The Indefatiguable Academy for Young Women

[what_evil_lurks]

On the urging of Conanthebarbie, and in response to the previous entry in c_e_n_o "Hakapik" inspired by Miss Go Po's "disappointing" dream, I bring the following fic, part one of four (or five). Completely AU, and probably OOC too....



The Indefatigable Academy for Young Women

Part One - Here Be Dragons?

The girl ahead of her came out of the Head Master’s study looking pale but calm.

“How was it?” Katerina asked her in a low voice.

The other girl simply shook her head and replied, “He says you’re to go straight in.”

Once she’d left, Katerina stood up, took a slow deep breath and walked over to the principal’s study. She knocked on the closed oak door and pushed it open, entering with an air more jaunty than she felt.

Great - just great. Pellew had his robes on, and under them a fine quality plain white shirt, with a tie striped in the school colours, and his hair tied back neatly. That meant full Head-Master mode - none of this loitering on the sidelines in a T-shirt and old jeans, hair down, cheering on the girls’ hockey team. Bugger!

Pellew looked up, and invited her to sit. She did so, wondering what he would do if she said, “Thank you, sir, I prefer to stand.” Probably let her stand there for half an hour, hands tucked behind her back, while he pretended to read her file. She presumed that was what the rather thick folder in front of him on the blotter was.

The large beautifully grained desk was bare apart from the blotter, her file, and a small sturdy glass paperweight. Like everything else in Pellew’s office, the paperweight was both practical and attractive. The room had a preponderance of oak paneling, set off by pale washed walls, strong simple furniture, and a small collection of antique maritime instruments in a glass case. Somehow, the flat-screen computer on a smaller table behind Mr Pellew was not incongruous, but matched the Spartan elegance of the study.

“Miss Kensington.” Mr Pellew began mildly enough, “What seems to be the problem?”

“Problem, Head Master? No problem as far as I’m concerned,” Katerina replied airily.

He gave her a rather direct look. “In that case, I believe you must be the problem.”

She said nothing and stared back at him blandly.

“You seem to have stacked up rather a lot of detentions. Not quite a record, but rather impressive in its own way. Plus various other disciplinary actions along the way.”

Katerina still said nothing and lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. So?

“And now this latest exploit, which caused not one, but three of your teachers to send you to my office.” There was mild astonishment in his voice. She could not tell if it was affected or genuine. She suspected the former. “Well?”

“I’m sorry, sir, was that a question?” Ooh, nice insolent tone - she was rather proud of it.

Pellew gave her a Look. If he had been wearing the rimless spectacles he sometimes sported, he would have been looking at her over the top of them, with a rather frank “don’t try my patience” expression. Acknowledging neither her tone nor her words, he continued, “I gather you’ve been doing a little film-making. The animation was not bad, but the subject matter was rather juvenile, wouldn’t you say?”

She moved a shoulder again in the universal language of Don’t-Care-Ites. I dunno.

“Miss Kensington, you have both a brain and a tongue. I would appreciate it if you would use them in conjunction.” His tone became somewhat brisk. She decided rather reluctantly that she had better co-operate a little.

“I thought it was funny.”

“Perhaps. To a ten-year-old. And if you are going to publish it on You-tube it is probably not the best idea in the world to super-impose the faces of your teachers onto your cartoon figures.”

Katerina thought her little project could have been a lot worse. At least she wasn’t photo-shopping head shots of Mr Hornblower onto gay porn.

“How did you know it was me?”

“I do have my sources, Miss Kensington. And I believe you are probably the only pupil here with the technical ability to pull off something like that. I presume you had a little assistance from Llue Rhys-Jones?”

“Well, if I did, I’d hardly admit it, now would I?” Llue was a loopy computer geek who lived in the local village. She had never yet managed to figure out if he was a complete nutter or if it was just culture clash due to him being Welsh.

“Very commendable,” Pellew replied dryly. He returned to her file. “Mr Hornblower, Mr Kennedy,” he raised an eyebrow at that, “Mr Edrington; detentions all round. Miss Brodie? Lord knows what you did to cause her to send you to detention.”

