Viewpoint Victory - 22 June 2077

"Victoire? Are you asleep?" a voice asked me.

My elbow was pushed rather hard and my head, which had been resting on it, fell heavily on the table with a loud thud. The class laughed, and I opened my eyes. I lifted my aching head, massaging it gently. I cleared my throat and, in my least assertive voice, replied that I didn't, and that I apologised if he had thought I did.

"So what did I explain?"

I was about to open my mouth to answer, when the bell rang. Saved by the bell, I thought. The other students put their things away, some of them approached Mr. Lédjal to ask him questions about the class. After answering them, we were left alone for a while: the teacher, as I thought, wanted to keep me for a while. He made me angry, saying that even though I was gifted, I had no right not to listen in class. I waited for him to finish his rant about my behaviour, I apologised flatly, looking at the floor, suddenly more interesting. Even though I had retained the lesson, I would not say it to his face, I was ashamed of my behaviour. Nevertheless, I tried to explain myself, even if I was at fault: I wanted to tell him why I was not really in my mood. I told him that my position allowed me to listen and retain, but also to rest a little, because I was having serious sleep problems at the moment, and I didn't want this to affect my results. So I had adopted this technique, bad as it was. He nodded, still looking a little rough, and gave me a note of apology for the next teacher, so that no one would think I was hanging around in the halls. I mean, most of the teachers knew me, so they knew how I worked, but that was the protocol.

Handing me the ticket, he gave me one more recommendation about my behaviour, then let me go. I walked down the stairs in no hurry, enjoying the warm late June sun. The rays, filtering through the windows, warmed me up and a shiver of well-being ran through me. I passed through the doors, leaning on them gently, and walked into the inner courtyard before descending the stairs and joining the rooms that ran alongside. I went to my room, knocked on the door, waited for the teacher to open it and after giving my excuse, I sat down next to my boyfriend. Paul. Paul Mylost. I liked him a lot. Maybe a little too much to be rational.

He looked at me lovingly and asked me why I was late, I quickly explained and dived into the class. It was a maths class. The previous class had been a European English class, so I hadn't been able to sit with him, as he didn't do that section. Suddenly the numbers danced before my eyes and my temples ached, as if pressed in a vice. I had to regulate my sleep at all costs to avoid the incident of the previous lesson. It was certainly not the first, but not the last either, if I didn't find a quick way to fall asleep. I looked at my watch and saw that it was only eleven fifteen. Forty minutes to go. I turned my attention to Professor LaFayette, our maths teacher, but I couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. I'll ask Paul to explain when we have a bit more time. I started to note down the corrections written on the board like a robot, nothing struck me.

I was desperate for the class to finally end. Especially since we were finishing at noon and I had planned to enjoy my afternoon. I seriously considered going for a walk to relieve the end-of-year tension. Of course, graduation was next year, but the teachers were pushing us to do our best to finish the term with a good average, which would allow us to get into the first one we wanted. This was understandable on their part, especially as here at Turgot, the teachers were close to the students, as were the Personal Education Advisers and the Education Assistants who were always ready to listen. This school was very family-oriented and supportive, which is why I chose it and also because my friends were there, of course, but also because of its courses.

I would like to do a first year in science and technology, even if the first year in STI2D (Science and Technology of Industry and Sustainable Development) was quite tempting, since programming machines to design parts and being able to touch every step of the creation of a product, fascinated me more than reason. It's a pity that you can't combine the two.

I would like to become a forensic scientist later on, but I know that a doctorate plus a specialisation in forensic medicine is what I need. That's a pretty big amount of research. In addition, I think I would have to leave France because, where I lived, there must have been four murders a year in this quiet little town of Limoges. So there wasn't much work to be done.

Especially as I would like to be involved, which is not the case with French forensic scientists. That made me decide to leave and do something to improve my English. My English teachers were quite impressed with the effort and progress I had made. In the space of a year, I had made up for the gaps in my knowledge that were worthy of a sixth grader and had consolidated the knowledge of a tenth grader.

I had validated my A2 level and I was proud of myself, even if most had B1 level, I knew I had reached a milestone. I then turned my attention back to the mathematics class which was well underway, seeing that Paul had noticed my absence. This was quite common these days, but he was worried every time. I shook his hand to reassure him and smiled.

He did the same and his gaze went to the blackboard and he casually raised his hand to answer. The class continued as normal and when the jingle sounded, a sigh of relief was breathed in unison by all the students. Everyone packed up and left the room. I walked out of class and stopped to wait for Paul, but he gestured for me to go and asked the teacher a question. I went outside and walked a bit in the courtyard towards the exit when I was called out.

"Hey, twitter! You're just leaving without saying anything?"Leana exclaimed .

"Hi... Sorry, I didn't see you," I apologized and hugged them.

"Still having trouble sleeping?" Anna asked, a little worried.

"Yeah, but don't worry I've found the answer: I sleep in class..."

"You're stupid." Eva exclaimed, laughing. "The teachers, they never accept that I sleep in class!"

"Well, I do," I replied, sharing the joy. Mr Lédjal just lectured me a bit..."

"So much the better if he didn't give you a hard time, but how did you do it?" she continued.

"You know, girl, it's an art worth sacrificing." I joked, sounding like a yoga master.

We all burst out laughing. The summer heat was putting us all in a good mood despite the exams for some. I looked at the time and complained that I had missed my bus. The girls apologised, but I brushed it off with one hand and explained that it was me. I gasped as a hand came to rest on me.

