Simon breaks the silence when he and his blonde friend walk past the kitchen door on their way out. “Happy New Year!” They exchange a few words with Tony and Lucie while I’m wondering whether I should go home and get started on my homework.

When the door slams shut behind them, Lucie turns to Tony, her mouth agape. “Is that who I think it is?”

Tony nods. “No comment.”

“Who is it?” I help myself to more coffee. “She famous or something?”

Lucie throws me a look. “That’s Gretchen, Lou.”

“Who?”

“Julien’s girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Tony corrects her.

“Who?”

Who are these people? The name doesn’t ring a bell.

Lucie rolls her eyes. “Lou, sometimes I think you’re completely blind.”

Tony gives a cackle. “It’s the sunglasses.”

“Gretchen,” Lucie explains, sounding impatient, “was with Julien for years.”

I look up, coffee mug halfway to my mouth. “Wait, Julien? As in your brother’s best friend?”

Tony looks annoyed. “Yeah. That caused some drama.”

You bet that it caused some drama.

“They used to go to my old school,” Lucie adds. “Such a cool couple.”

“What happened to him?” I ask. “To Julien, I mean. Is he okay?”

Tony shrugs. “I don’t know. They’re not exactly talking anymore.”

“That’s really sad.” Lucie sighs. “They were inseparable.”

“It’s not like my brother could help it.” Tony turns his back to us and begins stacking dishes in the sink. “They fell in love, there’s nothing they could have done, you know.”

Tony doesn’t like injustice. He wears T-shirts with Karl Marx’s face on the front. He also pretends to hate Kiki, his ugly mutt, but he will try to break both your legs if you make fun of his little cutie. So, it strikes me as curious that he doesn’t have more to say about this matter. It’s probably because his brother can do no wrong in his eyes.

In any case, the subject is dropped and another matter arises: which of the Blu-Rays Tony got for Christmas are we going to watch today? My motivation to start over, go home, and do some homework is quickly thrown out the window. Before the hour is over, we’re all tucked under blankets in Tony’s bedroom, homework completely forgotten.

It’s dark when I make it back home, two movies and three joints later. Paris isn’t a large city, and Tony doesn’t live too far from me, but who has the energy to walk on the first day of the year? Certainly not me. I hop on the first bus I can catch, put on my music, and stare out the window at the endless succession of old buildings. The few people I see walking home look cold and tired. Guess what? It’s only the first day of the year. When it’s my time to get off, a girl by the exit catches my eye and smiles. I forget to return the favour.

I live in the 5th arrondissement of Paris. It’s like a district. In my opinion, it’s the best one, but depending on where you live, you might beg to differ. Outside my own six storey Haussmannian building located on Rue Larrey, with an old door which is either not opening or slamming right into your face, kids are playing in the cold around the old Coccinelle no one ever seems to drive. Little Jérémy, who lives on the ground floor with his parents, stops me to show me his new skateboarding skills. I watch him for a minute, longing for my bed.

“You’re getting really good at this.”

“Thanks, Lou. Come on, stay a bit longer!”

I lower my head. “Sorry, not this time. My dad’s waiting for me.”

Our fists bump and he goes back to his friends. I enter the code for the door; today, it opens without problem.

Our flat is on the third floor; no lift. We always hurry up the stairs a little faster when going past the second floor because the old lady who lives there has a habit of flagging people down and asking them for favours. I’m so good at dodging her that I haven’t been asked to do anything, ever. My father isn’t so lucky. That’s his fault, though. He’s too slow, not reactive enough. He was also too slow to react when my mother decided to leave us. Sometimes I think if he had noticed or fought back, she would still live with us today, but she left, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Dad hears me enter the flat and calls my name. I peer into the small living room and find him sitting on his own on the small sofa. He’s watching a game show on the telly, an aeroplane magazine on his lap. His face looks tired behind his reading glasses. Just seeing him looking tired irks me. He owns a small company that sells cleaning products, but looking at him, you’d think he’s just come back from the war. Perhaps he’s just depressed; there’s nothing glamorous about cleaning products after all. But it does put food on the table.

I kick my shoes off. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”

I hesitate as I remove my coat and hang it on the hook, away from his gaze. “Did Mum call?”

“No.” He clears his throat. “There’s food left in the fridge if you want.”

“Thanks. I ate at Tony’s.”

My father heaves a deep sigh. “Tony’s parents see you more than I do.”

I lean against the doorjamb, feeling awkward. My father’s expression betrays nothing. This is usually the extent of our conversations so I’m a little out of my depth. Then something comes to mind.

“Tony’s father said he knows of a place for me to rent in London this summer. I’m thinking of taking it.”

My father says nothing, only stares at me blankly, the way he used to stare at my mum when she was complaining about him.

“I said you could go only if your grades pick up.”

I better not tell him I haven’t done any homework yet. Leaving him in front of the telly, I retreat into my bedroom and toss myself onto the bed. Above me, the ceiling’s paint is cracked. It’s been that way for years, but it’s not so bad that I have ever felt compelled to do something about it. Plastered on every inch of the walls, a flurry of posters feature men in dark clothing, their surly faces watching over me. Among the mess littering the floor, my backpack has sat unopened since the last day of school. I only have to reach for it, open it, read the list of homework. Perhaps I’ll find the motivation to do the simplest of exercises. Or…maybe not.

Instead, I fish my phone out of my pocket and start texting Lucie.