The first school Monday started warm but quite cloudy. Five days had passed since the incident, and Alina, who had spent the entire weekend at home, only heard news from her grandmother, who had already encountered the Descamps family in the grocery store. According to her, Joseph looked terrible, though he held himself together stoically — Alina noticed that his mother received the sympathetic comments and well wishes much more actively, while he limited himself to restrained nods and dry "thank you."
At school, nobody particularly talked about the incident. Sometimes Alina, engrossed in her studies, even forgot about what had happened and got distracted by something more joyful in her new environment. But then something would bring her back to reality — either the despondent sighs of Simone, directed for some reason at Jean-Pierre, Michele's older brother who had been suspended from classes pending a disciplinary hearing, or the grim, resentful looks from Descamps's friends — Charles Vergoux and Jean Dupin — directed at Alina, Simone, and especially Michelle.
Alina left home early because although her route to school was short, it took her much longer. Slightly shivering from the unfamiliar morning chill — even when Alina put on a warm red cardigan over her thick gray dress — the girl walked slowly along the narrow streets, uniformly painted in beige tones. It was still early, but the city was already awake — grocery stores and other shops were opening on schedule, and rare cars and numerous bicycles traversed the sidewalks. People walked right alongside them, alternately yielding to or overtaking the moving transport — an European peculiarity that never ceased to amaze Belikova.
Near the school gates, the girl crossed paths with Annick Sabiani — her classmate in some subjects. Over these days, Alina had become slightly less close to her than to other classmates, but this was more of a peculiarity of the blonde girl — her detachment from other students no longer seemed so strange to Belikova. Although, for some unknown reason, Alina treated her and Henri Pichon better than anyone else.
"Have you decided where to hide during P.E.?" The girls exchanged greetings and now were heading towards the main building. Behind them walked Michele and Simone, and as long as Annick didn't decide to rid herself of her classmates' company, Alina decided to maintain the dialogue with her for as long as possible.
"I thought of asking Douillard to take me for a Latin lesson, but he's already occupied with another class," the brunette girl shrugged. "Looks like I'll have to keep an eye on you guys."
"Hope the sight doesn't disappoint you," Annick gave a significant glance at their classmates, and Alina's lips stretched into a sarcastic smile.
Their conversation, just beginning to become cheerful, was interrupted by a general oppressive silence that suddenly enveloped the entire schoolyard. Alina noticed that everyone—both the boys and Annick, and Simone with Michele—were looking in one particular direction, prompting her to instinctively turn around.
Standing in the gates, towering over the crowd, albeit slightly hunched, was Joseph Descamps. The "star" of past discussions, he hadn't appeared after the first day of school, postponing his return indefinitely. Alina, like many others, expected him much later — who knows how much time people need to recover after losing an entire eye.
The guy's face was no longer adorned with glasses — he no longer needed them, as it was the eye with the negative vision that had been removed, and a cotton pad was now attached to his eye socket, temporarily protecting the fresh injury from bacteria and hiding the terrible wound from prying eyes. Even from a distance, Alina could see, or rather feel, that more than just the boy's appearance had changed — his lone eye now expressed resentful despondency instead of former mischief. Alina knew the previous Descamps for even less than one full day—and that was enough for her to compare him to the hardened person he had become in the few days after the incident.
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To you, from afar | Joseph Descamps
RomanceHe was a native European, a spoiled troublemaker who didn't hesitate to ridicule those he disliked. She was born in the distant steppes of the Soviet lands of that time, raised under the strict upbringing of Russian schooling. By a twist of fate, un...