"Sweetheart, do you want a ride home?"

I turned and smiled. I recognized my blonde lover. I hugged him and kissed him chastely on the cheek.

"If your father doesn't mind..."

I knew the moods of Mr. Jean Mylost, CEO, in a large company of survival kits and bunkers for the most paranoid of billionaires. He had built up his business in two years. You bet! Considering the price he was selling his products for. I was never comfortable with him. All that power and wealth repulsed me, especially since he displayed it so clearly. And if you knew he had a temper, you didn't last long with this character.

In the beginning, Paul never talked about himself, or even about how comfortable his family was. He was simple and humble. He didn't say much about himself or say "Father...", and was careful with every word he said. Then I knew that his mother had left, because she was seriously ill and his father was not taking care of her. She was living with her parents and did not see Paul again because his father had obtained sole custody of her after having proceeded with the divorce behind his wife's back.

Paul had told me all this over pizza when we took a tent and went to set up our campsite in the field across from my house. At first I didn't really believe him, but eventually I understood his temperament better. He squeezed me a bit more and took a step back with a smile.

"He won't deny me that, he adores you!"

"Uh... Is it?"

"Yes, yes," he said. He asks me many questions about you!"

"Okayyy..." I said, dragging my voice a little. "Well, let's go then..."

I hugged my friends, promising to see them the next day, and walked out of the school holding my boyfriend by the hand. I knew that he liked it when I was blue, he thought I was cute like that. And I loved it when I could see in his eyes that he was melting for me. We walked down the street called St. Eloi towards the Emailleurs' Garden where Mr. Mylost was surely waiting for us. We walked through the park where two-three year olds were playing on the swings or on the slide while teenagers, a little older than us, were playing basketball.

We saw the car and climbed in, Paul kissed his father. I was grateful for the gesture, but also scared.  So that after a few minutes, when he asked a question to break the silence, I was startled. I asked him to repeat, clenching my fists, afraid of the reaction. He asked again with a smile and I relaxed. Immediately overcome with anxiety, when did he become so nice?

"Yes, I've been declared high potential for a few years, why?"

"You skipped classes, tell me?" he continued, smiling.

"Yes, one, why?" I repeated.

"To find out, I was just curious." he finally said.

I was not convinced of the answer, but I said nothing. Not wanting to upset him. I just looked out the window while Paul stroked the back of my hand. Then, wanting to follow his father, he asked:

"Have you finished the French paper for tomorrow?"

"Yes." I said. "She gave it yesterday, I did it in the evening..."

"Do you have your copy with you?"

"Yes, why?"

"Will you show it to me?"

"Okay," I sighed, taking it out of my bag.

I handed it to him and he read it diagonally. He gave a shout of admiration and gave it back to me. He said I was going to get a twenty. I wasn't expecting that. My paper was certainly not perfect and Paul was not a teacher. I never knew I had got fifteen on that paper. We arrived at their house. I hadn't planned this. I was about to tell them when Paul got out of the car and said he was going to his room.

Alone with the father, the feeling of unease returned. We walked back into the house and I detailed the hallway painted in a fairly light mint green. It was an odd choice, but I suspected that Mr. Mylost didn't have much taste when you saw the way he dressed. I guess that was a trait of all the rich people. Surely they didn't have to please in that way, their money was more important than their looks. He took my jacket and hung it up in the hallway and the feeling of unease intensified. I didn't like the way he looked at me. It was like an old pervert contemplating the object of his most unmentionable fantasy. Was he a paedophile? I shuddered at this question. This interest in me had been confirmed by Paul's confession a few minutes earlier. He was asking questions about me. He shook me out of my stupor when he ushered me into a living room made entirely of wood. Perhaps ash, judging by the honeyed appearance of the wood. He offered me a chair, which I accepted. I cleared my throat a few times without being able to produce a single word. I wanted to ask him why I attracted his attention so much but my words died, aborted in the back of my palate. This situation was rare and the times could be counted on the fingers of my hand, Paul never really left me alone with him, maybe he suspected something? I waited patiently for him to return while his father stared at me strangely, shaking his head from time to time. What was he thinking? My brain was racing.

I later understood why he was analysing me like that, but at that moment I was fighting the urge to run away. Besides, it was getting late in the afternoon and my parents must have expected me to be home by now. After what seemed like an eternity, Paul came downstairs and kissed me on the forehead, then sat down beside me. His gaze flicked from one to the other as we stared at each other. I didn't want to lower my eyes and show my submission. I didn't like to bend, or at least not with people I didn't like or respect. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a shameless person, I had been, I imagined, quite well educated. I liked to show respect and to help, even if I had difficulty with orders that went against my grain, I usually carried them out. Nevertheless, this man was the only one I didn't crush on. Perhaps I was the only one who did, and perhaps that was why he seemed to be curious about me. Of course, I was wrong, but this was not the time for that and our joust lasted for a while.

"Are you having a staring contest?" Paul asked cheerfully after a few minutes of playing ping-pong between us.

His father looked away to answer him. I win! I'll know afterwards that I was doing well to savour my victory since I won't get many, especially against this man.

"No, no. Did you get your stuff back Paul?"

"Yep, when are we leaving?"

"Are you leaving?" I questioned him, dazed and a little crumpled.

"Oh... Yes, I forgot to tell you but, right now, I have an internship in Father's company and, well, you know..."

"Okay." I said completely cold, feeling a little bad that he didn't tell me.

But after all, he'd hide a lot of things from me later on.