A/N: Found this in my old files, decided to spruce it up a bit and republish it. Will be rewriting the other chapters also and hopefully updating this fic every week.
"Here at Shield Estates, our mission is to provide a caring environment in which every child is respected and is given the opportunity to develop character, attitude, and values; to acquire skills necessary for contemporary society; to adapt to change and remain open to progressive techniques," Vice-Headmaster Hill recites from the front of the stage.
She's a tall woman, slender, with black hair pulled back taut against her tanned skin to form an almost perfect bun. Her face is comprised of angles, pointed brown eyes set over a sharp nose and a mouth perpetually stuck in a scowl. It is a face that commands authority, or at the very least demands it: the severe lines that hold her together have to bend for sympathy or pity. Striking, but not in the conventional sense, a beauty only to be remembered vaguely on the car drive home, like an aftertaste one can't quite recognize.
Behind her stand the students, a crayon box of children, varying in ages, ethnicities, and experience at Shield Estates. Those who have spent multiple years at the academy are not impressed by Ms. Hill's speech, eyelids applauding instead of hands, eyelashes bashing together as they try to hold off sleep. A girl pressed up against the back wall leans her head against the oak paneling and is soon dozing off, only to be woken up by a nearby friend. Those who are new to this school are as equally unexcited. Glaring girls and brooding boys accent the crowd.
Ms. Hill continues, "The curriculum is designed to serve the educational, physical, social, and emotional needs of every child, to create a positive atmosphere and to provide superior academic education so that each child will become a productive member of society."
Seated in front are the parents, differentiated only by the expressions on their faces. Some, like the couple up front, are glancing at their watches, skimming the numbers, as if they could help the second hand tick along by simply willing it. Another man beams from the back, staring up at Ms. Hill while she speaks like she's the answer he had on the tip of his tongue but couldn't quite understand until now. The people around him notice and shift a little in their plastic chairs, unsure as to wether he's happy his child is going to get one of the best educations in the country or that he won't have to deal with them for the next four years. Somewhere, lost in the crowd of latecomers all piled up in the back corner of the hall, sits a woman who has been applying to the school for three years to only now get her daughter accepted. A breath rushes through her as the Vice-Headmaster introduces and welcomes the new year of students.
"There are refreshments in the main lobby, please enjoy them as you leave," Ms. Hill states to finish the assembly, raising a and towards the main doors. It seems less like an invitation and more like instructions, ones that the parents dutifully follow. Only a few of them look back. Many less wave at their children, giving big thumbs up generally met with eye rolls.
As the shuffling adults exit, Ms. Hill turns to the students, her classic frown scrawled on her face, "Mr. Steve Rogers, our Junior president, will accompany the boys to their corresponding dorms while the ladies will follow Ms. Natasha Romanoff to take a tour of the grounds. During this first day, they will explain all the rules," She pauses, scanning the crowd to make sure they all understand, "For the students who have spent some time at Shield Estates, this will be a necessary refresh for your seemingly unstable memories. I except you will help explain to our new arrivals that we have a no-tolerance policy in our academy and what exactly that means." Ms. Hill catches the eyes of several students, pinning them down before moving on to the next, "Howlett, Rasputin, Laufeyson, I'm talking about you. You seem to have the most experience disciplinary wise."
Some girls, not yet wearing the mandatory black uniform, still strung up like Christmas lights against the wooden walls, all silver and neon, titter nervously. Ms. Hill turns towards them and the room falls silent, frozen in place by her cool stare, "What are you waiting for? Go!"
They scatter.