Capítulo 32: Chapter Thirty-Two
Maria felt the dread grow heavier in her stomach with each step towards Raphael's house. It was lunchtime, and the streets bustled with people on strolls and others cleaning up after Fete de Paris. Despite the festivities being done, flags and posters still littered the streets everywhere.
The apartment appeared the same as yesterday. The front yard and exterior untouched, the windows concealed by the curtains. It took more willpower then she anticipated for her to open the picket gate. It seemed heavier against her hands as she pushed it and walked down the path. Her other hand looped around the pendent, gripping the locket out of nervousness.
She lifted her hand and made five hallow knocks. She waited for a moment, but no one approached the door. She knocked again, firmer this time, but no one responded.
Maria hopped off the front porch and into the bushes as she attempted to look through the window and check to see if any are unlocked. Her fingers stung from her fails tries.
She backed away from the bushes, brushing away the leaves and sticks caught in her skirt. She looked to the second story windows, no sign of life found. Maria had ventured to the backyard and knocked on the backdoor to the kitchen. And when no one answered she attempted to open it; locked.
She returned to the front door and knocked, becoming slightly annoyed.
"Raphael!" she called, "Raphael, please don't ignore me!" She peeked through the lock in the door, but only saw black. All of her attempts to gain his attention was in vain; the house stayed silent.
"Vous cherchez, Raphael?" someone asked.
Startled by the small yet sudden voice, Maria saw a girl immediately next door, perhaps fourteen. She leant on the balcony frame of her own apartment, a book resting by her elbows.
"I'm sorry, pardon?"
"Either you're looking for Raphael, or you're a truly terrible burglar." A french accent tinged the girl's voice.
Maria forced a smile at her joke. "I am looking for Raphael, actually. Do you know where he is?"
She shrugged, "Non. I don't live here. I'm visiting my Grandpa, we've had tea once or twice. Nice guy."
Maria nodded, looking back to the building. "He isn't home?"
"He left early in the morning," she informed, "Perhaps at seven. He seemed agitated, is he okay?"
"I certainly hope so…" Maria mumbled.
She thanked the French girl and walked away from the house. At first, she walked aimlessly, unsure where to go in search for Raphael. Many of the shops she passed were cleaning their store windows of Fete de Paris, the streets were still littered with advertisements as vehicles, and horse carriages ran over them.
Maria started passing some cafés, most brimming with customers drinking espressos and munching of afternoon cakes. She overheard snippets of conversations on the way past, one catching her attention.
A group of four women sat outside, each drinking tea, sharing biscuits and wearing absurdly large hats with matching outrageous dresses. They were discussing their children. At first, it was about Erica's achievements in Finishing School and Abel's success in his soccer match.
"We'd best finish our tea ladies." A woman stated. "I must go pick up my daughter from school at three. I absolutely hate to be late."
This final sentence halted Maria. Sam was friends with Raphael, or at least may know where he hangs out. She remembered Anita asking him about how school was and was reminded that the café they had first all met up at was across from a field connected to a school. Sam may be getting out of school.
This realisation directed her towards the small café. She had recalled where the strange artist was sitting on the water, remembering their strange interpretation of the Eiffel Tower. Le petit café with its simple café set up and quaint menu design where Maria had first seen Sam was busy with brunching customers. Expectantly, Maria didn't see Sam at the café.
Across the road, she saw a large field of grass made for soccer games and general playing. It wasn't as beautiful as a park. Maria saw a school on the opposite side of the grass. She scanned the area for a public clock, eventually finding one inside one of the cafés reading 3:20. School had been dismissed twenty minutes ago.
It was a cold afternoon. Maria rubbed her arms as she approached the soccer field towards some boys all dressed in similar attire; brown shorts, white shirts and a green tie, a feature all four of the boys allowed to hang from their necks loosely. She saw their matching brown coats hanging on the branches of a nearby tree as she spotted the emblem of an academy she couldn't read from a distance.
Maria steeled herself and approached the soccer game, seconds later the ball had been kicked towards her, hitting her chest and knocking her over. In shock, she rested the ball in her lap and coughed, resting a hand on her chest and pulling out the pendant to make sure it was okay. The four boys, ranging from ages twelve to fourteen, rushed over to assist her, the young boy who had kicked the ball almost in tears.
"Je suis tellement Désolé! S'll vous plaît ne dites pas à ma mère!" he pleaded.
