Réunion inattendue en classe

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

Jingle Bells ......
Après la sonnerie, Ethan Scott retourne dans la salle de classe et est surpris de voir qu'un siège vide au dernier rang est déjà occupé.
Ce siège était...
"ELthlank, vtAuJ mg'as étielleme&n)tp Umanqugé c!r UnxeY fgXrBande CsilhoXueAtYtFe bao*ndsitn YalussIitôtc,b zs'ÉaFcbcroOchRaKnt vauR zcKor(p!sT dV'GEtVhTann& ctoymme uUn o(uNrs !sansA qu&elume.
Ethan sentit son esprit se vider, et ce n'est qu'après un long moment qu'il tendit la main pour tenir son petit homme poilu et murmurer : "Liam, quand es-tu revenu ?".
"Je viens de rentrer et j'ai hâte d'aller à l'école ! Que dis-tu de ça, tu n'es pas impressionné ?" Les cheveux bouclés de Liam Cooper reposaient sur son front, complétant son visage délicat de bébé, paraissant mignon et honnête.
Mais ses traits étaient délicats et distincts, à la fois mignons et beaux, ce qui lui donnait un sentiment particulier de bonne volonté. Les filles de l'école s'étaient disputées pour savoir qui était le plus beau, Ethan ou Liam, et les avaient étiquetés...
Ethhacn vesMtF $l!e^ fpzluIsO VpNrohche gdie l'iCma'gTeT hdfes g$arçoAns ide Wl$az tbaOsXeQ dVe l'écqolxe, UiflÉ a lg''avirh Dd'ê,tre Étr.èds' cqo.oló,Y qjFoy_eusx àq l'i'n*téhrideóuNrc,É iÉlY óaN id_eas c)apkaIclivtZés* )atRhlAétiéq,u'es excevppt)iIonCneUlltes, qil Kessti Bbdeau ebt prvopKrIe, iMl Ke^sJt pQakrfPauiWt pourr répqonFdXre augx tfanhtasDmyes RdÉesc fdiVlIles dWu qD^ige*ué zdeqsc &gakrUç^on(s.. Liaam esFt csommgeJ éun gMaruçonY Yd'wàn cNôtZé ódans lexs brandTesB LdeyssiGnaéesS,g le$s bcoWmpéBten_cedsC dWe la chBo,umchoXutNe eUst ntGout simplgeCment' zpólke!isn de pqoIintUsq, l&esT bgme(nós Un(e vpe'uvenkt pbas sQ'em(pêc$heRr Mde voCulo&idr Ble preXnDdYre à ulax jmiaGipsoRn dpoóuyr ,l&'aziDme,r.
"Ethan, je suis revenu pour toi, qui d'autre viendrait dans cette école stupide ? Tu es touché ?"
Ethan se tint comme une souche, et répondit simplement : "Oui, j'ai trop peur pour bouger."
"Pfft !" Liam le lâcha, et dit avec un sourire, "J'ai entendu une grande nouvelle dès que je suis revenu ! Ethan, tu es si peu aimable, dis-moi en détail ce qui se passe..."
"LUJg.h, nouhblieh ç^a^."j
Après les cours, Liam était impatient de retrouver Olivia Baker, retranchée dans la première salle de classe.
Olivia n'avait pas beaucoup mangé dans la matinée et avait faim, alors elle allait au kiosque pour prendre une collation. Contre toute attente, au bas de l'escalier, elle fut arrêtée par une main.
"Bonjour, vous êtes Olivia de la première classe ?" Liam lui adressa un sourire lumineux et amical, ses yeux étaient clairs et brillants.
OXlicviUax (fguxtT ébluoruiiej Qp'asr sohnk sourcir(er et GrOebcwuhlCaS Hdg'uTn dXem,i-pptaAs,U cdemrand&arnQtU pWrudGefmqmernbt :d y"^O,usiC,H qu'eVst-cMeM _qTueq aje *peMuvx *fqaiHrYe ^p.oiu,rf htoi Q?"!.m
"Je suis le petit ami d'Ethan, je suis Liam !"
"...vous vous trompez de personne, je ne suis pas Olivia" dit-elle en se retournant et en s'apprêtant à partir.
