The High School Bad Boy
Chapter 24. Je Suis La Pour Toi (I'm Here For You), Miss.

JEAN LYCEE - BAPTISTE SAY, SURESNES.

Wulan chose an outdoor chair at the school cafeteria to enjoy her lunch. While chewing on the cheesy crouton in the French onion soup, his eyes did not turn from the book in his hand. L'existentialism est un humanism (existentialism is humanism) by the contemporary French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre who always accompanies Wulan in his spare time.

"Bonjour (hello), Wulan ...."

The voice forced Wulan to raise her head. Max's face with his sweet smile was plastered before him. Staring at him with a ignorant look that made Wulan turn both his eyes panted.

Max puts a light brown sketchbook on the table, then plays his pencil in his hand.

"You still mad at me?" asked Max who felt ignored by his Teacher Mother.

"I'm not angry" Wulan replied without distracting her from the book she was reading. "You want to order something?"

"Bien sure (of course)," said Max quickly. "I order one smile from you" he said.

"Max!" Wulan. "It's so annoying" he grumbled as he closed the book in his hand.

Max chuckles. Wulan's cheeks were red. He immediately grabbed his sketchbook and opened it. He started to play a pencil on it.

"Hey, Naughty Boy!" call Wulan half exclaiming. "You still owe me an explanation."

"What?" max asked without looking at Wulan. He was busy drawing things on paper.

"What happened that night? Why did you come to my apartment with a battered face?"

"Some one beat me."

"Why?"

"Where do I know, Miss." Max glanced at Wulan. Then get busy with the sketchbook.

"No one can beat you for no reason."

Max breathed slowly. "Maybe my rivals sell cannabis" he said. But a moment later he closed his mouth when he saw Wulan widen his eyes in surprise with his answer.

"Merde (shit)," maki Max who felt overwhelmed.

"You're selling cannabis?" Wulan strangled. But his voice sounded whispering. His head turned to and fro making sure no one heard their conversation. "You're crazy, Max!"

"Calm down, Miss," said Max, closing his sketchbook. "Don't panic."

"You know the risk, don't you, Max?"

"I know," Max replied casually. He took a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. "May I smoke, Miss?"

"No!" exclaim Wulan while taking a pack of cigarettes from Max's hand. Then keep him out of the reach of the boy. "Don't smoke in the school environment. You are, you are really wayward!" the hardic.

Max grimacing. He was happy to see Wulan angry - angry like that. His teacher's mother looked very nervous.

"Stop, Max. You'll have trouble with the police" Wulan said. Talk about his job selling cannabis.

"I've never had a problem in this whole time" Max said. He reopened his sketchbook, then continued his streak.

"Not yet" said Wulan quickly. "Cannabis should only be used for medical purposes, Max. Not sold by just anyone."

"I know, Miss. You don't have to explain."

"You have to stop, Max," Wulan said. "I don't want you to be fucked."

Max raised his eyebrows. Then his smile came up. "You really care about me, Miss."

Wulan patted her head slowly. "I care about all my students."

Max clucking. "You always say things like that."

"Don't start, Max!" Wulan gave a warning.

"Miss ...." Max murmured to call Wulan who had now struggled with his book back. He checked the line for a moment. Give the last touch for a minute.

"Hmmm ...."

"I feel sorry for you" he said, closing his sketchbook.

"What do you mean, Max?" Wulan did not respond to the words of the young man. His mind was divided with his reading books.

"Your problems with your ex-husband" Max said. "I remember when that ugly guy showed off his girlfriend to you. You look so beaten."

"Know what you are, Max. I'm fine, okay?"

"Miss .. I know you're not okay. I've seen you cry on the side of the road."

"What?" Now Wulan's attention is entirely on Max. He put his book on the table. Then narrowed his eyes looking suspiciously at the boy.

Wulan. He doesn't know what to answer.

"Miss Wulan ... if any man .. liked you, would you open your heart for him?" ask Max heart. "But not Damien" he continued quickly.

Somehow, it felt like Wulan wanted to laugh out loud hearing this bengal boy in front of her. But what came out of his mouth was only a small ruckus.

"I'm serious." Max folded his arms in front of his chest. His blue eyes looked at Wulan fixedly.

"Why should I talk about my personal matters with a brat like you?" ask Wulan. But he did not talk to Max. More questions for himself.

Max took a slow breath. "You never take words seriously, Miss."

"What are you talking about, Max?"

"I just want you to know something." Max swallowed his saliva. "Je suis la pour toi (i'm here for you), if ever you decide to open your heart again."

Wulan was glued to hear Max's words. For a moment he tried to digest the words of this sixteen-year-old boy in front of him. His tongue felt so faint that not a word came out of his mouth.

"Yes, Miss. Forgetit. It looks like my brain is not doing well." Max ripped the paper from inside his sketchbook and handed it to Wulan.

"Why does my face look so ugly?" wulan protested once seeing a picture of herself on paper.

Max wettest. "Indeed your face looks like that when you're pouting," he said as he rose from his seat quickly, avoiding the prepared Wulan - ready to smack a book into his head.

***

STALINGRAD, GERMANY.

"It's nice doing business with you."

Max put a few euros in his wallet. Then stretched out his clenched palm, greeted by the fist of a black-coated person in front of him.

"Ciao," Max said as he waved at her and passed.

He walked down the deserted sidewalk of the Stalingrad slum apartment complex to the building where he lived.

His eyes caught a girl sitting against the wall of the building, bowing her head on her knees and shaking her body from crying. Next to him was a half-empty bottle of whiskey.

He also approached. His head shook so much to know who the girl was.

"He's dead!" call him.

Nadia looked up. Her face was covered in tears as well as the black mascara melting on her cheeks.

"Max ...." Nadia's lips twitched. Her tears are growing.

Max crouched down in front of Nadia and touched the girl's soft arm. "C'est quoi & encore (what else is this)?" tanyakanya. "That son of a bitch again, huh?"

Nadia's crying became more. He slid into Max's arms and sobbed - sobs there.

"Hey, Nad, calme toi (take it easy)," comfort her while gently rubbing the girl's back.

"He left me. Damien completely abandoned me. He said he'd go after the goddamn new teacher!" he screamed in between his cries.

Max's chest is pounding. Anger suddenly filled the space of his heart. His hands are also clenched.

"Max ..." - Nadia. "I'm pregnant ...."

"Quoi (what)?" Max pushes Nadia's body spontaneously. "Qu'est que tu dis (what are you saying)?" his erang.

Nadia covered her face with both palms. The crying broke again.

"Putain de merde (fucking)!"

"Fils de pute (shall you)!"

"Quelle connard alors (base of kepa rat)!"

"Je vais le tuer, putain (i'll kill him, damn it)!"

I don't know how many swear words came out of his mouth. He kicked the trash that was not far from him. Nadia was crying and covering her ears. He could not hear Max.

"Putain (fucking)!" Max scrunched his forehead. He caught his breath. The shadow of Mrs Dasia Kareem's shady face just flashed. He would not be able to see the woman grieved. Her adoptive mother was a devout Muslim, upholding the rules of her religion. It would be hard to hear that her only daughter, who was the focus of her hopes, became pregnant without a husband at the age of sixteen.

"Oh, putain!"

Again, Max curses.

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