fic: Disposable Teens (chapter one)
Since I feel like I need some motivation to keep going with this thing (currently at 17,000 words and maybe halfway done) I'm posting it in installments. Thanks to lozenger8 for beta-ing the first chapter and assuring me that it wasn't ridiculously OC.
Title: Disposable Teens
Fandom: Due South
Rating: R (eventually)
Author: just_jen
Summary: From scotchsour’s DS Plot Generator. AU. Ray Vecchio is an English teacher and Ben is a librarian at a high school. First Time Slash. Suggested by Sever.
Disclaimarama: I don’t own the characters. I’m not making any profit from this story.
As jobs went, it was certainly one of the most peaceful. The library was well-stocked, and quiet for most of the day. Occasionally teachers would bring classes in for research projects or simply to spend time reading; they would gesture hopefully to the posters that extolled the virtues of a good book while their students sighed and scribbled notes to each other.
Lunchtimes weren't quite so calm. Students who usually avoided books like the plague would suddenly decide that the library was the ideal place to shelter from the miserable winter
weather, and Ben would spend an hour reminding young men to keep their feet off the seats and avoiding the over-enthusiastic attentions of female students in clothes entirely unsuited to the climate. They were pleasant enough. Most wanted nothing more than a place to stay warm and dry, and did not cause trouble if he left them alone. Some even left with novels he'd recommended after hearing them complain of boredom.
The only blot on this landscape was a senior by the name of Chad Reynolds. Obnoxiously loud even during conversation, he was taller than Ben and just as well muscled, spending much of his free time weight training (a fact he delighted in telling anyone who would listen). He was not academically gifted and rarely had any real purpose in visiting the library other than to terrorise the poor students trying to work there. He seemed to enjoy breaking any and every rule, from chewing and talking too loudly right up to standing on tables, damaging books and on one occasion kicking another student in the shin. Following protocol, Ben had written a detention slip and promptly informed Chad that he was banned from the library for one week. Chad had laughed. Then he'd snatched away the detention slip, torn it in two and chewed it into a spitwad which still clung to the ceiling right above the counter.
Ben had, for several moments, been thoroughly stunned, uncertain how to deal with such a student. Chad was eighteen, to all intents and purposes a fully grown man who'd visibly squared up to him in an attempt to exert his dominance. Returning the challenge in any physical way, even by the simple act of holding his ground and staring until Chad backed down, was entirely inappropriate. When he'd tried reasoning with the boy, Chad had simply laughed again. Logical arguments, ethical arguments and emotional arguments had no effect, leaving Ben looking and feeling extremely foolish. He had been saved only by the timely appearance of the vice-principal, Mr Young, collecting students who had ignored the bell signalling the end of lunchtime.
That incident had been almost a week ago, and while Ben had appreciated the temporary reprieve, he had been growing rather anxious about the end of the library ban. His duties rarely took him beyond the library so he had not come across Chad around campus, but yesterday he had heard the boy's loud, impossibly deep voice just outside the door. He honestly could not think of an acceptable way to deal with the boy that did not involve approaching the vice-principal and requesting an intervention. Technically, disciplining difficult students was not supposed to be a part of his job - there should theoretically always be a member of the teaching staff on duty outside the library during break times, should discipline become necessary - but Ben felt that admitting he could not deal with one unruly teenager would become a blot on his record. During his interview, the principal had produced Ben's own resume, citing his former career and announcing that dealing with troublesome students should be no problem for him. Ben had laughed politely, not aware at the time just how different this job was from anything he had ever known.
It was rather repetitive, for one thing. Oh, it was nothing so bad as his position at the Consulate, but there were days when he'd give anything not to sit at a computer for hours, processing returns and overdues and new stock. There wasn't nearly as much opportunity for creativity as he'd first thought. When he applied for the post, he'd envisioned discussing literature with students and faculty, organising study groups and chess tournaments, running writing competitions and arts and crafts sessions for the younger students. But there had been none of that in place, and each staff member he'd approached for support or sponsorship had walked away complaining of too little time and too little money.
So it was that his most difficult challenge was dealing with students like Chad. He'd spent the past two days reading every volume the library had on teen psychology, but so far had found no solution to the problem of a human being who would not listen to reason and who thought calm politeness was a weakness to be exploited.
He was right in the middle of a tome discussing the theory of teenage 'tribes' when the library door opened and he heard Chad's booming voice. The bell for the end of homeroom and the start of first period had sounded ten minutes ago, and Chad was supposed to be in class - Ben doubted that any teacher would allow him to roam the halls during lessons - but sure enough, there he was, tumbling into the library with maybe a dozen other students, loud and messy and not showing the least bit of respect.
