𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃, joseph descamps

𝟎𝟎𝟕. the flavors of lost innocence

IN FRONT OF THE SALAD BAR IN THE CAFETERIA, Aimée wonders if she should stick with lettuce, tomatoes, and corn once again or if she can treat herself to a bit of tuna pasta just this once. Her stomach is growling.

Suddenly, Joseph, the most annoying boy on the planet, appears beside her.

"Want to trade ?" he asks, waving a plate of caramel cake with custard under her nose. "Come on... You're not tempted, are you sure ?"

The cake looks delicious, but eating it would be a mistake, she thinks. The Ministry of Health should slap a warning label on it : Warning, potential death by sugar overdose. Then again, there are worse ways to go... "Go away," she sighs.

"You can eat whatever you want, you know. You're all thin and pretty."

Thin and pretty ? Joseph smiles, holding her gaze. He's good. She almost took it as a compliment until she remembered his favorite pastime is mocking others.

"I've been watching you for a while," he continues in a low voice. "You only eat salad now, like a rabbit."

She feels her cheeks burn. Anger tightens her throat into a painful knot. He has no right to spy on her. As she remains silent, Joseph shrugs, then hands her the plate of cake and walks away. The scent of caramel and custard makes her mouth water, but she knows her body doesn't need it. Even one bite would be a bad idea, right ? She rolls her eyes, grabs the plate, and tosses its contents in the trash.

She ultimately opts for a salad made of lettuce, tomatoes, corn, and a few pieces of grilled chicken, sticking to her usual routine. She joins her friends at their usual table in the noisy cafeteria, hoping the rest of the meal will go smoothly.

Yet, she can't shake off the feeling of Joseph's gaze on her throughout the meal. Every time she looks up, she catches him staring intensely at her, a smirk tugging at his lips. It's as if he finds some special amusement in watching her eat her modest salad, like he's trying to tease her even more.

Her friends seem oblivious, engrossed in their own lively conversations. Aimée tries to stay focused on their discussion, but Joseph's insistent gaze unsettles her.

She wonders what drives him to look at her like that. Is he mocking her food choices, or is there something else behind his piercing stare ? She can't quite figure out his intentions, which only makes her more uncomfortable.

The afternoon is already well underway when Madame Giraud, the history teacher with an authoritative voice, announces, "Today, we're going to select the class representative !"

The students, already slightly drowsy after lunch, perk up with curiosity. It's a highly anticipated moment, an annual ritual where one of them gets the opportunity to represent the class for the year. Madame Giraud, with her strict suit and round glasses perched on her nose, awaits volunteers.

Aimée, sitting in the middle of the room, watches her classmates closely. Felbec, the class's undeniable intellectual, raises his hand enthusiastically, while Joseph, sitting by the window with his usual nonchalant demeanor, seems interested too. Aimée hesitates. She has always kept a low profile in class, preferring to avoid responsibilities that require being in the spotlight.

Madame Giraud scans the room, noting the raised hands. Her gaze settles on Joseph. She smiles slightly before declaring with a hint of mischief, "The first to give me the date of the Battle of Marathon will be the class representative !"

The announcement stirs excitement among the students. The Battle of Marathon is a topic they studied in ancient history, a seemingly trivial question that has now become crucial.