"Thus With a Kiss, I Die."

|Chapter 1

(From Evangeline's Perspective)

I walked into Madame Barreau's class, journal in one hand, and a water bottle in the other. It was October 1st, officially one month since the semester began, and I was already exhausted.

Excited, of course, but exhausted.

It was my fifth year at the Academy, so I was extremely comfortable within its surroundings. I had basically grown up here.

I walked over to Henry and Isabelle, my best friends. We had all been here since year seven and were immediately chuffed with each other. "Good evening sunshines," I said, taking a seat at my usual desk. 

"Good evening," Isabelle exclaimed, overly happy for it to be half-past five in the evening. I looked to Henry, who was smiling wide. 

"What's the matter with you two?"

"Haven't you heard? We're supposed to be getting a new student. She's in our year." 

"A new student? We're already a month into the school year," I said, questioning whether her speech was facts. 

"I'm sure of it. I overheard the headmaster talking to Madame Barreau about it. She was a bit hesitant, but the headmaster seemed certain."

I nodded. "I suppose we'll find out soon enough."

 Madame Barreau, the head of English Literature walked in then and clapped her hands. She was an older woman, with coal hair that always sat on the top of her head, and short-rimmed black glasses.

 In her day, she was a prima ballerina, with an extremely successful career, but over time, her muscles got weaker, and her bones more brittle. I've always been curious as to how she became a literary professor.                                                                                    

With a single clap of her hands, the class became quiet and everyone sat up straight at their desks.

"Good Evening class," she began, an echo of 'Good Evening Madame Barreau' following. "Today we have a new student joining us." She said it with pure annoyance as if having a new student was agony. 

"Please welcome Francine Atkin." The class stayed silent and intrigued as the girl walked in. She smiled a short smile, fake and unmeaningful. She was tall, and supermodel thin. Frail might be the better word for it.

"Do we have a spot for Francine?"

For whatever reason, I raised my hand and pointed to the small desk next to me. I swiftly shifted to make it look like there was more room, and muttered a "scoot over" to Henry beside me.

"Ah, perfect. Thank you, Miss Winchester." I nodded and smiled. She then turned to face the rest of the class as Henry and I tried to discreetly move our desks over just a bit more.

Francine walked over and sat next to me, trying her hardest not to make eye contact. 

Her coffee hair fell long around her shoulders, seeming to hide her. She wore a simple gold necklace that rested at the center of her throat. I tried to get a better look and found a dainty dark green key attached to the chain.

Her hair was thick and shiny. She was pale, with a hint of rosiness in her cheeks, and blood-red bitten lips, that seemed to have the cracked English winter effect on them.

 She finally looked up at me, and I found myself immersed in her eyes. Deep emeralds, glossed over and sparkling.

 I opened my mouth to say something, but shut it, realizing that I had been staring at her all that time. I quickly diverted my gaze, knowing clear as day that I had been extremely obvious. The class flew by, mainly because I found myself extremely distracted by "Francine Atkin".