Bonjour Girl

by Isabelle Laflèche

  Jonathan waves Jake over to our table and orders him a sparkling water with a twist of lime so my friend can cool off.

  “Where’s Adelina?” I ask after he takes a seat.

  “She’s at the restaurant. I had to run here and see you. This is more important than lunch!”

  Given that food is at the top of his priority list, I’m grateful he interrupted his lunch date for me.

  I share our strategy. Within seconds, Jake’s face lights up like the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.

  “Oooh, I like it! Let’s get on this investigation, pronto! I’m sure you’ll dig up dirt on that douchebag of a girl,” Jake says, looking ready for action, but he needs to calm down.

  “Not so fast. We need to think things through. We don’t want to lose our scholarship money, now do we?” I cock an eyebrow to drive the message home.

  “Right. Good point,” Jake responds. I know he doesn’t like to be told to tone down his enthusiasm but I need to make sure things don’t get out of control.

  “I think we should get ahold of her school records. See what we can find in there,” Jake says, rubbing his hands together. “How about asking Maddie for some help?”

  Hmmm. I’ll admit that the thought did cross my mind but I hesitate to involve her in this. She’ll tell me to lodge a formal complaint against Stella, and that’s the last thing I want to do.

  “I’m not sure we should get Maddie involved.”

  “If you say so, Clem,” Jake responds, but I’m not sure he gets it. He’s really taking these Twitter slights to heart. Jake did admit to being the butt of some hurtful jokes in high school. That would explain why he’s taking my battle so personally.

  “How about using your charming persona to get some info from your pals at school?” Jonathan asks Jake. “I’ll do some online sleuthing on my end and let you guys know what I find. Don’t forget to call Stephanie, okay?” He looks at me and I know he means it.

  “I’ll call her. I promise.”

  “I have to go.” Jonathan stands to leave. “Sorry, I have a meeting. Let’s talk later.” He bends down for a quick kiss and throws some money on the table. I can’t believe this supposed romantic lunch turned into a strategy session for investigating Stella.

  Jonathan disappears into the busy street and Jake watches him go.

  “What a catch. He’s totally dreamy, Clem,” Jake sighs.

  “I know. I have to pinch myself. My problem is that I worry it won’t last, what with all the gorgeous women running around campus. And with all my personal drama …”

  “Oh stop that! Who put those terrible thoughts into your head?”

  “YOU DID!” I say, punching him on the shoulder.

  “So, who’s Stephanie?” Jake asks, switching to Jonathan’s seat.

  “A lawyer friend. He thinks she can help me.”

  “A lawyer? Really? Wow, he’s taking this to the next level. I like it. Let’s call her now.”

  “No way! Not from here! I’ll call her later from a quiet place,” I say. I refrain from telling him that he’s one of the main reasons this place is so loud.

  “It sounds like it means a lot to Jonathan that you call her. He wants to help, Clem. And so do I.”

  “I know. I really appreciate that. I really do. I’m just bummed out about the negative publicity this will bring my blog, and just as it was starting out so well.”

  “You know what they say …”

  “No such thing as bad publicity?”

  “Right on, kiddo.” He dives into my remaining fries.

  “You can have them all. Stella killed my appetite.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  “I’ll just sit here and watch you eat and think about what to do next.”

  Jake slips on his large vintage shades while finishing my lunch, looking the most intriguing of us all.

  Chapter Thirty

  I enter Maddie’s office quietly. She’s on the phone so I tiptoe discreetly around her desk and take a seat in one of the two visitor chairs in her office. I reach for a jar on her desk and pop a sugar-free gummy bear into my mouth. It’s late afternoon and I guess I’m hungry after all, since Jake ate my lunch.

  The space reflects her style: whimsical sculptures acquired during her trips abroad, fashion runway photographs, piles of books, sketches of fashion collections — some her own and some her students’ — carefully hung behind her desk, and lots of fresh flowers in pretty Murano glass vases.

  A love of things retro runs in our blood. She owns one of those vintage phones with a rotary dial and a spiral cord in bright cherry red. She’s sitting in her white leather chair facing the windows looking out to Fifth Avenue, twirling the cord with her index finger. I feel a pang of envy. She’s made it to the top. I hope I do, too. It’s the reason I’m here: to protect my interests so I can move on gracefully with my project.

  She turns to face me. My visit comes as no surprise; I texted her after leaving the bistro to let her know I’d be dropping by with questions. She smiles and winks conspiratorially while she finishes her call. She’s wearing a gorgeous barrette in her hair that contrasts nicely with her green eyeglasses. The numerous bracelets on her wrists make a tingling sound while she plays with the phone cord.

  Maddie has no clue why I’m here. Although I don’t want to drag her into this, aside from Jake she’s the only person on campus I trust. I’ll admit it feels wrong to try and dig up some dirt about a classmate, but I finally caved in and told Jake I’d ask. Apparently, it’s for my own good.

  “So sorry, Clementine. It was the dean from a sister school in Europe. We’re trying to organize an exchange program for some of our top students next year. It’s taking a lot of convincing but we’ll get there.”

