when I came back to my house, all happy and excited about the holidays, that I noticed something weird with my bag. It was slightly... different. The colour was a bit more clearer than usual.
With a frown, I opened it, and my suspicions were confirmed. This wasn't my bag. Nor my notebooks, or my pencil case... a shiny metallic object tucked at the bottom of the bag caught my attention, though.
I slipped my hand inside and grabbed the item, cold and hard against my skin and pulled it out of the bag, careful to not damage it.
JOSEPH DESCAMPS.
And this certainly wasn't my cigarette case.
"Shit," I mumbled, closing his bag and opening the front door again. "Mom ! I forgot something at school ! I'll be right back !"
____________
Lately thinking about an AU where Joseph does not lose his eye and has to take off his glasses whenever he kiss someone... 😮💨
This chapter was supposed to be longer but I cut it in two, I was afraid it would be too long lol. The Joseph's part will be published as soon as possible !! hope you liked that one !! 💕