-6-

What future for me

In a huge classroom, which brings together all the people my age. We begin our hour of Geography, with Dame-Catherine.

- You will argue about the various migrations from these countries.

Announces the rugged voice of the old woman, slamming her ruler tip on the chalkboard. She went to sit in her iron chair behind her desk, then took out her eternal Bible. Despite Dame-Catherine's stern appearances, she's not that mean. If we listen to her properly, this old woman is generally nice.

Personally, Geography never has me anymore. Not to say, I like almost no matter. Except French, English, and the arts. I didn't even know how I could get average grades in the other subjects, so in high school, my parents struggle to pay me for support classes.

- Justine, give me your blue pencil.

Elyas's low voice calls out to me, right behind me. I am currently seated, second row, in the middle of the class.

- Where is it? , I ask him, sliding my pencil under his table.

- I lost it yesterday, during math.

Elyas answers me with a sigh, then gets his pencil. I lean over my notebook again, picking up another pencil to continue writing.

Elyas Gustave, 19 years old and pure Scottish. He arrived almost at the same time as me, because of his parents. We're not especially great friends, but every now and then. We have good intimate moments when Mr. Ackermann is away. Nothing more, nothing less. He's a nice guy, with a cute kitty, but it ends there.

- I do not understand…

Sighs Mina, sitting in the same row as me, in another row. I glance over his notebook, partially empty and crossed out. It wasn't much different from mine, since I'm still on the main question of the course.

- You're not the only one, I mumble with a sigh.

Mina turns her head slightly and gives me a smirk, to return her eyes to her notebook. Like every time I hit on something, I choose the easiest option to solve my problem. My fingers slide my pencil between two notebook pages, and my jaw rests on my palms, my eyes fixed on the clock.

- I feel like going out.

I whisper in a low voice, to myself. My eyes watch time go by at a slow and almost painful pace. I sound like a coward, not racking my brains on the question, but you have to be realistic sometimes. When your brain doesn't feel like it, you don't force it. It's a fact that I've learned more since I got here. I don't force myself to do something anymore, for someone if I don't like it. I don't know where I got this indifference to duty. Fortunately, I only use it during lessons. If I had to be like this, with every obstacle in my life, I would stay on the starting point.

After the endless hour of Geography lessons, we had an hour's break before going to lunch. Usually, on Fridays, at this time, I go alone to wander in the garden or in the huge corridors of the institute. Looking for personal entertainment, or just taking a nap around the corner. More than once, Dame-Louise or Monsieur Ackermann have found me, sleeping in the large closets for sheets, or in the grass in the garden, under an apple tree. The rare times I have fun with someone is in classrooms or showers, when they're not closed.

Currently, I am in the same room, where I received my parents the day before. My shoulder bag, which everyone carries. I went to sit at a small table near the windows. When I looked around the room, there were only a few Ladies, who were giving support classes to young people with disabilities. A table catches my attention, for a fairly common reason. Dame-Hélène speaks in sign language with a young boy of barely 13 years old. This scene reminds me of Mr. Satoru, my head teacher in high school.

I miss him sometimes, after his last 3 years here.

Dame-Hélène's fingers explain to the young boy the various courtesies towards adults. How did I know? Mr. Satori taught me that. A relative was deaf, and by circumstance he learned.

I could still remember, his delicate fingers resting on mine, shaping the gesture he was trying to teach me. Dazzling, surreal blue eyes that look at me so sweetly. Her thin lips, which always emerge in a benevolent and tender smile. Mr. Satoru, was my guardian angel, in a way.

I come back to reality, to get my things out of my bag. I took my only notebook, which I don't need for class or for boarding school. It was a littlet quite basic notebook, which contains many writings, without tail or head, on my life. I don't see it as an intimate book, but as a rough box in my brain that I transcribe on paper. There was everything and anything, lyrics that told a specific moment in my life, endless songs, lyrics in English, or drawings of whatever. Each page contains a piece of my memory, and my emotions. Like the page on Mr. Ackermann, which tells of our meeting, and our first intimate sessions. Or that of Mina and Maddi, who did something stupid while I was away.

I turn a new page, and pulled out my black pencil. The colored tip tapped the margin of my notebook for a moment, then slowly letters appeared, forming a series of words. Which tells my life, from an external point of view. Starting with my entry into high school, and my meeting with my head teacher, albino. Oldest memories with my old school friends. I transcribe everything, like the beginning of a romance novel.