A French Girl In New York Read online

  James Baldwin was highly impressed. He knew she was talented, but this was even more than he had expected. He saw her eyebrow furrowed with determination, her face set in the silent message she was sending, and he beamed with fatherly pride at her. He glanced at Alan and saw that his smirk had fallen off, clearly understanding the message Maude was sending him.

  His longtime friend and associate, Travis Brighton, smiled at him and made a thumbs-up sign.

  Maude ended, stayed seated, and elegantly folded her hands on her knees.

  Alan Lewis cleared his throat.

  “That’s a good start, but you still have a lot of work to do,” he declared, still looking at Maude with narrowed eyes. He turned towards the door and saw there was a newcomer who had silently crept in while Maude was playing.

  Alan Lewis grinned broadly.

  “Look who just got here! Matt! Where have you been, buddy? We’ve all been waiting for you.”

  Maude turned around and gasped as she recognized the boy from the subway, leaning against the doorframe.

  Matt’s eyes danced with silent amusement at her astonishment. Maude looked haughtily away, angry with herself for letting him see her reaction.

  “What happened to your jacket, man?” Mr. Lewis asked surveying his stained trench coat. “Oh, let me guess. You drove another one of your girlfriends crazy, right,” he joked, exhibiting his large, white, flossed teeth with his wide ridiculous grin and nudging Matt with his elbow as if they were the best of friends.

  “Yeah,” answered Matt smoothly, looking directly at Maude. “This one was a real fury. You should’ve seen her yell at me like a mad woman. I’m sure you could’ve heard her all the way to France.”

  Maude almost snorted with contempt, but remained silent.

  “Ah, knowing you, I’m pretty sure she had a good reason,” James Baldwin said, raising his eyebrows.

  Maude smiled, thanking him silently.

  “Maude,” he called out. “Come meet Matt. He’s the songwriter I’ve been talking to you about. He’s French just like you, but he’s been living in New York for such a long time, I wonder if he hasn’t lost all of his refined European manners. If he ever had any.”

  Maude barely hid her surprise. He was French! Which meant he had understood every single word she had angrily uttered in the subway and had laughed at her!

  Cold rage swept afresh over the young girl as she greeted Matt, meeting his amused stare with a dark glare.

  Matt faltered under her stare, more used to girls batting their eyelashes than using their eyes to throw daggers at him.

  James Baldwin, who always had his senses alert music-wise, but never seemed to perceive the subtleties of human behavior, talked animatedly of the projects he had in mind.

  When he was done, he said, “Why don’t we all go have breakfast together?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Baldwin, but I have to go to class,” Maude reminded him.

  “Oh, right. School. Right, you do that. Vic would kill me if you arrived late on your first day. Franklin High has a zero tolerance policy on tardiness,” he explained, following the rest of the crowd out towards the elevator.

  Maude stayed behind, and, thinking she was alone, looked fondly at the Yamaha piano. She hadn’t played on many pianos in her life, but each one she had touched was different. This one had light keys that almost felt like water under her hands.

  “It’s a beautiful instrument isn’t it?” Matt observed at the other end of the room.

  Maude turned around. She was surprised to see that he was still here and uneasily wondered how long he had stood there, watching her without her noticing.

  “A piano is like a friend to me,” she explained slowly, carefully choosing her words. “We are in sync. It never betrays me or makes fun of me. I cannot say the same about human beings.”

  She went to grab her coat and headed for the door.

  Matt felt half-amused half-bewildered by Maude. As a renowned artist, he was used to having people bend over backwards to please him. People like Mr. Lewis had surrounded him ever since he had signed with Glitter Records. Even now that he had taken a break from his singing career to focus on songwriting, the halo surrounding his previous records still followed him around and opened every door even before he knocked. Not that he was complaining.

  However, Maude was definitely something else, and Matt had felt it instantly although he couldn’t quite figure out how to act around a girl like her.

