Alyla Howlett, 1999
It was December of 1999, just before the start of winter break. Alyla sat at her eisle in her art room, showing her first year students a new technique. She was showing them how to make their paintings or chalk drawings look 3D and in-depth.
In the middle of her explanation, a knock came on the door. She excused herself to go answer it, tucking her hair back behind her ear.
Peeking out the door, she noticed her Dad and smiled. She stepped out of the room and leaned on the door.
"Yes, Daddy?" she asked curiously.
"Professor Xavier needs you in his office." Logan told her. He gave her a small, warm smile. His daughter was one of his favourite people. Despite everything she'd been through, she was kind and welcoming.
"Can you watch my class?" Alyla asked, needing someone to watch the little ones while she was out. Some of them liked to throw paint and crush the chalk.
"Sure, kid." Logan nodded, stepping into the classroom. Alyla headed for the headmaster's office, skipping slightly. She wondered why the professor needed her. He almost never called her down to the office. Whenever she was called down, she always felt like a kid in elementary school being called down for some reason.
Coming up on the office, she knocked on the door. She waited to be called in before entering and sitting down across from Charles.
"Professor." Alyla greeted with a small nod.
"Miss Howlett." Charles greeted. He slid a packet of papers across the table to her.
Alyla took the papers and read them over with a small frown. "What's this?" she asked curiously.
"American citizenship forms." Charles explained. "You've been working in America for five years as a Canadian citizen. You had a year when you came. It's time to become an American citizen before the Government comes down on the pair of us."
"I see." Alyla sighed. She's skirted around this long enough. She placed the papers in her shoulder bag. "I'll get these back to you by the end of the day, Professor."
Charles nodded. "I won't keep you from their class any longer. I fear your father may be covered in paint by this point."
Alyla chuckled slightly. "Wouldn't put it past the kids." she commented. "I'll see you later, Professor." she waved, heading back to her classroom. She pushed up the door and smelt paint. She loved the smell of paint. It was beautful. She noticed that half of the students were asleep, heads lolled to the side. Alyla frowned, walking up to her father.
"Daddy, what did you do?" she muttered.
"I read to them from one of my advanced history textbooks." Logan shrugged. He stood up from her eisle and gestured around. "The ones who didn't fall asleep drew dicks on everything." he sighed. And he was right. Eisles, tables, chairs, and even a few walls, had crude drawings of dicks on them.
Something rare happened right then. Alyla got angry. She turned angry red and began fuming. A few of the students could sense her anger and jerked to attention.
"Who's responsible?" she growled, voice low and dangerous.
Kids pointed everywhere but themselves, trying to pin the blame on a friend or enemy. Finally, one kid stepped forward and bowed his head.
"I'm sorry, Professor Howlett." he muttered. "I-I don't know why I did it."
Alyla's anger died down slightly. "Who else participated?" she asked.
Three kids stepped forward. All of the students were terrified too much to lie.
"The four of you are to come back and lunch and scrub down everything you drew on. You're supposed to be mature, not draw phallic symbols on walls, tables, and chairs. And just to know you do it, Professor Howlett Sr will be watching you."
The four students tensed. The only reason they'd got away with it was because Logan was distracted by his book.
Alyla calmed down a bit later, returning to her lesson until the bell rang. After the bell rang, and all the students left, Alyla went to her desk and began on the paperwork. Luckily, she knew most of the information she needed. She'd been in America for enough time, and she'd had to get temporary British citizenship during the duration of World War II to be able to live with Charles' father. It took her the entirety of her free period to fill out, so the pages sat on her desk during her senior class, where she was teaching crosshatch shading.
At the end of the school day, Alyla brought the papers to Charles. "Here you go, mini Brian." she said. She sometimes called the younger man that as an homage to his late father.
Charles gave a small smile. "Thank you, Alyla." He accepted the papers and placed them in a manilla envelope to send off.