Chương 1: 1
Lena Brand, schedule, second-year geography.
I look at the title of my sheet and sigh, sending a lock of hair flying into my eyes. I've always hated classes and it's not going to get any better this year. Already because the faculty of my little bled is more an extension of my old high school, and then because my friends are no longer there.
The lucky guys decided to take off and were accepted into a private school in town. I tried to follow them but my record was not good enough. Or, more accurately, was not as prestigious as those of the boys. The letter I received last March hurt my ego enormously and I still have trouble getting over it.
But that's normal. The boys, my four best friends, have everything to be hated. They're tall, handsome, smart, and… hated by all the kids around here, all but me. All because when I landed in this hole, they were the first to come and talk to me. When I arrived, I was a stranger to the young people of the village. I didn't know anyone and the little village was like a prison. Everyone knew each other and everyone already had friends and enemies. No need for three newcomers. My mother, my father, and the one and only child of the couple: myself. I don't remember exactly why we met, but from day one, Stevan and I became friends. The others followed.
The others, In this case, are Markel, Sevastian, and Vadim, Seva's younger brother. Names for the less particular but Russian names. Their families, who have always been very close, emigrated to France twenty-five years ago to escape the political system of the time. They had differences with the government and weren't in the leader's good books.
The time to settle down, to find jobs and security, the boys were largely old enough to go to school. Results, five years of differences with the children in their class. Except for Vadim, who is only a year older than me, namely twenty. A very thin gap that does not prevent him from mothering me more than reason.
That's the only information I've been able to glean about their family. Strange as it may seem, despite the four years I've lived with the boys, I don't know much about them. Even though I'm a little upset that I've never been invited to their house, I reassure myself by remembering that they don't invite anyone. They have a large family that is a tad strict around the edges and unfortunately cannot live their life like any good student.
Unsocial by nature, they avoid others as much as possible. So it's them against the rest of the world, a story like that. But in the end, on second thought, their antisocial side does not displease me because it makes me an exception. Their exception. At this idea, I smile like a woodcock. I love them, even if they tend to overwhelm me sometimes. They are the most protective guys I know, with the noblest intentions in the world, but with a pig character adept at defending young women in distress. But I'm not one. And, after many fights with them, they still haven't figured it out and are playing their big brother role.
In short, I don't know a lot about them, except that I can trust them. It ends there, and I guess that's the most important thing. It remains to be seen whether this will be enough to maintain their friendship when I leave this bled for my future studies…
The bell rang suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. I stare at my schedule for a few more seconds then drop it in my bag, a smile on my lips. I know Gwen has taken as many joint classes as possible with me. The year is not looking so bad after all. Gwen Depone. She's one of my only so-called "normal" friends, even if it's not the first adjective that springs to mind when you see my gothic friend, a real fan of Edward and Dracula. No bad pun.
Whispers behind my back suddenly grab my attention and my smile fades. Being friends with living gods isn't just fun. Most of the guys in the village turned their back on me when they learned the identities of my friends and the girls quickly started to break sugar on my back. Suddenly, I was forced to bring out the character of my distant Irish ancestors and to bare my teeth whenever a joke in bad taste presented itself.
- Information to share? I growled, turning around and giving the three girls a dark look.
Their smile fades fairly quickly when they realize who they are dealing with. I wouldn't say I've become the terror of school, but I pride myself on having a big enough mouth to know how to defend myself against what I describe as prepubescent teenage behavior. Let's be clear, given the intellectual level of some, I'm not far from the truth.
In my defense, being very often the turkey of the farce in this damn village, I tend to feel targeted as soon as a joke starts circulating. But the three girls to my left watch me for a moment, their eyes wide and their mouths in a heart shape. Faced with their frightened doe gaze, I realize that I may have misled myself on their account. Devil, on the first day of the year, you're doing great, old lady.4
- There's a new kid in school, one of them finally mutters, lowering her eyes.
A new. In other words, the future new attraction of this year. Marvellous! I may finally be left alone! I grumble a vague excuse for the verbal abuse and walk away from the girls, letting them rant about me in peace. I only have to blame myself. The sprinkler watered in short
I look up from my bag as I take a few steps into the yard, looking for the person who is probably making the headlines of the entire village. Only, with all the young people gathered together, I feel like I'm looking for Charlie and his little red and white cap.
I lend an attentive ear to the group around me and can easily hear the name of the new one. Of course, everyone is talking about it. No wonder, nothing interesting is happening in this bleeding. No small scandal, no murder, or bedtime story in Plouc-les-villes. A boring village where the only dead are those coming out of the retirement home. So, a new youngster… that has something to talk about! Especially since its name is somewhat surprising.
Dmitry Baranov. To believe that all the Russians have decided to come back to the area! A buddy of my friends? It's something to dig into.
But I don't have time to take a shovel and search because a scream makes my head spin. I wince immediately when I notice a wheat-blonde head and ten-foot-long legs running in my direction. I couldn't remember why I didn't want to linger too long in the yard. I have my answer.
Lauren Duchamp. Incidentally the daughter of our very dear mayor and my worst nightmare. Constantly boosted, with a body to damn the gods, and a perfect face, Laurine has arguments that cannot be refused. For all the young people in the village, she's the boss, the star of high school, then today of college and it's something she knows only too well. For me, it's just the leech trying to curry favor with my team of champions. Quit becoming my friend. I'm not hiding it, it boosts my reputation to be Mademoiselle Duchamp's friend. If I had anything to do with my notoriety, I would have already invited him to all my walks with the boys.
But now, I don't care about it like my first shirt and don't hesitate to show it off. Only, the blonde does not stop there and I am ready to grant her the crown of perseverance. Catching so much wind and still staying by my side would probably earn him applause from an informed public. Especially since when I'm pissed off, I can't say that I'm the greatest gift…
- Lena, here you are at last! I missed you too much during the holidays! Is this top new? I like! I needed to tell you what happened two weeks ago, you will not believe it!
She does not take me against her, but only by the arm, and I, poor wandering soul, I let her. Not out of kindness, but rather out of intelligence. Lauriane is known, among other things, for her scandals worthy of the most haughty duchess. His scandals never go unnoticed and everyone dreads them. Me included and I'm not crazy enough to reject it in the middle of the course. I hold on to my life.
So I say nothing and let her tell me about her latest conquest, her mind elsewhere. Watching her wiggle her hips, and run her hands through her hair, I can't help but be jealous of her figure.
I'm not going to complain, I could have been worse. But would it have been too much to ask me to add a few centimeters? With my one-meter sixty, I often find myself in disturbing situations. Like when I take the bus at rush hour to get to town. Absolute horror.
The one thing I love about me is my unruly brown mane. According to my parents, it gives me a Cleopatra side. This a compliment that I haven't always understood, but coming from my mother, an archaeologist by profession, it doesn't surprise me more than that. And then, being compared to one of the most beautiful women in human history cannot displease. I also inherited the golden skin of my mother's family, much to my father's delight. From him, I have, alas, only my bad temper to prove his paternity. That and the passion we share for firearms. Nothing to do with a gangster past, my dear dad has always been on the right side of the law. A former representative of the police, he rocked my childhood with stories of robberies and hefty fines. This is probably what explains my current psychological problems.
- … And so, when I had to leave the Côte d'Azur, I had to leave Thomas and… But wait? Look at this one!
There you go, Thomas is gone! But hey, I'm not surprised since Laurine has a habit of breaking hearts. She changes conquests as quickly as I change my jeans and I've always had good hygiene. This is to say the speed of this large giraffe!4
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