“Oh. That was… I didn’t really mean what I said to her. I was just having a bad day. Actually I think she’s a rather nice old stick.”

“As do I, Miss Kensington, but I would not recommend you describe her in that manner while she is in earshot. I believe she would prefer to be referred to as a woman -“

“- in her prime!” They finished simultaneously, Katerina affecting a rather good Scots accent, even if she did say so herself. Suddenly the mood mellowed considerably.

“Come now, Miss Kensington. You are an intelligent young woman capable of achieving a great deal. Why are you spending your time mucking up like this?” Pellew sounded more sympathetic. She knew she was being played, but that didn’t stop it working.

This time when she shrugged it was more genuine and less insolent. “I just…”

“Yes?” he encouraged her. “Please, speak freely.”

She sighed, and decided to take him at his word. “It’s just… the lessons, sir. I’m just so fucking bored.”

“Bored,” Pellew repeated. Katerina was impressed that he completely ignored her swearing and honed in on the important part. Well, she did have permission to speak freely.

“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the teachers are great, they really are. Mr Hornblower has even managed to bang some maths into the heads of my classmates, and god knows some of them are utter dunces. But the curriculum, it’s just too easy - I’m just… soooo BORED. Bored shitless.”

“I see. Dying of ennui, in fact?”

“Well, something like that, anyway.” Until a week ago she had never even heard the word ennui, having chosen to study sciences in preference to languages. She had overheard Edrington using it to a fellow teacher and looked it up. The term seemed to describe her situation admirably.

“Hmmm.” Pellew looked down at her file again, lightly drumming his fingers on it. “It seems Mr Bush is one of the few teachers who has not had to send you to detention. Why is that, do you think? Not so bored in his class?”

“Well… you know Mr Bush,” she prevaricated, not wanting to metaphorically place herself on a slippery slope. However, Pellew had far too much experience dealing with recalcitrant students to let that comment go. His answer was blunt.

“Yes I do. I am asking you what it is you find different about his teaching methods.”

“Well it’s… he .. er… you know, he’s…” She’d be damned if she’d admit to Pepe le Pellew that she found Mr Bush intimidating. She cast about quickly for a more suitable, less loaded word. “He’s kinda…strict.”

“Strict.”

“Yeah.”

“So it would be fair to say that you respond favourably to strictness?”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” she replied quickly. Not if it meant all the other teachers were going to start behaving like Mr Bush. Not that any of them could carry it off. Well - Edrington maybe. “He gives me extra work, too. Interesting stuff. Not just reciting the Periodic table.”

“Such as this gunpowder project?”

Katerina looked at Pellew in surprise. She had no idea he kept such a close eye on his students’ activities. “You know about that?”

“You would be surprised by what I know about you, Miss Kensington,” he replied darkly.

It pricked her that he should have such a wealth of knowledge about her. In an edged tone she said, “Perhaps I should get on the internet and look you up, Mr Pellew. Find out all about you. Then we’d be on an even footing.”

Pellew gave her an odd look, but replied unperturbed, “Do let me know what skeletons turn up.” He ran a finger along a line in her file, and read aloud, “ ‘Research the chemical composition of gunpowder used in British ships’ guns during Napoleonic times, and discuss its effect, if any, on British naval superiority at that time.’”

“Sounds kind of boring but actually it’s really interesting. Mr Bush came up with the title. It’s something him and bloody Norr - er, him and Mister Norrington cooked up between them.”

Pellew corrected her smoothly. “You mean ‘something he and bloody Norrington cooked up between them’. Not him.”

“If you say so, sir.” Bloody hell. He hadn’t turned a hair at referring to Norrington as “bloody Norrington”. Katerina, not having had so very much to do with Pellew, had thought him not much different from the principals of the half dozen other schools she had attended from the age of five - but now he was rather starting to impress her.

“I see Norrington’s name is also omitted from the rather long list of detentions you have racked up.”

“Well, yeah.” Oops, she didn’t mean that to sound like she was saying, “duh” to him.

“His lessons? Not boring?”

“Well, they couldn’t be, could they, sir. I mean - he’s a bit - well, mad, isn’t he.”

