A f...ing mess

A month later, late November.

Tristan observed Alain's half class as they took in, stoically, the dressing down of the year. The French teacher had dragged him from the staff room like a dragon about to breathe fire, grumbling about irresponsible students. Surprised by his vehemence, he had listened as Alain filled him in on the situation. It was weird; of all his classes, he never would have guessed that his biology students would do such a thing. So he waited, observing their expression as his colleague rambled about what he had heard from the main supervisor. Tales of harassment and fights, of humiliation and ragging.

Patiently, the group – French and geography sessions were done with half classes only - awaited for their teacher to lay his grievances. And when he started telling them how disappointed he was, some faces turned sad. The geography professor couldn't help but watch Frances a little closely, noticing how she grit her teeth, her skin pale in the back of the room. He'd never seen her so enraged, and wondered what had truly happened. Alain eventually concluded his speech and turned to him, face grim.

— "Do you want to add anything, Mr Kristiansen ?", he asked.

Tristan pushed himself away from the wall, unfolding his arms in an attempt to seem more open.

— "Yes, thank you, Mr Tebrus. I'd like to know what happened exactly. I refuse to admit that your class is the type to persecute a young woman."

He left unsaid the fact that said young woman, Madeleyne, wasn't as well the perfect damsel in distress. From the interaction he had seen, she seemed rather mischievous, and not at all bothered to be the youngest member. If anything, her classmates seemed protective of her. Something wasn't adding up there.

— "Thank you!", Florent, the class representative, exploded in the first rank.

— "Yes, sir, thank you for your trust", another blond-haired guy responded.

He was one of those that traded spoonerism with Alain. A funny, outspoken young man. A few smiles were sent his way, and the class started recounting how the girl's clan, led by Madeleyne had been waging war on the boy's clan – in the other boarding building – for weeks. Pranks mainly: cereals shed into beds, slippers pasted to the ceiling – this one made Alain laugh albeit he struggled not to show it –, beds remade so prevent the owner from lying in and cupboards exchanged while the others took their dinner. Such imagination ! Given the amount of effort and slyness deployed, James Bond seemed like an amateur. As days passed, more people were dragged in the 'cold war', all in good humour, until the ultimate date presented itself: Madeleyne's birthday.

An occasion not to be missed. Food fight ensued, and ambush outside the cafeteria, between the clans. And when both parties were exhausted, the leader of the girl clan was 'captured' and tied up to a tree, laughing her ass off. Flowers were put in her hair, pictures taken, and she was freed to go and take a shower. The rest of the students suggested to sweep the courtyard – make a mess, yes, but clean it up afterwards - and this is when all hell broke loose. Tristan's smirk told his students everything they needed to know; the man was rather amused at their antics. Such creativity ! And Alain, likewise, was frowning because it didn't match the gruesome story they had fed him.

— "This is not what they told me", he started.

A very angry retort came from the back of the class.

— "Nor what they told her…"

Frances, wrapped in fury, was standing against the wall, her hands shaking. Tristan frowned as their French teacher questioned her.

— "Tell us what happened"

The young woman bit her lips, then sat on the edge of a table to organise her thoughts. Yet, he could still see how her hands shook.

— "I came down after the fight with Alexandre to stow the stupid string away when the vice principal and the main supervisor popped up, screaming bloody murder and fresher's harassment nonsense. I yelled at the girls to hop in the shower from the window and tried to explain what had happened, and that we would be cleaning up the mess."

The young woman paused and took a shuddering breath, reliving the events as she recounted it. Tristan bit his cheek; he didn't understand yet the reasons for his student's flustering, but was praying that she was just making a mountain out of nothing. Given Alain's rage nary thirty minutes ago, he wasn't looking froward to hearing the rest of the story.

— "They didn't want to listen. They said it was… hazing, and despicable, and degrading. They said that because she was a girl, it was even worse. I tried to tell them it had nothing to do with her being the youngest, or being a girl for that matter. They wouldn't hear me. They asked Madeleyne to come down, and I tagged along"

Tristan nodded; he wasn't too surprised that Frances woman would stick with her comrade in the face the inquisition. She was very intuitive and must have felt the danger. Her gaze met his, and he tried to send waves of reassurance ; she was too far gone to receive them.

— "Can you tell us what happened next ?", Alain asked.

