Chapter One – Gone with a plane
I waved Mum goodbye and boarded the plane. Finally I was able to get out of this boring, quiet city: Belfast. Well, I would regret some of the Gothic shops, but I knew I would find some other ones in Paris, and surely there would be more shops than here. I turned around to see if my mother was still there, but she had disappeared. Good riddance! I never understood why this Parisian chick, who changed boyfriends every day, had had a daughter and had come to Belfast. Happily, my aunt Coralie, Mum's younger sister, had offered me to live in Paris for a year, with her. I had agreed, and Mum hadn't said anything. I guess, being without me would help her to seem younger and get younger boyfriends...
I admired and worshipped Aunt Coralie. She loved travelling, but since, like, two years, she had settled down, for the sake of her ligne de sous-vêtements féminins. She owned a brand of feminine underwear which were loved by the Parisian girls... And boys, I suppose. Very frilly undergarments, I must confess... Since my fourteenth birthday, she would send me some of the best-sellers of the year, and, because she knew me well, she always chose the black and red ones. But, despite being the ultimate sexy and thrilling woman, she was of the very untidy kind, and had given a call only yesterday, penultimate day of the French summer holiday. I had packed all evening and all night, so the instant I sat down in the plane, I fell asleep.
When I woke up, I had a sour taste in my mouth. I had dreamed of my father. Actually, rather of the shadow of my father. I had never met my father, and even Mum didn't know which one of her boyfriends it was. She couldn't remember any red-haired and green-eyed lover, she said. And my red hair and green eyes couldn't come from that small, heart-faced, brown-haired hazel-eyed woman. I was quite tall, at least taller than my mother, and the least one can say, is that I'm not invisible. A red-haired tall Gothic girl is easily noticeable, don't you think?
The pilot announced we would be landing in time, that is, in five minutes. I checked I wasn't forgetting anything and waited, day-dreaming. I actually liked not knowing who was my father. I feared that if had to encounter him, I would find out that he was a boring executive, or whatever, and not the kind of exciting father I dreamed of. But in my mind, one thing was sure: if I had to meet him by chance, I would recognize him, were he the last of the losers, and I would love him as my father whatever he was.
The plane landed and I alighted. I had to wait almost an hour to get my luggage back, because I had three suitcases. I had taken pretty much my whole wardrobe, even though I knew I would be buying a lot in Paris. Eventually I came out of the luggage hall, and pushing my luggage on a French trolley, I looked for aunt Coralie.
"Chérie, te voilà enfin !" I heard suddenly. I almost jumped with surprise. Obviously I spoke French as well as English, but it was my first time in Paris, so Coralie wanted to pick me up.
"Bonjour, Coralie !" I answered, delighted to see my beloved aunt again. She took some of my luggage, and I followed her to the her beautiful red Ferrari, chatting in a strange language, jumping from French to English without transition.
"Your room will be here !" she announced in her chanting voice. "And we will be lunching in an hour at La Tour d'Argent, so dress up nicely..."
I thanked her and went to have a shower, because, thought it was early September, the weather was scorching, and I had long sweated out all my black clothes. After showering, I went to put on some make-up. My freckles were alas, still there, but I had got used to them, and sometimes almost thought that they suited me.
I then put on a black silk cropped-top-gown on, and, knowing I would be sweating again, I took a fan. I went to see my aunt Coralie, who had also changed and now wore a glorious short glittering golden dress. Her blond shining hair was done up in a elaborate hairdo, highlighting her hazel-gold sweet eyes.
"Let's go, then, darling !" she announced, and happily throwing her purse over her shoulder, she walked out of her huge apartment. I followed.
At the restaurant, we were greeted by an incalculable number of people, all very well-dressed, to whom Aunt Coralie presented me as her beloved and only niece. My aunt knew everyone and everyone knew her. I was glad to be in Paris with her... Something, like a little voice in me, told me that this year would definitely not be boring. I smiled nicely to each person greeting us, trying to remember all the names, and answering when a question was asked.
We sat down and I had the most delightful lunch ever, tasting Foie Gras, and so many other French delicacies. At last, we had dessert, a crème brûlée, of the finest kind, with caramel, and I don't know what. I was taking the last spoonful when a young man, who seemed a bit older than Coralie, and radiated with sheer beauty, came to us. She seemed very happy to see him.
"This is my fiancé, Alexandre. Alex, may I introduce my dear niece, Leila."
He sat down with us, and, while chatting with him, I observed him. He was black-haired and black-eyed, and tall. His face was sharp and thin, and a small smile seemed to dance on his thin lips all the time. He seemed to notice my insistent look and smiled at me twice, letting me see some wonderful white teeth. Without thinking, I asked in the middle of their conversation :
"Are you a model in toothpaste advertising ?"
