"So, who can tell me the exact date of the battle of marathon?" Mrs Giraude asks, glancing down at all of us from her desk. Felbec, of course, raises his hand but just not as quickly as someone else. To my surprise, the hand that flew up in the air was, descamps'. I don't seem to be the only surprised one because everyone, including Mrs. Giraude, gives him a astonished look. "Mr. Descamps?"calls the professor, looking curiously at the boy once he stands up.
I look at felbec who's anticipating the answer and probably hoping that it's wrong, so he can shoot his shot. That's also what I assume it's going to be because in the few days that I've known him he hasn't shown any signs of intelligence. Oh well, who knows.
"490 BC." descamps says plainly, without adding anything else. His voice steady and smooth and to me it seems like he wants to look confident, but really isn't. I see an ounce of uncertainty and nervousness as he swallows, his adams apple visibly shoving his saliva down, so there must be something bigger going on that I don't know about. "Congratulations Mr. Descamps...uhm, can you tell me where you found that date?" Mrs. Sympathy, that's how Simone, Michele and I have named her, seems to have noticed it too. Had I been her, I would've asked the same question. I mean come on! Nobody found out...but he did? Descamps glances over at Pichon in the speed of an eye blink, but not fast enough for me to not notice. His hands meet one another behind his back as he answers.
"In the uh, textbook." Wrong answer. If you're a bad liar might as well prepare yourself multiple excuses for multiple scenarios once you do lie. "Really? Surprising. The Persian Wars cannot be found in the textbook." I turn my head back again to descamps, who's starting to fidget with his hands. "Maybe it was another book. I don't remember, madame..." Without any hesitation, Mrs. Giraude claps back. "Already? If you've already forgotten something that happened today, how will you remember anything to get your diploma?" The boy looks down and swallows again, this time hardly.
"I gave him the date."Pichon stands up and interrupts the awkward conversation. Everyone turns their heads to look at him. I knew it. "I'm listening, Pichon." The boy shyly tells the class how he found the date and why he gave it to descamps and even though we all now he didn't find that date on his own, Mrs. Giraude let's it slide and names Pichon class leader. I look at descamps, who's already looking at me and give him a devious smile, at which he clenches his jaw and looks away.
At the end of the class, I pack all my stuff and walk out of school, only to be met with a boy whom my thoughts have lingered a little too long on. "Jean Pierre, hey..."I smile at him, as he takes out and lights up a cigarette. "I see you take your time packing your things. It feels like I've been waiting for you for ages."he laughs as he blows out the smoke. My lips turn into an upside down smile as I tuck a strand of hair back behind my ear.
"I know, I enjoy taking my time...but did you want to talk to me about something?" He takes another drag on his cigarette while looking directly at me. "Not really. I just wanted to walk you home..."he says after letting out the cloud of smoke from his lungs. I look at him, feeling a bit strange because truly no boy has ever waited for me to walk me home. Jean Pierre did that not only once, but twice.
"I think I would enjoy some company," I walk to him slowly as he puts his cigarette out on a bin and throws the rest of it in it. "Well, perfect then, right?" I nod softly while I take his arm, and we start to walk together, exchanging a few words here and there. But truly I'm only thinking about Louis and how the hearing went. Just thinking about it makes me nervous, and when Jean Pierre drops me off at my place, and places a gentle kiss on my knuckles, I decide that tonight I'm going over at Louis' because I don't know if I'll be able to sleep without knowing the verdict of that stupid disciplinary hearing.
"Thanks for walking me home. It was very kind of you."I give him a heart felt smile, his green eyes piercing on my skin. "Same time tomorrow?" "My thoughts exactly." he smiles at me and waits for me to get into my house before walking away, the smile still big on his face.
"Goodnight father..."I whisper to my father, who's passed out drunk on the couch of our living room, the one my mother had picked out. When she died, his alcoholism was born. At the start it was one or two bottles every night to cope with the pain but once the realization that he'd never wake up to her beautiful brown eyes looking at him again hit him, the bottles became four.
Then eight, then ten. I walk around the house, collecting all the bottles one by one. Four on the kitchen counter, two in the bedroom and five in the living room, around the couch he's sleeping on.
I turn off the TV and quietly put my coat on. This time I'm not going to sneak out of my window but I'm going out of the front door, because not even a zombie apocalypse could wake him up in this moment. My hand reaches the gelid doorknob and I twist it as quietly as possible, trying not to make a sound. I step out of the house and close the door as silently as I had opened it.
My walks' speed is fast, like all the worries wandering through my mind. If he's out, my head is always going to wrap around the thought that if I had done things differently, this never would've happened. It was just like a domino effect. I talked back to Descamps so he pulled the prank on me and because he did so Louis attacked him. So theoretically, I kind of was the starter of it all.
I stop in my trace as I here someone coughing, as if they're trying to get my attention. My eyes search for the person and, as if the whole expelling situation wasn't stressing enough, there's Descamps, looking at me like he did today in the gym, when I was pleasuring myself thinking nobody was watching.
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