𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐜𝐫𝐲 [ 𝘫. 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘴 ]

1, un bel étranger

"Eponine! Hurry up, you'll be late for school!" Sylvie Van Doren-García called out to her daughter, waiting impatiently at the bottom of the stairs.

"In a minute, mum!" the fifteen year-old called back from her room Eponine pulled the green ribbon in her black locks tight and checked herself in the mirror. She sighed when she saw that the makeup she had put on her scar was already fading. A long, soft scar dragged from the outer corner of her lip to her ear, serving as a constant reminder of what men would do to you if you said 'no'.

This summer, Eponine's family moved to her mothers hometown; Voltaire. The summer in France was much warmer and less rainy than her previous home in London.

Her parents said that they moved here because they wanted her to attend Voltaire Lycée since they admitted girls now too, which made no sense to her at all. She'd had a great time at her all-girls boarding school in the previous years (except for one certain incident), all while keeping up good grades and participating in extracurriculars.

So when her parents told her and her little sister that they would be moving to Voltaire, Eponine knew something was up.

Her oldest brother, Mathieu, would stay in their house in London for his studies. Her younger sister Colette would come along and attend the local elementary school. There was no reason for her to leave her boarding school at all. She could have just gone to France to visit her family during vacations, and stay at the dorms during the school year. But every time she tried to question her parents, they sailed around the subject.

She quickly descended the stairs. Her mother peeked her head out of the kitchen to see which of her children had come down.

"Ah, there you are! My sweet Eponine, you look so cute. All the boys will love you!" She giggled, while pinching her daughter's cheeks. "Ow!" Eponine flinched.

"Just for some colour in your ghastly face, dear. Sit down, I made you some eggs on toast."

Eponine plopped down on the dinner table chairs. "Eponine, sit straight! We wouldn't want you to slouch before a suitor, right?" Her mother called from the kitchen.

"How did you even know I was slouching?" Eponine exclaimed surprisedly. "It's my superpower, Nine. I know you like the back of my hand."

Her mother had never said anything about a suitor before. It was odd of her mother to begin about a future husband at all, given she herself was not wedded off herself. She got to choose who she wanted to marry, and Eponine thought that she would be granted the same privilege.

After breakfast, she stepped outside and left for her ten-minute bike to school. She was told that there wouldn't be a lot of girls, but she was not suspecting to see just one blonde with pigtails looking up at a board. She was one in two girls. 'Kill me already', she thought as she locked her bike to the rack.

The moment her black Oxford shoes hit the gravel, heads started turning and the loud laughter turned into hushed whispers.

"Look, she has boobs!"

"Damn, look at that snack."

"Fuck, I would've gotten hard right here if it wasn't for that ugly scar on her face."

"I would totally hit on her, man."

"Look at that hideous scar, she looks disgusting."

With every step she took, another comment about her appearance graced her ears. She wished she was deaf.

Across the courtyard, she made eye contact with a boy with glasses. He leaned forward, his hand on his jaw and his lips slightly ajar. She quickly averted her eyes from the handsome stranger to the blonde girl she now stood behind.