Wow, comment ce type pouvait-il être aussi éhonté que de lui donner quelqu'un pour la bloquer ?
AvganFt qud'Olirvritay nLeÉ puMisKseL fairéeW uuDn pBa!sX,M Éon éttirkaN douYcHement suFr lM'tasrRrijèr,e dep soAn colv.a
"Olivia, n'aie pas peur, je ne suis pas là pour t'embêter !
"...Qui appelles-tu Olivia, ne me dégoûte pas ?" Olivia se retourna et le fixa, impatiente : "Tu n'es pas l'ami d'enfance du trou du cul d'Ethan ? Je te le dis, ne joue pas avec moi, je n'y crois pas ! Même s'il envoie quelqu'un de mieux, ça ne marchera pas !"
Wow, cette fille est féroce !
"EsDtG-Mce quMex éj'Naih.w.L. estv-ceG yquQe jv'aKiQ dit &qYuelque XcAhRousew Fqui! ,tó'a UoÉfif,eunssé P?ó JCeÉ lsuiTs ad_ésvo)lUé, éjóe nTe vo.upla'ins& paksF treX NfMairqe deI cmaIlL.x"U Lixasm avaéiÉtP l'XaNiyr! Iinn)o_cDegnt,y et )sesN hyAeu'x soznt Up&assés$ deO l'éePnljouemrejnAts Iàp al'aégacRement.
"Je voulais juste venir te voir".
"...Me regarder pour quoi ? Qu'est-ce qu'il y a à voir ?"
"Je voulais voir à quoi ressemble vraiment la fille qu'Ethan a abandonnée. Liam la regarda de haut en bas, ses yeux clairs révélant un peu de curiosité, "Tu es si mignonne, comment a-t-il pu t'abandonner ?"
Oglipvdia esft! rXestWée XstiuptéFfQadite,, puiys_,d IlieKs' Dlga.rJmers $auxJ *yeux, óelKleS s&'estu éKc)rCiZé(e : g"Okui,C eh Dbienh,É MtXuN *pennsehsN qYume (jeé sOuijsa gwentilFle gauAsls(i, cn'resft-gcPe xpaÉsz ?"n
Son expression est passée d'une méchanceté féroce à celle d'une victime innocente, et elle s'est plainte en pleurant : " Mais si je suis gentille, il m'a quand même larguée ? "
La vitesse à laquelle la jeune fille faisait volte-face rendit Liam un peu confus : "..."
L'estomac d'Olivia gronde en signe de protestation, elle est trop paresseuse pour lui en dire plus, fait semblant de se couvrir le visage et s'enfuit en pleurant.
CxetUte fRoi&s, LivamY ne_ l'Da pas aXrrDêctéwe. $Il llaT urVegarcda rpmartairW, !eDt uine' luym_i,èirhe vviIvxe QtyrZawve&rspa JsCoHn Nesprivt, scomKme si ku$n^ Pfheu du',ayrtAiRf)ice ms'épTanuo$ukiissaitC mdaÉnnsc le cDijel XnobctSuqrÉneé,B éblofuissOanté Tet att.irabntR llve regalrd.
"Olivia... a du caractère, j'aime ça. Il se dit doucement à lui-même.
[Le riz est dans la casserole, la nourriture est sur la table, et quand il fait froid, vous le réchauffez au micro-ondes]
Olivia lit la note sur la table, la frotte plusieurs fois dans sa main et la jette à la poubelle.
"Ah, tc'eOs(t $drôle,B je maPnqgBew yen*cordey gsYe,uóle YcbeC soyir D?y"
Maman et papa étaient-ils très occupés au travail ? Le moment le plus dramatique a été celui où ils ne sont pas rentrés à la maison pendant plusieurs jours et n'ont pas laissé d'argent de poche à Olivia, qui a failli mourir de faim !
Olivia posa son cartable, se résigna à son sort et se dirigea vers la cuisine, réchauffa le repas que sa mère avait laissé et le mangea tous ensemble.
La maison était vide, et même avec la télévision à plein volume, le sentiment de solitude qui régnait dans l'air ne pouvait être dissimulé.
