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ANGELIQUE AND ANNICK RUSHED through the bustling corridors of Voltaire High, their footsteps echoing against the cold tiles. The bell had rung, signaling the imminent start of Mrs. Giraud's class, their homeroom teacher, and the two friends were determined not to be late again, next time.
As they burst into the classroom, their eyes scanned the sea of occupied seats. Annick made a beeline for the front row, sliding into the empty seat next to Pichon, while Angelique hesitated, glancing towards the back. The only available spot was next to a boy whose name she didn't know, but with no other options, she took the seat.
As she walked down the row, her eyes fell on Joseph and she huffed in defeat, disappointed that she would have to share a class with him for the school year. His eyes followed her like a prey as the corner of his lips lifted upwards, "Oh, if it isn't Angel." He taunted with a devious undertone in his voice. Angelique ignored him completely, already over his antics.
Despite ignoring him, she felt his stare on her. Her eyes met his again and he did not look away, not slightly ashamed that he was caught. He winked at her before turning his head in front of the class.
Now I really want to know what is wrong with this man, she thought.
Mrs. Giraud, a stern and old-fashioned teacher with a penchant for order, was arranging her notes at the front of the class. She looked up as Annick and Angelique settled into their seats, her disapproving gaze lingering on the fact that they had chosen spots next to boys.
Interrupting her self-introduction, Mrs. Giraud addressed Annick, "What is your name, young lady?"
"Annick Sabiani." She replied with a firm voice.
Mrs. Giraud frowned, "And where do you think you are? How do you find it acceptable to sit next to a boy?" She then turned to Henri and asked him to switch places.
Before the swap could occur, Mrs. Giraud turned her attention to Angelique, demanding her name. "Angelique Serrano." She responded confidently.
Mrs. Giraud, now visibly irritated, declared, "You are worse than Miss Sabiani. Wearing pants and makeup. How vulgar of you. This is not a brothel to flaunt yourself!"
Did she just called me a prostitute?, she asked herself.
Angelique, unflinchingly, retorted, "It's the 60s, Mrs. Giraud. I do things for myself and not for some type of validation. It's not my fault some men are pig-headed beings and are too hormonal to function. It is not because I am next to a boy that he will suddenly explode in semen just because he has never been close to a woman before. And for your information, it is not for any reason that women are allowed to wear pants and I am also fully covered, therefore I do not see how I am distracting."
The entire class fell silent, absorbing the confrontation between the bold Angelique and the disapproving teacher.
Angelique continued, "You need to stop being so old-fashioned. You have no right to dictate how I live my life. You're nobody to me, but an authority figure in an educational establishment that do not hold any power over my person."
