The following morning, a quiet Tuesday, unfolded with a subtle shift in the bakery's rhythm. Jazik stood by the window, watching the familiar bustle of Parisian life. The decision to attend Collège Françoise Dupont still settled strangely in his chest, a mixture of apprehension and a fragile, unexpected curiosity. He traced the condensation on the glass with one finger, a small gesture. It felt like stepping into a play he hadn't rehearsed.
Sabine hummed a soft, unfamiliar tune from the kitchen, a gentle sound that seemed to weave itself into the scent of baking bread. Her quiet presence was a comfort, a steady anchor in the swirling uncertainty of his thoughts. He found a peculiar peace in the routine of the bakery, a contrast to the life he had known. He felt the soft warmth of the morning sun through the window, a simple sensation he had learned to appreciate in this new, unexpected home.
"Are you ready for school, Jazik?" Marinette asked, her voice bright, breaking through his thoughts. She had appeared beside him, holding two small bags.
Jazik turned, offering a small nod. He still found himself startled by her sudden appearances sometimes, a habit he was slowly trying to break.
"These are for you," she said, holding out one of the bags. A faint blush touched her cheeks. "Just some extra supplies, you know. Pens, notebooks… a new pencil case."
He took the bag, the weight of it feeling substantial in his hands. It held the promise of a new, ordinary life.
"Thank you, Marinette," he said, his voice soft. He looked down at the bag, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "You didn't have to."
"Of course I did," she replied, a quick, enthusiastic flutter of her hands. "Everyone needs new supplies for a new start. It's like… a good luck charm." She paused, then added, her voice dropping a little. "Besides, it's nice having you around. Like a little brother."
Tom chuckled, a warm rumble from deep in his chest. Sabine smiled, a soft, knowing curve of her lips.
"They really do look like siblings, don't they?" Sabine said, her gaze lingering on Marinette and Jazik.
"Take care of each other, you two," Tom added, his voice full of affection, as they walked toward the bakery's door.
Marinette led the way, a bounce in her step, the morning sun already warming the cobblestone streets. Jazik followed, the new backpack feeling strange on his shoulders.
Marinette led Jazik through the wrought-iron gates of Collège Françoise Dupont, her steps quick and animated as she pointed out the ivy-cloaked courtyard and the faded stone facade of the main building. She explained how the school buzzed with energy during breaks, her voice light with familiarity, while Jazik took in the chatter of students milling about, the faint echo of laughter bouncing off the walls, and the subtle scent of chalk dust carried on the breeze. The school's layout mirrored a typical Parisian collège with its central courtyard for gatherings and classrooms clustered around it, with lockers lining narrow halls. This established a sense of everyday normalcy Jazik had never known. Sunlight filtered gently through the leaves of an old oak tree in the courtyard, dappling the scuff marks on the worn pavement. It was a warm, quiet scene, utterly unlike the stark, sterile corridors he remembered. He found himself absorbing the unfamiliar warmth, a slow, tender sensation in his chest.
"Our classroom is on the second floor," Marinette explained. "It's not too far."
"Okay," Jazik replied, his voice a soft murmur. He still felt a little overwhelmed by all the new faces.
"Don't worry," she added, noticing his quietness. "Everyone here is really friendly. You'll fit right in."
He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. He hoped she was right.
Alya spotted them from across the courtyard and hurried over, her eyes widening in surprise at Jazik's presence. Her phone, never far from her hand, caught the morning light as she waved.
"Marinette! Hey, girl!" Alya called out, her voice carrying across the busy courtyard.
Marinette turned, a bright smile appearing on her face.
"Alya! Look who's here."
Alya reached them, her gaze flicking between Marinette and Jazik, a curious grin spreading across her face.
"Jazik! What are you doing here?" she asked, her golden eyes sparkling behind her glasses.
"He might be joining our class," Marinette explained, a hint of pride in her voice.
"It's still undecided," Jazik clarified, his tone even and reserved. He felt a familiar flutter of unease at being the center of attention.
"No way, that's awesome!" Alya exclaimed, her enthusiasm uncontained. "Another classmate! This is going to be so much fun. Come on, I'll give you the grand tour." Her words were quick and sincere, pulling Jazik into her energetic orbit.
Marinette and Alya led, their pace light, contrasting Jazik's measured steps. They navigated busy hallways, lockers clanging, laughter spilling from rooms. Alya gestured, her glasses glinting, pointing out areas. Jazik noted worn floors, vibrant art, sunlight through tall windows, dust motes dancing.
"Adrien!" Nino called out, his voice a friendly shout. Adrien, with his bright blond hair and sharp green eyes, stood a little taller than most, a natural grace to his posture even when just leaning against a locker. He wore a crisp white button-down beneath an open black overshirt, the familiar stripes of green, yellow, and orange crossing his chest. Nino, in contrast, was a comfortable presence, his dark, curly hair tucked under a red cap worn backward. His warm brown skin and easy smile gave off a relaxed vibe, and his jeans and hoodie only added to his approachable demeanor.
