Nouvelles

As the slow ringing of the alarm clock echoes in my head, I felt myself rising out of bed. What day was it? Probably Wednesday. It didn’t matter. It was just another day of the week. To add a little drama, the voice in my head gave it an opening: my name is Mercury and this is the longest day of my life.

Just as the school bell rang, I passed the classroom’s threshold and noticed that my favourite seat was free. Third row, far left, next to the window. M. Summer had finally decided to show his face, and he had brought M. Sun along with him. If the day was really so bright, then why was no one smiling?

I learnt later from a fellow class member that we had just sat through a two-hour long history test. Hence the general cursing.

Walking down the stairs of the tallest white building, I crossed paths with a girl who tried to sell me these coloured ribbons, insisting it was for a good cause. She claimed to be a volunteer for the school-based charity organisation “Justice au cœur”. I had heard of them before. How could you miss those posters where they quoted all kinds of ‘great men’ saying ‘inspiring’ things? Who where they kidding, trying to convince people to donate? You can change a lot of things, but you can’t change human nature. People know charities exist. If they had wanted to donate, they already would have. Maybe they had, but I doubt it. I finally complied and bought a red ribbon. The girl seemed happy enough as a soft smile drew itself on her lips. I watched as a strand of her chestnut-blonde hair brushed in front of her bright, green eyes. 

I was about to ask her name when she left to interrupt more people in their repetitive discussions.

Off I went to the Vie Scolaire to justify another absence of mine. What did it matter to them, anyway? All in all, you’re just another cross on the list. So, to soothe my boredom, I picked up a Newcomer’s leaflet to the school. The opening message said, inter alia, that the staff is also here to “promote the well being of your social life while maintaining your individuality”. As to think that they are even starting to believe their own hot air. It was signed by our beloved headmaster, the man on the ant hill, looking down on us from his fourth-floor view. With that, I closed the door behind me.

Half past one already, sitting in the school cafeteria with my two best friends, our laughter lost in the never-ending chatter that surrounded us. Around us swarmed the yellow jackets, small men who were given the authority they so much craved.

Authority over children, authority none the less. For some reason, I kept looking at the three main entrances to the large, yellow room, looking for something. 

I had my friends right here, was it not enough?

A cloud had moved over to cover up the mid-afternoon sun, giving us all a chance to breathe. I took this opportunity to step inside the foyer, a sanctuary where you could gather your thoughts and prepare for the fail that your next test would inevitably be.

There she was again, the girl with the green eyes. This time, she was putting up posters for the CVL, a ‘power to the people’ thing for the students, spreading a false sense of democracy among them. The members were all elected by popularity, and popularity alone. I had never even heard of half of them, in fact, I hadn’t bothered to vote. One of the girl’s friends came by and asked about her implication in the CVL. 

From what I overheard, she had barely made the list, but was the most determined to actually make a significant change. That’s what she said.

When her friend left, I decided to go talk to her and my heart started beating slightly faster. It was probably just the heat. After a brief exchange, she told me she was parading at the school’s Fashion Show that evening and invited me to come. With little doubt I agreed.

For the first time, I stayed after hours in these empty walls they called school.

I hoped the evening wouldn’t be a total loss, after all, I wouldn’t want to miss out on the repetitive cycle I would be coming home to. As I passed by the Churchill room, the floor started vibrating: the music had just started.

I came in through a long, white corridor before slipping behind the back row. 

So people came and did their thing, group after the other, I wasn’t really paying attention. Towards the end of the parade, the moment finally came. 

There she was in all her glory, painting colour in the grey wall that my life was, without even knowing it. She was out there, shining like the brightest star while I was back here, on the dark side of my lonely little moon. I felt so small.

After the end credits had rolled, and my self-esteem gone with them, I made my way to the exit. I hadn’t reached the door when a hand went out to grab my arm. To my surprise, it was her. We talked longer than before, but this time she wasn’t as confident and was often lost for words. I can’t say I was doing any better myself. Finally, I just asked if she was free that Friday evening, to which she answered yes.

On the trip back home that night, I think I dozed off in the tube. There it was, the sound of silence. All the demons had run off into the sunset and there came peace at last. Maybe my bleak view of society had finally shed its skin, some light had leaked out. The neon lights of the subway rushed passed me. And for the first time in a very long time, I smiled.

 by Mercury