CHAPTER ONE ━━ boys in the window

Clement Blanc was a man of refined taste and order. He drank malt whiskeys and wore colognes of cedar wood and bergamot. He wore different coloured ties according to days of the week and wore silver dice cufflinks on days with big meetings. He organised his pens in descending size order on the right hand side of his desk and kept an engraved pocket square in the left side of his jacket.

In every sense and meaning of the word, Clement Blanc was a man of precision. So the fact that the calamitous whirlwind of Amélie Blanc was his daughter was a joke not lost on him.

He wondered what holy man he'd double crossed in a past life to be given her as a child instead of the in-line marvels that were his nieces and nephews. The girls who appreciated sewing and the fine art of silence, the boys who wielded magnificent wit and displayed it all with well-mannered humour.

What he wouldn't give, he thought, to be sat in the car waiting for one of them to haul their cases down the stairs. But, alas, the gods only allow so many favours for politicians, and instead he had Amélie, who stuck her head out of her bedroom window and shouted down; One minute! Before retreating back behind the double-glass panel and jamming the last of her socks into the case.

Amélie cursed loudly when the corner of the case slammed on her toes as she dragged it from the bed. "Est-ce que tu vas bien, mon amour?" Her mother's quiet voice echoed from across the hall.

As different to her father she seemed to be, the true wonder was how she grew from the stomach of Charlotte Blanc. A woman known for her mousy blonde hair and hushed voice. Amélie, however, was all loud comments and boldness. With long brown hair and eyes that crinkled when she laughed, which she made a habit of doing as much as she could.

   "Je vais bien, maman." Amélie responded with a softness only drawn from her by her mother. She peeked her head around the doorframe, giving her a soft smile. Charlotte raised her head weakly from her pillow. Amélie wasn't yet used to seeing her like this; sick, gaunt, bordering on lifeless. Her stomach threatened to turn but she swallowed her nausea and padded across the creaking floorboards.

   The girl took seat on the edge of the bed, brushing some hair from her mother's forehead, paying to mind to the sweat now stuck to her fingers. "Comment vous sentez-vous?"

"Mieux. Ça ne fait plus très mal." Charlotte flashed a faltering smile. "Tu vas me manquer, ma fille." She whispered, grasping her child's hand and raising her knuckles to her lips.

It looked at though Amélie was about to cry, or perhaps that was simply Charlotte trying to see a reflection of herself, but whatever it was vanished as soon as it came when the aggressive honk of a car horn shattered their reverie.

   Amélie withdrew her hand from her mother's and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Je t'aime." She didn't spare the time to hear a response, quickly grabbing the case from the hallway and dragging it behind her down the stairs. On the front porch, she ignored the searing burn of her father's stare through the windshield and leaded down to scratch the tuff of ginger fur on the back of the black cat she rescued when she was eight. "Goodbye, Albert. Be good."

   Her father said nothing when she slid to the passenger's seat. He continued to say nothing when she asked him how to fix her tie. And he still said nothing when she apologised for her lateness and her loudness. The drive to Welton would take approximately thirty-five minutes if traffic was in their favour, so Amélie sucked a sharp breath, pressed her head to the window, and counted the seconds in time with the clouds.

      The click of Amélie's heeled pumps echoed down the Welton corridor as she walked wordlessly beside her father to Mr. Nolan's office. She had her head turned away from him, lips settled into a bored line as she looked through the pews and windows they passed, admiring what she could see of the Academy's grounds.

   September sun cast an orange shadow over the rolling foothills, the leaves were already starting to curl, and there was a slight chill in the air that made her shove her hands into the pockets of her long, black coat. Wind gently ruffled trees and swept past the grass and wildflowers. If she squinted, Amélie could see squirrels as they scampered down trunks with arms full of nuts hanging from low branches. Rabbits danced along the grass with perked ears barely visible as the bounded over grounds.

But no peace can last forever, and a group of serene birds resting on a branch were scared away when a boy, who looked to be the same age as herself, loudly clambered out of a Rolls Royce and yelled to another a short way across the driveway. "Knoxious, the man himself! How was summer?" He yelled indecently and Amélie rolled her eyes.

"I hope you know what's expected of you in attendance, Amélie." Her father warned with a stern, albeit nasally, manner.

"Same thing that's expected of me everywhere?" Amélie smiled at him sarcastically and his face grew more stoic than before, something she hadn't thought possible.