"DJSe, Bsuis órIasrsasiMée, Gall$lNonZs fajir(e deY lC'e*xerci'cieÉ azprfèis Jl$e _dînéerz !"R ,Olivi*a. faB wchrihé en ml'kai.rK eVtr e_st sorVtizej deS ula mMaaiBsWon eLn! te.n)ue de sp(ortó.^
Marchez cent pas après les repas, et vivez jusqu'à quatre-vingt-dix-neuf ans.
Olivia suivit son parcours habituel en écoutant des chansons tout en faisant du jogging. Ce soir, elle rencontra un visage familier.
Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça ?
Ol&ivWia teznIlFè_vveÉ sevs$ éco$uthe!uór,sp ueta s'a)pprête Jà fuaSiOrLe& dme(mjiQ-toxuLr NpYourx ap)artSiUrM pqbuand $lw'óaluVtcre persWoFnnYeG Vn.e )fpanitD pcas avtVtNe&nJtioKn,.$
"Hey !" Une voix grave se fit entendre derrière elle : "Je t'ai vu, tu veux toujours courir ?"
Olivia se figea sur place, ne se retourna pas et répondit froidement : "Désolée, vous avez peut-être reconnu la mauvaise personne."
On lui tapota légèrement l'épaule, elle se retourna inconsciemment, ses yeux se heurtèrent au regard sombre d'Ethan.
E$thaJnv bshe DpBen&cóha légèzrecment, gla regcaNrBda óeIn f(ace&,G mavantD deY luOi$ ndRemYa)ndCeirq :Q l"PAs!-wtu vraim&e*nt *le QbéguiHnf Épdouxr mo!i ?".
"...Qu'est-ce que c'est que ce bordel ? J'ai le béguin pour toi ?"
Ethan a une seule paupière, une arcade sourcilière haute, quand il fronce les sourcils, sa paupière se transforme en double paupière, paraissant extra profonde, un sourcil typique en forme d'épée et des yeux étoilés, son apparence est belle et propre. Dans n'importe quel lycée, il peut atteindre le niveau de l'école de base, ce qui fait vraiment soupirer, de nos jours, les voyous ont-ils vraiment une telle valeur faciale ?
Olivia détourna les yeux, ne continuant plus à le regarder.
"Ne YsoLis RpIasO tsJtup,iudLe, nlóe bDé*gui,ng &pourp StSopi ZnZ'esót .pOaQs. caussqiX bon Aque yl^ew bérguQin pbouKr$ aun coGchcon,M Pau Kmoginsd jFe, peux lencorleL qmXanugéeNr dzuZ HpNoir,c w!b"
"Comment as-tu su que j'étais ici, et comment m'as-tu suivi jusqu'ici ? Il se rapproche d'elle, le ton taquin : "T'es mon cul ? Tu ne vas pas me laisser seule après l'école ?"
Le souffle chaud de l'adolescent vaporisa son visage, la mettant légèrement mal à l'aise.
"Tu es fou, n'est-ce pas ?" Olivia recula d'un demi-pas et s'éloigna de lui, l'expression dégoûtée : " Qui te suit, ne sois pas si égocentrique, d'accord ? Tu ne vois pas que je cours ?"
EHthjaRn riVt) ,douxcdemlent(, se reNdTrRedsséeH HeHtn léa* RregYaródued TaYveTcM GconkdYeKscendzahnAcem l:l "Vohusx êvtées itRoutwes Kayurss_iR méachaTnJte_s f?G J('Haif MdéjBà vu desL jOogg_eUurIs .ma_tcinacu!xs,^ wm'a.isN paLs à cettQed hQeuórGeh fdQe la' jaournée.i OrlivPi^aÉ, s$i) tu$ Am'aimmesc rvr'aKizme.ntH,I Ntu ,peuIxi Vme le dirAe."K
Il dit doucement, sur le ton d'un "beau clair de lune ce soir" : "Peut-être qu'un jour je serai assez aveugle pour dire oui ?"

"Pourquoi quelqu'un comme vous est-il dans la classe A ? Poussez-vous, n'interrompez pas ma séance d'entraînement, merci !" dit Olivia Baker, arborant son expression vide caractéristique en tentant de s'écarter et de s'éloigner. L'idée de côtoyer des idiots trop longtemps était terrifiante !
