To you, from afar | Joseph Descamps

2

Alina, lingering on the staircase that had become hateful to her after just one day, fell behind her class. Ahead was an English lesson, and she was eager to finally showcase her share of knowledge, as she knew English even better than French. "Ah, why couldn't my grandmother live in England instead of France?" she thought. It would have been much easier for her in an English-speaking country.

The brunette ascended the steps cautiously, gripping her cane and the banister. Her leg was still weak after the injury, and she hadn't experienced such a load throughout the day yet. She felt miserable, pitiful, and was relieved that the corridor was already empty by the start of the lesson, sparing her the embarrassment of being seen almost crawling up the stairs. Suddenly, feminine hands behind her helped her ascend. Alina turned around and saw a young woman – possibly a teacher, but much younger than Madame Giraud.

"Let me help, Mademoiselle," she said, and with her assistance, Alina began to climb more confidently. "You're Alina, aren't you?"

"Yes," she replied, slightly out of breath, then hurriedly added, "Thank you!"

"Don't mention it, we're in the same class anyway. I'm Mademoiselle Couret."

{"Are you the English teacher?"} Alina asked hopefully, switching to another language. {"I must say, I'm proficient in the language. Is it appropriate for me to speak with you like this?"}

{"It's not only appropriate but also welcome. I was told you're from the Soviet Union, but I see an interesting conversationalist with a British touch in front of me,"} the teacher replied enthusiastically, impressed by her proficiency in the language at a decent level. Alina smiled — the first teacher today whom she now wanted to run to class with, if only she could.

Meanwhile, Joseph was preparing in the classroom what might have been his most malicious prank yet. Placing a basin filled with water above the door threatened him at worst with a reprimand from the deputy headmaster, but after three brazen girls outmaneuvered him in the lunchtime conflict, he felt it would be worth it. Above all, he wanted the new Russian girl to fall victim to his scheme, although in the moments of sincere, almost childlike anticipation, that wasn't so important. Joseph, being the tallest in his group, fixed the basin on the slightly ajar door, while Jean, standing lookout, finally excitedly informed him that Magnan and Palladino were coming.

The other students in the class reacted differently to the unfolding scene - Annick, for example, merely shook her head disapprovingly, unimpressed by the childish behavior of her classmates.

Michele, the first to enter the class, bore the brunt of the basin, taking the full "blow." Her strawberry-blonde locks immediately darkened from the water, and her clothes were soaked through; Simone miraculously only got a few drops of water on him. The class fell into a suffocating silence — someone looked reproachfully at the main instigator of the prank - Joseph Descamps, smirkingly laughing over another victim, but the majority stared at Michelle. Her light gray sleeveless dress, light enough for the warm September day, was soaking wet and now showed through her underwear.

Her white lace bra, exposed to everyone's gaze, left little room for imagination in the boy's hormonally inflamed brain. While some looked at Michele, numb in shock, with embarrassment, some, like Descamps and his friends, satisfied with the work done, openly mocked the girl humiliated in front of the whole class.

By that time, Alina and Mademoiselle Couret, having just finished descending the stairs, heard a dull thud echoing through the entire corridor, as if a chair had been dropped or something else, followed by the sound of water spilling and then barely audible laughter. Belikova, sensing that something had happened or was about to happen, cautiously nodded to the teacher in the distance: