Bonjour Girl

by Isabelle Laflèche

  I try to stay positive and keep my head held high. The fact that I woke up at Jonathan’s apartment with no recollection of what happened after we got there makes me sad. Time with him should be cherished, not forgotten in a drunken stupor. I also regret wasting a night; I have so much freaking work to do and I’m already falling behind in my homework assignments. Our workload is insane and so am I for not taking it more seriously.

  I look down at my phone: I’ve received tons of messages from Maddie. I’ve texted her a few times to let her know I’m fine, but she’s insisting we meet in one of the Parsons design studios. I know what to expect: a long-winded speech. This makes my head throb even more. Ugh.

  After our taxi drops us off in front of Parsons, I kiss Jonathan and thank him for taking such good care of me, and we go our separate ways. I reluctantly head to the studio to meet Maddie. As soon as I walk into the deserted studio I know I’m in trouble. This is usually a hub of activity, so the fact that Maddie cleared the place to talk to me is a very bad sign. She puts her hands on her hips and shoots me a death glare. Given the angry look on her face, I should probably jump on social media to create the hashtag #prayforclementine.

  “Where the hell were you? You look terrible,” Maddie snaps. She rarely raises her voice so I know she’s super upset. Uh-oh.

  “I’m sorry, Maddie. I should have called you earlier.”

  “Earlier? Jeez. Where have you been?”

  I look down at my feet. This is embarrassing but I have to tell the truth. “I went out … clubbing,” I finally admit, trying to avoid any eye contact. I know my answer will make her even more pissed off. As expected, she gives me a look of disbelief.

  “Are you kidding me, Clementine? Clubbing? On a weeknight? I’ve been going out of my mind!” she says, making dramatic arm gestures, just like my mother. I guess it runs in the family. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? Didn’t you get my calls? I promised your parents I’d watch over you, young lady. And I didn’t think you were the clubbing type. What got into you, anyway?” She finally pauses.

  “You mean other than a few vodka shooters?”

  Maddie rolls her eyes. “Were you out with Jake celebrating something?” she asks hopefully. I detect wishful thinking. Too bad I’m about to burst her bubble.

  I stare down at my feet again and shake my head.

  “No. I was with Jonathan.” I have a feeling this won’t go over well.

  Her mouth hanging open, she stares at me in silence.

  We hear a pin drop, literally.

  “Oh no,” she covers her mouth with her hands. I know what she’s thinking, and she’s right to be worried. I almost did what she thinks I did. Except I didn’t.

  “Don’t worry, Maddie. It’s not what you think. Nothing happened. Well, not much, anyway.”

  “Clementine. You’ve only started dating him. It’s a bit early for sleepovers, don’t you think?” she scoffs. I can tell she’s royally pissed off now. Like calling-my-parents pissed off. I just hope she has mercy on me and doesn’t do that. My days at Parsons would be numbered. Like I said, #prayforclementine.

  “I just slept at his place — that’s it. Don’t you trust me?” I ask, my voice shaking. The sad truth is that after what happened, I don’t really trust myself, but I refrain from saying it out loud.

  “Come on, Clementine, put yourself in my shoes.” I look down at the gorgeous pair of pink loafers she’s wearing. I’d very much like to be in her Miu Mius right now. But that’s beside the point.

  “Of course I trust you but this is New York and lots of crazy stuff happens here. My heart nearly stopped when I saw your empty bed this morning.”

  “I’m really sorry, Maddie,” I say, trying to offer her some comfort.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Maddie asks, softening. She pushes a strand of hair back from my face.

  “I’m not sure what happened. I guess I needed some kind of escape from school and Jonathan was willing to come along. It’s not his fault, I pressured him to go out,” I admit.

  “You pressured him? You know you’re under the legal drinking age, don’t you, dear?” Maddie asks, trying to drive her point home. I want to respond that I’ve been going to bars since I was sixteen but don’t dare bring that up now.