Ben stood quickly, not sure whether to remain behind the counter, hurry round it or just vault over the top of it.
"Excuse me," he began as the last of the group shuffled through the door. But before he could continue, the door swung again and the students were followed by an older man carrying a stack of papers.
"Okay guys, find a seat," the man called with complete disregard for the peaceful atmosphere of the library. As he passed the counter he nodded at Ben, and was about to carry on, when Ben interrupted with a repeated "excuse me."
He stopped and turned fully to face the counter, giving Ben a chance to work out who he was. Ben had seen the faculty photos on the wall by the main office and had easily learned the names and faces. This, he remembered, was Ray Vecchio. His job title, according to the card under his photograph, was 'Learning Mentor'.
"What's up?" Mr Vecchio asked him, dropping his papers on to the counter and tapping one hand impatiently.
Ben offered a polite, apologetic smile.
"Do you wish to use the library this morning?"
"Well, we're not exactly here 'cause we want lunch," Mr Vecchio answered. Ben tried not to look offended by his sarcasm.
"I only ask because you're actually required to fill out a room reservation form in advance," Ben told him, offering an apologetic smile. He picked up a blue folder from the desk on his side of the counter, retrieved a form from inside it and handed it to Mr Vecchio, who studied with a confused frown.
"What? Jean said everything was arranged!" He spoke more to himself than to Ben, shaking his head and sighing. "This is ridiculous. Doesn't anyone know how to communicate around here?"
"I think there may have been some misunderstanding somewhere else. I can assure you that we never received a reservation form for this period. However," Ben continued before Vecchio could protest, "the library is unused at present, so if you would like your class to stay, there's no problem." He watched the muscles twitch in Vecchio's jaw, wondered if he might object or perhaps redirect his anger towards Ben.
Vecchio drew a deep, hissing breath through his nose.
"Thanks, I appreciate it," he eventually answered in a tone entirely devoid of appreciation. Before Ben could say that he was quite welcome, Vecchio stalked across the floor toward the gaggle of chattering students.
Feeling more than a little flustered, Ben returned to his seat, intending to resume his reading, but Vecchio's voice drifted clearly across the empty library, disrupting his concentration.
"Okay, guys, you know the drill. You got the resumes you hand-wrote yesterday, Tyler can pass those out - don't whine about it, Tyler, a little walk ain't gonna kill ya. Then you got the sample one I showed you so you know how to format it. Tom, thanks for volunteering to hand those out! Everybody find a computer, open up the word processor. You got thirty minutes, anybody who doesn't finish'll be in at lunchtime doing theirs."
And that, apparently, was that. Ben watched, amazed, as Vecchio's students wandered (some more slowly than others) to the bank of computers and sat down to work.
Ben recognised a couple of the students. One was Jake Buccavicz; his photograph was currently pinned to the wall in the teachers' lounge with a note indicating he was banned from the school buses for two weeks. Working next to him was Brandon Mills, whose name Ben had found on the overdues list his first week. He'd sent a polite note to Brandon's homeroom tutor asking him to return the copy of 'Kujo' that had apparently been on loan for one hundred and forty-seven days. The note had been returned - thrown through the library doors that lunchtime, actually - with a choice expletive scrawled on the bottom.
Some of the other faces were familiar, students who congregated in the library on rainy lunchtimes and dawdled when the bell rang. Right in the middle of the group was Chad, diligently typing without ever glancing away from his screen. It was like watching a wolf dozing peacefully right in the middle of a caribou herd.
Ben tried to return his attention to his book, but found himself glancing up every few minutes, as though expecting Chad to strike at any moment.
Vecchio paced along the row of computers, occasionally instructing a student to alter a word or change the formatting of their work. Only once did he have to remind someone to focus instead of daydreaming.
He found himself timing the students, waiting for their thirty minutes to end. Ten minutes before their deadline, Brandon announced triumphantly that he had finished. He waited for Vecchio to check his work, and there was a hushed exchange between the two of them before Brandon rose and lumbered over towards Ben's desk.
Remembering the instruction Brandon had scribbled on his overdue-notice, Ben pasted on a polite smile as the boy came towards him.
"How can I help you, Brandon?"
The boy scratched at the back of his neck, staring at the counter.
"Mr Vecchio says, can I print out my resume? Uh, please?"
Ben cast a questioning glance at Vecchio, who nodded.
