We Don't Need No Education [Chapter One]
Title: We Don’t Need No Education
Author: duckgirlie
Rating: PG-13 (for language, this chapter)
Summary: In his new job at Fairview High, Anderson Cooper begins to realise that teaching may not be quite as he imagined it.
Pairings/Characters: Anderson, Keith, Jon, Stephen, Rachel, and Shep. (Though almost everyone will make an appearance at some point.) No pairings yet.
Warnings: High School AU
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
A/N: This fic is mostly gen, but there are pairings in the later chapters.
Much thanks to themistoklis greenpixiehair for betaing, encouragement, and reassurence.
And I hope I get the tags right.
When the bell rang on the first Friday of the school year, the halls of Fairview High emptied in record time. Students ran out the doors as fast as they could, and the various faculty members tried to escape before anyone spotted them and requested ‘a word’. Some made it, some didn’t, and some threw pride to the wind and hid.
Keith held his breath and stood in the corner as Brian hammered on his door. It took a full five minutes before he gave up, stuck a note on the door and left. Keith gave it another five before he left, grabbing the note and sneaking out a side exit.
*****
That day, the first Friday, most of the faculty at Fairveiw High School meet in Flannery’s downtown, to complain about all the things that have and haven’t happened.
Everyone has shown up at least once. In general, the science department teachers each show up exactly once, and are never seen there again. Despite Rachel and Jeff’s best attempts, it seems the scientists are resolutely uncool. Rachel and Jeff make up for this by drinking enough for the entire department, insisting this means the faculty averages out.
This year, Erica, Anderson’s yearbook co-supervisor, spent half an hour convincing him to come along, inventing elaborate stories about why he simply had to come, even if he was new, until she eventually gave up and strongarmed him along. But once they arrive, she disappeared ‘just for a second’, leaving Anderson abandoned at the end of the bar.
He waited for fifteen minutes before he decided that he probably looked both lost and pathetic and decided to leave. As he was pushing back from the bar, Jon (who taught history and Anderson had vaguely met on Wednesday) grabbed his arm and angled him towards a crowded table in the back of the room.
“Andrew, right? New man in newspaper?”
“Anderson.”
“Exactly. Don’t think you can escape by sidling out the door. Erica warned me you might try and leave early.”
“I was…”
“Exactly. Now, let me introduce you to everyone.”
They arrived at the table and all the heads swivelled towards the two men.
Jon rattled off a list of names, half of which Anderson forgot within minutes. He got an enthusiastic wink from Stephen in Drama, and a look of cool appraisment from Keith in civics. Everyone else waved back with varying enthusiasm when their names were mentiond, and Jon gently shoved Anderson onto a stool beside Rachel from chemistry, who was dejectedly fishing lemon slices from her mojito, before taking his own seat across the table.
Anderson had forgotten half the names Jon had reeled off within minutes, and people were coming and going from the table all evening. One showed up for five minutes, just to get in a fight with Keith about resource allocation, before laughing, clapping him on the shoulder and leaving without saying anything more then hello to the rest of the table. Anderson was in the middle of a conversation with Stephen and Amy about what the drama club had planned for the upcoming semester when the other man froze and stood up slightly from his stool, pointing at the distressed looking man in a suit who’d just stalked into the room.
“Halt!” he declaimed loudly. “The enemy approaches.”
“Fuck off Colbert. It is not the day.”
For a split second, Anderson wasn’t sure what would happen next. But Stephen relaxed back into his seat with a smile as the newcomer approaced the table. Dropping his briefcase beneath the table, he sat down heavily on the bench and slumped against Keith.
“I swear. I did not think It could get any worse.”
“You can always jump ship. Join us over on the side of good. I’m sure Larry would love to have you.”
“I’m sure he would Keith, but I don’t think Larry could afford me.”
“But you’d have your dignity Shep. And dignity is priceless.”
The man yanked his tie off and balled it up before tossing it onto the middle of the table. His suit jacket was soon balled up and shoved in his case. At Keith’s comments, he rolled his eyes.
“You’ve been here a while, haven’t you? I’m going to have to catch up.”
“Not a problem.” Keith wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulder and waved over the waiter. “Can you get my friend here a… What is it you drink again? Something manly and Southern? Bourban. Get my friend a large bourban, me, another one of these, and…” He glanced around the table, “Anderson. What do you want?”
