Crossing the line

A f... mess

A month later, late November.

Tristan observed Alain's half class as they took in, stoically, the dressing down of the year. The French teacher had dragged him from the staff room like a dragon about to breathe fire, grumbling about irresponsible students. Surprised by his vehemence, he had listened as Alain filled him in on the situation. It was weird; of all his classes, he never would have guessed that his biology students would do such a thing. So he waited, observing their expression as his colleague rambled about what he had heard from the main supervisor. Tales of harassment and fights, of humiliation and ragging.

Patiently, the group – French and geography sessions were done with half classes only - awaited for their teacher to lay his grievances. And when he started telling them how disappointed he was, some faces turned sad. The geography professor couldn't help but watch Frances a little closely, noticing how she grit her teeth, her skin pale in the back of the room. He'd never seen her so enraged, and wondered what had truly happened. Alain eventually concluded his speech and turned to him, face grim.

— "Do you want to add anything, Mr Kristiansen ?", he asked.

Tristan pushed himself away from the wall, unfolding his arms in an attempt to seem more open.

— "Yes, thank you, Mr Tebrus. I'd like to know what happened exactly. I refuse to admit that your class is the type to persecute a young woman."

He left unsaid the fact that said young woman, Madeleyne, wasn't as well the perfect damsel in distress. From the interaction he had seen, she seemed rather mischievous, and not at all bothered to be the youngest member. If anything, her classmates seemed protective of her. Something wasn't adding up there.

— "Thank you!", Florent, the class representative, exploded in the first rank.

— "Yes, sir, thank you for your trust", another blond-haired guy responded.

He was one of those that traded spoonerism with Alain. A funny, outspoken young man. A few smiles were sent his way, and the class started recounting how the girl's clan, led by Madeleyne had been waging war on the boy's clan – in the other boarding building – for weeks. Pranks mainly: cereals shed into beds, slippers pasted to the ceiling – this one made Alain laugh albeit he struggled not to show it –, beds remade so prevent the owner from lying in and cupboards exchanged while the others took their dinner. Such imagination ! Given the amount of effort and slyness deployed, James Bond seemed like an amateur. As days passed, more people were dragged in the 'cold war', all in good humour, until the ultimate date presented itself: Madeleyne's birthday.

An occasion not to be missed. Food fight ensued, and ambush outside the cafeteria, between the clans. And when both parties were exhausted, the leader of the girl clan was 'captured' and tied up to a tree, laughing her ass off. Flowers were put in her hair, pictures taken, and she was freed to go and take a shower. The rest of the students suggested to sweep the courtyard – make a mess, yes, but clean it up afterwards - and this is when all hell broke loose. Tristan's smirk told his students everything they needed to know; the man was rather amused at their antics. Such creativity ! And Alain, likewise, was frowning because it didn't match the gruesome story they had fed him.

— "This is not what they told me", he started.

A very angry retort came from the back of the class.

— "Nor what they told her..."

Frances, wrapped in fury, was standing against the wall, her hands shaking. Tristan frowned as their French teacher questioned her.

— "Tell us what happened"

The young woman bit her lips, then sat on the edge of a table to organise her thoughts. Yet, he could still see how her hands shook.

— "I came down after the fight with Alexandre to stow the stupid string away when the vice principal and the main supervisor popped up, screaming bloody murder and fresher's harassment nonsense. I yelled at the girls to hop in the shower from the window and tried to explain what had happened, and that we would be cleaning up the mess."

The young woman paused and took a shuddering breath, reliving the events as she recounted it. Tristan bit his cheek; he didn't understand yet the reasons for his student's flustering, but was praying that she was just making a mountain out of nothing. Given Alain's rage nary thirty minutes ago, he wasn't looking froward to hearing the rest of the story.

— "They didn't want to listen. They said it was... hazing, and despicable, and degrading. They said that because she was a girl, it was even worse. I tried to tell them it had nothing to do with her being the youngest, or being a girl for that matter. They wouldn't hear me. They asked Madeleyne to come down, and I tagged along"

Tristan nodded; he wasn't too surprised that Frances woman would stick with her comrade in the face the inquisition. She was very intuitive and must have felt the danger. Her gaze met his, and he tried to send waves of reassurance ; she was too far gone to receive them.

— "Can you tell us what happened next ?", Alain asked.

— "They locked her up in an office, with the vice principal, our main teacher and the main supervisor. I don't even remember where. I think I waited for two hours in the corridor – I didn't have my phone - they wouldn't let me in"

Tristan's spine stiffened; it didn't bode so well. The authorities were afraid of hazing, so much that the slightest hint send them into a fenzy. Even more so of sexual harassment. Yet, to have a student, on her birthday, facing three adults was an abuse of power. They should, at least, have allowed Frances in. What a better advocate than the fiery lady; when riled up, she was a formidable adversary. They knew it too... what a low blow.

— "They released Madele in the evening, she was crying. I held her for a long time, she said she was going to quit, that it had been her best birthday ever until... anyway. They told her it was degrading, as a lady, to accept such behaviour. That it was as despicable as accepting to be gang raped"

There was a collective gasp among the students now; obviously, Frances had kept her comrade's confidence until then.

— "This... this cannot be borne !", and outraged Florent yelled in the first rank.

Suddenly, Tristan's blood filled with rage. Did they not realise, those goddamn good thinking women, that they had turned an innocent – if irresponsible – moment into a slaughter? That they had tainted not only the memory, but the young woman's confidence for the future just as well ? Who could, at nineteen years of age, stand up to three people who called you a whore ? What scars would it imprint upon Madeleyne ?

Tristan's jaw clenched; bloody fools ! He was glad for his colleague's calm, for he might had broken the vice principal's door for the slight. When his eyes met Frances' once more, an unspoken understanding passed between them. There would be bloody murder upon those people who felt the need to judge so harshly. Voices roses, the outrage keenly felt among those young adults who protected each other's back. They reminded him of an army, sticking together for better or worse until the war was over.

The management had asked for the names of the responsible people; they all signed up the paper. Not even one soul to back away; let them fire the whole boarding school if they wanted to ! And, pride swelling in their chest, both Alain and himself decided to take this half class and reunite them with their counterparts in biology session; there were words to be exchanged with the old maid that was their main teacher.