  “Yes, I know that but it slipped my mind. In Paris, I never got carded.”

  “Okay … so why the need to escape?” she asks. “Are you still stressing out about school? Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, Clementine.” She pats me on the back gently. “Everything will be fine.”

  “Nope, that’s not it.” I look away and hold back tears. The lack of sleep combined with the string of nasty comments on Twitter is making me super emotional. I’m about to lose it. But I don’t.

  “What is it, then?” she asks quietly.

  I shrug and after a long, awkward silence, I pull out my cellphone and scroll down to Stella’s tweet.

  As Maddie reads it, her eyes nearly pop out of their sockets and her lips form a tight pucker. I imagine steam coming out of her ears. “You could have Stella before the student conduct board for this,” Maddie blurts out, throwing her arms high above her head.

  “Really?” The thought brings a smile to my face but it vanishes just as quickly. I know lodging a complaint against Stella would make me look like a tattletale and feel like a fool. Things would have to get worse before I’d go down that road.

  “Thanks, Maddie, but I need to fight my own battles.” I think back to the scholarship saga and the drama it created with Jake. “I’d rather deal with this on my own. It’s time I faced the world like an adult.”

  “All right, if you say so. But I brought you something from home. I think it might come in handy,” Maddie says, handing me a small hardcover book. It has a French title, which translates to How to Be a French Lady. I can tell it’s old; its pages are yellowed and frayed and its cover design looks vintage. The cover has a pied de poule background like the old Dior perfume boxes my mother collects on her vanity. On its cover, there’s a small, round image of a young woman with the air of a young Audrey Hepburn. She’s wearing white gloves and a hat. It’s the kind of book I love to shop for in flea markets in Paris.

  “What is this?” I ask, puzzled.

  “It’s an etiquette book. It belonged to your great-grandmother. I read it often; it has come in handy many times in my life. Cécile would want you to have it now.” She smiles.

  “Wow, thanks, Maddie.” This is a total surprise. Instead of reprimanding me, she offers me a gift.

  I open the book to a random page and translate the chapter title in my head: “How to Maintain Grace Under Pressure.” I begin to laugh. With Jake pushing me to get back at Stella, me making a fool of myself in front of Jonathan last night, and my feeling insecure at school, this book is exactly what I need.

  I wish I could skip class, curl up with Cécile’s book, and read it in one sitting. I have a feeling it’ll help me make better decisions. With the help of this treasure, things can only get better. I put it in my bag and start walking toward the door but Maddie grabs me by the jacket sleeve.

  “Here, you should wear these. I found them in the studio.” She hands me a funky blue and white striped blazer and ultra-slim black cigarette pants. The look is futuristic and avant-garde. It’s not my cup of tea but I can tell my wearing it would make Maddie happy. “A student’s collection from last year. To avoid dirty looks from your classmates,” she says, and I know I have little choice but to wear it. I want to say that wearing this Star Trekkish outfit will probably have the opposite effect but I keep my mouth shut.

  “Right.” I take the ensemble off its hangers and head behind a flimsy curtain to change. I immediately feel better. This was a great idea; it’s totally refreshing to take off yesterday’s smelly club clothes. And it’s comforting to know someone has my back. I give Maddie a warm hug.
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  I’m so grateful for my thoughtful relatives, both past and present.

  They sure know how to live, and they sure know how to dress — two of life’s precious treasures, right?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A lady, like everyone else, goes through challenging times. Where others would scream, cry, or hurl objects, the lady keeps her head held high and does not crumble under pressure.

  These words from Cécile’s book jump from the page. I’m sitting with a hot chocolate in the far corner of the school cafeteria after my first class to avoid prying eyes. I try to turn the pages as carefully as possible to avoid tearing the book’s delicate paper. Just like my reputation, I need to protect this family heirloom.