"Of course," he answered, widening his smile a little. "Print it from your computer and I'll bring it over - the printer's on my desk."
"How'd you know my name?" Finally Brandon was looking right at him, a vaguely accusatory expression on his face. Immediately dismissing reminding him about his overdue book, Ben replied, "I know your homeroom tutor, Mrs Hawley."
"Oh." Accepting his answer, Brandon shrugged and went back to his computer.
He watched the students, feeling more than a little mystified. Despite his initial reservations when he'd applied for the post (everything seemed so… so meaningless in those first few weeks, when compared to the job he'd left), he'd arrived at the school excited to be back in a place of learning, thrilled at the thought of so many eager young minds, waiting to be challenged by new ideas and knowledge. Over the past three months, however, he had seen some of the worst examples of human behaviour imaginable, and given his previous career that was saying something. Ben had seen every transgression from littering to swearing to students beating each other up. He'd broken up fist-fights between female students and evicted boys from the library for hiding under tables to look up the skirts of young women. He'd been sworn at and yelled at by people half his age and half his height, and lately it was getting harder and harder to remember the students who wanted to learn, the ones who sat quietly and read or took notes or asked where they might find the encyclopaedias.
The printer sputtered into life, slowly spewing out Brandon's resume. Ben waited until it was complete, then carried it carefully to the row of computers.
"There you go, son," he told Brandon as he handed it over. Brandon smirked, but after a warning glance from Vecchio, cleared his throat and mumbled his thanks.
Immediately, one of the other students asked if he too could print out his work. Ben turned to the speaker, a tall and very slender boy with bleached hair gelled artfully into thin spikes. He was turned round in his chair, leaning over its back with his arms outstretched. One hand plucked at the cords of a red friendship bracelet tied around the opposite wrist. He gazed up at Ben with wide eyes, and the intensity of the stare actually caused Ben to stutter his reply. The boy smiled in return and began to spin his chair in circles until Vecchio told him to "grow up".
The boy stopped spinning and muttered, "Jeez, buzz-kill or what? Teachers always think they're better than us." It was loud enough for Ben, and Vecchio, to hear, and he heard the gasps of one of the girls. They all waited for the expected chastisement.
"Just try behaving like that when you got a job, see how long you can go before they fire you," was all Vecchio said, before turning back to read the work of one of his other students.
Ben returned to his desk, perplexed. Technically, Vecchio was supposed to have issued the student with a formal warning for being rude to a member of the faculty, but his casual dismissal had actually resulted in the boy not only doing as he was asked but moving to help one of the other students who was still typing.
The printer spat out four sheets of paper in succession as students sent their work. Ben collected them and elected to wait until everyone had finished before conveying them to the waiting class. Giving up all pretence of reading, he sat instead and watched Vecchio move back and forth along the row of computers. Occasionally he would congratulate one of the students on their work; his efforts were rewarded with either terse silence or sullen questions about why they had to do something so boring and couldn't they use the computers to play games instead. Only the boy who'd called him a "buzz-kill" showed any appreciation, asking, "You really think so? Cool! Can I print out some pictures too while we're here?" Vecchio told him brusquely that class wasn't for looking at pictures and he could do that on his own time before moving on.
Eventually, there was a print-out for each student. Ben collected the papers together ready to distribute them, but before he could leave his desk, Chad appeared at the counter. He cleared his throat, managing to make even that sound threatening.
"Pass them here," he sneered, gesturing to the print-outs.
Before Ben could reply, Vecchio called across the library with blatant disregard for the signs asking for quiet.
"Chad, you want anything, you gotta say the right words. Don't give him anything until he says 'please'." Ben assumed the latter statement was addressed to him.
Chad snickered and rolled his eyes.
"Please may I have the papers, oh kind librarian guy."
"Close enough," Vecchio told him, walking towards the counter with a stack of papers and files under his arm. He nodded at Ben, who dutifully handed over the print-outs with a polite, if not entirely genuine, smile. Chad took them in his huge hands and ambled back, dumping them on the end of the computer desk for the other students to collect their own. One by one, they all found their work and drifted over to stand before Vecchio, who leaned against the counter waiting for them to assemble.
"Okay, guys," he announced when they were all ready, "the bell's about to go. You did okay today, and everyone finished, which means I don't have to give up my lunch break for anybody who was slacking off. Tom and Steph, I'll see you guys this afternoon, the rest of you I'll see on Thursday and we'll start looking at your application letters." The school bell punctuated his sentence. "Okay, you got Mr Beswick for Math now, so you'd better get your butts back up to F-block." There was a collective groan as the students wandered out of the library, leaving the place feeling surprisingly empty. The silence was almost uncomfortable.
