𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐜𝐫𝐲 [ 𝘫. 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘴 ]

2, descamps perd son œil

The next day, the cafeteria was bustling with noise. Everyone was happy to have a break from classes, and the girls were making small talk.

Suddenly, poor Pichon was launched into Annick's mashed potatoes. Eponine shot up, having drifted off from the girls' conversation long ago. Pichon turned red and looked like he was about to cry.

The handsome boy with glasses, which she found out last class whose name was Descamps, chuckled. His friends soon followed suit, deeming Descamps as a leader of sorts.

"I'm so sorry, Annick." he said, voice wavering. "Do you want my plate?"

Michéle perked up. "The idiot should give him his," she nodded at Descamps. The cafeteria fell silent, and some boys let out 'oooh's. His smile faded.

"Does the dean's niece have a problem? What did you tell your uncle? Laubrac is innocent, Descamps is the mean one!" He imitated a high pitched voice. "'The dean's niece and the bastard', a new love story." he laughed at her.

"Why don't you tell us what you wrote in that note?" Michéle dared.

Descamps' eyes lit up with a spark of mischief, "It was a drawing." He said. "I'll show you."

He grabbed a bottle of jus, and poured something into his mashed potatoes. When he held it up, he revealed a very poorly drawn drawing of breasts. The boys all shrieked with laughter.

Simone let out a noise of disapproval, and grabbed the sausage on her plate. "Hey! Does this remind you of anyone?" She tore it in half, and Descamps' smile was gone.

"Would have been more accurate had it been smaller," Eponine said to Simone, but Descamps seemed to have heard it. The boys started laughing even harder, and hit the table. Descamps had been vetoed by SImone's genius move.

"Hey, quiet down!" Mr. Bellanger called.

Eponine looked back at the boys' table, to see Descamps staring at her. He stared for a good minute, before turning his attention back to his breast-potatoes.

. . .

"Look, that boy is staring at you," Simone told Michéle. Eponine had noticed it too, but she had waited with speaking up about it. Michéle and Simone walked alongside her, on their way to class.

"Are you good at English?" Michéle asked Simone. She seemed to be avoiding the subject.

"Did you even listen? He was very handsome. He looked like Alain Delon!"

Michéle laughed. "Alain Delon?" She pushed the classroom door open. "If the real Alain Delon came to our schoo—" She was cut off by a bucket of ice cold water crashing down on her. It seeped into her white clothes, and made her bra visible.

Some boys laughed, but most just gaped in silence. Eponine had luckily missed most of the water, save for some on her skirt and shoes.

Descamps giggled, but Michéle stood there in silence not knowing what to do. Eponine quickly moved forward. She covered Michéle with her body, making sure none of the boys could see her anymore. She whipped her head back to glare at Descamps, who was still laughing.

"You think this is funny? You piece of shit," she bit out nastily. A glimpse of hurt flashed over his eyes, and he stopped laughing completely when Madame Couret entered the room. She slid off her robe, and wrapped it around Michéle.

Descamps stood there silently, awaiting punishment. Eponine was glaring daggers at him, but he refused to meet her eye.

Madame Couret told Annick and Simone to keep an eye on the boys, and pulled Michéle out of the room. When they were gone, Descamps' little friends started laughing again, but Descamps seemed out of it.

His best friend Dupin handed him a chalk, and motioned to the board. He moved to the chalkboard, and started drawing a woman's body.

Out of nowhere, the Alain Delon look alike stormed into the classroom and threw a clean punch straight into Dupin's face. Descamps hurried forward, and tried to get him off. The intruder threw another punch, but this time straight onto Descamps' glasses.

His glasses flew off, and he hunched over in pain. "My eye!" he cried. He pushed a hand onto his face, covering his eye. Blood seeped from between his fingers, and Eponine hid her mouth behind her hand. She clutched Annick's hand.

As Descamps laid on the floor crying, Mr. Bellanger barged into the classroom. He kneeled next to the injured boy.

"Let me see," he said, trying to pull Descamps' hand away from his face. "I can't see!" Descamps cried in despair.

Simone looked over to the boy who did it, and noticed he himself seemed to be processing what he just did.

"Pichon! Get the nurse now!" Mr. Bellanger commanded. "He's got some glass in his eye."

Pichon ran out of the classroom, on his way to get Madame Bellanger.

Eponine looked at the door, where Madame Couret had just entered. Mr Bellanger commanded for everyone that had gathered outside of the classroom to go back to their classes, and for Dupin to sit down.

Madame Bellanger took Descamps out of the room.

"Jean-Pierre. My office. Laubrac, you're bleeding. Go to the infirmary. You two, put those desks back. You, clean the chalkboard." he sneered. "Everyone, take your seats!"

The class quickly sat down.

"I'll leave you to it, Madame Couret."

. . .

When Eponine got home, she found her mother sitting on the sofa. "I thought we were having your old best friend over?" she asked.

"We did, but unfortunately her son... fell ill. They'll come another day. You will be great friends with him! Béatrice told me he was very excited to meet you." Her mother explained. "Oh, well. Tell them I wish him well."

"I will," Sylvie winked. Colette burst through the door. "Maman! Nine! Look what I drew!" she held up a drawing of something that Eponine couldn't quite make out. "It's beautiful, Coco. I love the colours!"

"Hmpf! You better!" Colette giggled. She clung onto Eponine's leg. "Can we go play pirates now please? You promised!"

"I have homework, Coco. Another time, maybe?"

"Pretty please?"

Colette widened her eyes and pouted. "Okay, fine. If you stop pouting and grab me a sword, Captain Coco!"

Colette ran up the stairs, her little feet carrying her as fast as they could.

"Nine?" her mother asked.

"Yes, mum?"

"Béatrice's boy is only a little older than you," she went on. Eponine furrowed her brows. "What are you implying?"

"You know, he might make a fine suitor for you," Sylvie explained.

Eponine couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Are you saying I should marry him? I don't even know him!"

"Hmm, no. Of course not, Nine dearest." her mother said absentmindedly. "Here, take some cookies for you and your sister. It's time for me to write to Mathieu."