𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃, joseph descamps

𝟎𝟐𝟑. an angel at dinner

SHE PUSHES THE DOOR OF HER HOUSE, welcomed by the familiar scent of simmering dishes wafting through the air. She slowly removes her shoes and moves forward, curious, hearing familiar laughter. Her parents are probably preparing dinner.

"Hi, sweetheart ! How was your day ?" her mother asks, emerging from the kitchen, her hair tied up in a messy bun, a spatula in hand.

"Like usual," Aimée replies, shrugging, her mind still haunted by her sharp exchanges with Joseph. She forces a smile, ignoring the wave of frustration rising within her at the mere mention of his name.

Her father, sitting at the table chopping vegetables, turns to her with a warm smile. "We have a little surprise for tonight. Neighbors are coming over for dinner."

Aimée raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Neighbors ?"

"Yes, the Descamps family," her mother replies. "Joseph and his mother. I ran into his mom at the drugstore this morning. I didn't know Joseph was in your class !"

She pales slightly, her heart racing. The day has already been challenging enough without having to deal with Joseph's presence outside of school. She tries to remain calm, but a shiver of anxiety runs down her spine. Why, oh why, does he have to be here tonight ?

"Great," she says in a voice a bit too cheerful to be sincere. "I can't wait." She forces another smile, but her mind is in turmoil.

"Don't make that face, Aimée," her father says, gesturing for her to come closer to the table. "It's a chance to have a good time together. And you know, Joseph is a nice boy."

"You don't have to worry," her mother continues, oblivious to the turmoil within her. "I'm sure you'll find things to talk about."

Aimée rolls her eyes, realizing she has no choice. She needs to prepare for this unexpected encounter. On one hand, she knows that spending an evening with Joseph won't be easy, but on the other, she feels strangely excited at the idea of seeing him outside of school.

"I'm going to change," she announces, heading toward her room, her mind swirling with thoughts.

As she browses her wardrobe, she thinks about what she could wear for the evening. She wants to be herself but doesn't want to give him too much importance. In the end, she opts for a simple yet elegant dress that accentuates her red hair and highlights her figure. She looks at herself in the mirror, ensuring her reflection is satisfactory, then heads back down to the kitchen.

Joseph is already there, sitting at the table, head held high, an arrogant smile on his face. His mother, charming, is chatting with hers.

"Ah, here's my little Aimée !" exclaims Joseph's mother, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her. "I'm so happy to finally meet you. Joseph has told me so much about you."

A faint blush rises on Aimée's cheeks. She struggles to process it. "Thank you," she murmurs, surprised by the unexpected compliment.

"Isn't that right, my angel ?"

Aimée can't help but smile, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. This familiarity between them seems both endearing and slightly embarrassing. She can imagine Joseph, the archetypal rebel, receiving such a nickname in public.

"Yes, yes, don't embarrass me, Mom," he replies, crossing his arms, but his voice is softer than he would like.

The table is set with care, and her father invites everyone to sit down. As Aimée takes her seat across from Joseph, she forces herself to focus on the dishes being served. Mouthwatering aromas of roasted vegetables and roasted chicken fill the air. For once, she starts to feel hungry.

"So, Aimée," Joseph's mother begins, serving herself a generous portion of mashed potatoes. "Tell me, what are your plans for the future ? Joseph told me you're very involved in your studies."

"I'm planning to take the bac this year and then I want to study law," she replies. "I'd like to become a notary."

"Wow, that's impressive ! You're ambitious, my dear," Joseph's mother says, admiration shining in her eyes. "And your hair ! That red color is beautiful; I've never seen such a vibrant shade. It looks great on you !"

Aimée blushes slightly, flattered by the compliment. She has always had a love-hate relationship with her fiery hair, but hearing such positive words from someone else warms her. "Thank you," she says, giving a shy smile.

"But I must say, Joseph is having a bit of trouble shining academically." She turns to her son with an amused smile. "He particularly struggles with math, doesn't he, my angel ?"

Joseph, who has turned away to take a bite of his mashed potatoes, sighs, blushing. "Mom, don't start..."

"I think it would be a good idea for you to ask for help," she continues, ignoring him. "And who better than Aimée to help you ? She's so good at math. What do you think ?"

Aimée, surprised by this unexpected suggestion, glances at Joseph. "I'm not sure I'm the best person for that," she says uncertainly. "I mean, I could try, but..."

"Of course you are ! You're always at the top of the class, Aimée," her mother encourages her.

"And who knows, it could be a great way to spend time together, right ?" adds Joseph's mother, while Joseph rolls his eyes.

As the meal draws to a close, laughter still echoes in the kitchen. Aimée's parents are escorting Joseph's mother to the door, and a light atmosphere fills the air.

Joseph, who lingers behind, turns to Aimée with his hands in his jeans pockets. His smile has faded, and he seems noticeably less enthusiastic than during dinner. "You know, I really don't want to do these math lessons," he says with an exaggerated sigh, his eyes scanning the ceiling as if hoping to find a solution there.

She shrugs, sharing his sentiment. "I'm with you on that," she replies, her tone slightly bitter. "But we don't really have a choice. If we don't want our parents coming down on us, we'd better pretend to work together."

"Let's pretend to work, then. It could be fun."

Aimée can't help but smile, even though it annoys her. "Fun ? I'm not here to have fun with math. I'm here to help you not fail your year."

"Yeah, but we could always make fun of math while trying to understand it," he suggests. "I mean, what's the point of spending time together if it's just to argue about equations ?"

She rolls her eyes, amused. "Of course, as if you can't tell the difference between an addition problem and an existential crisis," she retorts, pretending to ignore him. "I'd prefer not to spend any time with you at all."

"Look, I'm not the top of the class like you," he says, stepping a little closer, his tone becoming more serious. "But I'm not the dumbest either. Maybe if you showed a bit more patience, I could get by."

"Patience ? With you ? You're such a little angel," she scoffs, throwing the jab back at him. "But I'm not going to let you waste my time." He gives her a dirty look before joining his mother.