  “That sounds like fun.” Maybe I should apply. It might be my only option for getting as far away from Stella as possible.

  “So, what’s up?” Maddie asks, making her chair twirl as she talks.

  “Remember when I told you about Stella, the girl who tweeted nonsense about me?”

  “Of course. Don’t tell me she’s at it again?” She lowers her stylish glasses to the tip of her nose and stares into my eyes.

  I look down at my shoes, embarrassed to admit it. I feel helpless. Should I deny it? Pretend like nothing happened, brush it under the carpet? Under Maddie’s unflinching gaze, I have no choice but to admit the truth. I can tell she already knows the answer.

  “Yes, she keeps tweeting about me. And now it’s about my blog,” I admit, holding back tears. It’s not easy to act as if it doesn’t matter when it really does.

  “Really? Okay, Clementine. That’s enough already. I’m calling her into my office for a meeting. This needs to stop.”

  “No! Please don’t do that. It’s not why I came to see you. I’m no tattletale. I just want some information …” I say vaguely. I know it sounds ridiculous and now I regret coming to her.

  She looks at me with her big eyes, puzzled, and raises an eyebrow. “What kind of information?”

  “I’m trying to find out whether Stella’s done something like this before. Or worse …”

  Maddie shakes her head. “What are you up to, young lady? I hope you won’t lower yourself to her standards. You know that two wrongs don’t make a right, right?” I can hear my father’s voice echoing in the back of my mind, giving me the same speech. I know my mother would approve of my sly sleuthing tactics, though. She’d be all over Jonathan and Jake’s revenge plot. She might also be all over Jonathan, period. I brush these negative thoughts aside; it’s no time to think about that.

  “I’m sorry, Maddie. I shouldn’t have asked you for anything. I just want to understand why she keeps attacking me like she does.”

  Maddie takes a deep inhale, then sighs. “You know I can’t share personal student information with you. All student records
are confidential. I could lose my job, Clementine.” She looks offended and I feel terrible for putting her on the spot. “All I can say is Parsons is very strict about its code of conduct. We expect nothing but exemplary behaviour from our students.” I don’t have Cécile’s etiquette book with me but I doubt a lady asks a relative to conspire with her to commit an illicit act. What was I thinking?

  “This is a terrible mistake. Forget I asked.” I stand up to leave.

  “Wait, Clementine, I have an idea.” Maddie softens, seeing the distraught look on my face. “How about this: I’ll ask around to see whether other teachers have dealt with her before; they might know something.”

  I smile gratefully. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Since we’re behind closed doors, I give her a hug. “Don’t worry about me. And whatever you do, don’t tell my father. He’ll send me back to France!”

  Maddie laughs. “Okay, I promise.” She crosses her heart. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  As soon as I leave Maddie’s office, I nearly run into Ellie, who’s standing in the hallway. Her looming presence startles me.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hello, Ellie,” I say flatly. This can’t be a coincidence; she’s clearly following me around.

  She looks around the empty hallway before nodding for me to come over to her side. I hesitate; it feels like we’re involved in some kind of drug transaction.

  “I have what you’re looking for,” she whispers.

  “What? What do you mean?” I’m not sure what she’s getting at but I feel a tinge of both fear and excitement.

  “About Stella. I know something … that could take her down.”

  My eyes become as big as saucers. I stare at her incredulously for a few seconds before I crack a half-smile. This is interesting. “Really? What do you know?”

  “Follow me.”

  “Where to?”

  She doesn’t answer. She just stares at me with those heavily made-up eyes. Can I trust her? I have some doubts, major ones. But I need to decide in a split second whether I’m prepared to play her game and take a risk.

  I replay Maddie’s words in my mind: In this school, we expect nothing but exemplary behaviour. I may be putting my future at Parsons on the line by following Ellie but for some reason, my inner rebel kicks in. This is New York City and it’s time to live dangerously. I have risk-taking in my lineage, particularly on my mother’s side. Besides, my self-respect demands it.

  “Okay, Ellie. Show me what you’ve got. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  As I follow Ellie down the hall, it hits me that she’s not only mysterious, but mesmerizing, too. Today she’s wearing a shimmering purple caftan made of gauzy, ethereal material over skinny black jeans, with biker boots, black liquid eyeliner, and hot-pink lips. The look is disco witch and I admit she wears this funky style well. She’s an unlikely mix of danger, aloofness, and zen attitude all mixed into one.

  Perhaps I was wrong about her. Considering my recent indecent behaviour at some nightclub downtown, she may be more of a lady than I am. The fact that she’s looking out for me makes me wonder even more if I’ve misjudged her.

  I follow Ellie up two flights of stairs and through numerous doors and hallways. I can tell we’ve reached a different department of the school’s administration and can’t help but wonder where she’s taking me and what she has up her designer sleeve. One thing’s for sure: I’m intrigued by her audacious ways.

  Ellie walks quickly and I have a hard time keeping up. Once we’ve raced through one last set of doors, she looks around before entering a room. She nods for me to follow.

  Instinctively, I know we’re in a space students are forbidden to enter. I’m not 100 percent sure, but from the filing cabinets lining the walls, my guess is we’re in the room where all of Parsons’ student records are kept.

