"Olivier, do you have a short film script we can do for the festival?" Mekaisto asked during study hall.

"Maybe, if it can be done justice in the time constraints. You guys waited until the last minute to ask for a script. The Terminale and second year students already asked me, and yet my own year is asking me the day before final entries are accepted."

It seemed like a bad time to be asking. Olivier was right about the due date for an entry, and half the students were in the library or having one on one study sessions with each other or a tutor.

"We should probably sit it out this year," I commented as I did research for a history essay.

"You think so, Nellie?"

I huffed a breath at the distasteful nickname he'd started using from his sister. "You waited too long, Prince Meka. At this rate, we'll end up with a new class rep this year."

"Come on, you know I hate my title being used at school."

"Almost as much as I hate being called Nellie," I shot back.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know. Madelyn always calls you- I mean, so I just assumed... Is there a nickname you prefer, or would you like me to use your full name?"

Taken aback by such genuine remorse, I was quiet a moment.

"I'll tell Madelyn to stop calling you that, too."

"It's not that. I'm just not used to people asking. Porter and Ghislaine call me Prue. Luka uses my full name. Either works."

"Okay, Prue. It might take a bit to break the habit, but I'll work on calling you what you prefer from now on, I promise."

"Thanks," I murmured. Feeling awkward, I reached for my headphones.

"Prunelle," Olivier intoned before I'd put one of the buds in.

"Yeah?"

"The script I had in mind for our grade could be done in time if everyone really puts in their best effort. I only have one caveat to offering it up."

"Which is?"

"You play the leading role."

"What? Why me? Ghislaine is the actress, you know. I don't belong on a stage."

"I based the character on you. If it's going to be done decently in time, it has to be done by the people most closely matching the characters naturally."

"Ghislaine can play me. She's one of my best friends. She knows me really well."

"She'll need to play a character based on her."

"Don't tell me you made one based on Porter, too?"

"Of course."

"Why did you make characters based off the three of us?"

"The story is about two groups of friends, each with an intriguing individual that keep bumping into each other during a night out. It's a satire on falling in love from chance meetings."

"And you made a character like me one of the leads?"

"Yes."

"And what about the other group of friends? Who are they based on?"

"I'll give you a hint; I'm going to have to play one of them."

I sighed agitatedly. Olivier's friends were Angelo and Dorian. Dorian was alright, if you could tolerate his perfectionist attitude. Angelo had had a crush on me since elementary school, since he lived in the house on the other side of a small workshop next to my apartment building. He wasn't a bad guy, but despite me telling him I didn't see him that way in middle school, he still treated me the same way. It was a bit much for me to deal with most of the time, and I was glad we hadn't been in the same class in six years now.

"Why would you get the poor guy's hopes up with something like this? That's just cruel, Olivier."

"Have you seen Angelo yet this year?" he asked with a sly smile.

"Well, no. He was gone the entire second semester last year for his exchange during his mom's deployment, and he wasn't around at all during the summer break, either. Is he even enrolled here this year?"

"Oh yeah, he's back. I can't believe you haven't seen him yet. Finding you was about all he talked about on the first day of school."

"He never found me. I'm not even sure he was looking. Maybe he doesn't even have a crush on me anymore. If that's true, I guess it can't hurt to play the parts in the film."

"Did you miss the part where I said you were all he talked about?"

"Did you miss the part where we've been back a few days and he's ducked me the whole time?"

Mekaisto was looking past me at the door with a huge grin that I didn't trust at all.

"What now?" I asked gruffly as I turned that way.

A rather handsome guy was standing in the doorway. His toffee colored skin had a glow to it, his dark hair was freshly crewcut with a skin fade, the messy layers on top nearly falling in his eyes, which were the color of iris flowers. He was wearing a very modern grey combat shirt, camouflage cargo pants, and a pair of sturdy combat boots.

"Who are you, and why are you staring at me like that?" I asked when I realized he was watching me.

Mekaisto snickered behind me.

