𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃, joseph descamps

𝟎𝟎𝟒. refuge for troubled souls

ANNIE, MICHELÈ, SIMONE, AND AIMÉE exit the restrooms, which serve as temporary changing rooms for girls during gym class. The worn walls and gray doors do little to hide the school authorities' lack of regard for female students.

That day, they all wear the gym uniforms provided by the school, but it is clear that the blue shorts are too short and the fitted tops highlight every curve of their bodies.

Aimée hates how her body always seems too visible in these outfits. She instinctively lowers her head as she steps out of the restroom, hoping to go unnoticed, as if that could lessen the discomfort she feels.

The other girls, while embarrassed by the situation, seem to cope better with the awkwardness of their gym clothes. Annie nervously adjusts her shorts, Michèle tugs at her tight top, and Simone tries to mask her discomfort with a forced smile.

The hallway leads directly to the gym, where the boys have already started a lively basketball game. The sounds of competition and the squeaking of sneakers on the floor resonate in the large space. Joseph sits off to the side on a bench, watching the game with detached interest.

The girls walk over to the gym teacher standing nearby, exchanging brief words before receiving their instructions. The teacher points them to a corner of the gym where a rope hangs from the ceiling. "Go climb the rope," he tells them in a tone that leaves little room for discussion.

Aimée exchanges a quick glance with her friends. They immediately understand the meaning of this separation : the boys play basketball while they are sent to practice on the rope. It is a familiar scene, a gender-based division that places them in an inferior position compared to the boys' activities deemed more competitive and masculine.

Under Joseph's scrutinizing gaze, she feels her discomfort intensifying. She knows he is watching their group, perhaps even silently mocking their fate. She walks with the other girls to the designated corner of the gym, trying to hold her head high despite the bubbling sense of injustice within her.

The rope hangs silently, waiting to be climbed. Aimée wonders if this segregation is truly necessary or if it is just another manifestation of the archaic norms that seem to govern physical activities at school.

Aimée feels Joseph's gaze weighing on her like a tangible presence as she struggles to climb the rope with the other girls. Each movement is accompanied by the feeling that he is scrutinizing her, calculating something, but she cannot guess what. The discomfort of her tight gym clothes makes each moment more unbearable, amplifying her self-doubts.

As the other girls continue their efforts on the rope, she suddenly decides to slip away. The restroom seems like the perfect refuge.

She sneaks out of the gym, following the arrows pointing to the restrooms. After a few minutes of brisk walking, she reaches a restroom block. She doesn't notice that it is the boys' restroom, but at that moment, it matters little to her.

Before she can enter, a firm hand lands on her arm, stopping her in her tracks. It is Joseph, his sole eye fixed on her.

"Where do you think you're going, redhead ? The boys' restroom isn't exactly an appropriate place for a lady, is it ?"

Aimée feels her heart race. She tries to pull away from his grip, but he tightens his hold, keeping her firmly in place.

"You'd better head back to the gym before someone realizes you're here alone with me."

At that moment, a piercing scream suddenly echoes from inside the boys' restroom. It is a muffled yet clear cry for help. She recognizes the voice as Michèle's brother. Aimée's eyes widen in horror as the realization hits her like a punch.

She realizes the truth : Joseph has trapped Jean-Pierre in the restroom to prevent him from attending his disciplinary meeting. Without thinking further, she violently pushes Joseph away, who stumbles back, surprised by her sudden determination. She runs toward the restroom, unaware of what awaits her but determined to rescue Jean-Pierre.

Inside, Jean-Pierre is locked in a stall. He pounds on the door, shouting at the top of his lungs to be freed. "Jean-Pierre ! Jean-Pierre, it's me, Aimée ! I'm here, it's okay, I'm going to get you out of here !"

She hears Joseph approaching behind her, but this time she completely ignores him. Her hands tremble as she desperately tries to find a way to open the locked door.

Finally, after a tense struggle with the latch, the door swings open. Jean-Pierre rushes out, unsteady but unharmed. He clings to her, his eyes full of gratitude. "Thank you..." he murmurs, his voice trembling with relief. Then, with those words, he bolts away, already late for his meeting.

Joseph, furious at having his plan thwarted, approaches with an angry demeanor. She stands her ground, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves.

"You should have never intervened," he spits out harshly. "You don't understand what's going on between us."

"What's going on between him and you ? You thought you were entitled to lock up Jean-Pierre like that ? You're completely out of control."

He steps closer to her slowly, his face just inches from hers. "And you, always playing the hero ? You don't know when to stay in your place." Anger, frustration, and something more complex pulse between them. Joseph leans in even closer, so close that their breaths mingle. "You annoy me, redhead," he murmurs.

Aimée holds his gaze. "And you, Descamps, are impossible."

Boiling with anger, he grabs her wrist and squeezes tightly. But what he feels makes him shiver. He can sense the fragility of her bones under his grip, the almost delicate slenderness of her arms. It's as if he discovers a vulnerability he has never noticed before.

In his frustration, he can't help but notice how thin her wrist is, almost skeletal. A wave of concern washes over him. He realizes how much weight she has lost, beyond what seems normal for a girl her age.

He slowly loosens his grip, as if afraid of breaking her. She immediately notices his unease. He shakes his head slightly, as if trying to shake off the intrusive thoughts that assault him.

"I... I'm sorry," he murmurs, a rare embarrassment coloring his usually impassive features. He wants to comment on her thinness, but she speaks faster. "I... I should probably go."

She turns on her heels, heading toward the restroom door without looking back. Joseph stands there, feelings swirling in his mind, a strange sensation in his stomach.