  “Look,” Matt said, blocking the exit route. “We were both stupid this morning. It’s Monday morning. Monday mornings in New York are always crazy. A little like you. You are an incredibly talented musician. I hope you realize I don’t say that often. Why don’t we just put this behind us and be friends?”

  He stretched out his hand, waiting for Maude to shake it. Maude looked into his eyes and noticed how disturbingly gray they were and started to stretch out her hand. Then, she remembered how those same gray eyes had shone that morning when he had laughed at her while she was angrily berating him in a language he perfectly understood, not even bothering to help her. He was just another famous, pampered, obnoxious celebrity used to having his own way. And he still hadn’t apologized! Saying that “Mondays in New York are always crazy, a little like you” certainly wasn’t close to an apology! He was no better than her former classmates who took pleasure in making fun of her. Well, she wasn’t in Carvin any longer, and she refused to perpetuate a tradition of being someone’s personal laughingstock.

  Maude swiftly dropped her hand, lifted her head a little higher and with a frosty glare, said, “We will work together since we have to. But there is no way you and I can ever be friends.”

  And with that, she proudly swept past Matt and headed towards the elevator.

  Maude was wondering if she hadn’t landed on another planet.

  She was in English class and Jazmine, who was sitting next to her, had spent the last half hour scribbling furiously, sending notes to her friends.

  And Maude was just plain puzzled. She hadn’t understood a single sentence the teacher had uttered after she had said, “Good morning, class. Take out your copies of Jane Eyre.”

  After that, it had all seemed like a blur. The teacher talked so fast, it was impossible to understand a single word she said. Thankfully, Maude had already read Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre, which was one of her favorite books. As for the teacher’s analysis of the story, she would have to rely on Jazmine’s notes.

  She heaved a deep sigh of relief when the bell rang.

  “So, what did you think of your first class?” asked Jazmine as they headed out of class.

  “It would’ve been great if I’d understood what the teacher had said.”

  “Ah, you’ll get the hang of it in no time,” Jazmine reassured her. “In the meantime, I’ll give you my notes so you won’t fall behind although I must say, I was a bit distracted today.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  Jazmine was searching in the crowded halls and didn’t answer Maude.

  “Ah, there they are. Let me introduce you to my friends.”

  A small group stood near their lockers: a brown-haired jock in a football uniform, a blonde girl in a cheerleader outfit, and a red-headed girl leaning against the lockers talking animatedly. As they approached, Maude noticed the boy stare at Jazmine with plain admiration. For sure, Maude thought, she looked breathtaking although dressed simply in a white long wool sweater and a pair of black pants.

  “Guys, this is Maude Laurent, the musician I was talking to you about. Maude, this is Brad, Lily, and Stacey.”

  They greeted her kindly, and Brad turned to Jazmine and said, “Hey, your concert was great last Friday. I didn’t get to tell you because you left so fast but, I thought it was great.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it, seeing as it will be the last one we’ll have for a while since we’re temporarily out of service while looking for the new guitarist to complete the Screaming Angels, also known as the bes
t rock band ever, right girls?” said Jazmine flashing a brilliant smile towards Stacey and Lily.

  “We are a great band,” Stacey agreed, flipping her dark red hair behind her shoulder. “We would be even better with Stephen in it as our new guitarist,” she added.

  “And as I wrote you in English class: the choice of our new guitarist has to be made democratically. We should organize auditions to meet the rare gift that will complete our group perfectly. Your cousin will have to audition too.”

  “I think Jaz is right,” Lily said. “Although I do think your cousin is really hot, it’s best to organize auditions. Besides, we don’t want Jazmine breaking your cousin’s heart and leave the group like Joe did.”

  “You broke the other guitarist’s heart?” Maude asked, amused.

  “Don’t look like you find it so funny, Maude. You remind me of Cynthia with that face. I didn’t break anybody’s heart. Joe and I flirted a little, but it’s not like I told him I loved him or anything. He was already imagining us getting married and having kids!”

  “It’s a good thing he’s gone then,” Brad grumbled, slightly frowning.

  Jazmine pretended not to notice and said, “We should be heading for lunch, shouldn’t we?”