Coralie and Alex looked at me, eyes wide-open, and then, in the same moment, they began to laugh, so hard, that I felt shame redden my face.
"Oh, excuse me..." I muttered under my breath, annoyed by their mockery, but he answered before I could say anything more.
"No, it's okay. Despite not being a model in a toothpaste advertising, I am a model, but for a famous clothes brand."
That explained the feeling of déjà vu I had... My cheeks went normal again and I tried to smile. Happily, Coralie had a schedule she had to hold on that afternoon, so we left just after that embarrassing event.
Aunt Coralie left me at her apartment, giving me a set of keys. She told me to unpack my luggage and feel at home and that she would be back for supper. I thanked her and went up to the third story, where she lived, disregarding the elevator. Once back in my room, I changed to a pair of jeans and began to unpack my clothes. Happily, the room was huge, and I had two big wardrobes. I decided to put my Gothic clothes in the wardrobe standing left of the bed and the casual clothes in the other one. The room had a huge double bed, those two wardrobes and a desk with loads of drawers. The bed leaned against the south wall and the desk sat against the west wall. Two doors opened on the north wall : one to a tiny bathroom which would be only mine, and the other one to the rest of the huge apartment. The east wall was separated in two by a French window, giving onto a cute little balcony with a charming wrought iron guardrail.
After having put everything in order and checked my few emails, I went to visit the rest of the flat. My room was between two other rooms. One of them was Coralie's room, and the other one was for an potential guest, I guess. Both of them were quite like mine, with a small bathroom for each of them. There was also a huge lounge, with two large, magnificent old windows, and a wall covered with books, CD's and DVD's of very eclectic kinds. Coralie's study, which was next, was in quite a mess, I must confess. I sat down for a minute in the dining room, a long room, with a solid oak long table. The lamps were candlelight imitations, and the whole room was quite intriguing, like a castle room in a modern flat. At last, I entered the kitchen, which was all in white and very clean. I guessed it was because Aunt Coralie prefers to eat out. The fridge was quite empty, except for a bottle of milk and some fruits and eggs, so I was right in my guessing. I got a glass of water and drank it while eating a peach.
Minutes later, I found myself musing on my dearest wish: meeting a vampire. I wished more than anything to be bitten by one of them, and it thoroughly explained my dark style. Or perhaps my style explained my wish. I didn't know any more. I guess they were born together in my head. Actually, if I were dreaming about vampires, it was because a little voice in me told me that I was to meet one shortly, or perhaps that I had already met one. But when?
I stood up and washed my glass, before noticing that there was a dishwasher. How could I ever have thought that Coralie didn't have a dishwasher. Shame on me... I nevertheless dried my glass, put it away and went back to my room.
I had another reason for rejoicing : no uniforms in French schools! I could wear whatever I wanted. But, as a matter of fact, I didn't really want to freak all the students away on my first day, so I decided to wear a simple pair of jeans and a cute top. Well, there was a dominance of black, and some dark jewellery, but it seemed casual enough to me, so I decided it would be okay.
I then sat down and read, and surfed on the internet, a bit bored. Usually, I would have been with my Gothic friends in Belfast, talking about pretty much nothing. I didn't make friends easily, because I was selective.
At 9 o'clock, Coralie came back. She had very red cheeks, and after a short greeting, she went to shower. In the coolness of the apartment, I had forgotten how hot it was outside. I decided to make some fresh orange juice for Coralie. She actually drank it, and then told me we would be eating Chinese. Three minutes later, someone rang at the door and a young man announced the delivery. Coralie thanked him, took the delivery and went to the kitchen. Once we sat there, I dared to ask why we weren't eating in the dining room.
"Oh ! That's for les grandes occasions, the important events, with colleagues, or my ... friends."
I couldn't understand why she hesitated before saying friends, but it didn't bother me longer than that: the Chinese food was really good, and I had a great time savouring it, despite Coralie's lack of appetite, which she reproached to the heat.
"Now, chérie, it's time for you to go to bed ! Tomorrow is a big day: first French school day! I'm sure you'll make loads of friends in the school I chose you... Just choose the right ones!"
And with this enigmatic sentence she disappeared into her study, leaving me alone with the rests of the Chinese supper. I threw everything into the rubbish bin, cleared a bit the mess and wondered how Coralie could survive by letting everything lie around. Did a nice spirit come and clean all the mess, or did she happen to actually clean up herself?
Once in my new Parisian bed, I lay there, thinking, eyes wide open. I was totally excited for the next day, but I couldn't help thinking of Coralie's enigmatic sentence... To choose the right friends? What did she mean?