“Thanks, but I’m driving.”
“Fine, that’s one large bourban, one of these, whatever soda Anderson’s drinking, and any cocktail that doesn’t involve peach schnapps for Rachel.”
“I’m not finished this one yet.”
“You will be.”
The waitress got a long and complicated order from Amy and Stephen before heading back to the bar. Rachel knocked back the rest of her drink before shoving the glass to the middle of the table.
“Pity you’re driving. Keith would have bought you almost anything.”
“Is that normal?”
“Not at all. Football starts next week, he’ll have to curtail his Friday night drinking. This is the last hurrah. That, and he’s enjoying harrassing Shepard, because he’ll have hardened soon and won’t be as ruffleable.”
“Okay.”
Anderson still looked slightly disbelieving, so Rachel clapped him on the back and clinked their newly arrived drinks together.
“Relax. I was the new kid last year, you’ll be fine. Just don’t believe anything anyone tells you until it’s been coroberated…”
“Avoid the labs, because science teachers are terrified of change,” Stephen interrupted.
Rachel jumped back in, “and remember that it’s entirely appropriate to punch Keith if it’s the only way to get him to stop talking.”
To illustrate, Stephen jumped up quickly and slugged Keith in the arm.
“What the hell Colbert?”
“Aren’t you going to introduce the new boy to your friend?”
“You’re hammered.”
“Slander! And an irrelevent digression from the point at hand. How is the new boy…”
“Anderson.” Rachel offered.
“Anderson! How is Anderson going to start to feel a part of the group if you are off having secret conversations in corners?”
“I’m fine, really…” Anderson started nervously before Stephen cut him off, ruffling his hair.
Keith cleared his throat. “How is Anderson going to start to feel a part of the group if you keep referring to him as ‘new boy’?”
“That is neither here nor there.”
Keith rolled his eyes and turned to Anderson. “This is Shepard Smith. He works for Satan.”
“Keith…” There was a warning tone to Shepard’s voice, but a resigned one.
“Are you telling me he’s not Satan?”
Shepard ignored the question and leaned over to offer his hand to Anderson.
“Hi. I teach in Sander-West Acadamy. Keith likes to blame me for everything that’s wrong in the world.”
“No, I blame the school for everything that’s wrong in the world. I blame you for not doing anything to stop them.”
“I’m not poisoning my boss.”
Their conversation seemed to slip back to just the two of them and Anderson turned back to the rest of the table. Erica and one of the Johns were giggling over something, and someone new had arrived and had started pounding back shots next to Jon, seemily eager to catch up.
*****
Even without alcohol, Anderson had relaxed. Squished between Rachel and Stephen, there seemed to be little choice in the matter. He found himself constantly steadying glasses and bottles as they fell victim to Rachel’s expansive gestures. Every time he righted something, she shot him an apologetic glance, but seconds later she’d be waving her hands again.
Anderson couldn’t be positive, but he was pretty sure Shepard Smith had passed out with his head on Keith’s lap. Keith didn’t seem to notice though, as whatever he was ranting about was mainly responsible for Rachel’s gesticulating. Righteous anger was preventing his words from slurring, but the rest of the group seemed to be following Shepard under the table.
He still didn’t quite remember everyone’s names, and he’d only actually spoken to about half of them in the last week. The man across the table crammed in between Jon and the gym teacher (Rob was it?) was one of the ones he hadn’t met yet. Whoever he was, he was arguing erratically about something apparently very important. As far as Anderson could make out, he seemed to be frantically spelling something, but it wasn’t much longer before he slid out of his chair, and the gym teacher picked him up and fireman-lifted him out of the bar.
By then there was only a small amount of them left, and they started to trickle out onto the sidewalk. By the time Anderson got outside, almost everyone had wandered off. Jeff was steering an unsteady Shepard down the street as Keith waited for a cab.
Anderson fiddled with his keys for a moment before taking a step towards him.
“Do you want a ride?”
“Sorry?”
“You live on the west side, right? Rachel mentioned something.” He held up his keys. “I’ve got my car, and I live near you, so if you don’t want to wait for a cab…”
Keith glanced back and forth between Anderson and the street for a few seconds before turning towards him.
“Thanks.”
They walked across the parking lot towards Anderson’s car, which was small and silver, and it wasn’t until Keith was inside that he realised it was probably also very expensive.