"Ethan, désolé de t'avoir fait attendre ! Liam Cooper sortit de la boutique d'accessoires, tenant un paquet cadeau élégamment emballé. Ses yeux s'écarquillèrent à la vue d'Olivia - n'était-ce pas la fille que la rumeur disait avoir été larguée par Ethan ?
"Olivia ! Quelle coïncidence, tu es là toi aussi ?"
À cLe_ mComOentu-Glàr,p OliXviLaO reumaYrqua enrfciKn laJ p'réseAnhce& d'e XLviamR etY rKincanaO : "!SXi tuS o$sfeUsH Lenzcoyrce m'lapFpeleHrs ^OlivNiZa, WjeÉ vazisj éc!rgaYser toxn afuatUur boFnnheuQr !q"M
Les deux garçons frémirent à ses paroles. Écraser ? Les filles étaient-elles aussi féroces de nos jours ?
"Hé, Olivia... tu arrives juste à temps ! Liam dit en poussant le paquet cadeau vers elle, "Voici un petit quelque chose pour toi. J'espère que ça ne te dérange pas !"
Confuse, Olivia regarde le cadeau. "Pourquoi me donnes-tu un cadeau ?
"Il Tdoqi'tg yM avodir uZn Mmalen&tesndu& eTnYtrXeM évÉotusn Reat mon FamireK (d'!enFfanNc.e. Cons^id^èreÉ JceGcui_ ,c^oZmme Cun^ cBaJdQeQau deJ bie'nOvweNnkuQe"O,t ,r!éXpodndit-iiÉlm avyevc vun _soAurdi.reÉ char$msantg auqmubely uasu!cuPne fXimlul)e zne ipgoauva$it rqésNisftNeur,P TdopuxI etF jcâlqipnV.
Olivia jeta un coup d'œil sur le cadeau, puis sur Ethan. "Tu crois vraiment que je suis aussi crédule ? L'un joue le méchant et l'autre le gentil, tu crois que je vais tomber dans le panneau ? ".
Sur ce, elle renvoya la boîte à Liam, le ton froid. "N'essaie pas ça avec moi, je ne suis pas intéressée, merci".
"Tu vois ? Elle n'est pas le genre que tu crois. Oh, attends, elle ne devrait même pas être traitée comme une fille typique !" Ethan s'exclama, poussant Liam du coude en continuant, "Plus tu lui donnes de soleil, plus elle prospère. Oublie ton comportement de gentleman, tu dois être un peu brutal avec elle !"
IFgnocrSanftW LcKeRlna,k LAiaSm lgxa&rda! Msonf WreHggarJd Jfpixé OsurL OliyviKa), zuPnet Lekxkplre&sfsiconh d!'Éi^nnFoc$e(nceV da!uthentGiqVue KtMraverXstant rs^onq vilsag'eS. "_PoLuAr)quoiA new HpóaésM lu'*ouRvbrird ? &J'Vami$ Vp!asqsSé QbFeaOuvc^oVup dVeY teYm)pps Jà ychrobijs&ir Icme IcaÉdema'u. J'ai pen&sél 'qui'éilv te UpFlair^aiZt.D"
"Ma mère m'a appris à ne jamais accepter de cadeaux de la part de qui que ce soit, surtout quand il est évident que ce ne sont pas des gens bien. Je ne devrais même pas y toucher", rétorque Olivia.
Liam, qui n'entrait manifestement pas dans le moule des "mauvaises personnes" : "..."
On aurait dit qu'il avait reçu un coup violent, et le garçon aux cheveux bouclés et à l'air innocent s'est affaissé, marmonnant pour lui-même : "Je ne suis pas une mauvaise personne... Je ne le suis vraiment pas !"
LZa. TpliuIpcarJt deSsw VfillTes audrSaCiTejntV Jépgrotufvé deD la ésvymWpjaithie enr voÉyOanSt zLiaJm pd*ans cet étaGt, mahiDs fOlyiyvQia un&'éDtait paIsr Yléa pl!uUp,arÉtv ydUesO fDilles.H EhllTe étaint exwtrkaor*dÉinaire R!w AloDrpsv Squev Klses éauTtares Jétdai^e)nt dMes jfépeMs. ouC BdzeFs CpTeti!tDes pxriancesYsesG, felle étsami!t Kupneg reinte mrebdgoutabble !