  I get a chill down my spine at the thought of being caught in here — I know Maddie would never forgive me for this. I shake my head and point toward the exit but Ellie swiftly grabs my wrist and stares into my eyes with her deep, penetrating gaze.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispers under her breath. “Got cold feet?”

  “We shouldn’t be in here. We should leave. I have too much to lose.”

  “Excuse me? And I don’t?” Ellie retorts, her eyes bulging. She looks menacing and I don’t know what I fear most: Ellie’s wrath or Maddie’s scorn. I’m in serious trouble now.

  “Listen, Clementine. I know what I’m doing. I know this must be hard, but you need to trust me. This is no time to back down, okay?”

  She turns around briskly and puts her index finger to her mouth as we hear footsteps on the other side of the door. I get more chills down my spine — but this time it’s not fear. It’s more like exhilaration. I guess Ellie is right — it’s no time to back down.

  After a few seconds, she reaches into a tall metal filing cabinet and pulls out some folders with the ease of a secretary in a legal office. Clearly, she knows her way around.

  My mind spins. Has she gone through my personal files, too? What information has she uncovered about my family that could leave me exposed and vulnerable? I start to panic. Again.

  “What are you doing, Ellie?”

  “Shhhh. Let me find it first.” She waves me away.

  I imagine the worst: Parsons calling my parents to let them know I’ve been expelled. Me on the streets of Paris, begging for euros with a paper cup. The image is too much to bear.

  “We shouldn’t be in here, Ellie. These files are confidential. I’ve changed my mind. I want out of this plan of yours.”

  “Really? I don’t think you do,” she mutters while flipping through some files. Her eyes stop on a particular folder while I just stand there, hands on my hips.

  The suspense is killing me. I’m tempted to open the cabinet myself to see what she’s looking at. But something deep in my gut stops me.

  “So, what is it?” I ask.

  She sighs loudly, her dark bangs fluttering over her wide forehead. I read somewhere that large foreheads are a sign of great intelligence, which would mean Ellie knows what she’s doing. But does she? More importantly, what the hell am I doing?

  Ellie looks exasperated by my lack of confidence. “If you need to know, these are students’ final projects, collections, and presentations from the last five years. Along with all the teachers’ comments and final grades,” she adds nonchalantly without lifting her head.

  Oh man. My mind races. I frown. I’m about to tell Ellie again that I’m leaving when we both hear a door opening and footsteps coming our way. She shoves the folder back into the cabinet.

  My heart in my throat, I hide with Ellie behind a tall bookshelf. We stare at each other in silence, trying to keep out of sight of the small window in the door. We’re so close I can feel her breath on my face. She looks right at me, and I’m pretty sure I recognize honesty in those heavily made-up eyes. I exhale from deep in my belly.

  When whoever made the footsteps is out of earshot, Ellie rushes back to the cabinet and pulls out a manila folder. She opens it up and hands it over to me with a glint in her eye.

  “Why are you showing me this? It’s empty.”

  “My point exactly. Voilà.”

  “What do you mean, voilà?” I ask, getting impatient. Is this a joke?

  “Take a look at the name on the folder. Then look it up on your phone. You’ll have all the answers you need.”

  The name on the file is Brian Kim, and underneath his name it says Foreign Student – South Korea. I take a deep, exasperated breath and type his name into the tiny browser on my phone.

  My eyes nearly jump out of their sockets. I can’t believe what I’m looking at: the young Korean is selling a collection of cool decals to accessorize sneakers, handbags, jeans pockets, phone covers, hats, and other fashionable ac
cessories.

  There are numerous photos of his work in neon colours and links to fashionable Asian blogs and magazines. From what I can read on his website, it looks as though he was a finalist for a prestigious prize, too.

  The work looks identical to Stella’s collection. Or is it the other way around?

  “Wow. So why is the folder empty? When was he studying here?”

  “He was here three years ago. As for the documents, take a wild guess.”

  It’s got to be Stella. I can’t believe that Jonathan was right on about this: she’s guilty of the very thing she’s been accusing me of: being a fraud.

  I high-five Ellie and she smiles for the first time since we met — a gorgeous, riveting smile. Never mind lady, Ellie just made it to the status of queen in my book.

  The question is, what will I do with this new information?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I should be on cloud nine.

  I just uncovered some dirty deets about Stella that will put me in the driver’s seat. The tables are about to turn. No more putting up with her bullying. I also did some more online research this weekend about Brian Kim. His business is more than thriving in Asia — it’s on fire. He sells his patches online to clients all over the world. This is reason enough for him to want to shut down Stella and her copycat business. I take a sip of sparkling water and grin at Jonathan while he peruses the menu.

  I’m sitting across from him at La Ripaille, one of the oldest restaurants in the West Village. According to Jonathan, its owner scours local markets for the freshest produce, choosing the day’s specials based on his finds.

  The restaurant itself is beautiful, with a lovely terrace and a fireplace in the back. Candlelight at each table accentuates French posters on the walls, and there are fresh flowers throughout the room. In one corner, an antique clock from 1846 is set to the opening time of the restaurant. I find it all super charming.