  I close my eyes and try to let these words of wisdom sink in. My great-grandmother was a wise woman who always kept her composure, even after my great-grandfather died. She may have showed her sadness to close friends and family, but not for long. She never crumbled under pressure when the family business went through tough times. Like Jake’s mother, she mended dresses and skirts as extra work on the side and had designer friends help her put together a fabulous wardrobe by giving her free samples. It’s not that she didn’t suffer — au contraire. I think she did, but she built up her courage and didn’t show it. She accepted the difficult periods with grace, knowing they would eventually pass.

  I turn the pages and another passage makes me cringe:

  A lady may cry or act out to expel her pain but she shouldn’t do it in front of an audience.

  Oops. I think about Stella’s intimidation tactics and how I reacted rather ungracefully in front of a large group of students in the school auditorium. And my cheeks blush with embarrassment when I think about myself being unladylike on the dance floor last night. I flush with shame at the thought of Cécile, with her impeccable manners, seeing me gyrate my hips and slinking around on a pole in front of countless strangers. What was I thinking? And throwing myself at Jonathan — the whole thing is mortifying. I wonder whether Cécile ever did anything like that when she was my age. I have a feeling she probably cut loose in her own unique way. This makes me feel better.

  The book is just so on point that I keep reading.

  A lady is the embodiment of strength, courage, and hope. She believes she can get over any situation or hardship and learn from it. While some people take pleasure in wallowing in their misfortunes, a lady stands tall and continues on her path.

  Voilà! That’s it. That’s the message I was looking for. I close the book, relieved and satisfied. I mentally thank Cécile for leaving this treasure behind for family members to read.

  I stand up from the chair, smooth out the creases in my borrowed black pants, and tie my hair up in a ponytail. I apply some lip gloss and decide to head to class with grace, hope, and renewed optimism. I’ll respond to Stella in a way that would make my great-grandmother proud. No more wallowing.

  It’s time to stand tall, take action, and find closure and satisfaction. A few students turn around and watch me leave the cafeteria with renewed self-confidence. I can already feel a shift in their perception of me that reflects how much stronger I feel inside.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Hey, princess, I’ve been looking all over for you. What’s up?” Jake arrives at the cafeteria just before class.

  He’s wearing grey jeans, a grey sweater, a grey beanie, and a white T-shirt. He’s also sporting grey studded high-tops and a skull-print scarf. It looks like the school’s student colour palette has rubbed off on him. But hey, who am I to judge? I’m wearing clothes borrowed from the design studio that make me look like a character out of a sci-fi movie.

  Jake doesn’t seem to mind my look.

  “Whoa girl, you’re looking sassy,” he says, staring at my outfit approvingly. I respond with a nod. I can’t bring myself to tell him I borrowed these clothes from school to avoid the walk of shame. At least not yet.

  “So where were you this morning? And more importantly, what are you hiding from me, young lady?” he asks, holding his iced coffee in one hand and pointing to my handbag with the other. He saw me slip Cécile’s precious etiquette manual into my bag as he approached, but I’ve decided it’s off limits.

  “I’m not hiding anything — it’s just an old textbook I picked up at the library,” I respond dismissively. “And if you must know, I was at Jonathan’s this morning when I texted you.” I look around to make sure no one can hear.

  “JESUUUS. You slept with him already?” Jake says loudly while taking a seat next to me. This makes me want to crawl under the table. “I can’t believe it, Clem. I mean, he’s attractive and all, I’ll give you that, but what did I tell you? It’s not the best way to proceed.” It’s like he’s giving me advice on how to buy tickets for a concert at Madison Square Garden.

  “Shhhh.” I put my index finger against my lips. No thanks to Stella, I already have a reputation for being a fraud. That’s enough for one week. “No, I didn’t sleep with him, at least not in that way,” I whisper. “We went out clubbing and I slept over at his place but we didn’t have sex. There. If that’s what you want to know.”

