Chapter Text
Click, click, click.
Cameras flash ruthlessly in my face, their white lights blinding me over and over again as I rush towards the car.
"Miss Taylor, Miss Taylor!"
The reporters scream at me in tandem, one even having the audacity to shove a large tape recorder near my mouth.
"Care to make a statement on your relationship with Andrew Manneti?"
"No I certainly do not!" I say before pushing the device -and man- away from me.
My mother scrambles to get the side of the Chevy Camaro open with all the lights and noise down our necks. She finally throws the passenger seat door open and nearly knocks my head on the roof of the car trying to squeeze me in.
"Dear god, give us some room!" She cries, running to the drivers side.
A man bumps her into the front headlight while trying to get a solid shot of my horrified face, shattering part of the encasing glass and tearing her fancy dress.
She finally shuts us both in and the engine revs to life, wheels spinning nearly a second later; The tires just barely missing the feet of several men pressed to our windows.
Speeding off towards our apartment in the Upper East side I catch one last look at the horde, and the hotel I'd just been dragged out of.
The Waldorf.
******
I sit in front of my pristine white vanity brushing my auburn hair over and over again. I checked the clock, my plan was to ensure I didn't arrive too early.
I was sure the first girls would certainly be bombarded from the excited flock of teenage boys, all acting as though they hadn't just passed the same woman a few blocks earlier and paid them no mind. Whilst America had since switched to Co-ed schools years ago, France was still toying with the idea. In an attempt to make my change from New York to this provincial village easier my mother had enrolled me in the only gender mixed school in the country. How thoughtful.
'What will it feel like to attend classes again?' It had been a few years since I had been in regular school. At least not consistently since my first real photoshoot at 12 years old, in all actuality I hadn't foreseen myself ever returning- especially here of all places.
"Mary, are you almost ready!" Mother screamed from down the stairs.
"Yes Mama, I'm just finishing up!"
I quickly put my hair back, letting my bangs fall in front of my face and the tips of my bow peak out from the back of my head.
Stealing once last look as I ran out towards the living space, it was perfectly evident my furniture was not suited to the old room. My soft silk bedspread laid on top of a creaky splintering frame and rock hard mattress. Even my poor white vanity stood out against the mustard coloured chipping paint. My mothers family home was certainly nothing to praise, but it had come without cost, unlike my previous decisions.
I snatched my canvas bag and books from the dining table, trying to bypass my mother.
"Ah ah ah." She stood in front of the door.
"There's no way you're leaving the house like that." she pulled on my cream skirt, scrunching her nose at the length.
"Maybe if I had more time to pack I would've had something more sensible." I pursed my lips.
"Yes Mary, but who's fault is that." She grabbed a blue cardigan from the coat rack and tucked my bangs behind my ears.
"Cover up, we don't need you causing another problem. Word travels far too fast here." She stepped out of my way and disappeared into the kitchen.
I huffed and shook my bangs loose before stepping outside.
I flipped open my little map, red ink outlining my route to Voltaire. The town was by no means big but the winding streets made it impossible for me to keep my head straight.
I stared up at the big imposing house. From the outside it represented a home of great luxuries, Large rounded windows, a fresh coat of paint and a flat of lavender curling around the outside. It was such a beautiful husk.
I started off on my walk to class, taking note of a bar, apothecary and as I got closer to the school I jotted down a quaint butchers and a corner store. Good to know where the basics are.
Coming up to the gates I could feel all eyes on me. A few boys on mopeds across the street even having the gaul to whistle. I felt the lump in my throat harden as I walked through the courtyard. My greatest fear is that I might be recognized, even overseas I'm sure that one of these teens has access to some kind of English magazine. Everyone was dead quiet as I approached two girls who looked to be my age.
"We have quite the audience." I popped my head over their shoulders, standing a few inches taller than them both.
"The gawking is so freaky, isn't it?" The short haired brunette giggled.
I looked them both up and down, analysing their clothes and hair. 'It would be helpful to dress more like them going forward'
"So what's your name?" The blonde piped up.
"Oh, my name's Marianna, nice to meet you both-?" I smiled
"Oops sorry, I'm Michele and this Simone." We all nodded to one another.
"We were actually just talking about how there are less than 20 of us this year!" Simone pointed at the board.
Suddenly a 4th presence was felt at my back, causing me to jump forward.
"Oh no." A young man with a soft round face said.
"What's wrong?" Michele replied.
"I have Bluebeard this year!" He sighed disappointedly.
"Bluebeard?" We all giggled.
"She's the worst I'm telling you." He nervously laughs with us.
"Sorry, uhm.. I'm Henri, but everybody just calls me Pichon."
"Hello Pichon." We introduced ourselves. "Oh look, we're all in the same class!."
I pause to look around the courtyard. Accidentally making eye contact with a face already pointed in my direction. The sandy haired young man with thinly brimmed glasses was staring me down, quite intently. A smirk grows across his face knowing he has caught my attention. His posse nudges and laughs around him. 'He's rather pretty.'
He rises from the bench, his friend clapping to spur him on. I'm taken aback by how tall he really is, looming over the rest of his companions. For a second I think he's headed towards me, but then his head swivels, suddenly distracted.
I follow his gaze to a stunning blonde girl, nearly identical to Pattie Boyd or even Marilyn Monroe.
"So much for all the attention we were getting." Huffed Simone.
Pichon's mouth hangs perfectly agape.
" BRIIING " The bell rang loudly.
I spare one more glance at the boy. Smugness etched into his face like he knew I'd want to get one last look at him.
******
We all stand in a group outside the entrance to Voltaire. The staff crowd around the railings looking down at us. I hear Pichon point out our maths teacher Bluebeard and the girls begin to giggle to themselves when they realize she does not in fact have a 'Blue Beard.' I was expecting a tough old man, but no it was a rather nasty looking woman who had earned the odd title. She scornfully glares at all the girls blatantly unimpressed by the Co-Ed merge.
"Go ahead, Paul." The principle directs what I assume to be our student dean to the steps.
"Welcome to Voltaire High school.." His voice drowns out when I feel someone brush against me.
"You're not from here." His voice is smooth like velvet and raises the hairs on my arms.
"And how do you know that?" I whisper.
My head turns to look up at him, his body looming over mine.
"Well for one your French is shit.-" He says plainly before a smirk creeps up on his face. I stiffen when his head ducks down close to my shoulder.
"-and I have an eye for beautiful foreign women."
I feel the back of my neck heat up, his crudeness seemingly made up for with flattery. I couldn't begin to fathom why he was having such a profound effect on me. I thought that the young men of New York had left me numb to flirting and sultry charm. I had guessed wrong.
"Well you're awfully curt." I shift away from him, dropping his gaze to calm my nerves.
"Mm...You don't strike me as a girl who cares much for manners." I felt his hand tug at the hem of my too short dress. 'Is he implying what I think he's implying-!'
I elbow him, causing a muffled grunt to escape past his lip-locked cigarette. Students begin to clap around me as the student dean's speech comes to an end, leaving the boys groans unheard by anyone else.