Peintures vivantes - Joseph Descamps

Descamps le mauvais

"Michelle is in the presidency," Simone warns me as we make our way to the lunchroom. The sigh I let out is a mixture of sad and angry. "Why do the teachers treat us so badly?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"What do you think...because we are girls Romy. Probably for them we are not worthy to attend this school. After all, we are here because of Paul Bellanger's idea." Simone confesses to me, turning left to enter the mess hall.

The room is very crowded, and we quickly head to the back, where three other girls, including Annick, are already seated at a table. I sit next to her and try to smile at her. The other girls may not like her because she is nerdy, but I can see myself in her a little. I've always been studious too, there's nothing wrong when you study for yourself.

"You have responded in an exemplary way Annick, congratulations." I congratulate as I slowly fill my empty plate with mash. "Thank you, I am flattered. Too bad Larouche didn't appreciate it as much as you did." He sighs, drinking some water.

"We are like invisible to them. We don't exist." Simone snorts.

A few minutes later, we are joined at the table by Michelle, somber in face. She sits next to Simone, who immediately tries to comfort her. "What happened Michelle?" she questions her curiously.

"Bellanger condemned me without even too much trouble. Same for Laubrac." She tells us, looking at the mash. I feel relieved for a moment. After all, Bellanger is a good-hearted man.

"Are you Bellanger's granddaughter?" Annick asks her, holding the spoon full of mash in midair between the table and her mouth. Michelle nods silently, looking downcast. "Help," chirps Annick.

Before she could finish her sentence, Pichon stumbles and falls with his hands onto Annick's plate, getting it all dirty. I turned sharply to look at Henri who, all panicked, runs to his table to help Annick clean herself up. "Do you want my plate Annick? I'm really, really sorry! I'm sorry!" implores Henri, handing her a clean handkerchief.

From behind Henri's back, I hear thunderous laughter not very restrained. Descamps is holding a hand over his mouth to hide his wide, 32-toothed smile. Sympathetic...

"it's that jerk who's supposed to give her the dish!" roars Michelle.

You just can't stay out of trouble can you, Michelle? It hasn't even been two days, you've already ended up in Bellanger's office, and now you're risking going back there for the second time. I hope with all my heart that the four-eyed boy doesn't respond to the provocation.

"Does Bellanger's nephew have a problem?" As unspoken. Like cat and dog. I roll my eyes, trying not to get nervous.

"What did you say to your uncle? Laubrac is good, Descamps is the real bad guy!" he replies, giving her the heave-ho. Michelle is getting nervous to say the least, and I try to placate her by staring into her eyes, but she doesn't compute.

"The little girl and the bastard, what a beautiful love story!" continues Descamps undaunted. For a brief second, our eyes meet, and his smile weakens slightly. His eyes are very beautiful, dark. They twinkle like stars in the night sky. But he still remains a dumb bully.

I notice that a loud roar has risen throughout the room, following Descamps' joke, which makes him feel as if he is invincible.

"And tell me, what did you write that was so interesting in that note?" incites Michelle on him.

"Actually, it was a drawing. Now I'll show you," he replies to her, using his pancakes as his drawing palette and a maple sauce as his brush.

As she raises her dish toward Michelle, I squint. A drawing of a woman's breasts. I go back to looking at my plate distressed, but as soon as I hear Simone speak, my eyes truncate to curiosity. "Does this remind you of anything?" she asks him, snapping an oiled sausage in her small hands.

More roar, louder than before though. I see the sparkle in Descamps' eyes fade slowly, as does his evil smile.

"He finds himself likable...who knows when he will find out the hard truth: he's just a bullying fool!" rants Simone, walking side by side with Michelle. Annick and I walk behind them, silently listening to their talk. Annick clutches the new English book tightly to her chest.

"Now we have English. I hope the teacher is nice..." I tell Annick trying to press a short conversation, but again, Annick doesn't make it in time to answer me. A large bucket of water pours down on Michelle's head, level with the classroom doorframe. Some of the water hits Simone.

I pass her, enter the classroom, and turn to Michelle. She is soaking wet, and her soaked dress has become transparent, showing her bra. As soon as the English teacher Couret enters, she zaps Lamaziere and Descamps with her gaze, takes off her coat and escorts Michelle out of the classroom, covering her.

"Now let's settle everything dear...Miss Seyedoux will you do me the favor of watching the classroom while I escort Miss Magnam to the infirmary?" the Couret tells me, before disappearing around the corner of the hallway.

I glance at Annick, who has stood motionless beside the classroom door. "Annick...."

I hear heavy footsteps approaching me, but I do not have time to turn around, that a very tall boy passes me and enters the classroom. He moves quickly between the desks, hissing, "Who did this!" After that he stops behind Lamazier, grabs him by the shoulder, and causing him to turn around, hits him full in the face.

I let out a faint shrill cry as I watch the scene: the tall, dark-haired boy starts a full-fledged brawl along with Michelle's bullies. Laubrac gets involved in intending to calm the tempers, but receives a good elbow in the middle of his forehead, falling to the ground.

Descamps, who until then had been busy drawing obscene things on the blackboard, runs to help his friends. Instead of attacking the dark-haired boy, he tries to placate and stop him, but to no avail. The boy turns around, tugs at him and punches him hard right in the face, sending his glasses flying, sliding down to my feet.

Picking up the four-eyed glasses, I note with fright that the left lens is broken. A piece is missing. My reflective moment is interrupted by screams of pain.

Descamps is on the ground, in pain. Without thinking, I run to him and bend down beside him. He is forcefully holding his left eye, and dark blood flows between his long fingers. "Take it easy. Don't press too hard," I order him, trying to keep calm myself. "My eye..." he groans.

In a flash, Bellanger enters the classroom, probably attracted by the loud noises. He casually shrugs me off and sets Descamps on his feet. "We have to go to the hospital, he got hurt with a shard of glass."

sorryyyyyyyyyyy, I forgot a very important chapter!!!