Post by guy on Aug 27, 2008 19:57:36 GMT
"Thirteen... new... pupils," the teacher looked around the classroom, a little dazed. "Thirteen... new... and ten gone?" His eyes flickered down the register. "Ten gone. Three extra. Well. I guess it's an improvement."
He gave a short, sharp but humourless bark of laughter.
"d**n war's costing me my pupils."
His eyebrows rose with his pupils as they went back to surveying the silent sea of faces before him. There were a total of 27 pupils in the room; and every face was a mystery to Guy. He knew none of these people. He'd half hoped that Estella would be in his class (Weather control included lightning control, in one form or another, right?) but there had been no such luck. No, instead he stood, the 27th stranger in a class full of 'em, before their teacher.
Professor Clarke.
A good, English name, that matched his thick, English accent.
Professor Clarke was not a tall man; if Guy at his 6 foot, was to stand beside him, Professor Clarke would be dwarfed in comparison. He was only around 5" 7, or so. This- compared to most human males around Orchid Hill- was slightly below the average height.
But Guy did not stand beside Professor Clarke, towering over him; Guy sat dead in the centre of the front row, at a desk so low his knees had had to curl right back under his seat. To him, Professor Clarke appeared a giant.
He wondered if that was the point.
"Any good, are you?"
Professor Clarke's eyes narrowed now. His eyes were small, wet and beady. Their pale blue was a feeble echo of most. They weren't attractive eyes in the slightest- by far one of his least redeeming features- but they grabbed your attention alright. Professor Clarke's eyes interested Guy. They had a habit of glancing back and forward, and up and down. Most humans had a steady gaze.
Professor Clarke's manner of communication was refreshingly original.
"No. Probably crap." Professor Clarke's mouth twitched at the corners. "I hardly ever teach anyone long enough for them to be good. Established school my ass."
Some pupils looked shocked at Professor Clarke's crude use of language. Guy supposed these must be his fellow newbies. Others looked perfectly bored.
They probably had heard all this before.
"I don't care what Hoodham says about your Training," Professor Clarke tossed the register back onto his desk. "I don't accept any excuses. All your homework will be in on time. I don't expect you all to get As. But I do expect you to work d@mn hard, and do as d@mn well as you can."
Guy wondered if all his lessons, and all his teachers were to be this way. This was his first period, and his first day, and he hadn't known what to expect. Of course, he'd recognised the teachers from the start. They were the people who weren't teenagers. Although during the Summer months he hadn't seen them... well... do much, other than give him a curt nod in the corridor, they'd moved with an air of dominance. Students had not exactly... always acknowledged them, as such, but they had avoided eye contact, and kept themselves silent and still when teachers were passing.
There was respect, there; respect which, after hearing the way some of the students talked about their teachers, Guy had been surprised to witness.
"You there!" It took Guy a moment to realise he was being addressed.
He sat up straight. "Sir?"
There was a slight rumble of laughter behind him, and Guy flushed. He supposed you did not address teachers in such terms.
With one flash at the gigglers, Professor Clarke's mean little eyes had silenced the whole room once more.
"What's the name, boy...?" Professor Clarke's hand reached lazily for the register.
"Guy," he answered.
"Guy who?"
"Just... Guy."
"Right." Professor Clarke's voice was layered with sarcasm. Guy knew his teacher didn't believe him. "Well, you're new, huh?"
"Yes, si- Professor Clarke."
The titter this time was so slight Professor Clarke obviously didn't hear.
"Know anything about your power?"
"I... can use it, if that's what you mean."
"Oh, he can use it, fantastic," Professor Clarke's eyes flickered back and forth furiously, "okay, but what do you know about it?"
"I..." Guy swallowed. "What's to know?"
"Oh, yeah, it's all in the zap," Professor Clarke bared his teeth in a cruel smile. "What do you know of its origins?"
"I... nothing."
"What do you know of its mythology?"
"Nothing."
"What do you know about its modern uses?"
"Nothing."
"What do you know of its technique?"
"Nothing."
"What-" the flickering pupils froze- "do you know?"
