(hérèse point of view)
The meeting ended with these words.
I expected a lot, but they're still just children.
– (You talk as if you're not the same age)
I was thinking to myself
My gaze settled and followed Irene's silhouette as it moved away until it disappeared into those unfinished stairs.
What's the point of holding a meeting if it doesn't really take into account the opinions given?
"The result was already predictable," I murmured.
You're absolutely right, I'm proud of you.
–......
Satisfied, I got up too
The sound of his chair creaks for a second in the immense room… then silence falls around me, just enough to be noticed.
It really only makes that noise when it's me.
A few heads turn.
He's looking at me.
I watch them.
My hands were buried deep in my jacket pockets,
Jack immediately stood up
"Are you leaving?" he murmured, existing
He ignores me
I slowly descend the steps.
Calm. Straight.
As if all eyes slid off him, carrying no weight.
And yet, they all follow him.
I hate staring like that
– (It's your fault I woke up here)
You always blame others
– Is that false?
…. Let go….
The whispers are starting to follow me and Jack isn't making things any easier by showing his fear.
A few steps ahead, the youngest children watch us arrive and pass between them.
Then the strongest rise up in their turn.
The chairs were being pulled away.
Their silhouettes appear in the corner of my eye.
The atmosphere changes immediately.
On the stairs, we were sandwiched between two people, our footsteps echoing heavily against the concrete walls.
I always go downstairs in front, one hand in my pocket, the other vaguely holding the handrail without really leaning on it.
I still cling to life.
Behind.
They're arriving.
An entire group.
Their shoes hit the steps at an irregular, slow, deliberate rhythm.
Not close enough to touch us.
Jack rushed to my side
They scared him so much,
Move forward far enough so that he senses their presence.
He survived a heart attack by finally reaching the bottom of the building; the night air is cold.
The outdoor lamps cut the shadows on the wet asphalt.
I didn't realize how late it was, François is going to scold me tonight.
Behind him, the group is there.
Parfait passed very close to my shoulder, they were lined up without really being so, arms crossed, fists clenched and Luc kept his hands in his pockets.
He slowly raises his chin in my direction.
The message is clear.
They stare at him without speaking.
Heavy, dirty, patient stares.
Like dogs waiting for him to make a mistake.
I barely look at them; I need to find a way to justify my lateness.
I take off and give back to Jack the jacket he lent me.
"No, no, no, put it back!" he cried.
Finally paying attention to me
– we shouldn't see the school uniform here
He said, as he recognized me
I pushed his hands away and took the jacket
– Okay, I'm going home now.