“There should be a lever under the seat to push it back, the last person I drove anywhere was pretty short. Sorry about the dog hair everywhere.”
By the time Keith had figured out the lever and gotten himself some leg room, they were well on their way.
“So, you’re the new journalism teacher?”
“Yeah. I’ll be taking yearbook as well.”
Keith laughed. “That’s a thankless job. You’ll never have seen so many angry teenage girls in your life.”
“I think most of them are slighlty in awe of Erica. If I can stand behind her for most of it, I should be okay. You teach Civics, right?”
“Civics, current affairs and social studies. And football and debate, when Chris and Larry are in a good mood.”
Silence fell as Anderson carefully navigated the darkened streets. As he neared the destination, it began to rain.
“How do you get to school? Bus?”
“Or I cycle. But if this keeps up I’ll be on the bus for a while.”
Pulling onto the right street, Anderson slowed the car. “If it’s bad Monday, I can give you a lift in. I mean, if you want.”
“Maybe. I’m in here.” Keith pointed at a building and Anderson pulled into a parking spot, locking his car.
“Em… If it does rain, and if you do want a ride, I live over there.” Anderson pointed at an apartment at the far end of the complex from Keith’s.
“Sure. Well… Thanks for the ride. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
*****
Monday rolled around and the sun was back to beating down. Students filtered into school and sat heavily at their desks, gazing out the windows. Keith and Jon stood behind the building, waiting until the last possible minute before they had to enter. Jon was dragging on a cigarette as Keith paced back and forth, the paper clutched in his hands.
“Y’know, they usually recommend avoiding anything that agitates you this much.”
“I teach current events Jon, I can’t exactly ignore it.”
“You could at least wait until you’ve had some coffee.”
“I can’t go in the faculty room right now.”
“You’re going to have to talk to Brian eventually.”
“No, I won’t. He’ll give up, he lacks my commitment.”
Jon leant against the building to finish his cigarette as Keith continued his pacing. The bell rang and Keith stepped smartly to one side, avoiding the stream of sophomores charging out of the building.
The runners were accompanied by ear-splitting blasts on a whistle.
“Morning Rob.”
“Good morning Jon. YOU CALL THAT RUNNING?” More whistles.
“I cannot imagine what someone would have done in a past life to justify Monday first period gym.”
“Mainly you have to be stupid enough to not fill in a preference form.”
Across the sports field, some of the runners were dropping behind the group. Another blast on the whilstle, and Rob was off, yelling at the kids.
Keith folded his paper up and shoved it in his pocket. “That man must be painful first thing in the morning.”
“Eh, he does all right for himself.” Jon pulled the door open. “Ready for the day?”
“As much as ever.”
*****
“…Because just like cocktails, it depends entirely on how you mix things together. Just like a brandy float will affect a drink differently to brandy combined in the body of the drink, the time at which you add the magnesium can have a completely different affect on your compound…”
“…Frankly, a lot of what you’ll hear is completely wrong. Now, I’m not trying to discredit the American soldiers who fought in various campaigns, but what you all need to understand is that in all these wars, the Americans wouldn’t have had the chance to come in and “save the day” if they hadn’t been too pathetically cowardly - I’m sorry, did I say that? I meant reluctant - to get involved at the beginning…”
“…. the conservative media is evil. It wakes up evil in the mornings and goes to bed evil at night. I can’t even tell you how evil they are because last year’s parents made complaints. But I can tell you it spends all it’s time being evil for no other reason then its own amusement and a sincere desire to see everything that is not evil consumed in its inky black pustulance…”
“…I’M SORRY BUT IF IT WAS A REQUEST I WOULD HAVE ASKED NICELY IF YOU WANTED TO DO 40 PUSH UPS. STOP COMPLAINING. THIS IS THE LAST PERIOD BEFORE LUNCH, AND I CAN WAIT HERE ALL DAY…”
“… The important thing is to make sure you’ve considered every side of the story before you begin, even if you don’t want to. Sometimes you have to let the other side have their say, and you’ll just have to trust your side will come out better in the end…”
*****
Anderson was bent over a yearbook when Rachel entered his classroom during lunch. Sneaking over to peak over his shoulder, she saw he was studying the faculty page.
“What ya looking at?”
Anderson jumped in surprise and frantically tried to close the book in the same moment, but only succeded in overturning his water and knocking the book across the room. Rachel dashed after it.