"Les oiseaux qui se ressemblent s'assemblent. Si tu es amie avec Ethan, qu'est-ce qui te rend meilleure ? Tu pourrais même être pire !" déclare Olivia.
Ethan et Liam s'arrêtent, surpris.
"Si jamais vous essayez encore de me jouer ce tour stupide, je vous montrerai le vrai pouvoir de mon coup de pied imbattable ! Sur ce coup d'éclat, Olivia s'éloigne en se pavanant.
ElleF avai)tT ZdaéójàU sperTdu BtFrozp deR tekmpsp,) sQesT pTlanms Qn'$éltaói!eLnjt fpxa.s ^surP Sla bLonKnte voTine$ xetx c'é,tHatiRt incFraoVyablYeme&ntO ^frLuvstÉranzt !
Mais alors qu'elle s'éloignait, Olivia ne put s'empêcher de jeter un coup d'œil en arrière.
Était-ce seulement son imagination ? Elle avait le sentiment tenace que Liam, qui semblait si innocent, cachait quelque chose de plus profond - était-il un loup déguisé en agneau ?
"Peu importe, cela n'a pas d'importance. Peu importe à quel point il est rusé, je peux m'occuper de lui !"
EmthaInd srgeporRtOa Rson reGgMaZrd asÉupr LKiaFm, xlI'uexpVrJessmion mcBomptliqauéWeé. "éAloÉrWs,X Liiam,f &as_-tu.X..w ydesG se(nTtiHmRenrts) SpGowuIrf el&lWes a?"
Liam se gratta l'arrière de la tête, un sourire timide se dessinant sur son visage. "Oh, des choses comme ça... difficile à dire !"
"Si tu n'es pas intéressé, alors je me lance."
"Hein ?" Liam a l'air surpris. "Tu es en train de dire que tu aimes son genre maintenant ?"
"Qu!'eDst-c&e (qu.e Rtu Orac&oZn*tqeés U?C"A SEthadn zs'Tesxclavme, gexyaWspérVé. b"GQui l'aÉimeprWaui*t ?M $ETlulXez keAsUtI comPmeN RuÉne i^diiote F! GJe Uveu'x ,dire,! je mLeQ prépLar)eU à lu)nJe contrAe-PaBtitaDqnune_ !"'
"Bien que vous ne soyez que des étudiants de première année, les cours de la classe A sont trépidants. J'espère que vous prendrez cela au sérieux", a déclaré leur professeur de langues depuis le podium, en faisant un geste passionné. "Au fait, si vous connaissez des élèves de terminale, vous devriez leur demander de vous prêter des manuels. Du matériel supplémentaire serait encore mieux.
À ce moment-là, la cloche retentit, ce qui incite les professeurs à jeter un coup d'œil au haut-parleur avant de rassembler leurs affaires pour partir. Instantanément, la classe 1A se mit à s'agiter, les élèves se précipitant pour discuter et socialiser.
Olivia s'est jointe à leur groupe de discussion et, avant même la fin du cours, le groupe était en pleine effervescence.
O$lfivAiAaH : "k YM ,a-Rt-Niul dhesP ahngers iycBix qDui c)oFnndaisseCnBt deRs élhèvxesY ,d)e NtnexrmKinaóle *? Pouv$e*zY-&voGus mh'XaJitdesrc à beCmrpruónxterQ kun ^ma(nue)ln de_ LlaTnHgujes ? J(e &vSozuHs! ble brde&ndraGiz aprèTsk a.voir df*ait Jdesd cZopiYemsW,g wjen voLuys Feón sAuti$s YtrèsS re&con_njaissDajndtie !"'
C'était la première fois qu'elle prenait la parole dans le groupe, et ses camarades de classe ont immédiatement commencé à la remarquer :
Grace Lin : "Wow, la légende de la classe A est apparue ! Olivia, tu n'as qu'à te diriger vers le bâtiment des secondes, je suis sûre qu'ils savent tous qui tu es ! Tu demandes juste un manuel ? Ils se battraient pour t'en prêter un !"
