𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃, joseph descamps

𝟎𝟏𝟒. low blows under the table

SHE IS CROSSING THE HALL toward the literature classroom, her heart racing. The bell rang a few moments ago, signaling the start of classes, but for her, it isn't just another day. It's the dreaded presentation day, and she already feels the pressure building in her chest. She forces herself to breathe deeply, her sweaty hands gripping the strap of her backpack.

As she enters the room, she scans the space. The desks are arranged in a U-shape, and in the center, the empty chairs wait for their occupants. In the back, her gaze settles on Joseph, who is already waiting for her.

"So, the great poetess, are you ready to move hearts ?" he asks as he sees her approaching.

She sighs, a mix of annoyance and nervousness rising within her. "Ready ? I'm more ready to run, to be honest."

"Run ? What are you talking about ? Come on, we've worked hard for this. I'm sure even Rimbaud would applaud you, you know. If we fail, you can blame me."

"Oh, are you sure this doesn't have more to do with me than with you ?" she retorts, amused despite herself.

Their teacher enters the room, and the noise of conversations gradually fades. Aimée tries to focus, but her mind is too preoccupied with the idea of standing in front of the entire class.

"The first to present will be Bernard and Descamps !"

She feels her stomach tighten. This is the moment. They rise together, moving toward the board. Aimée glances back at the class, her heart tightening as she feels all eyes on them. Simone and Michèle offer her encouraging smiles, making her blush.

As the presentation comes to an end, a respectful silence fills the room, followed by a thunderous applause.

"I must say, I'm particularly surprised to see Descamps so engaged," the teacher declares as they return to their respective seats.

The subject, still unperturbed, sits up straight in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. "Thank you, Miss. It's a real turning point in my academic career." The teacher raises an eyebrow, amused by his arrogance, but doesn't stop there. "Be careful, redhead, you wouldn't want this little success to go to your head ! After all, it's a bit like Venus Anadyomene, isn't it ? But apart from your ambition, I'm not sure there's much to admire about you, especially not what's peeking out from your neckline."

A heavy silence falls over the room, and the laughter of classmates mingles with his sarcasm. Aimée feels her heart clench and anger rise within her. She swallows hard, her thoughts racing as she tries to find a response.

The teacher, visibly indifferent to Joseph's comment, flips through her notebook, looking distracted. "Well, well, very interesting. Let's move on to the next group. Sabiani and Pichon."

Henri stands up, his hands trembling, and walks toward the board, joining Annie. As they begin to explain their topic, Aimée hears Joseph's low voice... "Look at him, he'd better focus on his diet rather than on poetry," he whispers with a mocking smile.

She rolls her eyes at him, but his expression doesn't change. He seems to relish the situation, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

"Or maybe he should try not to suffocate in his shirt !" he continues, casting a disdainful glance at Henri, while Jean and Charles laugh.

Without thinking, she kicks him under the table, making him jump. He turns to her, surprised, but a provocative smile spreads across his lips. "Oh, you know it's just a joke, redhead. I was saying that to lighten the mood."

"You're unbearable !" she whispers.

Joseph smiles at her, amused by her anger. "And you're too serious. Relax a little."

In a sudden impulse, she kicks him again under the table, hoping it would be enough to silence him. But this time, he's ready. In a quick move, he grabs her leg, holding it firmly.

Aimée's eyes widen, realizing how embarrassed she is, especially since she's wearing a skirt. Heat rushes to her cheeks as she struggles to pull her leg free from his grip. "Let me go ! This isn't funny."

But he keeps his hold on her leg, his fingers sliding subtly along her thighs, a boldness that sends shivers down her spine. Stung by a sudden impulse, she rises slightly on her chair and, with a well-aimed kick, strikes directly between his legs.

He doubles over, a gasp of pain escaping him as he tries to contain his reaction. The muffled laughter of their classmates echoes around them, but he does his best to remain discreet, hiding his face in his hands while trying to catch his breath.

Aimée seizes the moment to pull her leg free, a victorious smile spreading across her lips. She leans slightly forward, feigning complete interest in Henri's presentation, but the small smirk on her face betrays her satisfaction.

Joseph, still doubled over, looks up at her, an expression of pain mixed with faux indignation. "You're a real tyrant, you know that ?" he murmurs between breaths.

"I warned you that I was tired of your jokes," she replies in a low but firm voice, trying not to burst into laughter.

She glances at Henri, who continues his presentation in a hesitant tone, probably unaware of the little drama unfolding beside him.

"I'll get my revenge, sooner or later," he warns, his voice slightly trembling but full of defiance.

"I'm ready," she retorts, pretending to be brave.

He looks at her for a moment, a smile forming on his lips. "Tell me, have you ever had a boyfriend ?"

She stares at him, surprised by the question. "Why do you care ?"

"Just curious," he replies, shrugging, "because, you know, there's little chance a guy would want to approach you." He leans a little closer to her, the smile still on his face. "I bet my hands on your thighs just now are the only contact you've ever had."

At those words, a sudden warmth rushes to her cheeks, embarrassing her terribly. Joseph, noticing the change in color on her face, bursts out laughing, mocking her without shame. "So it's true ! You've never had a boyfriend, have you ?"

She crosses her arms, uncomfortable, focusing on the blackboard in front of her. "It's not that important," she tries to say with an indifferent tone, but her voice betrays her unease.

"Not that important ?" he mocks. "It must be boring to be the girl in class who's never had a boyfriend."

"And you, how many girlfriends have you had ?" she finally asks, trying to turn the tables on him.

"Me ? Oh, several... But that's not the topic."

"Anyway, who would want you ?"

"They all want me, you know." She gives him a skeptical look, amused.

The teacher raises her eyes from her notes, fixing Joseph with a skeptical expression. "Descamps, Bernard, could you please focus ?"