Marinette, at the sight of Adrien, stiffened beside Jazik, a subtle flush creeping up her neck. Her hands, which had been so confidently pointing out classrooms moments before, now clasped together in front of her.
"Hey, Nino," Alya said, pulling Marinette slightly forward. "And Adrien! You guys are just in time. This is Jazik, Marinette's… um… cousin. He might be joining our class."
Marinette offered a weak, almost silent, "Hi, Adrien."
"Jazik," Adrien repeated, his green eyes meeting Jazik's. He offered a polite, measured smile, the kind that was practiced but still held a quiet warmth. "It's good to meet you. Welcome to Collège Françoise Dupont."
"Hey, man," Nino chimed in, stepping forward with a casual ease. He offered a fist bump, which Jazik mirrored awkwardly. "Any friend of Marinette and Alya is cool with us. Hope you like it here."
Jazik simply nodded,
"Well, well, well," a high, clear voice cut through the air, sharp as glass. Chloé Bourgeois sauntered over, her honey-blonde ponytail swinging, a practiced smirk on her perfectly made-up face. She hooked her arm possessively through Adrien's, leaning into him as if claiming her rightful territory. "Adrien, darling, who is this?"
"Yeah, who are you?" Sabrina echoed, her voice a nasal whine, peering around Chloé's shoulder with an almost identical, if less polished, expression of disdain.
"Adrien, darling, who is this?" Chloé asked, her voice laced with an artificial sweetness that did not quite reach her eyes. She leaned into Adrien, her arm still hooked through his.
"Chloé, this is Jazik," Adrien said, his smile a practiced, polite curve. He gently disentangled his arm. "He's new to the school, and Marinette's showing him around."
Chloé glanced at Jazik, her gaze dismissive. Her eyes lingered on his simple clothes for a moment before flitting back to Adrien, as if Jazik were merely a piece of unremarkable background scenery.
"Well, he's certainly... here," she drawled, her voice indicating that his presence was barely noteworthy. "Adrien, are you coming to my dad's hotel? We could grab some juice. I need your opinion on a few things."
"I can't, Chloé," Adrien replied, a touch of genuine regret in his tone. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I have to get to a photoshoot. My father's assistant is expecting me."
A flicker of disappointment crossed Chloé's face, quickly masked by a petulant pout.
"Oh, fine," she huffed, releasing Adrien.
"See you guys later," Adrien said, offering a small, polite wave before turning and walking down the corridor. Jazik noticed Marinette let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh.
"Sabrina, is the derby hat design finished?"
Sabrina, ever eager to please, immediately perked up.
"It's almost done, Chloé. I just need to add a few more... flourishes."
"Well, hurry it up," Chloé commanded, tapping her foot impatiently. "When Adrien sees it, he's going to tell his father, and I'll be the winner of that contest, you just watch." A self-satisfied smirk spread across her face, imagining her triumph.
"You said it, Chloé," Sabrina chirped, her head bobbing in agreement.
Marinette, who had been listening with a growing flush of indignation, stepped forward. Her pigtails seemed to quiver with her rising frustration.
"Oh, no, you won't!" Marinette declared, her voice surprisingly firm. "I'm going to win that contest, Chloé! Adrien even said he liked my designs."
Chloé scoffed, a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Please, Marinette. Adrien is just being nice. Everyone knows my designs are superior."
A familiar tightness settled in Jazik's chest as he watched the exchange. The blatant dismissal in Chloé's tone, the way she spoke to Marinette, felt sharp and unkind. He knew the feeling of being judged and discarded.
"You're just jealous," Marinette retorted, her cheeks coloring even more.
"Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous," Chloé declared, tossing her hair with a theatrical flourish. She grabbed Sabrina's arm. "Come on, Sabrina. We have important work to do, unlike some people." With a final disdainful glance at Marinette, Chloé swept away, Sabrina trailing dutifully behind her.
Marinette let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her pigtails.
"I have to finish my design," she muttered, "but I still need to show Jazik around."
"It's fine, Marinette," Jazik said, a quiet reassurance in his voice. "You should finish your design."
Alya stepped forward, a supportive grin on her face. "Don't worry, girl. Nino and I can take over. We'll give Jazik the full tour."
"Yeah, we got this," Nino agreed, giving Jazik a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Marinette's face softened with gratitude. "Really? Oh, thank you, guys!" She squeezed Jazik's arm gently. "I'll see you later, then!" With a quick, determined nod, she turned and hurried off, presumably to her own secret garden of inspiration.
***
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