"I thought you were smart enough to know when it is and isn't appropriate to joke. Your mother was supposed to raise you better."

"Maman raised me perfectly fine." She defended quickly. "She did a great deal more than you." She carried on her way, steps even louder now that she was forcing her anger into her feet.

"Amélie Blanc." He called bluntly. Amélie hated when he used that tone, authoritative and militant. She almost preferred it when she yelled.

Her father wasn't a very kind man. He was a politician. To him, there was nothing more valuable than a reputation. Ever since she was born, there was no option for Amélie to do anything but excel. He had a pudgy silhouette, a red face, and a heavy hand. Amélie learned years ago that, if she dared to talk back, she had to be clever about it. Nothing good came when she shouted. She ran a hand over her knuckles and turned around to face him.

He was still firmly stood where she left him, and it was clear he was waiting for her to walk back. She dragged her feet behind her, plastering on a small smile incase anyone passed them.

"Yes, father?"

"It would do you a world of good to remember how lucky you are. Do you know how many girls your age would kill for an opportunity like this? You're making history, and you can't even dress properly." His eyes narrowed at her tie, which rested in a thin knot.

"I asked you to help me with it." She shot back, more quietly than before, shrinking under the scrutiny of his stare.

Her father scoffed, looking over her shoulder with disdain, as if the thought of seeing her for a moment more caused him physical pain. He started walking without another word. When he realised Amélie hadn't immediately followed, he called over his shoulder. "At least do me the kindness of not making us late for our meeting with Mr. Nolan, will you?"

"Yes, sir." Amélie sneered mockingly beneath her breath, trailing behind him once again.

   After carrying a bit further down the corridor and passing a few incoming first years who ogled at her as she passed; hair half pinned back, the rest falling down to well past her shoulders, coat draped over the newly-tailored girls uniform of a black blazer, white shirt and red tie tucked beneath a grey jumper, a dark skirt that ended a small bit below her knees. The boys smiled to themselves, slapping each other on the shoulders, until she narrowed her eyes at them and they hurried away. Amélie bit on her tongue to hold back an amused laugh.

   Her father knocked on the aged wooden door, and a moment passed before a muffled, "Enter!", cut through the silence.

   "Remember," her father whispered with a steel gaze before he let her in, "only your best behaviour." Amélie nodded quickly, and, once the door was opened, stepped into the headmaster's office with a straight back and a pleased smile.

   "Mr. Nolan." She greeted with a warm nod, trying her best to look friendly.

Without a word to her, and a polite look to her father, Mr. Nolan told them both to take a seat. Only then did Amélie take notice of the others in the office.

Two chairs were sat to her right and, in the one closest to her, was a blonde girl who she could only assume to be her new roommate. When she saw Amélie looking at her, she sat up straighter and looked at her hands, which were folded in her lap, tugging at a hangnail.

She was quite pretty, Amélie noticed. Her sleek blonde hair was combed back and held in place by a thick black headband. She had a round, soft face, with naturally rosy cheeks and a slightly upturned nose. Amélie nudged her foot with her own, whispering a quick, "Hi." The girl gave her a tight smile and went back to picking at her fingers. Amélie furrowed her brows for a moment before brushing it off and tuning into the conversation between the three men of the room.

Katie's father was similar to her own. He was a bit leaner, with a narrow face that lead Amélie to believe that the blonde took after her mother. He had lines on his forehead and ones that turned down around his mouth. Amélie couldn't picture him smiling.

   "You two will live under a different set of rules than the boys." Mr. Nolan said, snapping Amélie out of her daze by finally addressing the girls.

   "How do you mean?" Amélie asked and, judging by the harsh looks given to her by the men, and the worried look from the girl, she realised it wasn't her turn to speak. She pinched her hand and settled back in her chair.

   With an echoing cough, clearing his throat, Mr. Nolan continued. "Ms. Waters, one of our newer staff members, will monitor your uniforms. Skirts must stay below the knee. While you may mingle with the male students in general common areas, such as the library, dining hall, and courtyard, you are not permitted to enter the common room of the boys' dormitories. If you are seen there without explicit written permission, you'll be given two weeks of detention. If you're seen twice, a more severe punishment will be discussed."

   "Under student policy, you are required to join at least one extra curricular, but, seeing as there's only you two girls, you won't be allowed to join any of the sporting clubs." At this, Amélie let out what she thought was a quiet sigh. Clearly, she was wrong, when Mr. Nolan raised a wispy brow at her.

