Crossing the line

Black and blue

December, 1st week

Something was terribly wrong. He could literally smell it, and it wasn't about the few snowflakes that lingered in the air. It wasn't cold enough to stick to the ground; not that he cared, he lived ten minutes from here on foot.

No.

Something was wrong with his little fairy. His eyes had caught her wince as she dragged something out of her bag before Alexandre – her devoted accomplice – helped her with it. And they had switched seats as well, putting Frances against the wall, hidden in a corner. Away from him and his prying eyes ?

Tristan started his class, determined to find out what might have happened to cause such peculiar behaviour. For apart from the occasional wince of pain – something to do with her arm – the young woman seemed as fiery as usual. Cheery, even.

For the better part of the hour, Tristan devoted himself to his band of merry lads as they studied a map of Chamonix and the beautiful ice-sea. A landscape that was a mere two hours from the city and was really worth the detour. Today's assignments covered both geology and geography, and he was as floored as usual by how cultured they were. Many of them enjoyed hiking in the alps, and he was regaled with tales of rock climbing, finding Edelweiss and snow storms. Which derived to skiing as the map displayed the lifts strongly anchored in the granite of the Belledone mountain range. In the corner, he could see Frances snigger with her faithful neighbour and he took advantage of her mirth.

— "Whatever has caused such merriment must be worth sharing, Frances."

There was neither disdain nor sarcasm in his voice, not even an ounce of annoyment but the young woman turned crimson, her eyes wide like those of a doe caught in headlights. Tristan immediately regretted putting her in the spotlight; while she enjoyed bantering with the others, Frances didn't like the attention so much. Or perhaps it was him, for his attention surely was set upon her face... upon the ugly bruise marring her cheekbone. Tristan frowned, a chill running up his spine as his eyes squinted. Realising her mistake, Frances ducked her head instantly.

— "Sorry, sir. The story would be more fitting after a few beers"

She wasn't taking a risk there; Frances never partook in the classes evenings at the bar. Given the situation, though, Tristan wasn't about to sell her ruse away, for he usually came with.

— "That's a deal. Next time at Joe's, we will remind you to share"

— "Meaning we'll have to drag you there", one of her classmates quipped back.

An exclamation ensued, and Tristan had to hide his worry to regain control of the class before it went sideways. And while he gathered his wits to reclaim the attention, dread pooled in his stomach, considering the many reasons why the young woman might have been hurt. He had heard nothing in the staff room, but the specialised teachers scarcely came by anyway. And after the fiasco with her biology teacher... well. Alain should have noticed, at least ! Was everyone ignoring that one of their students had been hurt ? And badly, at that, for now that he knew, he could clearly see how her left arm pained her.

So while a thousand possibilities ran through his clouded mind – a car accident, a fall in the stairs... an attack in the streets, an abusive boyfriend ? – his well-behaved class led the show. He could never thank them enough for making his job easier than today. And when the bell rang, at last – had it been only half an hour ? – Tristan dismissed them with a weary smile.

Of course, Frances was avoiding his gaze. Smart woman, she knew, as much as he did, that one look was all it took for him to pin someone in place. He was bound to interrogate her. Tristan didn't give her time to slip away, putting himself in her path.