Nelly Page #2

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Take me away, my steed!

Suzanne!

- Everything3 good?

- Marvelous.

How many drinks?

Just enough.

Guillaume Rival's here.

A rising star.

A genius, pure and simple.

The genius of the century, I'd say.

Where you going?

To meet this genius.

Are you sure?

The sky's the limit, little Suzie!

L! All happens to someone else.

I'm there,

just next to myself.

I'm there watching,

but it's not really me.

I watch her.

I see her talking, drinking,

dancing, f***ing,

laughing,

crying-

I see this blonde woman,

lying on the couch facing her analyst.

But I'm not that woman.

Though I play that woman well.

I need to be seen,

but it's not me I reveal.

So I disappear a bit.

Do you understand?

I appear to disappear.

Felix, from math class.

- So you two are dating?

- Yes.

- Since when?

- Monday.

He left me a letter in my locker.

- He did'?

- He said

I'm the prettiest girl in class.

That's so random! No, it isn't.

Anyway, Tuesday after school

we went to the handball court.

- By yourselves?

- Yeah.

Did you french?

Yes.

That, and lots of other stuff.

Come on. What?

Well...

He touched me.

Over your shin?

No!

Under it.

And what else?

It's personal.

Come on!

What?

He fingered me.

- You wanted him to?

- Sure.

Did it hurt?

No. It was just... really nice. Really fun.

When I watched her,

the burning spread from the plexus.

The burning burnt.

The sensation of traumatism.

I! Flashed on me

in bursts of clarity that it wasn't

her fault if she was she and I just me.

As those glimpses of truth hit me

like a thunderbolt,

I! Was myself I cursed.

And life became even harder.

A literary revelation, here and in France,

the wildly talented young Qubcoise

spews her loathing...

- Stop!

- Wait, wait!

Her novel is a litany

strewn with rhetorical flourishes.

Stop, it's unbearable!

Why does it say you're 26 on the cover?

I'm ashamed.

I wanted to be published

before I turned 30.

You lied about your age?

I'm so ashamed.

You're amazing.

Your book's great.

Thanks.

You? You're not drinking?

I'm pregnant.

Bravo.

Thanks.

- Yes?

- Mathieu? It's me.

Hi, what time is ii in Montral?

Late.

Early, actually.

I can't sleep.

What's going on?

Nothing.

I'm happy to hear your voice.

Memo.

How's the book doing?

Incredibly well, as you know.

How well?

Let me repeat it:

We 're atop the fists in Quebec and France.

We've sold 30,000 copies.

We'll print a second run.

Is that good?

5,000 copies is a bestseller,

so 30,000 is better than good.

- You're sure?

- Yes, it's a hit.

I find it hard to believe.

We make a beautiful duo, babe!

He was happy, huh?

Disgustingly happy!

That fat filthy rich

f***ing shithole bastard.

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