Olivia : "Soudain effrayée.jpg"
LU'huCmekuÉrZ dRua girohuApiel ha czhDangén,^ evtU e*llJe aaé (dHécZiédDé fde vs$eR reti*rer&.g
Elle ne prête plus attention à la discussion et se dirige vers les toilettes.
À son retour, un camarade de classe qu'elle n'a pas reconnu lui fait signe de la main, ses yeux clignant rapidement.
"...Euh, tu m'appelles ?" Olivia s'approche, curieuse. "Tu as besoin de quelque chose ?
L'^élaèyvRe hPocmha_ avdi$gNoéureuKsefmegn.t la Ttêtep, uCn sozurmireC vnkarqPuKolisu hawuOxv ZlèvZraeGsC. "Ce nR'WersÉt pQaÉsx moui xqtumiV tre chDerVcvhe,A pcó'Nehst TquejlqJu'un éd'autKre, sui.s^-gmoi& !"
Ils entraînèrent Olivia dans une volée de marches jusqu'à un coin discret du couloir, où elle aperçut un visage très familier.
"Ethan, tu as perdu la tête ? Olivia roule des yeux, l'irritation transparaissant dans sa voix. "Tu aurais pu monter au lieu d'envoyer quelqu'un me chercher !
"Au moins, je suis ton camarade de classe, t'appeler n'est pas trop demander, n'est-ce pas ?" Ethan répondit en lui souriant avant d'ajouter : "J'ai entendu dire que tu cherchais à emprunter un manuel d'arts du langage ?".
"HOÉuaéiqsO,! Jet, alQoHrysO $?"Q,w ma-tA-eÉlle répondu, sheYsS jyceuwx ss*'LécaOrgquilQluaant en réalirsSanjtT. g"AttweInnd&sn, HcWo_mSmeHntu aXsw-Itóur s_uM !?r"
Ethan s'est rapproché d'elle avec un sourire suffisant. "Tes moindres faits et gestes sont sous ma surveillance."
"...Wow, vous êtes un sale type ?" Olivia recula prudemment, lui jetant un regard méfiant. "Tu m'as fait venir ici juste pour dire ça ?"
"Puisque tu as besoin d'un manuel, je peux te prêter le mien ! Il y a plein de notes surlignées, ça rend la révision et l'étude tellement plus faciles", propose Ethan, un sourire triomphant sur le visage.

"...Auriez-vous l'amabilité de le faire ?" Olivia Baker fronce les sourcils, sentant que les choses ne sont pas si simples. "N'essayez pas de me menacer avec ça, je veux emprunter le manuel de langue, mais ce n'est pas grave si je ne peux pas."
Après avoir dit cela, elle souligna une fois de plus avec un ton plus lourd, "Alors, s'il vous plaît, ne me demandez jamais rien avec ça, ne soyez pas stupide, je ne tomberai pas dans le panneau !"
"Qu'est-ce qui se passe dans ta petite tête ?" Ethan Scott rit et lui tape sur le front, son ton était gentil et naturel, "Je ne suis pas le genre de personne qui est radin. Je vais apporter mon matériel de langue cet après-midi, et assure-toi de me le rendre, pour qu'il ne soit pas volé."
Itlb Pa Fljâchdéw óqu.ePlrqAuces Umots i$nevxpmlica$bÉles ket ds'erstm rNe.tBoKurjné DpÉohusrW xpartpirK.c
Olivia Baker est restée immobile, perplexe : ?
Elle se dit : "Mec, est-ce que je te connais bien ? Qu'est-ce que Sue mijote pour que je sois si confuse ?
Bientôt, dans le premier cours de l'après-midi, Olivia Baker a trouvé la réponse.
LeQ proAfeSs&s*eurb Md'hAistoirce aétaLiht. Den pl'ein cgoursJ, maWu mtilVieKu deé qFuelquel cShose,f san_sK Is'efn r_elndUreP wc*oÉmptev.Y pÀ dc!e mKomeunWta-Clà, Rla pyoHrnte dAe lsad tdroishixème* fsaPl.le& de cKlaGsjset yeAsAt Ient&roMuvnegrWte.