Ben was about to pick up his book again when he realised Vecchio was still standing by the counter.
"Here you go." He handed Ben a sheet of paper; it was the reservation form Ben had given him earlier, completely filled in and signed. Somehow he'd managed to finish it in between helping his students. Ben hoped his surprise did not show as he thanked Mr Vecchio.
"Is this supposed to be a regular reservation?" he asked as he placed the form in his in-tray.
"Supposed to be," Vecchio confirmed. "Period one, Tuesday, period four, Thursday. That's the arrangement I had, at least. Jean in the office told me everything was taken care of, but I guess she never actually made the booking. Wouldn't surprise me."
Ben hesitated; two bookings per week technically meant two separate reservation forms, but he had the feeling that Vecchio would not welcome that information. Instead, he made a note at the bottom of the first form and told Vecchio, "I'll make sure the library's reserved for you." As an afterthought (and an appeasement) he added, "If you need anything else, like AV equipment or particular books, let me know in advance and I can take care of that for you as well." Vecchio nodded and assured Ben that he would.
"Now, do I have to fill out one of those forms if I want to sit here and do my own paperwork, or can you let it slip this time?" Vecchio tapped his hands on the counter.
Again, Ben bridled at the sarcasm, but this time there was a quirk to his mouth that told Ben it was only in jest.
"I won't tell if you won't."
Vecchio's eyebrows raised fractionally, as though he was surprised that Ben could joke too. Then he grinned and took his files to the table closest to the counter and sat down to work.
Ben turned to the computer and brought up the file which contained the library's timetable and entered Vecchio's reservations. He had just opened up his book again when Vecchio interrupted.
"Hope we didn't disturb your work this morning." Ben looked up; Vecchio was still writing and Ben wasn't sure if he actually expected an answer.
"Not at all," he assured the other man. "There's not usually much for me to do this early in the day. It's not until mid-morning that students usually start to use the library. Until then it's mostly paperwork."
Vecchio let out a mirthless laugh.
"Don't talk to me about paperwork," he told Ben, glancing up from his desk. "I got a ton of my own to do this morning, and that's after I write my evaluation of my first class." He gestured to the form he was currently working on.
"Evaluation?"
"Yeah. 'Cause I'm not a regular teacher, I gotta write up evaluations of every session I run with my group." He held the form up in front of him and proceeded to read in a pseudo-official voice which betrayed his evident disdain. "What was the outline of the session? Overall evaluation of the session. What did the students learn? How does this learning relate to the students' long-term Learning Action Plan? How do you intend to follow up on this work? Were there any issues or problems during the session?"
Ben hid a frown; they sounded like perfectly valid questions.
"Then I sign it, stick it in a file and at the end of the week I give it to the F-block Learning Co-ordinator, who sticks it in another file and no one ever sees it again." Vecchio slapped the form back on to the table and sighed. "Is there any job in the world now that doesn't include paperwork?"
After a moment's thought, Ben suggested, "Elephant herder?"
Vecchio laughed.
"Nah, you probably gotta fill out peanut requisition forms at least."
Ben was about to point out that elephants eating peanuts was actually a common misconception, but Vecchio's continued laughter told him that it was better to let the other man enjoy his joke.
They fell eventually into a companionable silence as Vecchio completed his paperwork and Ben actually managed to finish a chapter of his book. When the bell signalled the end of second period Lucy, one of the two assistant librarians, appeared at the door as she did every day at the same time.
"I brought your memos, Benton," she announced cheerily. He smiled at her and stood to receive the papers and letters she handed over. As he rose, so did Vecchio, who gathered his own papers together and shoved them haphazardly into a folder.
"So we're okay for Thursday?" Vecchio asked as he passed the counter. Ben nodded and told Vecchio it was already marked in the diary. "Great. Thanks for putting up with us this morning." He said his goodbyes and left the library.
Once again, Ben was surprised by the silence that flooded in.
He read his memos with a now familiar sense of boredom, scanning requests for books from various teachers and putting them in Lucy's in-tray. There was an invitation from Mrs Stevens, who taught Home Economics; her senior class were preparing a lunch for their end-of-semester project on Friday, and he and nine other staff had apparently been asked to attend.