“Indeed?” Somehow that didn’t quite sound like a question.

Mr Pellew drew the meeting back to its original purpose, saying briskly, “Well. We have established that you respond well to strictness and to being kept busy. On interesting projects. It would appear that the devil makes work for idle hands. Since Mr Bush has no trouble keeping you in check, I will allow him to decide the appropriate penalty for your little Spielbergian pretensions. You may present yourself to him for disciplinary action tomorrow at 5pm.”

“Tomorrow sir?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes, tomorrow. You have something better planned for tomorrow evening?”

How could she not have something better planned - being disciplined by Mr Bush was hardly something to look forward to. The detentions she had previously attended supervised by him had been characterized by a feeling of discomfort at his stern sarcasm. He always made her feel like an unruly child who was not half as smart as she thought. Then just when she was feeling irredeemably aggro about it, he would turn the tables by introducing a topic that pricked her curiosity and got her using her rather fine brain. It was damned annoying how he managed to do that. Every damn time, even when she knew it was coming.

“No it’s just that… well, it’s still early, I could go and see him now.”

“Eager for punishment?”

“Not really, it’s just… I hate all that waiting around to find out what it’s going to be.”

“Did it never occur to you that “all that waiting around” is perhaps part of the punishment?”

“Oh.”

“You would do well to consider that.”

“Sir.”

Pellew pushed her file away from him casually, and rested back comfortably in his chair. “I will, of course, also have to contact your parents.”

“Yeah? Well good luck with that sir.” Katerina made no attempt to conceal her sour tone, snorting out a huff of air, and leaned back in her own chair, legs outstretched in front of her.

“You think I will need luck?” inquired the principal, steepling his fingers at the edge of the desk

“Well.” She deliberately made her voice more casual. “They’re on a dig in Turkmenistan. I’m sure they have an email address, but it’s only given out to colleagues. I have a mobile phone number for them, but it’s only for emergencies - you know, death, disaster, stuff like that.” She paused, but Pellew said nothing, seemingly waiting for her to continue.

“I actually rang Dad on it one time, just to say ‘hi’ and tell him I’d come second in cross-country running. I’m kinda crap at sports so that was pretty cool. I got a “that’s nice dear”, he rattled on for two minutes about the problems at the dig, and then he said he had to ring off so he could keep the line open for “important calls”.” Her fingers quirked in the air to make speech marks. God, she sounded pathetic. She couldn’t muster the insouciance necessary to hide the hurt she had felt. (Insouciance - that was another good word. Thanks, Edrington).

“I see.” He probably did, too, far too much.

“I got more praise for that achievement from The Crumpet that I did from my own - ” Katerina stopped suddenly, determined not to let her voice break in front of Pellew.

“Mr Kennedy is an excellent motivator.” Pellew’s voice was bluff, calming. He made no reference to her distress, by word or look, but it was obvious from his tone and carefully bland comment that he was by no means oblivious to it.

“Yeah,” she agreed absently, mind still on her own miseries, then realized she’d referred to Kennedy as The Crumpet in front of the Head Master. And he’d known who she meant. “Umm, yeah, he’s good,” Katerina added more brightly. She paused, suddenly slightly uncomfortable, and decided to get back to the subject in hand. Contacting her parents. “Anyway, if you do manage to get hold of them, they’ll only tell you to do what you think best.”

“I would do what I think best in any case,” Pellew replied authoritatively. “In regard to contacting them, I have some resources open to me which you may not have access to. We will see. In the meantime…When it comes to maintaining order, I am a firm believer in the concept of the stick and the carrot. We have already discussed the stick, and Mr Bush will see to that. Now we should look at the carrot.”

Katerina gazed at Pellew blankly. “What do you mean?” Not her cleverest comment ever.

Pellew tilted his dark head to one side, looking at Katerina and steepling his fingers again. “We must keep you active and motivated, so that you are busy doing things you enjoy and are not tempted to be disruptive. Also working on ventures that will gain you positive attention from those whose opinion is worthwhile. That is what I mean by the carrot.”

