𝑀𝒾𝓍𝑒𝒹 𝒰𝓅 | Joseph Descamps x Michele Magnan

The First Day

I heard a gentle knock on my door.

 "Wake up, Michèle. It's your first day."

I was already awake. I hadn't slept all night. I rolled out of bed and began to brush out the knots in my hair. 

It was my first day at Voltaire High. In fact, it was every girl of my age's first day at Voltaire High. It had been decided over the summer that they would allow girls to attend school. My older brother had been attending school since he was young, but all of my education came second-hand from him or through my reading. I usually spent most of my days helping out my parents by working in their boucherie and learning to cook from my mother, but I most looked forward to when Jean-Pierre brought some of his friends over. Because only older women came into the shop, I didn't really know any girls around my age (let alone boys my age). Sometimes I would linger around our house where they were just so I could be around them. They were all seniors this year, and much older than I was. 

I envied the amount of freedom he had. He could go anywhere, talk to anyone, learn anything. All I had was my mother and a few books I could read while in between customers. 

But now it would be different. I was free. 

I neatly plaited my hair and tied the ends up with a ribbon to match the outfit I had planned last night. My uncle, the dean, said he didn't know what to tell the parents of the other girls when asked about their expected attire, but he said to look neat and appropriate. I had chosen a mint sweater to wear over a simple white dress. Mom said the color of the sweater brought out the blues in my eyes. 

"We already have customers! Michèle, come help."

I helped my dad set up shop for the day and cleaned myself up as quickly as possible to leave with Jean-Pierre. My mom stiffened his tie and commented on how grown up he looked and how he was graduating this year. He turned to me and motioned for us to leave. 

As I walked out the door, my mom wished us good luck on our first day. I smiled at her and gripped the handle of my book bag tightly. I wasn't sure what to expect. 

"I hope your friends are nice." I said, turning to Jean-Pierre. 

He shot me a cold look. "As of right now, we don't know each other. You are not my sister, got it?"

"What?" I laughed. 

He said nothing, but quickened his pace so he wouldn't be seen walking next to me. I rolled my eyes. Typical. 

As I walked up to the tall stone gates, I saw masses of boys forming close to the sides of the entrance. The closer I got, the more people turned to stare. Just what I needed. The courtyard fell completely silent as I made my way toward the school. I tried to avoid eye contact, but couldn't avoid hearing the snickers and comments they made as I walked by. 

"The butcher's daughter."

"She's cute."

"Not bad."

I glanced over at a group of boys lounging on a bench off to the side. They stared at me curiously, with mischievous smiles growing wider on their faces. I caught the eye of one of the guys--the tall, dark, and handsome type. 

I walked up to the front doors and looked around to see if any other girls had arrived. When I searched for my name on the second-year homeroom sheet, I heard someone shuffle up next to me. 

"There aren't even 20 of us," said a sweet dark-haired girl. 

"Oh," I sighed, relieved. "I thought I was the only girl."

"I waited for you to arrive." She laughed. "I'm Simone."

"Michèle."

We turned back to look at the gates just when a large group of girls arrived. Still, the boys corralled around the entrance and made a spectacle of their arrival.