St. Ameus School (En)

Half of the History morning class had passed. Jean generally hung on each of the teacher's words, but this time she felt unusually distracted. Contrary to what her neighbours had predicted, time had failed to diminish the young girl’s energy. And in that very moment, with twelve years and her mind set far from the endless dissertation that the teacher carried out on the Egyptians, Jean could not take her eyes off the window, catching sight of the sports field of St. Ameus School's through it. In the two years that had passed since she had taken up school, Jean had managed to stand out in all physical activities. In particular, she was very proud of herself for achieving a centre forward position in the hockey team. There still was a long wait ahead of the next game, but that was not what bothered her.
It was a warm day and the sun shone tearing white and gold sparkles off the grass. The sky was turquoise and was visited occasionally by a fluffy white cloud. A better weather could not be expected and yet there she was, locked in a classroom, forced to listen to her teacher rambling on about pharaohs and their mating with their relatives.
Next to her, Anne took notes so fervently that Jean would not have been surprised if her notebook set on fire from one moment to another. Jean had finally quit admiring the court, and was now doodling absently in her History textbook. Almost without realizing it, she had outlined a pair of wings. A few days ago she had seen similar ones that had caught her attention. They belonged to the illustration of a dragon, made by a renowned artist. She had stumbled upon it while researching for the database that she had been exhaustively working on over the last two years. Although she collected a lot of information, she was determined to never stop looking for images that would match the creatures she kept seeing in her dreams.
She was absorbed remembering last night’s, her eyes fixed on the wings that she had drawn, when she heard a sharp sound in front of her and her History textbook was suddenly covered with white chalk dust. None of her classmates even attempted to muffle their laughter. Looking up, Jean met face to face with his teacher, who was still clutching the eraser he had slammed on the girl’s desk.
‘I will ask for the third and last time, Miss Hart. And, if you do not answer, I will have to grade you with a zero’, warned Professor Castle. ‘Why were the pharaohs buried with their treasures?’
Jean recited all she knew -and more- on the Egyptian belief of a life after death and how they sought to ensure that such afterlife was as pleasurable as possible. She had gained experience in babbling more than tolerable in Professor Castle’s class, because he liked them to respond in the same way he taught his subject.
She was not fond of exposing herself more than necessary inside the classroom but, as Anne was her only friend and she preferred to be as close to the board as possible, Jean had no choice but to also sit in the first row of desks. Therefore, it was expected that her distraction would not go unnoticed by their teacher. Satisfied with the answer the girl had given, Castle resumed his tirade, without even awarding her with a good mark instead of the zero he had promised, of course, this time followed by the imperturbable gaze of Jean, who in any case could not stop thinking about the dream that had awoken her yesternight.



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