“Oh.” Katerina wasn’t sure if that was going to be a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, if it meant projects like the one Bush had given her, she approved. On the other hand - she really had enjoyed coming up with that politically incorrect comedy cartoon, and still wanted the opportunity to create the odd spot of mayhem….

“Hornblower tells me you are rather good at teaching.”

“Um. He does?” She said, puzzled. Uh-oh, it was sounding more and more like the teachers had discussed her extensively. She didn’t much like that concept, even if it was part of their job.

“Yes. He tells me you were able to, err.. bang some maths into the heads of your fellow students when he was having difficulty getting a calculus concept across to them.”

“Oh,” she was surprised at Double H mentioning to the Head Master an event that she had thought trivial, “yeah, I remember now. I just explained it a way they could understand. There was nothing wrong with Mr Hornblower’s teaching. Elle and Holly were just being unusually dense. Generally if they don’t get it Connie explains it all to them afterwards but she was away that day.”

Pellew regarded her steadily. “Don’t be so quick to downplay your talents, Miss Kensington. Being a good teacher is a talent, as anyone who has had a bad teacher, and there are far too many of them out there, knows. Did you enjoy being able to add to your friends’ comprehension?”

She thought about that for a moment. There had been a warm flush of success, being able to get them to understand something complex. “Well…yes,” she replied slowly, surprised at discovering something new about herself. Sometimes cynicism and ennui got in the way of that.

“Very well. Mr Hornblower runs a remedial maths class on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. You will assist him one evening per week. Which day do you prefer?”

“Umm… do I have to?”

Pellew gave her that look over the top of the non-existent spectacles again. “You have the choice of day, Miss Kensington, not of whether you participate.”

“Thursday then.” God forbid that she appear uncooperative, lordy lordy.

“We will also look at other projects for you. I will talk further with your teachers. Perhaps Professor McGonagall can add a Physics slant to your gunpowder assignment. She has been proposing setting up a work-group for gifted students, which, by the way, is not yet common knowledge so I would appreciate it if you kept it to yourself. Obviously you would fall into that category.”

“Sounds… promising.”

“I’m delighted you approve.” Hmm, had Bush and Pellew trained at the same Teachers College? “You will come back here next week at the same time and we will re-assess the situation then. In the meantime, do not neglect to attend Mr Bush tomorrow. Make no mistake Miss Kensington - I expect to see an improvement in your behaviour.” There was no arguing with that severe tone - that was an order and no debate about it. Still, if Pellew was going to make her school life considerably less boring, she could perhaps oblige him by not being quitesuch a stirrer.

“Sir.” That was a suitably non-committal reply.

“You may go.” Katerina blinked at the seemingly sudden end to the interview, but it appeared that Mr Pellew had said all that he considered necessary.

“Sir.” She rose and made her way to the door, feeling obscurely that she had somehow got off lightly, despite her impending appointment with Mr Bush the next day. And yet, Pellew had obviously considered the situation a serious one, needing well-thought-out remedies. It had been a long time since anyone in authority had regarded her as anything but an extremely bright nuisance, but Mr Pellew seemed to have approached things from not only what the school needed (less disruption, more discipline), but also from what he considered she needed. She wasn’t sure she completely agreed with his opinion on that, especially the more discipline part, but was pleasantly surprised by his approach.

Katerina paused at the door, wanting to say something to him, but unsure how to put it into words. Her mind darted about trying to form a coherent sentence that expressed her feelings, but as they were currently in quite a state of flux it was hard to form any degree of articulate comment.

“Umm…sir?” Oh yes, very eloquent.

He looked up, seemingly a little surprised to see her still there. “Yes?”

“umm…thank you.”

He considered that for a moment, then answered tranquilly, ‘You’re welcome. Off you go, Katerina.”

She nodded, and slipped through the door, closing it quietly behind her.

Now there was just Mr Bush to contend with.

* * * * * * *
Here endeth Parte the Firste

Why yes, I am a feedback whore. Thank you for asking.

There will be at least three further instalments: Parte the Seconde - Get Thee to a Nunnery; Parte the Thirde - Kissing the Gunner's Daughter )both featuring KK's disciplinary session with Mr Bush, and ; Parte the Fourth - As yet Untitl