Chapter 75 Chapter 75

Chapter 75 Chapter 75
Aria’s Pov.

The student council room at break was the particular chaos of people who cared about something and were trying to coordinate it with other people who also cared.

Emma had a new breakdown of the gala timeline on the whiteboard. After party confirmed, the security plan confirmed, Emma had colour-coded the whole thing which I suspected she did for personal reasons as much as practical ones.

"Okay." She looked around the room. "After party logistics. Aria, you're running point…where are we."

I sat up a little straighter. 

"Wristbands sorted," I said. "Colour-coded. We have a separate entrance from the main gala, wristband check at the door plus ID. Security confirmed for both events." I looked at my notes. "Music-wise I've got two options for the after party… DJ from the graduating class, or a playlist setup which gives us more control over the room."

"Vote?" Emma said.

The room split roughly in half.

"DJ," Emma decided. "More energy. Claire, venue dressing for the after party?"

Claire took over and I sat back and felt the particular satisfaction of something working. Of what I'd proposed actually becoming a thing that was happening.

It still surprised me a little. That feeling.

It probably shouldn't by now.

The meeting ran twenty minutes and ended with a to-do list that had my name on four items, which was fine. More than fine, actually.

I walked out into the corridor feeling lighter than I had earlier.

Camille fell into step beside me.

"You're good at that," she said.

"At what."

"The council thing. Running things." She glanced at me. "You don't notice when you do it."

"I'm not running anything…"

She bumped my shoulder with hers.

"I'm just saying," she said. "You belong here."

I looked at her.

"Don't make it weird," I said.

"I'm not making it weird. I'm stating a fact." She held the door open. "Now come on, I'm starving."

Lunch was the whole table.

Jules, Théo, Camille, me. Adrien appeared halfway through, still with his sports bag, sliding in beside me and stealing a fry from my plate without asking.

"Excuse you," I said.

"Thank you," he said, eating it.

Elodie was at the table too. Further down, between Daphne and Louise, in conversation with them.

Jules was in the middle of a story about something that had happened in double maths.

"...and he just looks at the answer and then looks at me and says Jules, I think you've invented a new branch of mathematics…"

"He didn't…" Théo said.

"He absolutely did."

"What branch?" Camille asked.

"He called it creative arithmetic…"

The table erupted.

I laughed with them and ate my food, Adrien leaned close.

"Are you nervous about Madame Beaumont?" he said quietly.

"I'm not nervous," I said.

"You've been quiet since I mentioned her this morning."

I looked at him.

"She gave Camille an F on a project they both worked on," I said. "Then I called her out in front of the class." I kept my voice low. "I don't trust what she does next."

He was quiet for a second.

"What did you do?" he said. "When she said it."

"I told her to have some self-respect."

He looked at me.

"In class."

"In front of everyone."

He was quiet again.

"That explains the detention," he said.

"It does."

He turned his coffee cup slowly on the table.

"What do you think she does next?" he said.

"I don't know." I looked down the table to where Camille was laughing at something Théo had said. "That's what worries me."

He followed my gaze.

Then he looked back at me.

"I'll be there," he said simply.

I looked at him.

"What?"

" Madame Beaumont's class." He shrugged. "I'll come with you. My free period's after lunch anyway."

"You don't have to…"

"I know." He picked up his drink. "I want to."

I looked at him for a second.

"Okay.”

He smiled at his drink.

Madame Beaumont's class was on the second floor, east corridor.

I'd been in it before. The room had the particular quality of a space that reflected its teacher, very ordered, nothing out of place, every desk at a precise angle.

Madame Beaumont was already at the front when we came in.

She looked up.

Her eyes moved to me first, then to Camille beside me. Then something shifted in her expression to Adrien.

She hadn't been expecting him.

"Mr Montclair," she said. Perfectly pleasant. "I wasn't aware you had this period free."

"I thought I'd sit in," he said easily. "If that's alright."

"Of course," she said.

We found seats. Adrien sat slightly behind me and to the right. Camille on my left.

The class started.

For the first twenty minutes it was fine.

She ran through the literature material, something about authorial intent, and the class followed along. She called on people at reasonable pace. Nothing unusual.

Then she looked at Camille.

"Miss Rousseau." Her voice stayed even. "The passage on page forty-two. Would you read from the third paragraph."

Camille found the page and read.

When she finished, Madame Beaumont was quiet for a moment.

"Interesting," she said. "Would you say you understood what you just read?"

The room went slightly still.

Camille looked up. "Yes."

"Really." She tilted her head. "Because the pacing suggested otherwise."

Camille held her expression very still.

"Perhaps," She continued, looking at the class now, "some students simply aren't suited to literary analysis. No matter how much support they receive."

The room was completely quiet.

I felt it move through me… that same heat from before, the one that had made me stand up the last time.

I stood up.

"Madame Beaumont," I said.

She looked at me.

"That was a personal comment directed at a student in front of the class," I said. "That's not appropriate."

Her expression didn't change.

"I was making an observation about learning styles…"

"You said some students simply aren't suited to literary analysis." I kept my voice even. "That was directed at Camille. It was unprofessional and it isn't appropriate in a classroom. ."

The room held its breath.

Madame Beaumont looked at me for a long moment.

Then she looked back at her notes and continued the lesson like nothing had happened.

I sat down.

My hands were shaking slightly under the desk.

Adrien's hand found my knee beneath the table. He gave me one brief press.

I breathed.

The class continued.

Five minutes.

Ten.

I looked at Camille.

She looked at me.

Something passed between us that didn't need words.

I picked up my bag.

Camille picked up hers.

Then we stood up.

Beaumont looked up from the board. "Miss Hart. Miss Rousseau. Sit down."

"We're leaving," I said simply.

"If you walk out of this class…"

"We're leaving," I said again.

I looked at Adrien. He was already reaching for his bag.

"Don't," I said quietly. "Stay. This isn't your fight."

He looked at me for a second.

"It is actually," he said, then he stood up.

The three of us walked out and the door closed behind us.

The corridor was empty and quiet.

Camille exhaled.

"Okay," she said. Her voice was slightly unsteady. "Okay. What do we do."

I looked toward the end of the corridor. Where the administrative block was.

"We go to the board," I said. "Now. Before she can get there first."