Manchote

Chapter One

"Corinne? Corinne! Wake up, petite étoile, I made you breakfast."

I growed, curling back into the warm blankets before reluctantly opening my eyes to see the face of my grandmother staring back at me, a warm smile lifting the corners of her eyes.

"My favorite?" I asked, voice groggy.

"Buttered toast and a banana smoothie?"

I smiled. Mémé knew me too well.

"Be ready soon. I need your help unpacking books. They were just delivered." Mémé headed for the doorway. Before she disappeared into the hallway, however, she stopped, and turned to look at me. "I know you're upset about leaving home, Corinne, but think of this as a fresh start. You can make new friends, learn new things. You always wanted to visit Paris with me when you were younger. Think of this as... an extended vacation."

I sighed. Mémé was right, but it didn't change the fact that I'd left my entire life behind in America. My house, my friends– the guy I liked.I never even got the chance to confess how I felt about him before I got whisked off to Paris, and now that he's thousands of miles away.... It just doesn't seem fair. I push the thought away and smile. "You're right, Mémé. A fresh start."

"Oui. Un nouveau départ."

I frowned as she left. I knew she was just repeating what I said, but I really needed to work on my French if I was going to survive in Paris.

------

Even on the other side of the globe, in a completely different building, Mémé's bookstore still smelled the same. It was as if she carried the scent of lemongrass, soap, and aged paper with her to every building she inhabited. It felt good. Familiar. A constant amidst the sudden changes.

I exhaled slowly as I nibbled on my toast. Changes. It seemed like all that was happening lately was change. Normally, it's not that hard to convince myself that change can be good, but here, hours of air travel away from my bed, I don't have the motivation.

"I'm going out to pick up a new shipment of books for the new store. Do you want me to pick up anything on the way home? I know a wonderful bakery not far from here."

I looked up from my half-eaten toast to see Mémé grabbing her crossbody purse off the counter. Her hair was tied nicely into an updo, and she'd changed clothes. It was almost surprising how stylish she could be.

"No, I'm fine," I said, swallowing my toast. "I'm just going to start unpacking and organizing my room."

"Okay, darling. À bientôt!"

As soon as she left, I finished my breakfast and moved myself to the back of the store, climbing the stairs to get to my room. Three hours later, I was still sorting boxes. I had never realized how much stuff I had accumulated over my life until I had to pack and unpack all of it.

I was just about to call it quits and take a break when movement flashed across the window from outside. There was a second of silence. Suddenly, an ear splitting scream. The glass shattered, scattering in around me as I clamped my hands to my ears. My heart hammered away in my chest, and the only thing I could think to do was hide, pulling myself across the glass-littered floor until I was cowering under my bed. My ears were ringing. I heard people shouting in French, but they were speaking too fast for me to understand.

Two people landed in my room. I had no idea where they came from. I tried not to move, or breath, or make any kind of sound, instead focusing on their feet from the strip of space between my bed and the floor. They had a quick conversation with each other. I caught a few words I recognized: the word for house, and empty, and... safe? Were they talking about my house?