“Why are you studying the faculty page?”
“Give me that!” Anderson reached for the book but she jumped back, holding it out of his reach.
“Nuh-uh.”
He made a huge grab for the book and manage to wrestle it out of her hands. Running back to his desk, he shoved it in a drawer and sat down, trying to look nonchalant. Rachel leaned over the desk conspiritorially.
“You’re trying to learn everyone’s faces, aren’t you?”
“No.”
She raised a silent eyebrow.
“Not everyone.” He insisted. “It’s just… there are so many Johns.”
She tried her best, but the laugh escaped her anyway. Anderson folded his arms tightly across his chest.
“Fine, laugh. I’m just trying not to embarrass myself.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She pulled a Sharpie from her pocket and grabbed his wrist. Yanking the cap off with her teeth, she started to write on the back of his hand. Anderson tried to pull away but she held firm. Halfway through, she stopped, and with an apologetic smile, twisted his hand around to write some more.
“There you go. Save you having to carry around the whole book until you learn them all.”
Anderson pulled his hand over to read what she’d written. The top two lines were upside-down, and skin wasn’t the best medium, but her notes were legible.
Jon S: Short
John K: Old
John O: Glasses; English
John H: Glasses; NOT English.
“Think that’ll help?”
“It can’t hurt.” He pulled his cuffs down as far over the back of his hand as he could manage. Rachel couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt at camoflage.
“What are you doing tonight?”
“I’m preparing an introduction to…”
She waved her hand in front of him. “No you’re not. You’re coming to dinner at my house.”
“I am?”
“You are. Susan’s out of town, and I’ve been having dinner with the same people for over a year. If there isn’t someone new there, I may as well just play a tape of the last dinner and save all our breath.”
“Well if…”
“Excellent. Come over around eight. See you there.”
She turned and headed back to the corridor before he shouted after her.
“I don’t know where you live.”
“Keith can show you.”
*****
Anderson had already managed to electrocute himself twice in the past half hour. On the third shock he squealed and jumped back from the pile of cables on the floor.
“You know, you don’t have to do that.”
Erica was sitting on the edge of a desk, watching him struggle with the pile of equipment. “I mean, the last guy never bothered.”
“I like knowing how it all works.”
“John will kill you if you break any of this stuff.”
“John will be fine.”
Smiling, she pointed at his wrist. “Do you even know which John I’m talking about?”
Yanking his cuff down over his hand, Anderson turned sharply towards her.
“John King, information technology, seven years at Fairview, before that he taught in New York.”
“You’ve beens studying your yearbook, that’s quite adorable.”
“If you’re done, I’d like to get back to this.”
“I’m not kidding about John. I don’t even know what he did to convince Larry we needed a touch-screen monitor that big, but if that breaks…” She trailed off ominously.
A fourth shock, minor though it was, was enough to convince him.
“Fine. Let’s go find John.”
“You’ll like him, don’t look so scared.” She glanced down at the pile of cables. “Unless you’ve actually broken something. Then I’d run.”
*****
John had fixed everything in less then five minutes, and remained entirely shock-free throughout. Before he left, he covered the touch screen with a cloth and made Erica promise she’d never let Anderson near it.
Anderson had spent the whole time with his hand buried in his pocket.
When the final bell rang he slumped over his desk as the kids streamed out of the classroom. Shoving everything haphazardly into his briefcase, he ventured out into the halls as soon as they’d cleared. Wandering through the building, he eventually arrived at Keith’s door, and knocked gingerly.
No answer. He tried again. “Keith? It’s Anderson…”
The door flung open suddenly and he was yanked inside.
“Shh!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Brian Williams is looking for me.”
“What’s wrong with Brian?”
“He wants me to take the PTA meetings this semester. I am not going back to the PTA.”
Anderson raised a confused eyebrow, which seemed to snap Keith out of whatever haze he was in.
“What are you doing here?”
“Rachel…”
“She asked you to dinner?”
“Yeah… She said you’d be able to…”
“Direct you? Sure.” Keith was back behind his desk. “I’ve got a load of stuff to get through before eight though. If you pick me up back here at quarter to? That should be fine.”
“Okay…”
“Check to make sure Brian isn’t hanging about before you leave.”
Closing the door behind him, Anderson was starting to suspect something was going on far over his head.