— "They locked her up in an office, with the vice principal, our main teacher and the main supervisor. I don't even remember where. I think I waited for two hours in the corridor – I didn't have my phone - they wouldn't let me in"

Tristan's spine stiffened; it didn't bode so well. The authorities were afraid of hazing, so much that the slightest hint send them into a fenzy. Even more so of sexual harassment. Yet, to have a student, on her birthday, facing three adults was an abuse of power. They should, at least, have allowed Frances in. What a better advocate than the fiery lady; when riled up, she was a formidable adversary. They knew it too… what a low blow.

— "They released Madele in the evening, she was crying. I held her for a long time, she said she was going to quit, that it had been her best birthday ever until… anyway. They told her it was degrading, as a lady, to accept such behaviour. That it was as despicable as accepting to be gang raped"

There was a collective gasp among the students now; obviously, Frances had kept her comrade's confidence until then.

— "This… this cannot be borne !", and outraged Florent yelled in the first rank.

Suddenly, Tristan's blood filled with rage. Did they not realise, those goddamn good thinking women, that they had turned an innocent – if irresponsible – moment into a slaughter? That they had tainted not only the memory, but the young woman's confidence for the future just as well ? Who could, at nineteen years of age, stand up to three people who called you a whore ? What scars would it imprint upon Madeleyne ?

Tristan's jaw clenched; bloody fools ! He was glad for his colleague's calm, for he might had broken the vice principal's door for the slight. When his eyes met Frances' once more, an unspoken understanding passed between them. There would be bloody murder upon those people who felt the need to judge so harshly. Voices roses, the outrage keenly felt among those young adults who protected each other's back. They reminded him of an army, sticking together for better or worse until the war was over.

The management had asked for the names of the responsible people; they all signed up the paper. Not even one soul to back away; let them fire the whole boarding school if they wanted to ! And, pride swelling in their chest, both Alain and himself decided to take this half class and reunite them with their counterparts in biology session; there were words to be exchanged with the old maid that was their main teacher.

They descended like angels of wrath to the first level, Alain at the front, he closing the march. Tristan lagged a little behind and Frances fell into step with him without him asking.

— "Are you all right?", he asked.

— "No. Those people are supposed to help us thrive, and they dig a hole. Calling Madeleyne a whore…"

She'd seen right through their screens.

— "People are led by their fear"

Wrathful hazel eyes turned to him as she swore.

— "If you're thinking about miss Pansy, I think she should get laid instead!"

Tristan smirked, his eyes never leaving Frances'.

— "Good point, I think. But never admit I said that"

For a moment, she just watched him, jaw slack. Then, as her comrades disappeared into the stairs, his hand snaked around her shoulder to squeeze it. He didn't miss the tears springing to her eyes but she swallowed them down. Better to stand strong until the battle was won. So when she hopped down the stairs, bouncing like a fairy, he said nothing more.

— "I adored her, that woman, really."

— "Miss Pansy ?"

— "Yes. I abhor her now"

He could understand how it tore her apart; the class had adopted their main teacher in those difficult times. To have her turn her back against them was heart wrenching.

— "It is always difficult to realise the people we love are human"

And didn't he know it ! His wife had taught him firsthand. He forced his fingers to stop twisting around his wedding band; this battle didn't concern him. Even if he knew what kind of woman Miss Pansy was – funny, intelligent, controlling and very, very prejudiced against men - he had had no business sharing it with his students until now. But she had gone too far; her fear of the other sex, her contempt, even, had dire consequences on her own charges. The open door of her classroom came into view and Frances stomped forward.

— "Well, she's going to hate me now, because I sure as hell am going to give my opinion on the matter"

— "Do not ever let the fire die I you, Frances."

The young woman gave him a peculiar look before entering the room. There was a great hush in the applied sciences class when they eventually made their way inside and Frances took deliberate, slow steps to get to her seat. At the very front.

Alain tried to negociate and cajole, meeting a wall until miss Pansy mentioned that they had commissioned a psychiatrist to make an assessment. Florent snorted at that:

— "Let him come, perhaps he can do something for you"

The remark landed like a SKUD, the main teacher loosing two shades of colour as she considered her best class. 45 youngsters that she had just alienated because of her prejudices against men. What a waste… to loose the loyalty of such brilliant minds and hearts. To loose the respect of Frances who attacked head first.

— "You spoke of gang bang. You spoke of unamable things that have no place in our school, and you called her a whore on her birthday. This is more despicable than anything we could have done"

Tristan's chest filled with pride; oh, she was riled up, the little fairy. And her words cut deep, so true that they rang in the classroom. Miss Pansy's features turned stony, her eyes flashing in anger.