   "Do we have a problem, Miss Blanc?" Her father cast a steel glance her way, flexing his hand below the table as a silent warning. From the corner of her eye, Amélie could see Katie roll her eyes and a sudden anger settled in her stomach.

   "Not at all, sir." She rolled her shoulders back and forced a smile. "I was quite fond of sport back in Paris, but I'll settle into something else." Her father's glare remained. "My apologies." He finally looked away, back to the headmaster.

   "Please see that you do." He held up a small stack of paper that Amélie recognised to be her academic report. "It says here you were a part of your former school's journalism society. I'll put you down to work on our school newspaper."

   He turned to Katie and his face turned a bit softer. Amélie took note of the way the blonde sat, back perfectly straight and face placid and pleasant. She cursed her luck, knowing she was already the least favoured of the pair. When Kate greeted Mr. Nolan, Amélie didn't want to admit how comforting her voice was.

Gentle, like the rest of her seemed, but strong enough to know she was smart. There was a certain confidence in the way she said 'Hello' that was difference to the confidence Amélie had. Katie was clever with the way she spoke, almost calculated. Her voice was velvety and sweet, something you'd hear from a hypnotist or an animal tamer. It was no surprise when Mr. Nolan revealed she'd been president of her old debate club.

"I believe it would be beneficial for you both to partake in an extra curricular together, so you'll both be signed up for the Yearbook club, alright?" Amélie said a kind, 'Yes', while Katie simply nodded. It was clear who made the right choice when Mr. Nolan reached forward to shake Katie's hand before he touched her father's.

A pit of anxiety curdled in Amélie's stomach when they walked out of the office, letting Mr. Nolan escort them to the main hall for the induction ceremony. Amélie swore she saw Katie's father smile at the blonde and she swallowed harshly to hide her jealousy. The men formed a triangle in front of her, confidently guiding the two girls.

"I'm Amélie." She greeted, taken aback by the quietness of her own voice.

"I'm Katie."

A terse silence hung between them. "I kick in my sleep sometimes." Amélie said suddenly. Katie looked at her strangely. "Just in case you see something moving in the night... it's probably me." Katie just nodded in return.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

   Katie shook her head. "Not really, no."

"They're a bit stiff aren't they?" Amélie joked, pointing to the men ahead of them. "Wonder what cane Nolan's got stuck up his—"

"God, do you ever stop talking?" Katie cut across her frustratedly. Amélie's mouth hung open in a silent 'o' shape. "Do you know how lucky we are to be here? Girls have never been allowed to even step foot inside a Welton classroom before and you're making fun of it?" She scoffed before mumbling to herself, "This is what happens when people don't work for what they get."

"I'm not lazy, if that's what you're trying to say." Amélie defended.

"Well, you didn't have to work to get in here. You were literally handed the opportunity of a lifetime."

Amélie stood silent for a moment, glaring at the shorter girl with a mix of shock and insult. She looked away suddenly, rolling her eyes. "I bet you're fun at parties." She laughed out.

"You're such a child." Katie sneered, walking a bit faster to get away from Amélie.

"'You're such a child.'" She mocked quietly. "Bitch."

   They were told to sit by the front of the hall, with four seats set up by the staff so that, when Mr. Nolan introduced them as if he were a boastful advocate, they'd be easily seen. Katie tensed when he said that and Amélie almost felt bad for her. But she did do her the kindness of taking the front seats for her and her father, letting Katie sit behind her.

To Amélie's left was the teachers' booth and, in the midst of her staring, she caught eyes with a kind looking man. He was sat in the front row as well, sandwiched between two near-bald tyrants who glared out at the sea of students before them. He fiddled with the sleeve of his compulsory robe and gave her a warm smile. She gave him one back and looked away.

   Her racing thoughts drowned out Nolan's pointless droning on the four pillars of Welton Academy. She had no time to spare for tradition, discipline, honour, and excellence when she'd be sleeping in a room with a girl fit to kill her for the next two years.

There was a sudden moment of silence, followed by the organ playing loudly. Amélie jumped and wondered why she hadn't noticed it earlier. As students dressed in cloaks carried long candelabras down the aisles of people, she locked eyes with a fair-haired boy sandwiched between his parents, shrinking into the neck of his slightly baggy blazer as if it would swallow him whole. She smiled at him. He looked over his shoulder in alarm before flashing a tense grin — closer to a grimace, really. But it was better than what she'd gotten the rest of the day so her eyes gleamed proud.

