I Hope I'm Better Than You

Chapter 01

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"Magnan, 20."
"Clèment, 19."

"It was so close!" I muttered, squeezing my hand in frustration as we descended the stairs.

Magnan had once again outperformed me in Latin, my stronghold. Latin had been my favorite since I was a child and I had always excelled in it. Losing that top spot to someone else irked me beyond measure.

"It's just one point, Inès; you'll get over it," reassured Antoinette, my cousin.

"One point, yes, but I wish it were two. I could have aimed for a perfect score, yet I fell short by just one point,"  I continued to vent, my cousin only able to furrow her brow in response as we continued our descent.

Meanwhile, Magnan trailed behind us, wearing a smug grin as he listened to my complaints. He enjoyed seeing me lose my composure like this as it only fuels his desire to work harder and further to annoy me.

“Iterum conare iterum,” mocked Magnan in Latin, a quick taunt before dashing out of my sight.

“Prorsus hoc moron faciam! Faciam melius!” I shot back in annoyance, my frustration boiling over.

Antoinette watch the scene unfold before her with a cheeky expression, “You know I can see you two together.”

“Please, no.” I looked at her with an 'are you serious' type of face before adding, “Magnan is far from my type.”

Antoinette's playful grin widened as she pushed further, "Well, yeah, because you like stupid men. You can't really be with smart men because you're afraid they're gonna outsmart you, and that's exactly why I think you and Magnon are perfect for each other."

"Antoinette, I don't want to hear you say that again," I snapped, cutting off any further discussion of the matter.

"Fine, fine. Suit yourself," Antoinette replied with a shrug, "Anyways, how about tonight?"

"I'm sorry, I can't. I have work to do," I apologized.

Antoinette had extended an invitation for a family dinner at their house tonight, but unfortunately, my schedule for the entire week is already set, and I can't make any adjustments to it.

At five in the evening, the small cafe where I worked was bustling with students from Voltaire High, as usual, and Magnan was no exception. He sat at the bar with a drink in hand, engaged in conversation with his peers. Despite being just a few feet away, I couldn't make out their discussion as I wiped down tables nearby. While I had no interest in eavesdropping, I couldn't help feeling annoyed that Magnan chose to spend his time socializing instead of studying and preparing for tomorrow's lesson.

"Hey, Clèment!" called Jean-Pierre, his cheeks slightly reddened from the drinks.

"I didn't hear anything, Magnan," I replied without even bothering to glance in his direction.

"Yes, you did. You responded!" he chuckled. "Have you studied for tomorrow?"

"If only I could study while working. Unfortunately, I have to spend my time cleaning up your mess instead of studying," I retorted.

"I see, I see. I haven't studied yet either," he said, his speech slightly slurred now. "I think I'm gonna go," he announced to his friends as he made his way towards the glass door.

"See you tomorrow, Inès," he paused before leaving.

The cafe had closed its doors, and the once lively atmosphere had given way to an eerie silence. With everyone gone and the late-night bustle replaced by stillness, I was left alone to complete the closing tasks. There was still plenty to clean, and a sense of agitation crept over me as time seemed to slip away. If it reached 10:00, it wouldn't be safe for me to head home alone.

Working hastily, I rushed through my tasks, mopping the floor with little regard for precision. As I moved around the bar area, I noticed something out of place—a notebook resting on one of the bar stools. Its cover was made of real leather, a rarity not easily found in the market. The design was minimalistic, almost as if it had been customized for its owner. Carved into the side was a name:

"Jean-Pierre Magnan," I read aloud.

My heart skipped a beat as I realized whose notebook it was. Magnan's notebook, and in Latin no less.

"Nice writing," I said, allowing a small smile to grace my lips, "even completed," I added as I closed the notebook.

I had been certain that I would return the notebook to Magnan, considering we were just neighbors. However, a thought began to form in my mind. I didn't have time to study Latin, did I? And I was fairly certain my notes weren't as organized as his either.

“Michele, have you seen my notebook?”

Michele, who was studying in the dining room, simply shook her head, indicating she hadn't seen his notebook. Jean-Pierre let out a frustrated huff as he sank down onto the couch behind Michele.

"How's your grades? Is there any progress?" Jean-Pierre attempted to engage his sister in conversation, hoping to distract himself from his ongoing anxiety about his lost notebook.

"Well, it's a good thing you're studying," Jean-Pierre remarked, waiting for his sister to reciprocate the conversation, yet she chose to remain silent.

Before he could prompt her to speak again, his father called out for him. "Jean-Pierre, someone's here for you."

"Who could it be?" Jean-Pierre muttered under his breath, shifting towards the main door where his father and his guest awaited.

There stood Inès Clèment, his academic rival and most favorite person to annoy. Still dressed in her working uniform, it was clear that she had just finished her shift. She held a familiar object in her hand. It was Jean-Pierre's missing notebook.

As if aware of his scrutiny, Inès held up the notebook and spoke, "You left this at the cafe," she said, a smile playing on her lips, though the expression on Jean-Pierre's face indicated otherwise.

“The cafe?” Jean-Pierre's father repeated with an unamused tone.

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