Chapter Text

Amélie Guillard looked like the type of girl who would be at the top of the food chain when it came to high school politics. She was tall with gorgeous long black hair that was straight as a board, a tiny nose, and a voice like spilling hot caramel. Her family was rich, she maintained a 3.7 grade average in order to participate in her private dancing lessons, which she excelled at and had been since age four. Despite all of these good marks, she was almost too beautiful to befriend and her resting bitch face was easily intimidating. She had only maintained one best friend over the last two years, Angela Ziegler.



Angela moved from Switzerland to Annecy, France to attend private school classes for college credit in her final years of high school. She arrived to Annecy as a sophomore with the single purpose to get in and get out in order to pursue her dream of becoming a doctor. Amélie and Angela shared a similar attitude about high school, it was temporary and a means to something better. This wasn’t primary school where a cafeteria seat neighbor shared an apple slice and suddenly school was your social hub alongside learning shapes. An apple slice hadn’t been involved, but the two girls crossed paths in an advanced placement literature class and became inseparable.



Now they were both seniors with very different career paths ahead of them, but their friendship was still as strong as ever. Angela would split off for her college course and Amélie had dance practice and ballet recitals. However, they always had common ground in their year four AP literature class, and Amélie’s family chateau where Angela had happily spent two summers at in the years previous. The warmer weather was approaching them again, and the bittersweet reality of it being their last summer together loomed over them both.



The topic came up on the weekend before Amélie’s next dance recital, the girls tried to spend their free weekends together between books and ballet. Angela sat cross-legged on her best friend’s bedroom floor, leaning back against the heavy four post bed. Amélie’s bed was as big as Angela’s own room in her aunt’s home where she had stayed since coming to Annecy for school. It gave her a taste of independence, she was allowed to come and go as she pleased if her grades stayed immaculate. While studying was tedious at times, it all came easy to Angela.



“I have a test on Saturday morning, but I will be there for your number at the recital,” the blonde vowed as she turned a page in her medical technology textbook.



“Your test is next Saturday, so put the book away. For one night at least, Angela,” Amélie’s voice came out exasperated as she lounged sideways across her bed with her phone in her hand. Angela just smirked down at her book, Amélie was one of the only people who didn’t call her Ang or Angie, her full name sounded so important coming from her.



“Only if you stop shopping for shoes and showing me a different pair every ten seconds. Most of the time they look exactly like a pair you already own.”



“I have offered more than once to buy you a nice pair of shoes,” she reminded quickly.



“It isn’t your money, Amélie,” Angela tipped her head back against the bed to look up at her, they’ve had this argument more than once.



“We have more than we know what to do with, and if you aren’t careful- I will not buy you a thing when I make thousands from being a professional dancer.”



“I don’t think I’ll be wearing heels in surgery.”



“You will when you are nominated for being a teenage prodigy in the medical field,” Amélie tossed her phone aside and laid her head against her arm, her silky black hair spilled over the edge of the bed. Angela could smell Amélie’s strawberry flavored shampoo, she knew it well- she had secretly used it more than once while taking a shower there. The scent was a comfort to her.



“Sometimes you dream big dreams for the both of us.”



“I could dream all day,” Amélie closed her eyes and relaxed. Angela thought it must be strange to be someone in the lap of luxury and look so bored most days, but it was part of Amélie’s charm.



“How are your grades not suffering when you dance and daydream so much?” She teased as she brought her focus back to her chapter on radiology- she was determined to finish it now so that they could spend the rest of their weekend together uninterrupted.



“I do not quite have to play gray’s anatomy like you do.”



“How lucky for you,” Angela retorted in her best sarcastic voice, they picked at each other’s differences so often, but had fun with it.



“Besides,” Amélie’s voice dipped to a purr to the left of Angela. “Someone has to give you a show for all your hard work.”



The statement was innocent, but loaded at best. Angela swallowed thickly and turned another page as silence fell between them for several moments. It wasn’t until a slow breathing came from Amélie that she realized she was drifting off- so what she said must have just been a side effect of delirium. Or maybe, Angela’s process of the words came from her own delirium due to all the studying.



Twenty minutes passed as she finished her long winded chapter and Amélie was most definitely asleep. Angela closed her book, and Amélie turned in her sleep towards her and strands of her long hair brushed across her arm. Angela had to repress the goosebumps from the tickle of the sensation as best she could, itching at her upper arm absentmindedly. She didn’t want to wake her friend. Truthfully, a Friday night watching her sleep wasn’t a thorn in her weekend at all. For the moment, her studying was caught up, they had Saturday and Sunday ahead of them, and the calmness of Amélie’s breathing behind her could almost lull her to sleep as well.