   The ceremony dragged on endlessly. Amélie fought the urge to slump in her seat more times than she could count, and her cheek tasted faintly of blood from her swallowed laughter at the red hue of Nolan's cheeks as he raised his voice to echo through the hall.

   He introduced the kind-looking man from before as Mr. Keating, the school's new English teacher. He nodded and waved in a humble manner before he took his seat once more. Nolan shifted to face their quartet and raised a hand to gesture to them.

"This year, Welton Academy opens its doors to its first ever female students. Katie Wells, sole graduate of the Welton Success Programme." He motioned for Katie to stand, and, with cheeks flared a violent red, she did. She nodded at the crowd and sat down quickly.

"And Amélie Blanc, daughter of one of Welton's most beloved alumni and one of the finest students Paris had to offer." Amélie rose from her seat confidently, swallowing her frustrations at the fact that her father was credited before her. She quickly looked over the crowd before her, slightly thrown off by the sheer amount of hungry eyes and wolfishly eager grins.

She saw the shy boy again and, this time, he gave her a real smile. It was quick, and she would've missed it if she blinked, but his red cheeks were proof that it happened all the same. She sent him one back before she sat down.

The rest of the assembly ticked by at an agonising pace and, when Nolan stepped down from the podium and said a teacher would take the girls to their room, Amélie all but flew out of her chair.

Ms. Waters was a lean woman with a pinched face. She looked regal, with a Hepburn-esque beauty. Amélie wondered if she'd take offence to being asked if she'd ever tried for stardom. She had warm hair that was pulled back in a tight bun and deep green eyes. There were then smile lines on the corners of her mouth and Amélie was enveloped in a rich cloud of bergamot when she moved to stand before them.

"Hello, ladies." She greeted with a kindness that seemed to catch Katie off guard.

Her voice was syrupy and thick, as if her words were made of molasses, leaving a sweetness in everything she said. The two girls were clearly staring, because the older woman stifled a laugh by rolling her lips and gave them a small smile. "Shall we go to your room now?"

Amélie snapped out of the daze quicker than Katie, and sprang into action to follow behind her as she took off down the halls.

"Unlucky for you," Ms. Waters explained as they got further away from the bustling crowds, "your room is at the end of the staff quarters."

"The teachers actually live here?" Katie asked with wide eyes.

   Ms. Waters laughed. "Only a few. Most of them live near the cul-de-sacs outside of town, though. The room you'll be sharing used to belong to one of the science professors, but he moved into a country house near the end of last term."

   She lead them to a door on the far end of a corridor with ugly yellow paint and framed pictures older than herself. Amélie wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You can tell it's a boys school."

"How so?" Ms. Waters asked, a pleasantly entertained expression on her porcelain face.

"I've seen livelier decor in a morgue."

Ms. Waters stifled a laugh and opened the door. Katie rolled her eyes again and Amélie leaned in close. "Keep doing that, and you'll lose them." She whispered. Katie turned to her with a sharp look and the brunette moved back with her hands held up in mock surrender.

The room wasn't much. It bore the same skin as the corridor, and unflattering shade of lemon. Amélie could almost picture a line straight down the middle with each half a carbon copy of the other. A rickety wire bedframe, a small wooden desk and a stool with splintering legs, a chest of drawers, and, beside the door, a rusting coat rack.

One bed, however, was closest to the window. Amélie threw her coat over Katie's head to land messily on it.

"Hey!" Katie yelled out, hands flying up to fix the hair Amélie's throw ruffled.

The girl carelessly shrugged. "Would you rather I shoved past you?"

   Amélie sat down at the edge of her bed, bouncing up and down gently and laughing to herself at the high-pitched squeaks.

"My room is across the hall. Knock twice if you need anything, my dears." Ms. Waters smiled. "Start unpacking your things, I'd imagine your fathers will be coming by to say goodbye after their final meeting with Mr. Nolan." She gave a quick wave before shutting the door behind her as she left.

Without a word to each other, Katie and Amélie dragged their cases onto their beds and started folding away their clothes.

   Amélie was mostly finished packing away her jumpers when she grabbed a soft knitted number, bought by her mother a mere month before. She ran her hands over the small detailing and thought back on how they said goodbye.