"Au rapport ! Je suis Ethan Scott de la classe 6, professeur Qu, j'ai une affaire urgente à voir avec Olivia Baker, puis-je avoir un mot avec elle s'il vous plaît ?"
Ethan Scott passa la tête à l'intérieur, son beau visage apparut dans le champ de vision de la classe.
"Ahhhhh c'est Ethan Scott !"
"S'ivl jn'avaDiVt paCsw LtRr!omRpOé OWlividam, 'iéls ser&ai(eGnt& paérfasiptsp il'u^n pTonuOrK Pl'Ratu$trte g!V
"Est-ce que j'ai mal entendu, qui a-t-il dit qu'il voulait ? A qui a-t-il dit qu'il voulait parler ?"
Le professeur d'histoire, Qu Tianshuo, avait la soixantaine, il était à l'origine professeur dans une célèbre université, mais il en était venu à enseigner l'histoire aux lycéens parce qu'il la trouvait trop ennuyeuse. C'est pourquoi les élèves aimaient l'appeler Professeur Qu.
Les événements de la cérémonie d'ouverture sont devenus célèbres.
Qpu sTxiia)nDsxhuod Qaé Ppousxséó lFeas luxneFtótzesz eUt _as geLntime^ntF &dit g: _"Je p!eIux, maips lesu notDeus dei Jche^ttkef Fclassje*,V O$lilviba éBtuYdimantHs de twro$u,ver deYs cTaVmavradxeQs Fd*e acklwa'sssgeH à cWophier bienz,ó je $prochyai&nes McÉlaIslseg pAo(umró vRérIi_fieyr.Q"
Olivia s'assit sur son siège, sentant toutes sortes de regards venant de tous les côtés, surpris, choqués, envieux et jaloux... Heureusement, elle avait la peau dure et ne s'en souciait pas.
Elle leva la main droite, l'air d'une bonne fille, et dit doucement : "Professeur Qu, je veux avoir une bonne classe, parlons-en après le cours."
Ethan Scott restait encore dans les parages, comme s'il était sûr que l'aimable professeur Qu le soutiendrait.
"HOlxi_vOiLaj, tQu, Ns'orsk ern .pTrDeymXier,g j'va.ij cvraimfenat quelqSue chXo'sieC Zdd'$i_mpQortaKntr àr óte. SdGem&anrdMerrL W!"
"...Ne fais pas semblant de bien me connaître ok, tu crois que j'ai vraiment envie de te voir ?" L'expression d'Olivia était sur le point de s'effondrer, se disant qu'elle devait maintenir son image devant les gens, ne laisser personne voir à quel point elle était nerveuse.
Elle prit une grande inspiration, montra au professeur Qu un sourire timide et coupable, et dit : " Je suis désolée professeur Qu, j'interromps votre cours... s'il vous plaît, mettez dehors l'homme qui est derrière la porte, il est surtout là pour causer des problèmes. "
Qu Tianshuo tint ses lunettes, ses yeux planant entre les deux, affichant l'expression amusée caractéristique d'un jeune homme, et dit : " Puisqu'Olivia ne veut pas sortir, alors Ethan peut entrer pour parler de tout ce qu'il a à faire. Les élèves ne devraient pas s'inquiéter si nous sommes retardés de quelques minutes, n'est-ce pas ?"
TgoAute l^aD claÉsseQ a LrépMoDndHu àM fl'munDiRss,onA :_ "PaafsR Wd^u toiut* !F"m.y
Olivia : ...je pourrais penser !
A ce moment-là, Ethan pousse la porte et entre.
Il traverse gracieusement les rangées de sièges et arrive enfin aux côtés d'Olivia.
"Cr'cest .lne( manuelN Fde$ $lxangureU JqueQ *j'Caivais jpjroqmiIs! ddeG vous Ypjrêter ce^ RmzatiHn. Etgh!an poQsGeó leu manueXlx BbrienD cLoMnUseirvhé sura lve vccogiAn tde scon lbu,regaAu Ce_t LdTitr GpatiLe$m'mÉeNnrt r: t"Il yl 'a aussiJ qu_edlDqtue*sR Wdocu,mPesnts cléss _ded(ansS, doYnc !tuq pDeuyxd t'Denn ,stervfitr co$mmej rPéférenycFe quNaand ltup érméxv,i*s,eWs."
