Warning: Gender swap and lesbians
It was 1968, and the air in the small French town carried the scent of pine and cigarette smoke, the latter a constant in the lives of teenagers pretending they were older than they were. The schoolyard of *Lycée Jules Verne* buzzed with the usual chatter. Boys huddled in small groups, tossing a football around or leaning against the brick walls, while girls, dressed in their pleated skirts and buttoned blouses, sat in clusters, their conversations bouncing between fashion, music, and gossip.
At the heart of one such group was Rhonda—or rather, Rodi, as she preferred to be called now. The transition from middle school to high school had brought with it a desire to leave behind everything associated with her old self. That included her name and, more recently, her childhood friend, Vanessa.
Rodi was perched on a bench in the school courtyard, surrounded by her new friends—*les populaires*, as they were called. They were an elite group, the girls who wore the most stylish clothes, kept up with the latest trends from Paris, and always had the boys’ attention. Rodi was still getting used to being a part of them. It was strange how things had shifted over the summer—how she, who had once been teased for her unfashionable name and tomboyish ways, had somehow slipped into their world.
But then again, she had done a lot of slipping lately.
Across the courtyard, Vanessa Charbonneau stood by herself, adjusting the collar of her oversized sweater. The long skirt she wore looked out of place among the shorter, more fitted skirts of her peers. Vanessa was beautiful—objectively so—but she never cared for trends or the opinions of others. Her wavy auburn hair framed her face in soft waves, and her dark eyes always seemed so intense, like they could see through whatever mask people were wearing. For as long as Rodi could remember, Vanessa had been the constant in her life. They’d grown up together, shared their secrets, their dreams, and sometimes their fears.
That was before high school, though. Before Rodi became part of a different world.
“Who even *dresses* like that?” Léonie, the ringleader of the group, said, flicking her cigarette towards Vanessa’s direction. “I swear, she looks like someone’s grandmother.”
The other girls giggled, their eyes flicking between Vanessa and Rodi, eager to see if she’d join in. Rodi’s heart clenched. She hadn’t wanted it to be like this. She didn’t want to be a part of this side of things, but she did want to fit in—she *needed* to. After years of being the outsider, she’d finally found a way in, and she wasn’t about to let that slip away, even if it meant compromising the one friendship that had ever really mattered to her.
“She’s always been a little odd,” Rodi said, keeping her voice casual, even though her stomach twisted into knots.
It was true that Vanessa had always marched to the beat of her own drum, but that was what Rodi had loved about her once. Back then, they’d spent hours in Vanessa’s room, listening to records or sneaking out to watch the stars. Vanessa didn’t care about impressing anyone, and that had been a comfort. Now, it was a liability.
“*Odd?*” Léonie leaned in, her eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “More like creepy. I heard she barely even talks to anyone anymore.”
“She’s probably some kind of weirdo loner,” piped in one of the other girls, lighting her own cigarette.
Rodi shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to stand up for Vanessa, but every time she opened her mouth to say something, the words caught in her throat. Instead, she found herself laughing along. It wasn’t that she found the jokes funny; it was easier this way. To laugh was to belong, and belonging was safer than being on the outside looking in.
