Peintures vivantes - Joseph Descamps

Travail en binôme

I run toward Annick, who is waiting for me outside the classroom. I'm out of breath, and slightly dizzy. "Hi, sorry I'm late," I greet her, placing a hand on my chest. Annick squares me from head to toe and gives me a hard look. "Hurry up, Couret is coming, and you know I want to be ready on the desk when the professor comes in." She scolds me.

"She apologizes." I answer her, catching my breath. Annick slips through the door to our classroom, and I am about to do the same; if it weren't for a hand grabbing my arm and dragging me behind the door. Descamps.

His fingers grip my arm, firmly but at the same time gently. "To what do I owe the visit?" I ask him sarcastically. The hallway is empty, and Annick has not noticed my absence at the counter.

"I've been thinking about our talk yesterday. You have a lot of nerve to answer me like that, you brat." She growls at me. I barely maintain eye contact and try to look as calm as possible. "Nerve to me? He speaks..." I spit the words out like poison.

I feel the grip of his fingers on my arm. "Now I would go back to class. English class is about to start and I, unlike you, care about attending class." I reply, trying to wriggle out of his grip. He remains silent, not looking away.

"Descamps, let go of my arm now." I growl. Silence falls and his gaze is still fixed on mine. I don't understand what he wants to solve by acting this way.

In an instant, his hand leaves my arm and rests on my cheek. Without being able to realize it, he leans over my lips....

WAIT A MOMENT!

I jolt awake, all sweaty. I bring a hand to my disheveled hair and lie still for a few moments. My heart beats wildly, it almost hurts. But what is going on! What is my stupid mind doing! Dreaming of kissing Descamps? Are we serious?

I get up quickly in anxiety, and move to the mirror at the foot of my bed. I look terrible: my hair is completely disheveled, my cheeks are purple, and I have dark circles under my eyes. I place a hand on my face, and feel the cold touch of my palm. My face is hot.

I turn to the window: it is late at night. My clock, set above my bedside table, marks the time: 3:45. As you might guess, yes: I stayed awake until 7 a.m.

I slowly get ready, choosing my clothes, the bow to put in my hair, comb my hair, and walk down the stairs. I eat my breakfast, and after kissing my mom, I leave the house.

After placing the bike in the rack, I check the time: 7:30.

Great, I came half an hour early. Now what can I do? As I curse myself for arriving too early, I hear from a distance a female voice calling me. I turn in the opposite direction of the gates and see Annick coming toward me.

"How come you're already here?" we ask in unison. I burst into a liberating laugh, and she does the same. To kill time, we go over the previous English lesson. "I hope you don't ask about the lesson before today. I'm not very good at English," I admit, flipping through Annick's pages of notes. Without surprise, I notice that she writes very well; I should have expected that.

"Even so, Miss Couret is the nicest teacher we have. If you can't answer, she won't lynch you like Giroud." Annick replies to relieve my tension. How can I blame her.

-----------------------------------

After the quiet English class with Professor Couret, it's time for French, with Marcelin.

"Well, because I want to keep up with innovation, I have decided to have you do an assignment." The professor warns us, getting up from his chair. Annick is already anxious to know what the assignment will be about.

"But this time, instead of having you work alone, I will have you work in pairs."

Amazed sighs fill the room. I turn to Annick, and see her face turn somber. I guess she doesn't like to work in pairs, she always does everything alone, and she likes it that way.

"So, you will be working with your desk partner, and you will have to do a paper on Jean Racine." I turn back to look at Annick, and she does the same. I smile at her. I am very happy to work with her, she is good and diligent, and I will work hard not to let her work alone.

After a few moments of silence, Professor Marcelin puts a finger to his lips and glancing at the newly fornicated pairs. "In fact, let's mix it up a bit. Otherwise, I have no mixed pairs." Mixed pairs? Oh my, don't tell me.

"Miss Sabiani, you will be paired with Pichon. Miss Magnan, you will be paired with Applebaun, and Palladino with Felbec." He says rearranging his thoughts. Then he shifts his frown to me, and I feel a knot in my throat.

"Miss Seyedoux, you will be paired with Mr. Descamps. Maybe it will be a good time when he gets a good grade, right Descamps?"

I feel a twinge in my heart. Not with him...because he professor. Of all the boys, just Descamps.

"Certainly, if the grade will be a couple." Descamps replies in a defiant voice.

"See that you don't take advantage of Miss Seyedoux's commitment. Otherwise, I'll mark a big 3 on my calendar," replies the professor, sketching a defiant smile. Tonight I dreamed of kissing him, and now I have him as my partner for French work. What did I do wrong?

-------------------------------------------

"Man, I pity you Romy, seriously. See that you don't get bullied by that fool." Simone consoles me as we leave the courtyard. "If I had ended up with Descamps, I would have turned him down. I would have rather had a big 3 on my schedule than work together with him." Michelle adds.

I see Descamps lighting his usual cigarette, sitting on the little wall in Dupin's company. "Well, it's time to cut to the chase girls. I'm off," I greet them, trying to look calm. "Good luck Romy. And remember what we told you!" greets Simone.

I slowly descend the steps and am flanked by Henri. "I'm sorry Romy. I can count myself lucky." Henri consoles me. "Annick can say the same." I smile at him. He interprets the answer as a compliment and smiles back at me.

As I approach Descamps, Dupin fixes me with a strange look. "Descamps. Dupin." I greet them nonchalantly. Descamps, after thoroughly inhaling the smoke from his cigarette, blows it at me, plunging me into a cloud of smoke. I can't hold back two coughs. This makes Dupin laugh, who jumps off the little wall and circles around me as sharks do.

"I am not a decoy Dupin, dislodge. Thank you," I hiss, watching his back disappear to my left. "At your orders, Potatoes Sack." He waves me off, smiling at Descamps.

"Ha ha ha. Funny. Now I've become Potatoes Sack?"

"Yes, it's funny." He replies in a dry tone.

"For the French paper, how about doing it at my house?" I ask him, keeping my gaze up. Descamps takes one last puff of his cigarette and exhales the smoke through his nostrils. He thinks he's cool, but for me he's just a clown. "Whatever you like. We can also do once at your place and once at my place."

"Yes, that can work. Fine, tomorrow at my house at 3 pm. I don't like latecomers, FYI." I smile at him, but then I turn around and cycle home.