  “Which way is the canteen?” asked Maude.

  The four teenagers stared at her puzzled, then burst out laughing.

  “What?”

  “I think what you mean is cafeteria, right?” asked Stacey between giggles.

  “Oh,” Maude let out sheepishly.

  “Canteen in English doesn’t mean the same thing as in French. In English it refers to a cafeteria in a military camp. I know school promotes discipline and everything, but it’s not boot camp either. Not yet at least,” Jazmine said laughing.

  “Come on, don’t frown.” She put her arm around Maude’s shoulders sympathetically. “You say all the wrong things with just the right accent. No one can hold it against you.”

  “What do you mean by ‘all the wrong things’?” wondered Maude, raising a questioning eyebrow.

  “Let’s not get into this right now. I’m starving. Let’s all go to the canteen,” Jazmine joked as they started walking.

  “Seriously, Jazmine, I want to know,” Maude insisted.

  “Oh wait, I forgot to grab my science book,” said Jazmine, ignoring the question.

  “I’ll come with you, I forgot mine too. We’ll meet you at the cafeteria in ten minutes,” Maude called out as she and Jazmine hurried back to their lockers.

  “So what other wrong things did I say? You have to tell me, Jazmine, or else I’ll say them again.”

  “Apart from the fact that you keep on calling me Jazmine instead of Jaz like all my friends do, you did say ‘how do you do at the airport,’ but that was—“ Jazmine stopped.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh no, Lindsey’s headed this way.”

  “Lindsey?”

  “Lindsey Linton.”

  “Your Dad told me about her. She’s a pop star, isn’t she? She still goes to school?”

  “Yeah, and I wish she didn’t. She wants her fans to think she’s a “normal” teenager.”

  Lindsey Linton walked towards them, her long blonde ponytail bouncing energetically behind her, her loud heels echoing in the empty halls, her perfectly polished hands holding her swaying hips.

  “So Jazmine, this is your new friend. Maude Laurent, right?” asked Lindsey, looking at her up and down while talking.

  “Yes, she’s Maude Laurent, and we were just leaving so we really don’t have time to talk to you,” Jazmine said, slamming her locker door shut.

  Lindsey turned to Maude and said sweetly, “I guess I’ll be seeing you in Ms. Tragent’s class this evening since Jazmine’s Dad managed to get you in. She usually takes nothing but the best, but seeing as you’re James Baldwin’s charity case, she couldn’t say no to the poor, little French orphan he’s taken in, could she?”

  Maude’s face grew hot with anger. “You know what? Nobody’s even heard of the name Lindsey Linton in France. So I guess Mrs. Tragent must really like charity cases if she’s taken your sorry, shallow self in her class,” she retorted.

  Lindsey’s fake, plastered smile wavered, and her eyeballs seemed to pop out of their sockets while Jazmine stifled a giggle.

  “I am one of her most famous, talented students. You’ll figure that out soon enough tonight.”

  “I guess I will,” Maude answered coolly. “I can hardly wait.” She slammed her locker door shut and walked away, Jazmine following her, still giggling.

  “Oh, Maude, did you see her face? I wouldn’t have said it better myself! That girl is so full of herself.”

  “It’s a good thing I didn’t say ‘canteen’ or anything like that in front of her right?” Maude said slowly smiling, her anger gradually subsiding.

  “Right.”

  “Or that I didn’t start insulting her angrily in French, right?”

  “Right. Um, why? Do you switch to French when you’re angry?”

  Maude sighed deeply, not wanting to get into the whole coffee debacle right now.

  “So, what’s going on between you and handsome Brad, the joke?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

  “I think you mean ‘jock.’ To answer your question, nothing is going on. We’ve been friends for a while, but he wants to be more than just friends, and I don’t want to.”

  “He’s obviously crazy about you,” Maude observed, thinking that jock and joke sounded so similar that it was too bad they didn’t mean the same thing.

