The tale of the life of a rose through the eyes of a daisy.

Ninety-eight

   Zephirine's puffy eyes were now shining in the moonlight. Sitting on the ground cooled by the night, the young girl stood up slowly. She was not angry, yet she could feel this strange feeling within her. The heavy-hearted beauty approached the canvas covered in spring-colored paint, a brief hope began to arise in her, could it be her again? When she stretched out her hands towards this work, she suddenly recognized the young lady with the mischievous look, how could she have believed that it would be her? Ambroise had never depicted her with a smile other than the one he had given her the day they met. The colors escaping from the portrait did not match those used in his previous portraits. Zephirine moved away from the canvas. The girl felt her stomach twist, with a light hand she picked up a brush, without paying attention to the colors displayed on the table, she dipped her brush. Zephirine's abrupt gesture turned into a huge red scratch in the center of the painting. The wooden brush crashed against the ground at the feet of the girl with the empty gaze, leaving a large red stain on her shoes. Zephirine left the room. As she crossed the long corridors with marbled stone floors, she noticed the absence of light, it was like a revelation. The portraits on the walls all seemed to be staring at her insistently. How could she ignore their judgmental gazes? The girl continued to walk forward with her head held high. She finally reached the staircase that would lead her to her room. Zephirine placed a trembling hand on the thick wooden railing and began to climb the steps one by one. Her long hair flew down her back, her dress swayed to the rhythm of her steps, her face colorless, her pink lips turned purple, her eyes of unparalleled coldness, Zephirine with the imperial appearance continued to advance with such elegance, she seemed to float. She seemed so light, so carefree, the young girl looked like a ghost. Yet she was very much alive. Her heart cooled, she finally reached her pavilion, discreetly she slipped inside and rushed to her room. On her bed Florette had placed the portraits and a small envelope addressed to her. Without paying attention Zephirine put the envelope on her desk and grabbed the portraits which she threw out of a window. She undressed while keeping the same frozen expression on her face. Then she went back to her bed and fell asleep immediately.

The next day the results of the end-of-year exams were handed out. Zephirine had always been the best scorer in her class, so even though she had butterflies in her stomach she wouldn't dwell on it. Sitting in her place at the back of the classroom, the young girl watched her much-loved teacher hand out their copies to the students in the order of the rows of desks. Mr. Jean started on the left and gave the students their results while speaking.
"-When you receive your copy I would ask you not to look at it so that everyone is equal and sees their grade at the same time, thank you."
The infinitely kind man then handed out their sheets to Zephirine and her classmates sitting in the center row and then finished with the one on the right. The mustachioed man returned to his desk at the front of the classroom and sat down behind it and smiled at the students.
"-You can turn your sheets over, but keep in mind that her results do not count for next year but for the ranking of students by level of the academy."
Zephirine turned her sheet over with certainty, she could see around her satisfied faces but also disappointed expressions. Without being able to explain it, she felt a lot of pleasure watching her classmates fail their exams. In front of her, Florette and Agatha turned around, each holding in their hands the results of their end-of-year exams.
"-So how much did you get?" Zéphirine asked them in a falsely innocent voice. The young girl knew very well that Florette had just obtained the average and that Agatha would probably place among the twenty best in her class.
"-I got fifty-two out of a hundred." Florette admitted discreetly, hiding her copy from the curious glances of the other students.
"-Eighty six! And I'm not little proud. Obviously I know you got a much better score than me but still!" Agatha laughed looking at her two friends.
"-But tell us Zephy how much did you get?" Her friend asked with a pout.
"-Ninety eight point five." The intelligent blonde murmured with a proud smile on her face. "-But you'll hear it yourself from Mr. Jean when he announces the best result."
Indeed, the kind professor stepped forward in front of the large blackboard and spoke, clearing his throat.
"-My very dear students, I am particularly proud of each one of you. I must, as every year before this one, announce to you the best result and the worst. But it will be up to you to come and see the ranking at the end of the lesson, it will also be posted in the entrance hall. I would like to start by announcing that the lowest result is Forty-six out of a hundred!"
Zephirine saw Ambroise's face turn red at the announcement of this result, after all he had not worked all year it was normal that he had obtained such a low mark.
"-Now let's move on to the best score of this class and therefore the one who will appear at the top of our annual ranking of your sixth year class, so give all your congratulations to..."
Zephirine straightened up in her chair with a big smile on her lips, as she had done every year before.
"-Mr. De Fleuret Ambroise who obtained a score of Ninety-nine out of a hundred! That makes him the best student in your class! Congratulations to you young man!"
Zephirine felt her heart detach in her chest, had she misunderstood? How was it that this boy had a better result than her? As she had noticed a few minutes before, he had done nothing since his arrival during the year. The young girl full of resentment did not applaud him. For the last time of the year the bell announced the end of the lesson and all the students left the classroom, greeting their teacher. Zephirine stood up and picked up her basket, she quickly headed towards the door. Before she could cross the threshold, she heard a voice behind her calling out to her.
"-Miss Heisenberg? Come see me for a moment." Her teacher's warm voice indicated that he would most likely try to console her. The girl joined him at his desk.
"-You got an excellent result young lady only today luck was with someone else."
"-It's not about luck but about work, but I won't let myself be fooled like that next year especially not by him. Goodbye sir. " After saying these words, the young student left the classroom for the last time of the year and went to the entrance hall. A cluster of students from all years were around the lists. Zephirine moved between her classmates, making her way through the crowd. She arrived at the height of the famous list where for the very first time her name was not in first place. A hand was placed on her shoulder. A voice whispered softly in her ear.
"-You can't always win, can you Zephy?"
The young girl felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, she had recognized this voice and she knew that when she turned around she would not see anyone, because Wendy was no longer allowed there. However, something seemed to indicate to her that this was not the case, she had seen with her own eyes that her friend was well and truly dead, so how could she hear it? Zephirine was pulled out of her thoughts by a soft voice.
"-Congratulations..."
The girl looked up, to see a strong hand extended towards her. She arched her right eyebrow before refusing the hand with a sudden gesture.
"-I won't congratulate you." She announced to him as she moved away from the young man. How could he dare come and congratulate her after taking her place on the list? Zephirine began to lose patience and decided to leave the great hall and head towards the bookstore. She knew that during the next few weeks she would have to work on her revisions in order to be ready for the year to come.