First Impressions

Moustache Academy, chapter three

Where we left off…

Constance finishes with a masterful imitation of Madame Sollemnis.

I chuckle. “That’s good, do you do any other impressions?”

She opens her mouth to respond when we hear someone very pointedly clearing their throat behind us.

“Ahem!”

Chapter three

We both turn quickly to see the headmistress standing before us, looking very unimpressed. Uh oh. And I was so close to making it to the weekend without getting myself into any more trouble.

I eye the exit doors longingly as Madame Sollemnis looms over us with a very sour expression on her face.

“I see you two have met,” she says, placing her hands on her hips. “I suggest you be mindful of the company you keep” she says to the air between us. She looks like she’s about to say something further but decides otherwise. Instead she marches away, leaving us scratching our heads in confusion.

“She was definitely talking to me,” Constance says, “warning me not to associate with a trouble-maker such as yourself,” she teases.

“I hear you’re equally good at finding trouble,” I retort, nudging her with my elbow. “I bet she was talking to me, advising me not to mingle with the common plebs,” I joke back.

“Plebs? What is this, the 1600s?” she mocks my choice of language, and I feel my face heat up with embarrassment. Constance is teasing in a friendly way, but I am reminded of how I was often ridiculed at my old school for how I talk.

She seems to sense my discomfort and seeks to ease it. “Don’t worry, Shakespeare was a real badass in his time, and I’m proud to be among the plebeians,” she says, laughing. “Now let’s get out of here before we piss off any more teachers.”

We walk out together chatting about our weekend plans, although I don’t have much to share. Sitting at home reading books is a fine way to spend my time, as far as I’m concerned.

It’s not exactly an exciting social life to brag about though, so I keep that to myself.

Monday no-fun-day

“Ugh, it’s so early,” I complain as my mom drops me off at school way before I have to be there. To be honest, I prefer to be running in the door at the very last minute. I don’t want to spend any more time here than I absolutely have to.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go to work today. It’s either this or take the city bus,” she reminds me. I definitely don’t want to take transit. Being stuck in a crowded space with a bunch of strangers is not my idea of a good time — or even an endurable experience.

“I know,” I mumble, “thanks for the ride” and close the car door behind me. It looks like I’m the first one here, aside from a couple of vehicles in the staff parking lot. Great.

This school is creepy enough when it’s bright and full of students, it’s even more eerie when the lights are dimmed and the halls are empty. I walk to my locker, hearing my shoes squeak on the freshly-buffed floor every step of the way.

I’m nearly there when I hear a raised voice coming from the headmistress’ office. That’s strange. Although Madame Sollemnis doesn’t hesitate to lecture and reproach the students, I realize I’ve never actually heard her yell before.

The outsiders

“I told you letting in more of their kind would lead to trouble,” she says angrily. “They’re starting to find one another and form connections. I certainly don’t want them joining forces and wreaking havoc in our school.”

Joining forces? What on earth is she talking about? I can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but I edge a little closer to the door, trying to hear what the headmistress will say next.

“We’re going to have to make some changes around here,” she says sternly, “I am not waiting around until there is a problem before we take action.”

This doesn’t sound good. What changes? Who is she talking about? My mind is reeling and I don’t even realize she’s hung up the phone until I hear footsteps coming toward the office door.

I quickly move back to my locker, busying myself with the combination before she catches me eavesdropping. I can only imagine how she would react if she saw me listening at her door.

“Oh, Cato, I didn’t realize you were here. You’re very early today,” she says. I see her mentally noting my proximity to her office.

“Yeah, my mom had to drop me off so she could get to work,” I say without looking up.

“Mr. Morales,” she says sharply. I freeze. Uh oh. Does she know I was listening to her phone call? “You should know by now it is polite to look at someone when they are speaking to you,” she admonishes.

I feel my shoulders relax in relief, but then my stomach twists with a new anxiety. Not this again. I’ve had teachers lecturing me about this since I was in Kindergarten and I’m really tired of it.

“No disrespect intended, Madame Sollemnis,” I answer, “I just tend to hear people better when I’m not looking right at them.”

“Hmph. Well, you ought to consider the message you are sending when you won’t even look at me when I’m talking to you, young man,” she says.

I’m about to give a smart-assed response when Constance walks up and pokes me in the shoulder by way of greeting, causing me to startle and turn quickly around.

“Whoa!” she says. “Easy there, just saying good-morning,” she smiles, “I didn’t realize you spook so easily,” she teases, putting her hands up in mock innocence. I hear the headmistresses’ footsteps recede and breathe a sigh of relief.

© Jillian Enright

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