At the bottom of the pile was a room reservation form, asking if he would reserve the library every Tuesday, period one, for Ray Vecchio and his Special Needs group. Ben stared at the form for a moment, then neatly folded it into four and dropped it into the waste basket.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter two
Title: Disposable Teens
Fandom: Due South
Rating: R (eventually)
Author: just_jen
Summary: From scotchsour’s DS Plot Generator. AU. Ray Vecchio is an English teacher and Ben is a librarian at a high school. First Time Slash. Suggested by Sever.
Disclaimarama: I don’t own the characters. I’m not making any profit from this story.
As jobs went, it was certainly one of the most peaceful. The library was well-stocked, and quiet for most of the day. Occasionally teachers would bring classes in for research projects or simply to spend time reading; they would gesture hopefully to the posters that extolled the virtues of a good book while their students sighed and scribbled notes to each other.
Lunchtimes weren't quite so calm. Students who usually avoided books like the plague would suddenly decide that the library was the ideal place to shelter from the miserable winter
weather, and Ben would spend an hour reminding young men to keep their feet off the seats and avoiding the over-enthusiastic attentions of female students in clothes entirely unsuited to the climate. They were pleasant enough. Most wanted nothing more than a place to stay warm and dry, and did not cause trouble if he left them alone. Some even left with novels he'd recommended after hearing them complain of boredom.
The only blot on this landscape was a senior by the name of Chad Reynolds. Obnoxiously loud even during conversation, he was taller than Ben and just as well muscled, spending much of his free time weight training (a fact he delighted in telling anyone who would listen). He was not academically gifted and rarely had any real purpose in visiting the library other than to terrorise the poor students trying to work there. He seemed to enjoy breaking any and every rule, from chewing and talking too loudly right up to standing on tables, damaging books and on one occasion kicking another student in the shin. Following protocol, Ben had written a detention slip and promptly informed Chad that he was banned from the library for one week. Chad had laughed. Then he'd snatched away the detention slip, torn it in two and chewed it into a spitwad which still clung to the ceiling right above the counter.
Ben had, for several moments, been thoroughly stunned, uncertain how to deal with such a student. Chad was eighteen, to all intents and purposes a fully grown man who'd visibly squared up to him in an attempt to exert his dominance. Returning the challenge in any physical way, even by the simple act of holding his ground and staring until Chad backed down, was entirely inappropriate. When he'd tried reasoning with the boy, Chad had simply laughed again. Logical arguments, ethical arguments and emotional arguments had no effect, leaving Ben looking and feeling extremely foolish. He had been saved only by the timely appearance of the vice-principal, Mr Young, collecting students who had ignored the bell signalling the end of lunchtime.
That incident had been almost a week ago, and while Ben had appreciated the temporary reprieve, he had been growing rather anxious about the end of the library ban. His duties rarely took him beyond the library so he had not come across Chad around campus, but yesterday he had heard the boy's loud, impossibly deep voice just outside the door. He honestly could not think of an acceptable way to deal with the boy that did not involve approaching the vice-principal and requesting an intervention. Technically, disciplining difficult students was not supposed to be a part of his job - there should theoretically always be a member of the teaching staff on duty outside the library during break times, should discipline become necessary - but Ben felt that admitting he could not deal with one unruly teenager would become a blot on his record. During his interview, the principal had produced Ben's own resume, citing his former career and announcing that dealing with troublesome students should be no problem for him. Ben had laughed politely, not aware at the time just how different this job was from anything he had ever known.
It was rather repetitive, for one thing. Oh, it was nothing so bad as his position at the Consulate, but there were days when he'd give anything not to sit at a computer for hours, processing returns and overdues and new stock. There wasn't nearly as much opportunity for creativity as he'd first thought. When he applied for the post, he'd envisioned discussing literature with students and faculty, organising study groups and chess tournaments, running writing competitions and arts and crafts sessions for the younger students. But there had been none of that in place, and each staff member he'd approached for support or sponsorship had walked away complaining of too little time and too little money.
So it was that his most difficult challenge was dealing with students like Chad. He'd spent the past two days reading every volume the library had on teen psychology, but so far had found no solution to the problem of a human being who would not listen to reason and who thought calm politeness was a weakness to be exploited.
He was right in the middle of a tome discussing the theory of teenage 'tribes' when the library door opened and he heard Chad's booming voice. The bell for the end of homeroom and the start of first period had sounded ten minutes ago, and Chad was supposed to be in class - Ben doubted that any teacher would allow him to roam the halls during lessons - but sure enough, there he was, tumbling into the library with maybe a dozen other students, loud and messy and not showing the least bit of respect.