   There was a desperation in the way her mother kissed her head that Amélie couldn't quite place. Her hand cupped the back of her neck, the cold metal of her wedding ring searing into her daughter's skin as she squeezed her eyes shut, focusing only on her lips pressing to her forehead. She smelled of pine and patchouli. Amélie raised the sweater to her nose and, with a deep inhale, wondered how long that scent would linger.

   She folded it regardless, cramming it into the drawer and bumping it shut with her hip as she turned. Her eyes caught onto the picture hanging above her bed. The Welton Rowing Team of 1932, taken on the day of their great win. Amélie rolled her eyes and stood on her bed to take it down.

   "What are you doing?" Katie asked with an uncharacteristic curiosity.

   "I don't see what need we have for pictures of boys, when we could have pictures of Marilyn instead." Amélie explained, unfurling a black and white picture of Marilyn Monroe and pinning it to the wall with a thumbtack she pulled from her bag. "You like Monroe?"

Katie nodded. "Who doesn't? But I prefer Grace Kelly."

Amélie gasped happily. "Oh, I adore her! My mother took me to the pictures to see The Swan when it came out, and I swear my world was changed."

Katie was about to respond when a loud knock responded from the door, making both girls jump and hold their hearts. Amélie hopped down from her bed and smoothed out her skirt before telling the person to come in.

The door opened and their fathers were standing in the hallway. Katie's father told her to come outside, while Amélie's just gave her a stoic nod. She walked up to him with a hopeful smile.

"Is this where I get a hug goodbye?" He looked down his nose at her, never letting his lips quirk up. Amélie shuffled her feet awkwardly.

"Don't step out of line." He warned. "It's my campaign on risk here, Amélie. If I hear you're causing trouble, you'll be back to Paris and living off yourself when you've graduated. Do you understand?" Amélie clenched her jaw, glaring up at him. Unfazed, he asked again, "Do you understand?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the new English teacher, whose name she'd already forgotten, looming at the end of the hallway. She gave her father a saccharine smile forced out a quiet, "I understand."

He nodded stoically and looked past her to her wall. "Take down your poster, Amélie." He said plainly. "You're not a child."

She opened her mouth to protest, until he straightened his stance even more. "Take it down."

"Yes, sir."

He let out a satisfied breath and fixed his jacket. "Make sure to call your mother once a week. She'll miss you."

"Will you?"

Mr. Blanc halted, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a sigh. "Don't start, Amélie." He warned and she swallowed a small lump in her throat.

As he turned away, ready to walk down the hall, Amélie called out from the doorframe, "Drive safely!" She got nothing in return.

Her father brushed past the English teacher, who had busied himself looking at pictures, as he left. Once the hallway was clear, the man turned to her and gave her a soft smile and a wave. Amélie did the same before going back to her room.

She grabbed a pillow, shoving it to her face and screaming as loudly as she could. As she sat back up, clearing her throat and fixing her hair, her eyes drifted to the window. Situated on the ground floor of Welton, the view from their bedroom was clear and peered straight across the courtyard.

Standing below an archway leading to the main hall, Katie looked to the stone slabs of the ground while her father pinched the bridge of his nose. Amélie squinted to see the tenseness of her shoulders, and her heart took charge over her head when she found herself rushing down the hallway and out to the courtyard herself.

"Kate!" She yelled, voice echoing back at her and making her wince. The blonde and her father snapped their heads back at her.

With some semblance of awkward politeness, Amélie walked closer and explained. "Ms. Waters sent me to get you. She wants to go over our uniform protocol." Katie's father muttered a quiet goodbye, leaving Katie with a firm pat on the shoulder.

"Why did you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"You lied. I saw Ms. Waters go to the library a minute ago. Why?" Katie fiddled with the sleeves of her blazer.

Amélie shrugged. "I don't know." She squinted, afternoon sun hurting her eyes. "You looked upset so I tried to help."

"But you don't like me."

"I don't know you." She corrected. "But that doesn't mean I want to see you upset." Amélie's voice trailed off at the end and Katie almost thought she was nervous.

"Oh." A terse silence hung between the pair until Katie finally gave her the smallest hint of a smile. "Thanks."

   Amélie was about to respond, when Katie's focus drifted past her and up, looking at the higher rooms with a crease between her brows.

   "Do you see those boys in the window?"

( author's note. . . )
guys please have mercy on my with the google translate french i'm trying my best 🙏