  He shakes his head while cutting his muffin into small pieces, as if he’s thinking this through carefully. “Okay, so how did that happen? The last time I saw you two, you were kissing in front of the school entrance. What led to this complete déchéance?” Jake asks with a faux French accent that usually makes me laugh. Except that he’s talking about my reputation so it’s not funny.

  “Nothing worth gossiping about.”

  “Oh, I’ll be the judge of that, pussycat. I’d say so far, you’re totally off base. This story is as juicy as it gets.” He raises both eyebrows mischievously and pops a small piece of muffin into his mouth.

  “We went out for dinner, had some wine, then went out for more drinks at a bar downtown. I was tipsy so Jonathan let me sleep over to make sure I didn’t get into any trouble — that’s all there is to it. We didn’t even get to second base, as you Americans would say. No need to fuss,” I say, taking a sip of my black coffee. Thankfully, the stuff is keeping me awake.

  “You know I’m only looking out for you, Clem. I don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all. A lot of men in New York are ‘players,’” Jake says, using air quotes.

  “Right, so you said … but Jonathan isn’t one of them. He could’ve taken advantage of me but he didn’t.”

  “All right, whatever you say, darlin’. I just don’t want to be picking up the pieces of your broken heart,” he says, before finishing the last piece of his snack.

  He sees the quizzical look on my face. I’ve never seen someone cut muffins into so many small pieces.

  “Don’t ask — it’s a trick my mother taught me. Cutting my food this way helps to curb my appetite. She thinks I should lose a few pounds. But you wanna know what I think?”

  “Of course.”

  “I prefer to follow the wise words of Oprah, one helluva smart woman: ‘They say getting thin is the best revenge. Success is much better.’”

  “Right. If you say so.” I somehow doubt the effectiveness of his mother’s well-meaning advice after he finishes his third mini muffin. Oh well.

  “Enough about the boy. Let’s talk about Stella,” Jake says, wiping his fingers with a napkin and taking a sip of coffee.

  I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I want to follow the advice in Cécile’s book, though I know my approach may not go over too well with Jake. But I need to stick to my guns. I’m committed to being a lady at all costs — my family history and reputation are on the line.

  “To be honest, Jake, I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. Stella’s made her bed by spewing vicious rumours about me and I’ve decided not to engage with her on that level.”

  “My god, listen to you…. Did you join some spiritual cult or something?”

  “No. I
t’s just common sense. C’est tout. Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to get back at her — but on my own terms. Besides, I think revenge is overrated.”

  He stares at me as though I just said I’m wearing a flannel shirt to a black-tie dinner.

  “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but it’s the best way to handle this.”

  “All righty then, sunshine. If you say so. This case is closed.” He pretends to drop his gavel on the table like a judge. “Now that we’ve resolved two very important matters, it’s time to talk about this.” He places a piece of paper on the table in front of me. I already know what it is.

  “OMG. You got the scholarship!” I say, my eyes wide with excitement.

  “Oui,” he says, and tears of joy well up in his eyes. He likes to play mister tough guy about Stella, but deep down he’s a total softie. “Yup. I did. All thanks to you, Clem. Thanks for the tip. I owe you big time.”

  “No, you don’t owe me anything, Jake. You only have yourself to thank for this. I only supplied the information.”

  “You’re a major part of this, kiddo. I’m a bit nervous, though — there are a few conditions attached to it.”

  “Oh? Like what?”

  “I guess my collection concept clinched the deal. They loved the idea of me creating something for people with disabilities. Now I have pressure to execute my plan.”

  “It’s all positive pressure, right?”

  “You bet it is.”

  I’m really thrilled for him. This reminds me of my own personal project. I need to stop worrying about Stella and move on. Maybe I can write something for my blog later?

  “I wish I could go out to celebrate but I’ve barely slept in the last twenty-four hours,” I say.

  “That makes two of us. But not for the same reasons, Clemmy.” He wags his finger at me jokingly and gives me faux naughty bedroom eyes. I poke him back.