Page 21 of You + Me – Against the World

Mr. Abrams watches us sit down, tapping his foot impatiently. His eyes scan the room for his first victim. The ideal target.

No, not him. Not today…

“Arcadi, thank you for gracing us with your presence this morning. To what do we owe the pleasure? Did you have nothing better to do? Oh, don’t bother. I don’t even want to know. How about you tell us about your short film project instead? Come on up, and grab your partner while you’re at it. She seems to think that if she hides her face and can’t see us, we can’t see her.”

“Actually, there’s no point in us getting up,” Vadim cuts in. “We haven’t found a topic.”

“Nothing? Nothing at all? Not one single tiny flash of brilliance has emerged from your poor, juvenile brains?” Abrams says, raising his voice.

“Yes, I have my ideas. She has hers. But nothing we agree on.”

“Just listen to him, this poor young soul whose creativity is being stifled! He’s simply so unique that he can’t possibly live alongside others. So proud of his ideas that he refuses to share them. You’re not a tortured artist, Arcadi! You can get that idea out of your head. You’re a walking, talking, narrow-minded cliché, convinced you’re right and incapable of questioning yourself! You play the victim because you don’t have the courage to be anything else!”

“What makes you think it’s okay to say that? Stop thinking you’re God!” Vadim fumes.

“I know one thing, Arcadi: you don’t have a subject because you have nothing to say. Open yourself up to the world, goddammit! Open yourself up to others! Lancaster has so much to teach you! If only you’d let her. If you spent a little less time navel-gazing, you would see what she can offer you. Her intelligence, her perspective, her subtlety! So utterly different from the stereotypical persona you’re trapped in!”

Cornered, my partner shoots me a desperate look, but I don’t know how to respond. I can see in his eyes that I’m letting him down.

“Go ahead, Alma, tell him your brilliant ideas,” Vadim snaps. A mocking smile plays on his lips.

“I… I don’t know, I, I, don’t think they were good.”

I’m annoyed with myself for stammering. For my lack of confidence.

“Why am I not surprised?” Mr. Abrams exclaims loudly. “You’re not working with her, Arcadi, you’re fighting against her! Draw inspiration from her talent, her perspective, and her innocence, instead of rejecting them all!”

Vadim’s eyes are still boring into me.

I’d like to react. To support him, stand up for him. And myself. To oppose Abrams, to crush his delusion. But I remain paralyzed, unable to speak or act.

“Yeah, the problem is me, right?” Vadim retorts.

He runs a hand through his hair, picks up his bag, and crosses the room with a proud, almost nonchalant stride, before leaving and slamming the door behind him.

A deadly silence falls over the class.

All eyes are fixed on me.

I spend the rest of the class staring at my feet and avoiding the teacher’s gaze. He seems to feel both sorry for me and very pleased with himself. His little theatrical performance has made everyone forget his tardiness, silenced the class, and raised him even higher in his students’ esteem. While I admire his courage in standing up to the class’s unruly rebel, he humiliated me in the process with his exaggerated praise and poorly disguised favoritism. For the rest of the year, I won’t just be Alma Lancaster, the half-French, rich kid, but also the submissive teacher’s pet with no personality—and worse, the pawn of a deranged man in his forties. I don’t know how I’ll recover from this.

And I have no idea when Vadim Arcadi will speak to me again.

To try and cheer me up, Clem buys me a milkshake at the Sunset Café, but the very sight of it turns my stomach. I don’t notice Timothy and three of his basketball teammates arriving until Clem jabs me hard in the ribs with her elbow. I nearly fall off my stool, but just manage to catch myself, knocking my glass across the table in the process. Clem’s hoodie is immediately soaked, and I can soon feel the cold drink seeping into my borrowed jeans, too.

All I want to do is go home and crawl into bed.

Tim comes to my rescue with a handful of paper napkins and a smile full of tenderness. He’s so caring, so thoughtful… and I’m close to bursting into tears. Because after what I’ve done, I can’t bear him touching me, comforting me, finding my clumsiness endearing. Because he loves me for who I am, while someone else hates me for everything I am not. Because I feel the bad boy’s trap closing around me. And because my boyfriend tries to kiss me, but I can’t bring myself to kiss him back.

I jump off my stool and flee, leaving Tim, Clémentine, Cassius, and the others staring after me, bewildered. My frantic flight leads me to the one place I shouldn’t go. I’m aware of how wrong it is, but nothing can stop me.

9

Vadim isn’t at his place. The lights are off, he doesn’t answer the doorbell, and I can’t hear any sounds coming from behind the door of his apartment. I pace the sidewalk, think about going home, reconsider, then change my mind another ten times before catching sight of the slender, black-clad figure at the corner of the street.

Evening is beginning to fall, but I would recognize him even in the middle of the darkest night. He’s not alone; his friend Felix is with him. I approach stealthily, hide behind a large tree trunk, and poke my head out slightly. I’m afraid they will hear my heart pounding in my chest.

After a quick glance around, Vadim hands Felix what looks to me like a rolled-up wad of cash. He leans in to give him a hug and takes the opportunity to slip a small package into the front pocket of his friend’s hoodie. Then, Vadim heads off alone toward the door of his building, and I stay hidden, my heart pounding harder than ever.