Peintures vivantes - Joseph Descamps

Chef de classe

The next day, in the schoolyard, I feel great tension. At the bottom, beside the stairs, I notice the figures of Pichon and Annick, intent on conversing with each other. Who knows what they have to say to each other, I think. As I approach them, I am joined by Simone and Michelle.

"Oh hi Romy. How was your weekend?" greets Simone, still in her bubbly voice. "Hi Girls. I'm not complaining, except for the fact that I couldn't concentrate at all on my Latin homework and couldn't finish it." I admit in an apathetic tone.

Michelle frowns. "And why couldn't you concentrate?" she asks me suspiciously. Her blue eyes scan me eagerly. I look away, pretending not to. Suddenly, Simone exhales noisily. "Is this about the Descamps incident?!" she says almost shouting.

'Four eyes. Give me a break,' I answer her. I don't dare look them in the eyes; you can immediately tell if I'm lying. "Me, more than for that fool Descamps, I'm worried about my brother. If he gets expelled from high school, my parents would never forgive me...and I'll be back working in the butcher shop every day." The tone in which she says this is melodramatic to say the least.

"Wait a second, the guy who blinded Descamps is your brother? Tall, dark.."

"Green eyes, handsome, intelligent.."

"Cut it out Simone. Yes, he is my brother. His name is Jean Pierre and he attends the fifth year here in our high school."

"Man...he's in real trouble then. He messed up big time huh?" I say in a serious tone.

"What do we know. Not necessarily Descamps lost his eye. Let's not get ahead of ourselves before we break it." Simone scolds me. Michelle, on the other hand, continues to look at me curiously, as if she had barely guessed that I already knew Joseph's bitter fate.

"Hi Girls." Henri greets us, as soon as we are close enough. Annick gestures with her head to greet us, and smiles at me. I smile back at her; we're starting to like each other. Also because, in my opinion, we are quite similar in character. But only in character, I admit. She is very beautiful and elegant. She has big blue eyes and blond hair like the wheat fields behind my house; she always dresses very well. In contrast to me: short, dark brown hair in a bob with fringes.

As I am wrapped up in my disconsolate thoughts, Michelle elbows me in the side. "Look..." she whispers, making me turn my head in the direction of the courtyard entrance. With astonishment and a hint of delight, I watch Joseph enter the courtyard at a slow pace. He still has the surgical eye patch on, and the pout he directed at me yesterday..well that's still there too.

As he walks towards the bench where Dupin is already staying, he looks for me. As soon as he finds me, I notice his sadness. He quickly looks away, and goes to sit next to Dupin, who seems pleased to see him again.

"Who can tell me the exact dates of the Battle of the Marne?" asks Professor Giroud in a triumphant tone, leaning on her desk. Annick, as expected, raises his hand quickly. But not as fast as Dider Felbec. "Mr Felbec?" Giroud encourages him.

Without any kind of astonishment on everyone's part, Annick was again ignored big time.

Didier snapped to his feet, as if at attention. "From 5 to 12 September 1914." He replies all proud.

"And where were the armies?" At this question, Felbec begins to hesitate. Annick's hand is higher and higher. It makes me laugh a little.

"Miss Sabiani, are you counting on climbing the bench for me to see you?" hisses Giroud, looking down at her. "Don't you think you're attracting enough attention already?" God, how insufferable this professor is, I think to myself. I'm starting to hear some background felicitous giggles.

'Tell me the armies...' sighs Giroud. Annick rises from her chair, giving me a quick, satisfied look. "The French and the German."

"And the British expeditionary forces. If you only know half the answer, there is no point in raising your hand." Unbelievable, even if the answer is right, this hag continues to treat her pupil like fish. "And do me a favour and pick up your hair, we are not at a dance," she adds, looking at me sideways as well.

I touch my hair embarrassed. After this, I much prefer the headache dictated by the too high and tight ponytail; at least it saves me these bad figures in front of the whole class.

"Well, we will resume with the Battle of the Marne tomorrow, and afterwards we will appoint the class leader." Announces the teacher. Didier's hand is raised again. After waiting for the professor's nod, Felbec returns to his feet.

"Professor, I have always been the class leader, thanks to my behaviour and my excellent grades."

"But I am not like the other Felbec professors...Whoever will be able to tell me the exact date of the Battle of Marathon will be named class leader." 490 BC. Man, I know the date!

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