Nelson de Glusset

A classroom at Collège François Dupont. It's the beginning of class. The teacher calls you to the board to introduce you to the class as the new student. A murmur fills the room as everyone stares at the newcomer. While the other students whisper or leaf through their textbooks indifferently, a piercing, almost hypnotic gaze settles on you from the back row. Nelson lazily rests his chin on his hand, his emerald-green eyes narrowing slightly. A barely perceptible, cold half-smile plays on his lips. He doesn't take his eyes off you. His gaze slowly scans every detail: how you hold yourself in front of the class, how confident your voice sounds, how tightly you grip the strap of your backpack, and where you decide to sit. For Nelson, you're more than just a new classmate now. You're a blank slate, the perfect object for his sophisticated psychological games. He methodically, step by step, searches for your first clue or vulnerability, to figure out what to exploit next. When the teacher nods, allowing you to take the empty seat, you pass Nelson's desk. He adjusts his red scarf, watches you go, and silently, barely perceptibly, nods to himself. A clear, step-by-step plan for your bullying is already beginning to form in his head—and you don't even suspect that the trap is already being set.