I didn't speak english very well. This book is a challenge for me. I try to translate a french writing with www.DeepL.com/Translator Please be kind and help me :-)

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I arrive in front of a high school, all nice and clean. It already annoys me. I feel that I'm not going to like it here. I don't belong in this city. I'm a country girl. I don't have a choice. My parents lived under Papinou's thumb all their lives and left as soon as he died, with my father's inheritance. It has to be said that Papinou is, well, a grumpy old man. I like my grandfather. He's the one who brought me up in reality. My parents are lazy dreamers unable to find a real job and make themselves useful. He didn't tell me that. I realised it myself by observing them.

But who is this unworthy child, you may ask. Let me introduce myself. Megane Farmer. Fifteen years old. One meter sixty-five. Athletic build, but with a few small bulges of good food, wavy brown hair down to her back, often tied in a sloppy bun. Beautiful green eyes. An indefinable look, I would say masculine. I wear either rangers or trainers, always dark. My jeans are large, stained and with holes, black or navy blue. The top is in the same style, a four size too big tee short, hidden under a shapeless jumper, preferably worn and dark. Neither gothic, nor grunge, even less fashionista. Undefinable. I also have a bad temper. But I think you've already understood that.

- Meg, stop grumbling and smile. We have to make a good impression. My twin whispers to me.

Yes, I have a twin. Melia. The complete opposite of me. Of the two, I'm the evil twin, for sure. A slim and frail body, rather tall, about one meter seventy-five. Azure blue eyes on a soft, smiling face. She looks like a magazine model. Her pink hair is in a short boyish cut today. But she has wigs so her hair changes daily. She claims her unicorn look. I'm going to say pastel multi-coloured frilly mid-thigh length dress, pink chunky heels, chick yellow stockings. All accessorized with tons of bracelets, with a very colorful makeup, but absolutely not vulgar. My little manga. She has a sweet character, shy, a little shy but very sociable.

I grimace in order to please my beloved half. She is the only one for whom I deign to make an effort. I concentrate again on my mission. To enter this devil's den called private high school. The boarding school where our parents will get rid of us. With money from the old fart who is my grandfather. Well, no, the old fart who was my grandfather, because he's dead. I can't get used to the idea. Now, my two stupid parents are going to go and do a world tour and leave us here. I'm sick of it. Why didn't they leave us at Papinou's? We were fine there. We're grown up. We could have lived alone in our old home.

I get lost in my memories, thinking of all the things our grandfather taught us. Reading, writing, counting of course, but also recognising plants, animals, finding our way around, building a hut, growing vegetables, looking after animals, cooking. Basic first aid. Medicinal plants for Mélia. Basic hunting and trapping for me. He is so good to us. So protective. It's only been a month since he left and I miss him terribly. Melia misses him too. How many grandfathers, a former high ranking military officer to boot, would have taught their granddaughter to sew, spin wool, dye her fabrics, without ever judging her looks? He was wonderful.

-MEG!

Melia scolds me to bring me back to reality. We have to find the welcome desk for the Seconds. To get our room and the rest of our school stuff. I sigh and see a wisely disciplined crowd lined up in front of what appears to be a hall. I point with my chin to the flock of sheep and we head off to take it easy. Less than ten minutes in, we're all staring at each other. The two newbies, freaks of nature.

They all know each other from high school, from this town or the surrounding area. Mélia and I come from much further away. We are not from the region and our look, so atypical compared to their smart suits, can be spotted from afar in the courtyard. I want to bite. Melia flutters her eyelashes. The two methods have different efficiencies, but in the end the result is the same. People stop staring at us. We feel uncomfortable in this school. I miss my old home so much. Mélia puts on a brave face, she likes the change, but I can feel that she is apprehensive about the new place.

An hour later, we can finally enter the room. Four desks where we have to go one after the other. Registration file. Room allocation. Timetable. And? NO, I'm dreaming! They don't care about me. Charitable activities? What the hell is this crap? The only volunteering I do is to give out slaps to morons and pimps. I scowl in anticipation as my little manga pulls me by the sleeve towards the first office.

A rather surly young woman checks that our parents have filed all the necessary documents. We go over the forms in silence. I smile when I see that my parents have specified that I have a tendency to rebel. Great, the teachers will be watching me. It's over quickly. The second office and its little fat man bring me the joy of learning that, not only will I be separated from my sister, but I will also have to share my daily life with three woodcocks. I'm already feeling murderous.

Schedule. A rather smiling and understanding old lady. Phew! I'm with my little manga except for the options. There are four to choose from. We jump for joy when we see horse riding on Monday, this option will allow us to keep a contact with nature, which will make us less depressed. Tuesday, first aid for her, endurance for me. I'm not the kind of person who dresses up, but rather provokes injuries. The other two possibilities, introduction to philosophy and chess club, do not inspire us at all. I feel that I had better do as much sport as possible if my classmates want to keep their lives.

Wednesday, cooking for both of us. An activity we both enjoy, I am savoury, saucy and fatty, Mélia is pastry and colourful decoration, she is the queen of rainbow cakes. On Thursday, she's into beauty work and I'm into book club. Mélia wants to perfect her make-up and beauty care techniques. I took the lesser of book club, arts and crafts or manners. The horror. I would have killed myself if it was a compulsory subject.

With a heavy heart, I head for the last office, run by a Drama Queen. The bimbo of choice. All that was missing was this caricature. Designer clothes, manicured claws. Perfectly groomed with a handbag and matching pumps. The whole package. Her rattling voice as soon as she opens her mouth makes me want to slap her, or to take the stapler to close her mouth, made up like a stolen truck.

Well, the thing is, since we're in a rich school, we owe it to ourselves to help the underprivileged for the sake of our soul. Basically, give alms to make ourselves feel better. Mind you, I have no problem helping people in need. I just have a hard time putting up with the Queen Bee who make themselves feel good by pinching their nose.

A nudge in the ribs tells me to stay calm and choose my Friday charity activity. Mélia chooses to answer the phone for SOS Depressives. Her voice is soft and calm, her empathy and ability to comfort are unfailing. And patience..... She has sixteen years of training with me, I must say. It's ideal for her.

I choose to participate in the renovation of substandard houses. It's the only thing where the risk of flipping a switch seems small. At worst, I'll have tools in my hands to defend myself. I hope to learn more about basic DIY. Drama Queen wrinkles her nose. It's a boy's activity according to her. Seeing the way I look, she agrees after what she thinks is a hurtful dig. I laugh softly on the sly. I don't care what she thinks.

Finally, we go out. We have to find rooms 326 and 330. Well, at least we're not too far away. The girls' dormitory is on the right side of the courtyard. 300 for the third floor, without a lift. Luckily we are sporty and our luggage has already been taken up. We are resourceful. We find our rooms in less than two minutes despite the hubbub. I immediately detect the presence of boys and where they are smuggling in. The roof terrace. They jump from their dormitory to ours via the two terraces. At least I know how to escape if necessary. The roof and then the outside service stairs.