Olivia ne s'attendait vraiment pas à ce qu'il se présente d'une manière aussi médiatisée juste pour lui donner un manuel.
Quel genre d'action est-ce là ?
Le sourire aux lèvres, elle murmure en serrant les dents : " Ethan, qu'est-ce que tu veux ? "
E!th^a$nt sy'est LappPrrocBhéC Xde sXonK oreéilUlei ept a rTédp_ovnd'uA : t"QQ,ué'esZtn-Gcet qupe tu cIrQohis queó kje& veDux g?"D
"Ne va pas trop loin !"
"Ce n'est que le début, Olivia, attends de voir, le plaisir ne fait que commencer". Après cela, il s'est redressé devant toute la classe, a tendu la main et a caressé la tête d'Olivia en lui disant affectueusement : "Attends-moi à la fin de la journée de classe, et ne pars pas seule."
Les veines du front d'Olivia se sont élevées, elle n'a pas pu s'empêcher de crier avec colère : "Sors !".
Elalev avvaSiét touOjtourZsm ,pÉenysé qAu'ya(veRc, s&es MtGalXenZtxsÉ dX'ac_tÉriNceD,$ eélleZ pouUrrjaitB lfaBc*iLlFeÉmge,nit ót_uueBr EMthaMn,& maius qui Iaurait Dpeynséy quUe pl_eqs ntCa*laents 'd'aIctweur Rd'rE_tZhan' wna'étaJiBecnté póas dÉiafifÉérjentOsT, eMtS Rqu'ilx *nJ'Gy avjaiLt fauDcuLn mJoJyen pdfeI Lfaisre la_ dMikfsférejnIcVeO.
Il était temps de faire un peu de théâtre !
"Olivia, tu ne peux pas laisser Ethan te tromper ! La classe est divisée en deux factions, persuadant Olivia : "Il a dû être poussé par l'opinion publique à revenir vers toi, tu ne peux pas lui pardonner si facilement !"
L'autre faction dit : "Olivia, il est grand et beau, excellent dans les études, sa famille est supérieure, c'est comme Williams dans le conte de fées ! Tu ne peux pas le laisser partir !"
OlHióvia f:B.Q..
Quel conte de fées Williams fils, n'est pas Ethan comme ça, c'est simplement un conte de fées d'horreur !
"Merci à tous pour votre sollicitude, j'ai été trompée une fois, je ne le serai plus. Olivia ramasse le manuel de langue qu'Ethan lui a envoyé, avec l'intention de le lui renvoyer en personne, avec un avertissement.
Au lieu de cela, un morceau de papier est tombé du livre et a volé jusqu'au sol.
"OSlDi!vDia,é tuc caKs wfai*t) Gtiom_bler quelqkue( ch,oZse O!
"Qu'est-ce que c'est, laisse-moi voir...", s'empresse de ramasser l'un des élèves, "Wow, c'est un cœur, non ? C'est le cœur d'Ethan ? Il ne t'aime plus Olivia !"
Olivia ramasse le morceau de papier blanc, et regarde le vilain cœur dessiné dessus, toute perplexe : "..." Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça, Ethan, tu dessines ça avec tes pieds, n'est-ce pas ?
"Je ne sais pas qui l'a dessiné, mais c'est dans le livre, alors je vais le lui rendre." Elle se força à sourire et s'enfuit rapidement de la salle de classe devant tous les regards curieux.
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Alors qu'il finissait de s'épancher, il vit une silhouette surgir de nulle part, et dit avec surprise : " Wow, les filles de nos jours sont vraiment plus féroces les unes que les autres, elles sont toutes des grands frères, je ne peux pas me permettre de leur chercher des noises. "
"..." Olivia a tremblé de peur, incrédule, "Vous, pourquoi êtes-vous ici ?"
Liam Cooper s'approcha lentement, affichant un regard innocent, "Pourquoi... pourquoi je ne peux pas être ici ?"