"Nothing," Guy replied weakly. "That is... I know how to harness it, and use it as a defence and as an electrical supply... but that is all."
brb
He gave a short, sharp but humourless bark of laughter.
"d**n war's costing me my pupils."
His eyebrows rose with his pupils as they went back to surveying the silent sea of faces before him. There were a total of 27 pupils in the room; and every face was a mystery to Guy. He knew none of these people. He'd half hoped that Estella would be in his class (Weather control included lightning control, in one form or another, right?) but there had been no such luck. No, instead he stood, the 27th stranger in a class full of 'em, before their teacher.
Professor Clarke.
A good, English name, that matched his thick, English accent.
Professor Clarke was not a tall man; if Guy at his 6 foot, was to stand beside him, Professor Clarke would be dwarfed in comparison. He was only around 5" 7, or so. This- compared to most human males around Orchid Hill- was slightly below the average height.
But Guy did not stand beside Professor Clarke, towering over him; Guy sat dead in the centre of the front row, at a desk so low his knees had had to curl right back under his seat. To him, Professor Clarke appeared a giant.
He wondered if that was the point.
"Any good, are you?"
Professor Clarke's eyes narrowed now. His eyes were small, wet and beady. Their pale blue was a feeble echo of most. They weren't attractive eyes in the slightest- by far one of his least redeeming features- but they grabbed your attention alright. Professor Clarke's eyes interested Guy. They had a habit of glancing back and forward, and up and down. Most humans had a steady gaze.
Professor Clarke's manner of communication was refreshingly original.
"No. Probably crap." Professor Clarke's mouth twitched at the corners. "I hardly ever teach anyone long enough for them to be good. Established school my ass."
Some pupils looked shocked at Professor Clarke's crude use of language. Guy supposed these must be his fellow newbies. Others looked perfectly bored.
They probably had heard all this before.
"I don't care what Hoodham says about your Training," Professor Clarke tossed the register back onto his desk. "I don't accept any excuses. All your homework will be in on time. I don't expect you all to get As. But I do expect you to work d@mn hard, and do as d@mn well as you can."
Guy wondered if all his lessons, and all his teachers were to be this way. This was his first period, and his first day, and he hadn't known what to expect. Of course, he'd recognised the teachers from the start. They were the people who weren't teenagers. Although during the Summer months he hadn't seen them... well... do much, other than give him a curt nod in the corridor, they'd moved with an air of dominance. Students had not exactly... always acknowledged them, as such, but they had avoided eye contact, and kept themselves silent and still when teachers were passing.
There was respect, there; respect which, after hearing the way some of the students talked about their teachers, Guy had been surprised to witness.
"You there!" It took Guy a moment to realise he was being addressed.
He sat up straight. "Sir?"
There was a slight rumble of laughter behind him, and Guy flushed. He supposed you did not address teachers in such terms.
With one flash at the gigglers, Professor Clarke's mean little eyes had silenced the whole room once more.
"What's the name, boy...?" Professor Clarke's hand reached lazily for the register.
"Guy," he answered.
"Guy who?"
"Just... Guy."
"Right." Professor Clarke's voice was layered with sarcasm. Guy knew his teacher didn't believe him. "Well, you're new, huh?"
"Yes, si- Professor Clarke."
The titter this time was so slight Professor Clarke obviously didn't hear.
"Know anything about your power?"
"I... can use it, if that's what you mean."
"Oh, he can use it, fantastic," Professor Clarke's eyes flickered back and forth furiously, "okay, but what do you know about it?"
"I..." Guy swallowed. "What's to know?"
"Oh, yeah, it's all in the zap," Professor Clarke bared his teeth in a cruel smile. "What do you know of its origins?"
"I... nothing."
"What do you know of its mythology?"
"Nothing."
"What do you know about its modern uses?"
"Nothing."
"What do you know of its technique?"
"Nothing."
"What-" the flickering pupils froze- "do you know?"
"Nothing," Guy replied weakly. "That is... I know how to harness it, and use it as a defence and as an electrical supply... but that is all."
brb