  “He’s just too . . .” she hesitated. “I don’t know. Too jocky, if that’s even a word. He’s only interested in football and doesn’t know a thing about music. He’s not mean, he’s just not my type.”

  “So Joe, the cute, bad-ass guitarist with the big heart wasn’t your type, Brad isn’t your type. Then what is your type?”

  “I don’t know. All I know is this: he has to be at least, as handsome as Brad, as cultivated as Joe, and as rich as Lindsey. At any rate, I’m not ready to settle down. For now, I just want to have fun! Speaking of fun,”

  Maude followed Jazmine’s gaze, and her laugh echoed in the empty halls.

  A tall, pale, dark-haired, scrawny boy was walking in their direction with a sky-high stack of books tilting dangerously from one side to another. His big round-rimmed glasses fell on his nose, and he seemed to be hesitating between an impossible dilemma: give in to the irresistible urge to push his glasses back up or keep his stack of books in fragile equilibrium.

  “Meet Jonathan,” Jazmine explained with a fond smile, observing the scene from a distance. “Official Franklin High nerd and unintentionally, official clown.”

  The two girls laughed and headed for the cafeteria.

  Ms. Tragent, sitting behind an imposing white Bösendorfer piano, looked at Maude over her brown square-rimmed glasses. Her long white hair was tied in a strict bun over her head, and her face marked by the years was set, impenetrable but very beautiful, like a statue. She wore a long, red skirt like a salsa dancer and her hands were covered in jewels of bright colors. Her stern blue glare bore right through Maude as if trying to determine what the young girl was made of. Maude, who had been used to these staring matches with Mrs. Ruchet, stared back, waiting impatiently for her new teacher to finish her inspection.

  She fought the urge to throw herself at her idol and gush about her most memorable performances at the Metropolitan Opera, the Opera Garnier, and of course, the Scala in Milan.

  Ms. Tragent, without saying a word, waved Maude over to the rest of the class. She walked to the other end of the stage near the five other students, conscious of Lindsey glaring at her back the whole time.

  “Class, I have an announcement to make. I know that you have heard rumors about a musical that I will be directing.”

  Ms. Tragent stopped and surveyed her students who started whispering excitedly.

  “Those rumors are wrong,” she said sharply.


  Silence filled the theatre once again.

  “I would never create a musical,” she said as if the word was an abomination of the worst kind.

  “I am a French opera singer, not a French cancan dancer. I came to the United States to train young singers and teach them that a classical education is the basis of everything and the best way to discipline your voice, your breathing, even if you want to be a pop star,” she said looking directly at Lindsey, who seemed uneasy under her stare.

  Maude smiled, enjoying seeing Lindsey squirm.

  “That is why, it is an opera that I will be directing this year. There will be a single evening performance. It will be taking place here at the Morningside Theater. All proceeds will go to charity. If your voice is strong enough to carry you through an entire opera, you definitely won’t have trouble performing for concerts during your pop careers.”

  The students started whispering excitedly again.

  Ms. Tragent waved her hand again and the buzz stopped.

  “You may be my students, but open auditions will be held for every role in this opera. I will be directing a modern version of Rossini’s Cenerentola.”

  Ms. Tragent peered at her students.

  “I am sure that not one of you knows this opera, am I right?”

  The prolonged silence indicated that she was correct. She was just partly correct. Maude had listened to this opera at least a hundred times at the library. Rossini was one of her favorite composers and his exuberant, fun operas spoke to her in ways no other composer could.

  “How long have you all been taking classes with me? Years, for some of you! Do you still not know what Cenerentola talks about? Or maybe all you care for are the music lessons but not the musical history that is behind it? That doesn’t matter does it?”

  She sighed.

  “The Cenerentola is one of Rossini’s most famous operas, in two acts. It is a nineteenth century remake of the story of Cinderella. In his version, Cinderella is a bit different from the one we know. She is more spirited,” Maude said.

  Ms. Tragent looked at Maude, her face unmoving. She glanced back at the rest of the class. They looked at Maude with unveiled curiosity wondering where this new girl came from and how she knew so much on her first day.