Ben stood quickly, not sure whether to remain behind the counter, hurry round it or just vault over the top of it.
"Excuse me," he began as the last of the group shuffled through the door. But before he could continue, the door swung again and the students were followed by an older man carrying a stack of papers.
"Okay guys, find a seat," the man called with complete disregard for the peaceful atmosphere of the library. As he passed the counter he nodded at Ben, and was about to carry on, when Ben interrupted with a repeated "excuse me."
He stopped and turned fully to face the counter, giving Ben a chance to work out who he was. Ben had seen the faculty photos on the wall by the main office and had easily learned the names and faces. This, he remembered, was Ray Vecchio. His job title, according to the card under his photograph, was 'Learning Mentor'.
"What's up?" Mr Vecchio asked him, dropping his papers on to the counter and tapping one hand impatiently.
Ben offered a polite, apologetic smile.
"Do you wish to use the library this morning?"
"Well, we're not exactly here 'cause we want lunch," Mr Vecchio answered. Ben tried not to look offended by his sarcasm.
"I only ask because you're actually required to fill out a room reservation form in advance," Ben told him, offering an apologetic smile. He picked up a blue folder from the desk on his side of the counter, retrieved a form from inside it and handed it to Mr Vecchio, who studied with a confused frown.
"What? Jean said everything was arranged!" He spoke more to himself than to Ben, shaking his head and sighing. "This is ridiculous. Doesn't anyone know how to communicate around here?"
"I think there may have been some misunderstanding somewhere else. I can assure you that we never received a reservation form for this period. However," Ben continued before Vecchio could protest, "the library is unused at present, so if you would like your class to stay, there's no problem." He watched the muscles twitch in Vecchio's jaw, wondered if he might object or perhaps redirect his anger towards Ben.
Vecchio drew a deep, hissing breath through his nose.
"Thanks, I appreciate it," he eventually answered in a tone entirely devoid of appreciation. Before Ben could say that he was quite welcome, Vecchio stalked across the floor toward the gaggle of chattering students.
Feeling more than a little flustered, Ben returned to his seat, intending to resume his reading, but Vecchio's voice drifted clearly across the empty library, disrupting his concentration.
"Okay, guys, you know the drill. You got the resumes you hand-wrote yesterday, Tyler can pass those out - don't whine about it, Tyler, a little walk ain't gonna kill ya. Then you got the sample one I showed you so you know how to format it. Tom, thanks for volunteering to hand those out! Everybody find a computer, open up the word processor. You got thirty minutes, anybody who doesn't finish'll be in at lunchtime doing theirs."
And that, apparently, was that. Ben watched, amazed, as Vecchio's students wandered (some more slowly than others) to the bank of computers and sat down to work.
Ben recognised a couple of the students. One was Jake Buccavicz; his photograph was currently pinned to the wall in the teachers' lounge with a note indicating he was banned from the school buses for two weeks. Working next to him was Brandon Mills, whose name Ben had found on the overdues list his first week. He'd sent a polite note to Brandon's homeroom tutor asking him to return the copy of 'Kujo' that had apparently been on loan for one hundred and forty-seven days. The note had been returned - thrown through the library doors that lunchtime, actually - with a choice expletive scrawled on the bottom.
Some of the other faces were familiar, students who congregated in the library on rainy lunchtimes and dawdled when the bell rang. Right in the middle of the group was Chad, diligently typing without ever glancing away from his screen. It was like watching a wolf dozing peacefully right in the middle of a caribou herd.
Ben tried to return his attention to his book, but found himself glancing up every few minutes, as though expecting Chad to strike at any moment.
Vecchio paced along the row of computers, occasionally instructing a student to alter a word or change the formatting of their work. Only once did he have to remind someone to focus instead of daydreaming.
He found himself timing the students, waiting for their thirty minutes to end. Ten minutes before their deadline, Brandon announced triumphantly that he had finished. He waited for Vecchio to check his work, and there was a hushed exchange between the two of them before Brandon rose and lumbered over towards Ben's desk.
Remembering the instruction Brandon had scribbled on his overdue-notice, Ben pasted on a polite smile as the boy came towards him.
"How can I help you, Brandon?"
The boy scratched at the back of his neck, staring at the counter.
"Mr Vecchio says, can I print out my resume? Uh, please?"
Ben cast a questioning glance at Vecchio, who nodded.
"Of course," he answered, widening his smile a little. "Print it from your computer and I'll bring it over - the printer's on my desk."
