MONDAY 17TH OF FEBRUARY :
I progress in what will, from now on, be my new school, my heart dancing the samba in my rib cage. I feel tiny among all these students in uniform. They're gathered in little groups, talking and laughing together. We may all be dressed the same way but I still feel like a misfit. Nothing too different from France up to now.
Anyway, i rush to the head's office, more than uncomfortable and knock, breathing deeply. A man who's probably twice my size comes to open the door and let me in.
- Good morning, i assume you are our new student ?
- Yes, I'm Clara Gauthier, nice to meet you!
- Mr Walker, nice to meet you too. Know that we're delighted to welcome you among us, he says warmly, smiling from ear to ear. During all this year, you'll be able to turn towards me if you need anything, and we'll do our best so this exchange will be all right.
- Thank you Sir, i answer, smiling back.
After a very complete (and very boring) explanation of the rules, he explains me how to get to my classroom, where my first teacher and my new classmates are waiting for me, and i start walking, more nervous than ever.
I must have checked at least ten times I am at the right place before approaching the door. I raise my hand to knock, before being slowed down by a draft of anxiety. I want to scream and to cry, to run away and to curl up in a ball, overwhelmed by the nausea and the lack of air . Come on Clara, pull yourself together. I put back my knee socks, the only eccentricity I allowed myself to add to my uniform. Come on, Australian students mustn't be worse than the french ones, right? And I'll have to come in one day or the other so... I adjust my tie and knock, struggling to control my shaking body.
The door opens on my teacher, a thirty years old man, probably asian, interrupted in the middle of his french lesson. Behind him, about thirty pairs of eyes stare at me. So reassuring. The young educator excuses himself and joins me in the corridor, closing the door behind him.
- You must be Clara Gauthier ? Mr Brown, nice to meet you. I'm the french teacher. I won't be your teacher though, they put you in another class for spanish lessons.
- Nice to meet you, Sir Brown...
CRAP CLARA SAY SOMETHING, HURRY UP ! Ohlala the embarassment...
-You seem stressed ! He laughs, breaking the blank. Don't worry, it's all gonna be fine, the class was very excited at the idea of your arrival, and I'm here to help you. Ready ? He asks, putting his hand on the knob, waiting for an answer.
I shook my head yes, and he opened the door. I walked into the room, walking through this deafening silence. My teacher made me come on the stage next to him, in front of the board, and put his hand down on my shoulder.
- Mesdemoiselles, messieurs, let me introduce you to Clara. Clara Gauthier. She's coming from France for a linguistic exchange and will spend the whole year with us. I count on you to welcome her into the group, I know that, globally, you all get along well so don't leave her aside. Please Clara, take a seat next to Emily.
I go to the back of the room, where I sit down next to a cute blond girl, wearing the biggest grin. A guy whistle at me on the way, funny how it reminds me of a certain country.
- Emily April, delighted to meet you. Don't hesitate if you need anything, I'm in your service.
- Clara, delighted too. And thank you, I'll remember.
We exchange a smile but my, i hope, future friend, noticing how uncomfortable I am, focuses on the lesson again and i am left to my own reflections. So, official introductions are done. It's this less to do. I can see from my chair the other students glancing at me one by one, faces marked with curiosity. A young man of the first row tears out a page of his notebook and scribbles on it before brandishing it, a proud smile plastered on his face.
« FRENCH KISS ? »
I can't help but burst out laughing. Oh gosh that felt so good ! Looks like french girls have the heck of a reputation abroad ! The boy gives me a friendly smile and goes back to his lesson. I'm now a bit more chilled, and take the risk to turn around and cast an eye over the rest of the teenagers. Maybe they aren't so scary? They still look at me but their looks are way less insisting.
I notice after a little while two guys sat next to the window. One is black-haired and seems to have gorgeous clear-coloured eyes. He is doodling on his table,eyes lost in the faraway. The other one is dark-haired too, and dark-skined. The latter looks at me and, seeing i'm watching him, adresses me the cutest half smile I've ever seen. I smile back, my heart making a little somersault. Guys like this, though, there wasn't any in France.