Chapter Two: In which there is fighting, espionage and football, and BrIWi finally catches Keith
Author: duckgirlie
Rating: PG-13 (for language, this chapter)
Summary: In his new job at Fairview High, Anderson Cooper begins to realise that teaching may not be quite as he imagined it.
Pairings/Characters: Anderson, Keith, Jon, Stephen, Rachel, and Shep. (Though almost everyone will make an appearance at some point.) No pairings yet.
Warnings: High School AU
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
A/N: This fic is mostly gen, but there are pairings in the later chapters.
Much thanks to themistoklis greenpixiehair for betaing, encouragement, and reassurence.
And I hope I get the tags right.
When the bell rang on the first Friday of the school year, the halls of Fairview High emptied in record time. Students ran out the doors as fast as they could, and the various faculty members tried to escape before anyone spotted them and requested ‘a word’. Some made it, some didn’t, and some threw pride to the wind and hid.
Keith held his breath and stood in the corner as Brian hammered on his door. It took a full five minutes before he gave up, stuck a note on the door and left. Keith gave it another five before he left, grabbing the note and sneaking out a side exit.
*****
That day, the first Friday, most of the faculty at Fairveiw High School meet in Flannery’s downtown, to complain about all the things that have and haven’t happened.
Everyone has shown up at least once. In general, the science department teachers each show up exactly once, and are never seen there again. Despite Rachel and Jeff’s best attempts, it seems the scientists are resolutely uncool. Rachel and Jeff make up for this by drinking enough for the entire department, insisting this means the faculty averages out.
This year, Erica, Anderson’s yearbook co-supervisor, spent half an hour convincing him to come along, inventing elaborate stories about why he simply had to come, even if he was new, until she eventually gave up and strongarmed him along. But once they arrive, she disappeared ‘just for a second’, leaving Anderson abandoned at the end of the bar.
He waited for fifteen minutes before he decided that he probably looked both lost and pathetic and decided to leave. As he was pushing back from the bar, Jon (who taught history and Anderson had vaguely met on Wednesday) grabbed his arm and angled him towards a crowded table in the back of the room.
“Andrew, right? New man in newspaper?”
“Anderson.”
“Exactly. Don’t think you can escape by sidling out the door. Erica warned me you might try and leave early.”
“I was…”
“Exactly. Now, let me introduce you to everyone.”
They arrived at the table and all the heads swivelled towards the two men.
Jon rattled off a list of names, half of which Anderson forgot within minutes. He got an enthusiastic wink from Stephen in Drama, and a look of cool appraisment from Keith in civics. Everyone else waved back with varying enthusiasm when their names were mentiond, and Jon gently shoved Anderson onto a stool beside Rachel from chemistry, who was dejectedly fishing lemon slices from her mojito, before taking his own seat across the table.
Anderson had forgotten half the names Jon had reeled off within minutes, and people were coming and going from the table all evening. One showed up for five minutes, just to get in a fight with Keith about resource allocation, before laughing, clapping him on the shoulder and leaving without saying anything more then hello to the rest of the table. Anderson was in the middle of a conversation with Stephen and Amy about what the drama club had planned for the upcoming semester when the other man froze and stood up slightly from his stool, pointing at the distressed looking man in a suit who’d just stalked into the room.
“Halt!” he declaimed loudly. “The enemy approaches.”
“Fuck off Colbert. It is not the day.”
For a split second, Anderson wasn’t sure what would happen next. But Stephen relaxed back into his seat with a smile as the newcomer approaced the table. Dropping his briefcase beneath the table, he sat down heavily on the bench and slumped against Keith.
“I swear. I did not think It could get any worse.”
“You can always jump ship. Join us over on the side of good. I’m sure Larry would love to have you.”
“I’m sure he would Keith, but I don’t think Larry could afford me.”
“But you’d have your dignity Shep. And dignity is priceless.”
The man yanked his tie off and balled it up before tossing it onto the middle of the table. His suit jacket was soon balled up and shoved in his case. At Keith’s comments, he rolled his eyes.
“You’ve been here a while, haven’t you? I’m going to have to catch up.”
“Not a problem.” Keith wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulder and waved over the waiter. “Can you get my friend here a… What is it you drink again? Something manly and Southern? Bourban. Get my friend a large bourban, me, another one of these, and…” He glanced around the table, “Anderson. What do you want?”
“Thanks, but I’m driving.”