It didn’t feel like a waste. Soon, Angela could be headed back to Switzerland for her proper university classes. It was a toss up, she had applied to many and was awaiting their responses at any time. The thought of not having Amélie’s stark contrast of a life against her own made her future empty in the prospect of friendship. Her desire to become a doctor was a dream that would go unchanged, Amélie would not alter that course. However, the journey brightened with her presence and now Angela was afraid of that light burning out.



Angela got lost in her thoughts until a soft hum came from the other girl as she rolled back over brought her back to reality. Amélie raised a hand to press over her eyes. “Why did you let me fall asleep?”



“You’ll need as much as you can get this week,” Angela answered softly, feeling a little protective over the strenuous practice Amélie had been going through lately.



“Is that your official prescription?”



“Yes, Miss Guillard.”



Amélie laughed, it was soft and sweet. Angela felt her heart ache.



“Let’s get something to eat,” she sat up on her elbows and slid off her bed, stepping into a pair of white luxurious slippers. “Did you finish your reading?”



“Yes, I’m all yours now this weekend, studying resumes promptly at eight on Monday morning.”



“As it should,” Amélie bent down and plucked the heavy textbook from Angela’s lap and went to hide it in the very top of her walk-in closet amongst designer bags from last season. The closet was more like an entire separate room in size. “We must have you succeed, but with success comes relaxation of the brain,” she explained, applying her best impression of Angela.



“If I relax my brain, then you must relax your body,” She quipped.



“This,” Amélie motioned down her body and toward her legs. “Comes at a physical price of regular activity. I thought you would know that, doctor.”



“Oh, you mean to say you weren’t born with legs that could qualify for their own insurance policy?”



“Talent is practice,” the dancer shrugged, the compliment’s true intention flying past her as she headed towards the door to make their walk to the kitchen. Angela followed with a shake of her head, noting that Amélie’s hair was ruffled from her short nap. At school and recitals, she walked around without a hair out of place. At home, Amélie was in her element. She wasn’t the type to be uncomfortable with her wealth, she owned it in the best way, by being herself when she was behind the heavy double doors.



The kitchen resided on the first floor and a walk through the elaborate dining room that Angela had only seen used during holidays and summer when entertaining was a staple at Chateau Guillard. The smell drifted from an hours ago cooked meal.



It was eight in the evening, the cook had prepared something and gone home, storing dinner for anyone in the family having it late. Amélie took the care of removing two plates from the refrigerator and setting the oven accordingly to warm it up. She would be the first to admit she was spoiled and that staff was paid to do their job, but she wasn’t so proud as to not know how to work simple appliances when staff had gone home.

Kids in high school assumed a lot about a person without ever speaking a word, and that’s what they were- kids. Other than viewing Amélie as a stuck up brat, nobody knew much about her. They were kids, neither of them held friendships or interest with much of anyone else. Angela had just turned eighteen, and Amélie would be before summer was over. Graduation itself was a month and a half away.



“Do we have any plans this summer?” Angela asked, as if her secondary talent was reading minds.



“If by we, you mean me, oui,” Amélie turned her head and smiled at her blonde friend over her shoulder. “And if I have plans, then you have plans. There is a dance company- Ballet Jörgen in Ontario, Canada, that I want to try out for and I was going to turn it into a little trip abroad. Will you come?”



“What about your family?”



Amélie waved her hand absentmindedly after she placed their dinner in the oven. “I told them I want to go on my own, we decided it would be my graduation present.”



Angela pretended to mull it over for the drama, but then she smiled. “I would love to go with you, Amélie.”



“As if you had a choice.”



With a quiet laugh, Angela averted her eyes to her hands resting on the island counter as Amélie placed their dinner plates at respective seats. They never ate at the table unless there was a party, there was no telling how many late nights they had sat together at the island on the most ornate bar stools Angela had ever seen eating pizza. Dinner was a little more gourmet this time, garlic and parmesan spaghetti, and Amélie was reaching for wine glasses.



She didn’t protest a bit when her dark haired friend poured her a glass, Angela wasn’t a prude, even if her peers perceived her that way. Amélie remained a mystery to them all, only she had managed to crack open the door to what really hid beneath those dark eyes of the french girl.

Not to mention, Amélie had her share of Angela’s secrets tucked into her pocket, as well.