[age of 12]
written by fleur
Mandolin016

some more new characters for you all :))

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Simon Lavigne was not very popular. If anything, he floated between groups, never having one just of his own. Despite his class clown reputation, Morgane saw him as nothing but annoying. It's not that he was mean or rude. It's just that he talked a lot. And laughed that adorable laugh a lot. The way he smirked in satisfaction after making the class giggle with yet another joke, the way his dirty blonde hair fell just at his eyebrows, the way his big blue eyes went wide when the teacher walked in on him dancing on a desk in math class a year ago. It was all so annoying to Morgane. For that matter, perhaps all boys were.

When she walked into the library for detention, none other than Simon Lavigne was sitting at the closest table. "Oh no," Morgane mumbled, "not you."

Simon smirked and brushed his hair out of his eyes. He always liked Morgane Bianchi. He thought she was sweet and kind. The past few months, he had been hoping he would get a chance to make a good impression on her. Maybe she likes me too, he thought. "Miss perfect ended up in jail for once." He laughed. Morgane frowned, and sat at the opposite end of the table. "You are both to sit in here and be quiet. Think about what you have done and how you can improve. I will be back soon." Principal Perrin told them, before leaving the 12 year olds alone in the small library.

After a minute or two Simon broke the silence. "So I heard you gave Durand what he deserves?" He asked, putting his feet up on the table.
Morgane laughed quietly and looked up at him,
"He talked bad about my father. What was I supposed to do?"

"What did that jerk say now?"

"That he did it to himself."

"Did what to himself?"

"Japan 2014."

"What was that?"

Morgane sighed, she suddenly realized that Simon, who was one of the few students from Nice and not Monaco, might not actually know who her family was. She couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Do you watch Formula One?" She asked Simon. He shook his head.

"I know what it is. I have never seen it though, why?"

"My father was a Formula One driver."

Simon's eyes went wide and he sat up straight. "So you're rich? How much does he get paid? Does this mean he has a fast car? Does he know famous people? Who's your mo- "

"No." She interrupted, annoyed,  "He's not alive anymore. I never really met him."

The room was silent. "I.. I'm sorry. I didn't know." Simon apologized, sinking down in his seat. "It's fine. But that's what Louis Durand was mocking me about."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I hate him."

"Me too."

The room was quiet again for a while, the two pre-teens watching the clock as the hour slowly finished up. The Principal walked in shortly after 4:00, and ushered the two pupils outside the school. As Simon and Morgane walked to the parking lot together, she asked him "So why did you have detention?"
He shrugged. "Apparently you can't draw a butt on the whiteboard in the art room. Who knew."
Morgane giggled. Maybe he was pretty funny, she thought.

The two approached the parking lot, where Charles' bright red Alfa Romeo Giulia was parked next to Simon's mom's modest black Renault. The boy's eyes went wide. "So you are rich! That is an expensive car!"

Morgane blushed as she looked down at her shoes. "I'll see you in class tomorrow Simon."

"See you!" And the two went their separate ways.

The first minute or so of the short car ride back to the apartment was quiet, with neither Charles or Morgane saying anything. Finally, Charles broke the silence, "So Maëlys told me everything that happened." Morgane was surprised. "When did you see Maëlys?" She asked.

"Well she told her mom and then her mom called me."

"Are you mad? At me?"

"At you? No. At the asshole that said whatever to you? Yes. I'm pissed."

Charles pulled into the parking garage for the luxury apartment building and parked his Alfa next to the Ferrari F8 Tributo of his brother Arthur. He turned to his goddaughter next to him. "He didn't hurt you, right? Physically at least?" He asked her, concerned.
Morgane shook her head. "I'm fine." She got out of the car quietly and followed Charles to the building and into the elevator. As they waited for the elevator to reach the tenth floor, Morgane reached for her godfather's hand and held it in her own. She looked up at him. "What are you going to do about this, uh, situation?" She asked.

"I'm going to call the principal and tell her exactly what happened. That boy needs more than detention." He said calmly, but Morgane knew he was furious inside. She had hardly ever seen him very angry outside of racing. Suddenly, the elevator dinged and dropped them off outside their apartment. Charles unlocked the door, and Morgane went inside. She threw her backpack into her room, before running to jump onto the plush couch next to Charles. She snuggled into his side, and he hugged her tightly. "Was my papa a good driver?" She asked quietly.
Charles nodded and a sad smile crept onto his face.
"He was going to be a world champion, Morgane. He was the best driver I had ever seen. It should be him in a Ferrari right now, not me."

"Well what about Arthur?" Charles smiled again and looked at the girl's big brown eyes that looked so much like Jules' eyes. "It would be three cars. Arthur and I, just like now, and your papa would be the third car."

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