"You could have told me she was in your class this year, Olivier," he said. His voice was husky.

"You didn't give me the chance the other day, and I forgot to mention it after."

The way they were talking, it could only be Angelo. He wasn't the short, scrawny kid in my memory, though. Talk about a late bloomer.

"It's good to see you, Prue," he zeroed back in on me, shooting me a smile.

"What happened to you?" I asked in astonishment.

"I accidentally exchanged into a military school, and my mom didn't have the time to switch it," he shrugged.

"But...you got so tall. You're taller than me now."

"About time, too."

"Did Olivier tell you about his satire short film?"

"I already told him I'd only do it if you were okay with it. I hadn't heard anything more, so I assumed we weren't entering the film festival this year. Is that not the case?"

"Why am I suddenly feeling ambushed?" I asked all three suspiciously, eyes darting between them.

Dorian stepped into view behind Angelo, pulling a shocked Porter and an eager Ghislaine along.

"Who is the mastermind behind this one?" I posed.

"Guilty," Mekaisto raised his hand.

"And you all went along with this? Trying to pressure me to be in the movie?" I scoffed.

The only one that looked ashamed was Ghislaine.

"I can't believe you all. Porter, you're supposed to be one of my best friends. That means you should have my back in stuff like this. And Angelo, how can you claim to be in love with me and do this? The only one of you that looks sorry is Ghislaine. We will not be participating in the film festival this year, and I think all of you should just stay away from me for a while."

I pushed through the four standing at the door, stomping right out of school and to the ice rink. No one would expect me to be sitting in the stands of the cold, empty arena. No one would notice me cutting the last twenty minutes of class, either.

"Is that my little protégé?" Philippe called joyfully when he caught sight of me.

"I'm not here to skate, Philippe. I just needed space from my friends."

"What happened, my little snowflake?"

"They tried to strong-arm me into acting in the grade's short movie for the film festival."

"Why did they do it?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask?"

"I was too offended to wonder why they did it."

"Maybe it's time you asked."

I shrugged, uncommitted to discovering their motive when I was still upset.

"Oh, you know it's funny you should come today. I was cleaning the office this morning and I found something you'll probably want. Wait right here."

Philippe was only gone long enough to reach his desk and come back. He presented a crumpled piece of fabric with a flourish. "It got mixed in with some other old props."

I plucked the frayed end of the faded ribbon between my thumb and a finger, watching it flutter as it unfurled. My mother had told me it was a gift from my father, and I used to wear it in my hair in Kindergarten. I lost it during the summer before CP, with my first skate competition coming up the third day back to school. My mom found it the day of, and I used it in my routine. When I won, we decided it must be some sort of good luck charm, and I used it in every competition until my last. I threw a fit when my mom told me I had just had my last competition, that I was going to have to give up skating when I had just won the right to participate in a national showing. I hadn't seen the ribbon since.

It was iridescent silver, patterned with feyrie symbols that I couldn't understand. Flashes of skates went through my mind. The ribbon weaved it way around every memory in the rink.

"Thank you for finding this."

"You ever think about lacing up again?"

"Of course I think about it. I dream about it. I just..."

I squeezed my eyes shut to block the tears.

"So, you're angry your mother made you stop skating, devastated by lost time, and longing to get back on the ice? I can give you the power to get that time back. You should be the champion today. Don't you want the title you deserve? All you have to do for me is pick up a couple costume pieces."

The image of a pair of spotted earrings and a ring with a pawprint entered my mind.

"What are these?"

"Magic jewels that give Ladybug and Cat Noir their powers."

"You are Hawk Moth?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You don't have to, little snowflake. You just have to get the jewels."

"No!"

Whatever spell Hawk Moth had cast broke. I felt drained, and I could barely support my glamour.

"Sorry, Philippe. Say hi to the girls for me. I need to go home."

"Come see me again soon, little snowflake! We'll get you back on the ice yet."

I took a bus back home, letting my glamour fall the second the door clicked shut and collapsing into the couch. There was no stopping the flood of exhaustion.