"How'd you know my name?" Finally Brandon was looking right at him, a vaguely accusatory expression on his face. Immediately dismissing reminding him about his overdue book, Ben replied, "I know your homeroom tutor, Mrs Hawley."
"Oh." Accepting his answer, Brandon shrugged and went back to his computer.
He watched the students, feeling more than a little mystified. Despite his initial reservations when he'd applied for the post (everything seemed so… so meaningless in those first few weeks, when compared to the job he'd left), he'd arrived at the school excited to be back in a place of learning, thrilled at the thought of so many eager young minds, waiting to be challenged by new ideas and knowledge. Over the past three months, however, he had seen some of the worst examples of human behaviour imaginable, and given his previous career that was saying something. Ben had seen every transgression from littering to swearing to students beating each other up. He'd broken up fist-fights between female students and evicted boys from the library for hiding under tables to look up the skirts of young women. He'd been sworn at and yelled at by people half his age and half his height, and lately it was getting harder and harder to remember the students who wanted to learn, the ones who sat quietly and read or took notes or asked where they might find the encyclopaedias.
The printer sputtered into life, slowly spewing out Brandon's resume. Ben waited until it was complete, then carried it carefully to the row of computers.
"There you go, son," he told Brandon as he handed it over. Brandon smirked, but after a warning glance from Vecchio, cleared his throat and mumbled his thanks.
Immediately, one of the other students asked if he too could print out his work. Ben turned to the speaker, a tall and very slender boy with bleached hair gelled artfully into thin spikes. He was turned round in his chair, leaning over its back with his arms outstretched. One hand plucked at the cords of a red friendship bracelet tied around the opposite wrist. He gazed up at Ben with wide eyes, and the intensity of the stare actually caused Ben to stutter his reply. The boy smiled in return and began to spin his chair in circles until Vecchio told him to "grow up".
The boy stopped spinning and muttered, "Jeez, buzz-kill or what? Teachers always think they're better than us." It was loud enough for Ben, and Vecchio, to hear, and he heard the gasps of one of the girls. They all waited for the expected chastisement.
"Just try behaving like that when you got a job, see how long you can go before they fire you," was all Vecchio said, before turning back to read the work of one of his other students.
Ben returned to his desk, perplexed. Technically, Vecchio was supposed to have issued the student with a formal warning for being rude to a member of the faculty, but his casual dismissal had actually resulted in the boy not only doing as he was asked but moving to help one of the other students who was still typing.
The printer spat out four sheets of paper in succession as students sent their work. Ben collected them and elected to wait until everyone had finished before conveying them to the waiting class. Giving up all pretence of reading, he sat instead and watched Vecchio move back and forth along the row of computers. Occasionally he would congratulate one of the students on their work; his efforts were rewarded with either terse silence or sullen questions about why they had to do something so boring and couldn't they use the computers to play games instead. Only the boy who'd called him a "buzz-kill" showed any appreciation, asking, "You really think so? Cool! Can I print out some pictures too while we're here?" Vecchio told him brusquely that class wasn't for looking at pictures and he could do that on his own time before moving on.
Eventually, there was a print-out for each student. Ben collected the papers together ready to distribute them, but before he could leave his desk, Chad appeared at the counter. He cleared his throat, managing to make even that sound threatening.
"Pass them here," he sneered, gesturing to the print-outs.
Before Ben could reply, Vecchio called across the library with blatant disregard for the signs asking for quiet.
"Chad, you want anything, you gotta say the right words. Don't give him anything until he says 'please'." Ben assumed the latter statement was addressed to him.
Chad snickered and rolled his eyes.
"Please may I have the papers, oh kind librarian guy."
"Close enough," Vecchio told him, walking towards the counter with a stack of papers and files under his arm. He nodded at Ben, who dutifully handed over the print-outs with a polite, if not entirely genuine, smile. Chad took them in his huge hands and ambled back, dumping them on the end of the computer desk for the other students to collect their own. One by one, they all found their work and drifted over to stand before Vecchio, who leaned against the counter waiting for them to assemble.
"Okay, guys," he announced when they were all ready, "the bell's about to go. You did okay today, and everyone finished, which means I don't have to give up my lunch break for anybody who was slacking off. Tom and Steph, I'll see you guys this afternoon, the rest of you I'll see on Thursday and we'll start looking at your application letters." The school bell punctuated his sentence. "Okay, you got Mr Beswick for Math now, so you'd better get your butts back up to F-block." There was a collective groan as the students wandered out of the library, leaving the place feeling surprisingly empty. The silence was almost uncomfortable.