— "That is enough, Frances. You shut up now"

And the young woman, rather than retaliate, chose to flee through the secondary door. Tristan had no time to close the distance as he saw her reddish hair disappear in the restroom on the other side of the corridor. The student's distress tugged at him the wrong way.

Pissed beyond measure, he decided to prawl to the main teacher. Funny, how he towered over her when standing close enough. The little woman and her strange white hair had to crane her neck to watch him, fear registering in her brain. Good. He was the predator now, and she… the sheep.

— "You have handled this situation in a very unprofessional manner", he stated, detaching every syllable. "To confront a student alone, three against one, was an abuse that I might have to report. The words you spoke will not be taken kindly by the academy"

His gaze pinned the teacher to the ground, exactly where he wanted her to be. Until he saw her knees tremble, and sweat forming upon her brow. Then he nodded to Alain and pivoted on his heels, disappearing through the same door that had swallowed Frances a minute before. The teacher closed it behind him; he didn't want anyone to witness the young woman's distress should he catch her in the corridor. As a matter of fact, she was still scooped in the restroom.

Tristan sighed, rasping his knuckles on the door. The faint sound of sniffling stopped; she was holding her breath, hoping he would go away. But he couldn't leave her like this. So he knocked again and spoke softly through the door.

— "Frances, it's Mr Kristiansen. Can you please come out?"

A moment passed, the silence barely disturbed by Alain's voice that trailed in the deserted corridor. The certitude that she wouldn't open caused a pang of sadness to his heart, but the young woman didn't have to trust him. Should he pull the 'professor' card ? No. She'd been betrayed by her main teacher. Yet, he wanted to offer comfort.

— "Please", he whispered.

A slight shuffle echoed in the small restroom before the lock clanged. On a whim, Tristan opened the door then pushed the young woman inside, locking again behind him. As he watched her tear stained face, Tristan's heart lurched. His arms opened by themselves.

— "Come here", he commanded.

As she stood, frozen, he reached out and folded his long limbs around her. She didn't resist, but her arms were clenched to her chest as he embraced her lithe frame. The young woman shook, the nervous strain eventually catching up with her, and he tightened his hold.

— "It will be allright", he whispered in her ear.

Frances sniffled again, trembling like a leaf. For a long moment, he just stood there, one hand cradling her shoulders and the other tightly woven around her waist, crushing her into his chest. And it felt right, and wrong at the same time, to hold her so intimately. Because he never wanted to let go; she fit like a glove in his arms. Such a tiny frame, with so much hidden power. At last, the shaking subsided, and her hands circled his waist, allowing her cheek to rest upon his jumper. She remained here, drawing strength that he was too eager to share until she took a shuddering breath, and pulled back.

— "Thank you, professor"

Tristan had to struggle to keep his hands to himself; now that the distance had been crossed, her craved intimacy more than ever. Damn, he was probably just missing his wife.

— "You are welcome"

— "I fear she will hate me now, and ruin my year. Perhaps find a way to kick me out"

The teacher frowned; it was a valid concern. Going against your principal teacher was bound to stir unrest in those elite classes. Hopefully, his threat would quell any attempts at harassing Frances.

— "Mr Tebrus will not allow it. I will not allow it. If retaliation comes your way, we will report their behaviour to the academy"

— "You can do that ?"

There was disbelief in his student's voice, but Tristan didn't show how unsure he was about this whole reporting. For all he knew, the academy would dismiss them as loonies.

— "We can, and we will. Rest assured, your scholarship is not in danger"

— "Thank you, a lot. For your support, and for everything"

It was a tough world for bright souls… If he could make a little difference, he was glad of it. So he told her, without detour, what he thought of her attitude.

— "You are very welcome. You are a strong woman, and I think Madeleyne was glad for your presence yesterday."

— "Right. I think we should get out of there before the bell rings…"

Truthfully, Frances didn't pass unnoticed. Neither did he. Should they be caught in there by anyone, he would end up in a trial of some kind, or fired. So Tristan nodded, noticing that colours were returning to her cheeks. Hoping that his presence had helped her somehow. Of course, she would have managed without him… but he felt better than he'd been there anyway. So when she gave him a sad smile and walked, he responded with his own, startled that her scent lingering upon his shirt brought him such joy.

What a fucking mess.