“Fine, that’s one large bourban, one of these, whatever soda Anderson’s drinking, and any cocktail that doesn’t involve peach schnapps for Rachel.”
“I’m not finished this one yet.”
“You will be.”
The waitress got a long and complicated order from Amy and Stephen before heading back to the bar. Rachel knocked back the rest of her drink before shoving the glass to the middle of the table.
“Pity you’re driving. Keith would have bought you almost anything.”
“Is that normal?”
“Not at all. Football starts next week, he’ll have to curtail his Friday night drinking. This is the last hurrah. That, and he’s enjoying harrassing Shepard, because he’ll have hardened soon and won’t be as ruffleable.”
“Okay.”
Anderson still looked slightly disbelieving, so Rachel clapped him on the back and clinked their newly arrived drinks together.
“Relax. I was the new kid last year, you’ll be fine. Just don’t believe anything anyone tells you until it’s been coroberated…”
“Avoid the labs, because science teachers are terrified of change,” Stephen interrupted.
Rachel jumped back in, “and remember that it’s entirely appropriate to punch Keith if it’s the only way to get him to stop talking.”
To illustrate, Stephen jumped up quickly and slugged Keith in the arm.
“What the hell Colbert?”
“Aren’t you going to introduce the new boy to your friend?”
“You’re hammered.”
“Slander! And an irrelevent digression from the point at hand. How is the new boy…”
“Anderson.” Rachel offered.
“Anderson! How is Anderson going to start to feel a part of the group if you are off having secret conversations in corners?”
“I’m fine, really…” Anderson started nervously before Stephen cut him off, ruffling his hair.
Keith cleared his throat. “How is Anderson going to start to feel a part of the group if you keep referring to him as ‘new boy’?”
“That is neither here nor there.”
Keith rolled his eyes and turned to Anderson. “This is Shepard Smith. He works for Satan.”
“Keith…” There was a warning tone to Shepard’s voice, but a resigned one.
“Are you telling me he’s not Satan?”
Shepard ignored the question and leaned over to offer his hand to Anderson.
“Hi. I teach in Sander-West Acadamy. Keith likes to blame me for everything that’s wrong in the world.”
“No, I blame the school for everything that’s wrong in the world. I blame you for not doing anything to stop them.”
“I’m not poisoning my boss.”
Their conversation seemed to slip back to just the two of them and Anderson turned back to the rest of the table. Erica and one of the Johns were giggling over something, and someone new had arrived and had started pounding back shots next to Jon, seemily eager to catch up.
*****
Even without alcohol, Anderson had relaxed. Squished between Rachel and Stephen, there seemed to be little choice in the matter. He found himself constantly steadying glasses and bottles as they fell victim to Rachel’s expansive gestures. Every time he righted something, she shot him an apologetic glance, but seconds later she’d be waving her hands again.
Anderson couldn’t be positive, but he was pretty sure Shepard Smith had passed out with his head on Keith’s lap. Keith didn’t seem to notice though, as whatever he was ranting about was mainly responsible for Rachel’s gesticulating. Righteous anger was preventing his words from slurring, but the rest of the group seemed to be following Shepard under the table.
He still didn’t quite remember everyone’s names, and he’d only actually spoken to about half of them in the last week. The man across the table crammed in between Jon and the gym teacher (Rob was it?) was one of the ones he hadn’t met yet. Whoever he was, he was arguing erratically about something apparently very important. As far as Anderson could make out, he seemed to be frantically spelling something, but it wasn’t much longer before he slid out of his chair, and the gym teacher picked him up and fireman-lifted him out of the bar.
By then there was only a small amount of them left, and they started to trickle out onto the sidewalk. By the time Anderson got outside, almost everyone had wandered off. Jeff was steering an unsteady Shepard down the street as Keith waited for a cab.
Anderson fiddled with his keys for a moment before taking a step towards him.
“Do you want a ride?”
“Sorry?”
“You live on the west side, right? Rachel mentioned something.” He held up his keys. “I’ve got my car, and I live near you, so if you don’t want to wait for a cab…”
Keith glanced back and forth between Anderson and the street for a few seconds before turning towards him.
“Thanks.”
They walked across the parking lot towards Anderson’s car, which was small and silver, and it wasn’t until Keith was inside that he realised it was probably also very expensive.
“There should be a lever under the seat to push it back, the last person I drove anywhere was pretty short. Sorry about the dog hair everywhere.”
