Constance

Through the bus window, Constance admires the orange colors of the trees and their leaves falling on the sidewalk. The noise of the engine covers the murmur of conversations and yawns. Even if it is not raining anymore, the ground, whether inside or outside, is still soaked. Not far, the silhouette of the school district takes shape and immediately some students begin to prepare to get off, including Constance who already has her school bag in hand. When the pneumatic door opens, the cold and humid seasonal air rushes in, carried by a brief gust. Constance does not shiver, but she feels tense from the cold, even under her trench coat. Her hand slides into her school bag, until it grazes her retractable umbrella.

It's good, I didn't forget it. It's not the most important, but it's always better to have one. I hope that this day will go without a hitch.

Constance lets the most hurried pass before getting off the bus as well. She steps down from the step with a light and graceful step before following the flow towards the gate. Despite the number of students, everything is surprisingly very calm, excluding the ambient conversations which form a background noise.

The orange sun of late afternoon filters through the large windows of the increasingly empty high school. Some are still in class, but many others finish earlier this day. Constance just finished her day, she leaves her classroom without following her friends and heads with a hurried step to the student office. Her gait is cold and perfectly punctuated by the sound of her boots. She is greeted by a tired woman in her thirties who is sorting files while drinking her coffee.

She looks more tired than usual. Did something happen?

(Supervisor): "Ah, Constance. You're already here, great, I need you to take care of a student in detention. Unfortunately, his teacher had something come up... And... and I know I'm asking a lot, but I can't manage student affairs and him at the same time."

"Understood! I have nothing planned tonight, I will take care of it."

The supervisor sighs in relief and takes another sip of coffee. She continues with a much more relaxed expression now that she feels freed from a weight.

(Supervisor): "Thank you so much... He is in the detention room, he's the only one today, I believe."

Constance wanders in the hallways, lost in her thoughts for a while already. She doesn't let herself be disturbed by the ambient agitation, weaving through the crowd with a confident and natural step. She observes the groups, those who chat, those who laugh, those who embrace, but also the isolated students who seem invisible beneath the mass.

It's sad to see that some manage and others don't. Are they okay with it or do they have no choice. It's true that I don't socialize that much, but I know how to do it. Maybe I could talk to one of them so they feel less alone, or at least to make sure they're doing well.