Once outside, a feeling of disappointment settles on my shoulders. I’m late again. Way too late to meet Michael anyway. My plan to impress him, I mean, to show him I’m just as capable as he is, has turned against me. But to my surprise, just as I reach Place Monge, Michael’s right on the opposite sidewalk, walking at his own pace, not a care in the world. I double-check through squinted eyes. Is it him? I recognise his set of long legs, his coat, his dark curls. It really is Michael, on his way to school.
LATE.
Haha! Who’s the loser now, right? I start lumbering toward him, clutching my baggy pants as I go. Michael doesn’t seem to know he’s late. He’s looking up at the sky, a contented look on his face. The clouds part at this exact moment, bathing his face in bright sunlight. I slow down and call his name. He turns around, his eyes scanning the street. An obscure, deep-seated and foreign part of me flutters to life. From it, a shy question arises, confusing me: will he be happy to see me? But his face only tenses when he recognises me.
“I’m late.” I say when I reach him, panting.
With a dubitative frown, he looks down to check his watch. “I’m not, though.”
“What?” I pull out my phone once again to check the time. It’s fifteen minutes earlier than I thought. Damn this old lady! Her clock must have been defective. But it’s not completely her fault; it’s probably as ancient as its owner. That must be it.
“We’re not late.” Michael looks at me with concern. “You don’t have to worry.”
“I’m not worried.”
His mouth twitches, then he bites his lower lip as though to stifle a laugh. I forget what I wanted to say; it was probably not important. We start walking in silence again. It makes me feel self-conscious. I don’t like it.
“I only thought I was late because I was helping my neighbour with something, and…” I hesitate to tell him the whole experience. Normally I would tell Tony first thing, but I don’t want Michael to think I’m an idiot. “She’s an old lady, so it took a while.”
Michael stares at me in surprise. “You were helping an old lady? That’s so nice.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, you know. I do it all the time.” I hide my face behind my scarf, ashamed of my blatant lie. “Anyway, that’s the only reason why I’m late.”
“I usually leave earlier as well,” Michael says, “but I got distracted this morning.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Nothing as nice as helping my neighbour, I’m afraid. I was just talking to my mum, and I lost track of time.”
The massive snort that comes out of me probably won’t do me any favours, but I couldn’t resist.
“Did I say something funny?”
“You lost track of time while talking to your mum?”
“Sure.” He seems half-amused, half-exasperated by my astonishment. “I love talking to my mother, she’s brilliant.”
Now we both stare at each other in disbelief. I can’t comprehend that anyone would want to spend time with their parents. He probably doesn’t get what sort of animal wouldn’t want to.
“You don’t talk to your mum?” he asks, frowning.
“Not really, no.” And it’s better this way.
“Then I’m sorry for you.”
“Don’t be,” I reply, shrugging. “Not every family’s the same, that’s all.”
“I guess not.”
I can feel his eyes on me for a brief moment. The silence between us growing oddly thick once again, I decide to get straight to the point. “Should we meet tonight, work on the essay then?”
“Oh, about that.” He offers me an apologetic smile. “I forgot to tell you, I don’t have the book, I left it at home. I mean, in London.”
“Right.”
“I need to buy a new one, but I haven’t had the time yet. So, before we start…”
“I know where you can get one,” I say quickly. “I’ll take you after class if you want.” Look at me, helping a mate out. Shopping for books. It really is a new year.
“Sure, great!” Michael seems very enthusiastic about it and even picks up the pace. “Let’s meet at the school gate after class then?”
“No!” I’ve just realised something. “It’s better if we meet at Place Monge. But believe me,” I add when he begins to frown again, “this place will blow your mind. It’s the best bookstore in Paris.” I’m half-expecting him to say he’s surprised I know of one bookstore in Paris. I’m waiting. He’s going to say it. But no, he says nothing. When our eyes meet again, his expression is perfectly relaxed, but before I can return his smile, I hear Lucie’s voice calling me.
Looking around, I’m shocked to see her and Tony waving at me. Are we already at the school gate? We walk over to them. Tony, looking bored, tosses his cigarette in my direction but it lands right between Michael’s feet.
“Funny!” My voice sounds a little squeaky. “We ran into each other on the way.”
Michael politely salutes them, but he immediately leaves us to join Yasmine, Sacha — who looks completely flustered when he kisses her cheek — and François, who’s glaring at me for no good reason.
“So,” Tony says, as Lucie grabs my face and crushes my lips against hers, “what happened last night?”
I wipe my mouth across my sleeve. “What? What do you mean?”
“Did you get him to do the essay for you?”
“Close enough. I’m gonna work on it too. Tonight. But—”
“We were supposed to meet tonight. Play CS together.”
I had totally forgotten. “Look, I’ve got to do this thing, or my dad will ground me until the end of the exams.”
Tony turns to Lucie, who’s fixing
her lipstick. “I’ll hang out with you instead, then.” She nods and smacks her
lips.
I toss an inconspicuous look over my shoulder. Michael’s laughing at whatever Sacha’s blabbing about. She expertly shakes her mane of light, shiny brown hair. I wonder if an old lady has ever offered her shampoo.
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