I'm not up to date on this fandom, but I've always wondered why Lila, if she's such a master manipulator, was so obvious. I wanted to explore a more subtle Lila and her experience in Paris. This isn't a fully fleshed out story, but will be a collection of scenes, introspectives, and explorations of her mindset and machinations.
"Do you have everything you need?"
Lila resisted the urge to roll her eyes as her mother fussed with her jacket and hair. "Si mamma," she said. She hefted her backpack. "I don't have books yet, just notebooks and pencils and such. I never need much for the first day. I've had plenty of practice."
"I know, cara," Mamma said, finally settling her hands on Lila's shoulders. "You're an old hand at starting new schools. But I promise, this one is for the long haul. So none of your little pranks this time, yes?"
Lila bristled, but kept her expression sweet. "Of course not! I've learned my lesson about pranks."
To be fair, she had. Just not the lesson Mamma intended. Constantly moving made it hard to find friends, and Lila had been ostracized as the new girl, the foreign girl, too many times to be happy at her new schools. So she started a game: see what outrageous things she could make people believe. She had a whole point system, ranking the fame of the person involved, the number of people convinced, the length of time before anyone questioned her. It was glorious, but, unfortunately, Lila had gotten a little too ambitious at her last school, and her mamma found out. She supposed that getting tinnitus at the airport, saving Jagged Stone's kitten from an approaching airplane, was going a little too far, but the sheep at her school actually believed it! Well, for a few days, at least. She avoided any real consequences, but the shame of being outed as a liar, the way people watched her warily wherever she went, was more than she could bear. Mamma's new posting to Paris was a dream come true. And Lila had learned. She had learned that subtlety was the name of the game. The real way to get ahead. People fawned over her when they thought she knew the rich and powerful?
Next time she bragged, it wouldn't be a lie.
This time would be different. Mamma would, barring any sort of tragedy or misfortune, be stationed at the embassy here for three years. She had even mentioned that, if Lila got comfortable here, she might take a break and stay so Lila could finish school with her friends. So Lila couldn't afford to alienate her classmates. Lies were great for brief moments, but they were fragile things, easily punctured, and not worth trying to juggle for years on end. Her approach would be different this time, more . . . understated.
It helped, of course, that Mamma wanted only the best education for her. That meant she was going to a small, elite school in the heart of Paris, Collège Françoise Dupont. The school was populated with both gifted students and the children of the city's leaders and influencers. It was the perfect place to start making connections. She would show all those people who doubted her worth, who laughed at her lies. She would become far greater than she had ever pretended to be.
Mamma drove her to her new school and dropped her off with a kiss on the forehead, quickly filling out the last bits of paperwork before hurrying off to the embassy. Lila exchanged some awkward small talk with the principal, who seemed like the worst kind of sycophant. Then again, she could use that to her advantage.
"Mr. Damocles," she said while they waited for the secretary to bring her schedule, school handbook, and other information. "What are my new classmates like? Are they kind?" She swallowed, averting her eyes and lowering her voice to a near whisper. "I only ask because some of the people I went to school with were cruel. Mamma said they were just jealous of my life, that we get to travel around the world and meet all sorts of important people. But their teasing still hurt."
Mr. Damocles nodded, a sympathetic frown on his face. "I assure you, Miss Rossi, we do our best to ensure all our students are treated well, both by the faculty and their peers. And while I wouldn't want you to be intimidated yourself, our school boasts a rather impressive student list, if I do say so myself. The mayor's daughter, the children of several successful businessmen and women, and even some young entrepreneurs! I think you'll find yourself in good company."
Lila smiled, trying to make it relieved and grateful, but she was smirking on the inside. That was exactly what she wanted to hear. She had her pick of future world-shapers.
The bell rang, and the secretary arrived with all the paperwork for Lila. "I'll walk you to your class," Mr. Damocles said. "I'll introduce you to your teacher and class representative, who will show you around and help you settle in."
Miss Bustier was nice enough, if a little unaware. She welcomed Lila with the normal, meaningless platitudes she was used to from new teachers, hoping that Lila would "feel at home in their little family" and assuring her that "your comfort and well-being are our top priority." That dedication was immediately obvious in the way she all but pushed Lila off on the class representative, a girl with black pigtails and a nearly blinding smile, who introduced herself as Marinette.
"This might seem like a strange question," Lila asked Marinette as she was getting settled into her seat. "But does anyone in our class happen to speak Italian?" She did her best to look hopeful.
Marinette thought for a moment. "I don't think so, sorry. I can ask around though! I'm sure you'd appreciate getting to talk in your native tongue when you can." Marinette raced off, flitting around the room, only to return with what she thought was bad news: no one in their class spoke more than a few words of Italian.
"Maybe you could teach me some," Marinette suggested, clearly trying to cheer her up. "My nonna is from Italy and I'd love to be able to talk to her in Italian, even just a little."
"Well," Lila said demurely, "I don't know how good of a teacher I'd be, but I'll do what I can! Thanks so much, Marinette!" What she was really grateful for, though, was the confirmation that she could make notes about her classmates in Italian and no one would be the wiser.
And she had a shocking amount of notes by the end of the first week. Lila had spent her time playing shy, happily drawn into conversations and subtly pumping for information. It wasn't hard: Lila knew people love to talk about themselves.
She couldn't wait to get started.