Thomas then followed Alicia, and the two of them walked through the large hallway towards classroom B22. He wondered a lot about "The Art of Communication", one of the options he had chosen a few weeks earlier. The title of this material was vague enough to be intriguing, "Art" was a big word and "Communication" was equally so. The material he had found to present this material, a short summary of which fell between the options "Culinary Arts" and "Technological Designs", had done little to help him. And the uncertainty that the vague title gave him mingled with the sense of abandonment that he anticipated more and more as he walked along, following Alicia through the halls of the school.

If she was heading to room B22, it was mainly to accompany Thomas there. She would not attend this class, which was not one of the options she had chosen, but aware of the discomfort that a return can be, she still wanted to be there as much as possible for her brother. Home.

— Here we are, the room is at the end of this corridor, she said, gesturing to the entrance to a building adjoining the main corridor. The next course is in the same building so you should easily find it.

— Thank you, answered Thomas.

— I'll meet you later here for math class. Don't worry, it's going to be fine, she added.

Alicia had indeed noticed that a touch of stress was starting to take hold of Thomas. He thought he knew English, he was one of the best students in his high school in France anyway. But here, surrounded by people for whom it was their mother tongue, whose conversations were exchanged at high speed, Thomas feared he would soon be lost. He left Alicia, waved her hand, then realized that the moment he was experiencing right now was disturbingly similar to returning to primary school, when his mother had brought him in on his first day. He had grown up since, but eventually found himself in the same situation, except that he would be reunited with his "mom" much sooner this time around.

Thomas then took the direction of the building where a large B painted a few meters in height there was no doubt about the path he was taking. After all, there was no reason to get lost. Everything seemed well indicated. He entered the building, and followed some students. After a few seconds of sweeping his head from side to side in search of number 22, he saw it engraved on a simple melanin door that was wide open. As he approached, Thomas noticed with surprise that only two people were already seated. He entered from the back of the room then took his place in the front row, opened his bag and put his hand in it to get some writing stuff out. The room filled up quickly after his arrival, and very quickly only the back seats remained unoccupied.

A man walked in seconds later, addressed the audience with a brief, enthusiastic "hello, hello", and came to put his battered leather briefcase on the thick desk to the left of the chalkboard. He reached into it and pulled out a small canister, the size of a packet of cigarettes. He opened the canister and grabbed one of the cylindrical objects that was inside. He turned to face the board and then spoke again.

— Welcome to your Art of ...

He moved from left to right, moving his right arm with large gestures. A few faint screeches were heard in the room.

— Communication course.

The man turned, then waved his hands again, spreading them as when starting a breaststroke.

— Please could you move your tables aside to make a clear path in the middle, he asked.

The affected students immediately did so and cleared a space in the middle of the room, dividing it in two. Thomas, seated near the right of the painting and the wall, watched the commotion with a puzzled eye. After a thank you, the man continued his speech.

— I am Mr. Spillman, and it is with me that you will learn to use the art of communication during this semester. But the more observant of you already know that.

As he spoke, Thomas noticed that the strain visible on the hem of his blue shirt indicated a slight overweight.

— The objective of this course is twofold: to teach you to express yourself better, and to allow you to decipher the speeches to make you enlightened young people.

Mr. Spillman, stationed in the middle of the room, spun around in constant search of the gaze of his students, like a comedian on stage seeking to capture the attention of his audience.

— You are the generation of tomorrow, the one who must be even smarter than the previous one, the one who can and must make things happen. But for that, you need to know how to express your ideas, and not to corrupt your judgment by false / rigged speeches. That’s why throughout this semester, we’ll see some speech mechanics that you can use later to your advantage.

Mr. Spillman quietly returned to his desk, and sat down on it.

— So tell me what the term communication inspires you.

— Conversation, said a shy voice in the middle of the classroom

— Correct, replied Mr. Spillman, looking for another student who would dare to speak.

— Marketing

— Yes, of course, in a way. Something else ?

A slight silence was felt, as Mr. Spillman continued to inspect the classroom for someone who would bounce off the other two participants. Thomas didn't feel like participating at the moment, he still wasn't confident enough to come up with an idea to the whole class and show off his "Frenchie" accent. Then a hand rose, and a voice rose.

— Manipulation,  said a young boy wearing thick rectangular glasses.

Thomas heard small snickers coming from the back of the class, which Mr. Spillman ignored.

— Interesting, he replied. And why this ?

— You just said it, we must be careful with false speech. Communication can therefore sometimes be manipulation.

— Absolutely, that is precisely why it is important for you to distinguish between truth and lies, between sincerity and manipulation.

* * *

Thomas came out relieved from his first class at his new high school. Relieved, because he hadn't had much difficulty understanding the teacher and the students' responses. Relieved too, for he dreaded this first lesson, but was pleasantly surprised by the presence of Mr. Spillman. This elderly gentleman, with the almost shaggy beard, hadn't made a strong impression on him during his presentation in the auditorium, but seeing him only a few meters away, in this small classroom, had upset the preconceived opinion he had of it. Mr. Spillman was wise, attentive, and Thomas was already looking forward to his next "Art of Communication" class next week. Now she had to join the second class of the morning, before she could find Alicia in the main hall for math class.