By the time Keith had figured out the lever and gotten himself some leg room, they were well on their way.
“So, you’re the new journalism teacher?”
“Yeah. I’ll be taking yearbook as well.”
Keith laughed. “That’s a thankless job. You’ll never have seen so many angry teenage girls in your life.”
“I think most of them are slighlty in awe of Erica. If I can stand behind her for most of it, I should be okay. You teach Civics, right?”
“Civics, current affairs and social studies. And football and debate, when Chris and Larry are in a good mood.”
Silence fell as Anderson carefully navigated the darkened streets. As he neared the destination, it began to rain.
“How do you get to school? Bus?”
“Or I cycle. But if this keeps up I’ll be on the bus for a while.”
Pulling onto the right street, Anderson slowed the car. “If it’s bad Monday, I can give you a lift in. I mean, if you want.”
“Maybe. I’m in here.” Keith pointed at a building and Anderson pulled into a parking spot, locking his car.
“Em… If it does rain, and if you do want a ride, I live over there.” Anderson pointed at an apartment at the far end of the complex from Keith’s.
“Sure. Well… Thanks for the ride. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
*****
Monday rolled around and the sun was back to beating down. Students filtered into school and sat heavily at their desks, gazing out the windows. Keith and Jon stood behind the building, waiting until the last possible minute before they had to enter. Jon was dragging on a cigarette as Keith paced back and forth, the paper clutched in his hands.
“Y’know, they usually recommend avoiding anything that agitates you this much.”
“I teach current events Jon, I can’t exactly ignore it.”
“You could at least wait until you’ve had some coffee.”
“I can’t go in the faculty room right now.”
“You’re going to have to talk to Brian eventually.”
“No, I won’t. He’ll give up, he lacks my commitment.”
Jon leant against the building to finish his cigarette as Keith continued his pacing. The bell rang and Keith stepped smartly to one side, avoiding the stream of sophomores charging out of the building.
The runners were accompanied by ear-splitting blasts on a whistle.
“Morning Rob.”
“Good morning Jon. YOU CALL THAT RUNNING?” More whistles.
“I cannot imagine what someone would have done in a past life to justify Monday first period gym.”
“Mainly you have to be stupid enough to not fill in a preference form.”
Across the sports field, some of the runners were dropping behind the group. Another blast on the whilstle, and Rob was off, yelling at the kids.
Keith folded his paper up and shoved it in his pocket. “That man must be painful first thing in the morning.”
“Eh, he does all right for himself.” Jon pulled the door open. “Ready for the day?”
“As much as ever.”
*****
“…Because just like cocktails, it depends entirely on how you mix things together. Just like a brandy float will affect a drink differently to brandy combined in the body of the drink, the time at which you add the magnesium can have a completely different affect on your compound…”
“…Frankly, a lot of what you’ll hear is completely wrong. Now, I’m not trying to discredit the American soldiers who fought in various campaigns, but what you all need to understand is that in all these wars, the Americans wouldn’t have had the chance to come in and “save the day” if they hadn’t been too pathetically cowardly - I’m sorry, did I say that? I meant reluctant - to get involved at the beginning…”
“…. the conservative media is evil. It wakes up evil in the mornings and goes to bed evil at night. I can’t even tell you how evil they are because last year’s parents made complaints. But I can tell you it spends all it’s time being evil for no other reason then its own amusement and a sincere desire to see everything that is not evil consumed in its inky black pustulance…”
“…I’M SORRY BUT IF IT WAS A REQUEST I WOULD HAVE ASKED NICELY IF YOU WANTED TO DO 40 PUSH UPS. STOP COMPLAINING. THIS IS THE LAST PERIOD BEFORE LUNCH, AND I CAN WAIT HERE ALL DAY…”
“… The important thing is to make sure you’ve considered every side of the story before you begin, even if you don’t want to. Sometimes you have to let the other side have their say, and you’ll just have to trust your side will come out better in the end…”
*****
Anderson was bent over a yearbook when Rachel entered his classroom during lunch. Sneaking over to peak over his shoulder, she saw he was studying the faculty page.
“What ya looking at?”
Anderson jumped in surprise and frantically tried to close the book in the same moment, but only succeded in overturning his water and knocking the book across the room. Rachel dashed after it.
“Why are you studying the faculty page?”