It took Maria a moment to translate that mentally before assuring she wouldn't tell on him for the accident. One of the older boys helped her to her feet; she still held the soccer ball. Still partially winded, she spoke with short breaths.
"I'm looking for someone," she said, "A student named Sam? I'm under the impression he goes to that school over there." She pointed to the academic building across the road, the gates still opened with children trickling out with their parents.
One boy, likely the eldest spoke, "You just missed Sam. We were playing soccer only five minutes ago," he informed, "Pascal over there got absolutely annihilated."
The little boy who had miskicked the ball received countless playful nudges by all his friends. He was blushing profusely though. "Even in a skirt, Sam managed to beat you."
Skirt?
"Did you see which way they went then? I must talk to Sam."
"Went that way, likely home," the older boy pointed down the next street, "Lives down Ava Road. Just head that way, and you should catch up to 'em."
"Kinda hard to miss," Pascal jibed.
This comment caused an uproar of laughter amongst the boys, which confused Maria as it died down. "Got tired of waiting around for their Dad, so Sam decided to walk home," another boy informed.
"I see," Maria looked to the way they had pointed out and thanked them. She dropped the ball down and tapped it towards one of the boys, who gladly continued playing their game.
Maria wanted to wash her hands, the ball and the grounds were grubby with mud, wet enough to stick but dry enough to leave a smudge. Looking at her chest, she noticed the ball had dirtied her dress. She grunted in annoyance, but lost interest, wiping her hands on her chest to get the grime off.
As she ventured down the street towards Ava Road, women who passed her stared, some horrified at her dress, while men gave her a dismissive look of disappointment. She rolled her eyes, recalling back in her home town how people would make jokes about the grittiness of some of the children's clothes. In a small town surrounded by dirt, horses and other farm animals, clean clothes would gain these types of looks.
The streets towards Ava Road were filled with display windows for boutiques, exhibiting dresses, hats, accessories and jewellery. Every second window caught her attention, prompting her to stop and admire whatever was displayed.
The street she was on was very quiet, two couples with arms looped walked and observed windows, one even going into a jewellery shop, and a girl at the end of the street wearing pink.
Maria's eyes locked onto the girl at the end of the street. She was small and dressed in an extravagant dress, but like her black boots. Maria could see, the hem of her skirt was stained with mud. Her lower half contrasted her upper half greatly. While her skirt and shoes were unclean, the rosy patterns across her chest were pristine and her short blonde hair, while short, was clean and decorated by a little hairpin. She was running her white laced gloved hand across the window she passed, eyeing its contents.
"Sam?"
The name caught the girl's attention, startled upon seeing Maria. She withdrew her hand from the window and adjusted her posture, "Hello, Maria."
Maria approached, trying and failing to remove the shock from her face. But the closer she got, the more she realised it was Sam and that Sam was a girl. "You're wearing a dress…"
Sam gave a nervous laugh as she darted her eyes around the street.
"Uhh, yeah. You got me; this is what I have to wear to school." She rubbed the back of her head, her awkward smile still planted on her face. It quickly dropped, "Are you okay? You look pale?"
Maria shook her head as she rubbed her eyes to take her in again. "I'm sorry, a lot is going on today," she confessed, "But in truth, I thought you were a boy."
Sam's face blushed, spreading throughout her features until she was as red as a cherry. "Well I'm not…" she grumbled as she covered her face, "It's just easier to run around in pants."
"Your name is Sam…"
"It's short for Samantha, stop staring!" Sam turned her back on Maria to hide her embarrassment.
Maria chuckled at her own naivety. "I feel a bit silly right now," she admitted, "I don't mean to embarrass you. You look pretty." She reached a hand out to Samantha and turned her back around. "I've been looking for you, I wanted to talk to you."
Sam sighed through her teeth, still self-conscious as she rubbed her arms. Maria looked to the window Sam was looking at and smirked, it was a display for sweets including macrons, cakes and different tea brands. It was the only cake shop on the whole street full of fashion stores.
"What about?" Sam asked, her self-loathing passing as she folded her arms.
"Raphael."
Samantha paused and nodded, "Fine." She scooped up a book bag Maria hadn't seen leaning against the building, "But can I go home and change? You can stay for tea if you'd like."
Unsure at first, Maria nodded, "Sounds lovely."
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