Ben was about to pick up his book again when he realised Vecchio was still standing by the counter.
"Here you go." He handed Ben a sheet of paper; it was the reservation form Ben had given him earlier, completely filled in and signed. Somehow he'd managed to finish it in between helping his students. Ben hoped his surprise did not show as he thanked Mr Vecchio.
"Is this supposed to be a regular reservation?" he asked as he placed the form in his in-tray.
"Supposed to be," Vecchio confirmed. "Period one, Tuesday, period four, Thursday. That's the arrangement I had, at least. Jean in the office told me everything was taken care of, but I guess she never actually made the booking. Wouldn't surprise me."
Ben hesitated; two bookings per week technically meant two separate reservation forms, but he had the feeling that Vecchio would not welcome that information. Instead, he made a note at the bottom of the first form and told Vecchio, "I'll make sure the library's reserved for you." As an afterthought (and an appeasement) he added, "If you need anything else, like AV equipment or particular books, let me know in advance and I can take care of that for you as well." Vecchio nodded and assured Ben that he would.
"Now, do I have to fill out one of those forms if I want to sit here and do my own paperwork, or can you let it slip this time?" Vecchio tapped his hands on the counter.
Again, Ben bridled at the sarcasm, but this time there was a quirk to his mouth that told Ben it was only in jest.
"I won't tell if you won't."
Vecchio's eyebrows raised fractionally, as though he was surprised that Ben could joke too. Then he grinned and took his files to the table closest to the counter and sat down to work.
Ben turned to the computer and brought up the file which contained the library's timetable and entered Vecchio's reservations. He had just opened up his book again when Vecchio interrupted.
"Hope we didn't disturb your work this morning." Ben looked up; Vecchio was still writing and Ben wasn't sure if he actually expected an answer.
"Not at all," he assured the other man. "There's not usually much for me to do this early in the day. It's not until mid-morning that students usually start to use the library. Until then it's mostly paperwork."
Vecchio let out a mirthless laugh.
"Don't talk to me about paperwork," he told Ben, glancing up from his desk. "I got a ton of my own to do this morning, and that's after I write my evaluation of my first class." He gestured to the form he was currently working on.
"Evaluation?"
"Yeah. 'Cause I'm not a regular teacher, I gotta write up evaluations of every session I run with my group." He held the form up in front of him and proceeded to read in a pseudo-official voice which betrayed his evident disdain. "What was the outline of the session? Overall evaluation of the session. What did the students learn? How does this learning relate to the students' long-term Learning Action Plan? How do you intend to follow up on this work? Were there any issues or problems during the session?"
Ben hid a frown; they sounded like perfectly valid questions.
"Then I sign it, stick it in a file and at the end of the week I give it to the F-block Learning Co-ordinator, who sticks it in another file and no one ever sees it again." Vecchio slapped the form back on to the table and sighed. "Is there any job in the world now that doesn't include paperwork?"
After a moment's thought, Ben suggested, "Elephant herder?"
Vecchio laughed.
"Nah, you probably gotta fill out peanut requisition forms at least."
Ben was about to point out that elephants eating peanuts was actually a common misconception, but Vecchio's continued laughter told him that it was better to let the other man enjoy his joke.
They fell eventually into a companionable silence as Vecchio completed his paperwork and Ben actually managed to finish a chapter of his book. When the bell signalled the end of second period Lucy, one of the two assistant librarians, appeared at the door as she did every day at the same time.
"I brought your memos, Benton," she announced cheerily. He smiled at her and stood to receive the papers and letters she handed over. As he rose, so did Vecchio, who gathered his own papers together and shoved them haphazardly into a folder.
"So we're okay for Thursday?" Vecchio asked as he passed the counter. Ben nodded and told Vecchio it was already marked in the diary. "Great. Thanks for putting up with us this morning." He said his goodbyes and left the library.
Once again, Ben was surprised by the silence that flooded in.
He read his memos with a now familiar sense of boredom, scanning requests for books from various teachers and putting them in Lucy's in-tray. There was an invitation from Mrs Stevens, who taught Home Economics; her senior class were preparing a lunch for their end-of-semester project on Friday, and he and nine other staff had apparently been asked to attend.
At the bottom of the pile was a room reservation form, asking if he would reserve the library every Tuesday, period one, for Ray Vecchio and his Special Needs group. Ben stared at the form for a moment, then neatly folded it into four and dropped it into the waste basket.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chapter two