“Give me that!” Anderson reached for the book but she jumped back, holding it out of his reach.
“Nuh-uh.”
He made a huge grab for the book and manage to wrestle it out of her hands. Running back to his desk, he shoved it in a drawer and sat down, trying to look nonchalant. Rachel leaned over the desk conspiritorially.
“You’re trying to learn everyone’s faces, aren’t you?”
“No.”
She raised a silent eyebrow.
“Not everyone.” He insisted. “It’s just… there are so many Johns.”
She tried her best, but the laugh escaped her anyway. Anderson folded his arms tightly across his chest.
“Fine, laugh. I’m just trying not to embarrass myself.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She pulled a Sharpie from her pocket and grabbed his wrist. Yanking the cap off with her teeth, she started to write on the back of his hand. Anderson tried to pull away but she held firm. Halfway through, she stopped, and with an apologetic smile, twisted his hand around to write some more.
“There you go. Save you having to carry around the whole book until you learn them all.”
Anderson pulled his hand over to read what she’d written. The top two lines were upside-down, and skin wasn’t the best medium, but her notes were legible.
Jon S: Short
John K: Old
John O: Glasses; English
John H: Glasses; NOT English.
“Think that’ll help?”
“It can’t hurt.” He pulled his cuffs down as far over the back of his hand as he could manage. Rachel couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt at camoflage.
“What are you doing tonight?”
“I’m preparing an introduction to…”
She waved her hand in front of him. “No you’re not. You’re coming to dinner at my house.”
“I am?”
“You are. Susan’s out of town, and I’ve been having dinner with the same people for over a year. If there isn’t someone new there, I may as well just play a tape of the last dinner and save all our breath.”
“Well if…”
“Excellent. Come over around eight. See you there.”
She turned and headed back to the corridor before he shouted after her.
“I don’t know where you live.”
“Keith can show you.”
*****
Anderson had already managed to electrocute himself twice in the past half hour. On the third shock he squealed and jumped back from the pile of cables on the floor.
“You know, you don’t have to do that.”
Erica was sitting on the edge of a desk, watching him struggle with the pile of equipment. “I mean, the last guy never bothered.”
“I like knowing how it all works.”
“John will kill you if you break any of this stuff.”
“John will be fine.”
Smiling, she pointed at his wrist. “Do you even know which John I’m talking about?”
Yanking his cuff down over his hand, Anderson turned sharply towards her.
“John King, information technology, seven years at Fairview, before that he taught in New York.”
“You’ve beens studying your yearbook, that’s quite adorable.”
“If you’re done, I’d like to get back to this.”
“I’m not kidding about John. I don’t even know what he did to convince Larry we needed a touch-screen monitor that big, but if that breaks…” She trailed off ominously.
A fourth shock, minor though it was, was enough to convince him.
“Fine. Let’s go find John.”
“You’ll like him, don’t look so scared.” She glanced down at the pile of cables. “Unless you’ve actually broken something. Then I’d run.”
*****
John had fixed everything in less then five minutes, and remained entirely shock-free throughout. Before he left, he covered the touch screen with a cloth and made Erica promise she’d never let Anderson near it.
Anderson had spent the whole time with his hand buried in his pocket.
When the final bell rang he slumped over his desk as the kids streamed out of the classroom. Shoving everything haphazardly into his briefcase, he ventured out into the halls as soon as they’d cleared. Wandering through the building, he eventually arrived at Keith’s door, and knocked gingerly.
No answer. He tried again. “Keith? It’s Anderson…”
The door flung open suddenly and he was yanked inside.
“Shh!”
“What’s wrong?”
“Brian Williams is looking for me.”
“What’s wrong with Brian?”
“He wants me to take the PTA meetings this semester. I am not going back to the PTA.”
Anderson raised a confused eyebrow, which seemed to snap Keith out of whatever haze he was in.
“What are you doing here?”
“Rachel…”
“She asked you to dinner?”
“Yeah… She said you’d be able to…”
“Direct you? Sure.” Keith was back behind his desk. “I’ve got a load of stuff to get through before eight though. If you pick me up back here at quarter to? That should be fine.”
“Okay…”
“Check to make sure Brian isn’t hanging about before you leave.”
Closing the door behind him, Anderson was starting to suspect something was going on far over his head.
Chapter Two: In which there is fighting, espionage and football, and BrIWi finally catches Keith