THAT MORNING, Aimée feels a knot forming in her stomach as she walks through the gates of Voltaire High School. Late for her first day, she rushes down the empty halls, heading toward her classroom. She almost trips several times, her nerves amplifying her clumsiness, the bun in her hair threatening to come undone.
Arriving in front of her classroom door, Aimée feels her heart racing. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm the tremors in her hands. She smooths her skirt and runs a hand through her messy hair, attempting to present a more polished appearance.
The knot in her stomach grows as she raises her hand to knock on the door. A moment of doubt washes over her : what if she turns around and flees this intimidating place ? But she knows she must face the day, no matter what.
She knocks softly, the sound echoing in the hallway's silence. The wait that follows feels like an eternity before an authoritative voice from the other side invites her in. Aimée hesitantly pushes the door open and steps into the classroom.
Even while trying to remain inconspicuous, she knows her lateness and fiery hair will draw attention like a flame in the dark.
The inside of the classroom feels even more intimidating than the hallways. The neatly arranged rows of desks and the gazes of her classmates fixated on her make Aimée feel her cheeks flush.
She senses the tension rising within her, every fiber of her body seeming to tighten. Her hands tremble slightly as she crosses them in front of her, desperately trying not to attract further attention.
Her vibrant hair isn't the only striking detail; her cheeks are dotted with freckles that multiply under stress. Her slender, delicate frame, almost fragile, appears ready to crumble under the weight of the stares.
Mrs. Giraud greets her with a stern look. "Miss Bernard, I presume ? You are late," she remarks coldly.
"I... I'm sorry, ma'am," she murmurs, her voice shaking. Her hands have turned cold and clammy, and she feels as though every movement is being scrutinized and judged.
Mrs. Giraud raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by her apologies.
"We have schedules to adhere to, Miss. Find a seat at the back of the class and do not disrupt the lesson."
Aimée nods timidly, avoiding the teacher's piercing gaze. As she heads to the back of the room, she feels the boys' eyes on her, inspecting her from head to toe. She notices with relief that there are three other girls in the class, their presence providing slight comfort.
