Coming back home Fili always felt apprehensive. First of all he had to walk through the shabby neighbourhood full of alcoholics, drug addicts, dealers and what not. Secondly there was a worry deep inside what he'll find at home this time. Was she drunk? Was she stoned? Was Kili safe? The list of worries on his fifteen year old shoulders was overweighting everything else in life. He couldn't count how many times they had the water or power cut off. How many times he and Kili had to go by no dinner and no warmth in the shabby flat.
Their mother seemed to be immune to everything. She didn't see the condition the flat was in, and she ignored the everyday duties of a typical parent. She had never gone shopping, unless it was for booze. She would never go to schools for parent meetings, she would never pay the bills or make any money. She was smart enough to squeeze out some money from welfare, but she would usually spend it on herself. Occasionally when she was sober enough she would play the good mother role, buying them some new clothes and cooking an edible dinner. But with every following year those occasions were becoming non-existent. Fili had few memories of happiness in his childhood, there were glimpses of his mother happy, of dinner on the table and warmth. But the younger son Kili didn't even have those memories to look back to.
Kili, three years younger than Fili, was living proof of their mother's sleazy lifestyle. He and Fili were different as day and night, and most people at school or in the area would never assume those two were brothers at all. Fili was short for his age, with very light blond hair and unusually deep blue eyes. He was broad, and his form was already showing muscle due to the football training he attended two times a week. Kili on the other hand was taller than most kids in his class, he had very dark chocolate hair, deep brown eyes and a willowy tall slim figure. The only things they actually shared, were things you would learn after getting to know them both better, wittiness, sense of humour and the ability to keep a blind eyes to the bad things in life.
When she would go on a drinking spree they were happy. Fili would prepare dinner out of things he stole, found or got from a charity in the area. Kili would help him clean the flat, and they would spend time together ignoring the fact that there was yet another person in their life. Those rare times Kili would actually smile, be carefree just like any other twelve year old should be. Then she would come back, sometimes after several days or even several weeks, half dead, drunk and stinking. She would lay on the couch all day and watch anything on and ignore them as if they weren't there.
School was something both boys spent as much time as possible. First of all it was warm there, secondly there was a chance to get a free lunch due to some government programme for feeding kids at schools in poor areas. Fili at the beginning had lots of problems, some kids teased him about his slutty mother, about their poverty. But those kids soon learnt the boy's fists were as hard as rocks. Fili wasn't prone to violence but in self-defence he would excelled at brining his foe to the ground. Of course the school never let him get off with it, they would call in his mother, who in fact never showed up, later they would give him detention, and after two especially violent fights he would get suspended for several days. Ever since then he avoided the last possibility, staying at home with mom was even worse than detention. The kids slowly learnt that messing with Fili was pointless, he was too strong, he was too smart, and because of his good grades some teachers started taking his side.
Kili on the other hand was more vulnerable, he took everything personally and never forgot a grudge. If someone said anything about his mom or his brother, Kili would make sure that person felt the pain. Looking so different than his brother Kili was surprisingly strong and soon many troublemakers learn that the last name Oakenshield meant getting a hard beating.
Avoiding the drug dealers and other criminals was a bit more difficult, but after some time Fili worked out with one of the gang leaders a safe truce. Lamar was as sly as they come, being a black kid in the worst neighbourhood and keeping his position for a long time meant he was smart enough to balance between the law. He and Fili had a silent agreement, Fili would let him copy from his tests and homework, and Lamar would leave him and Kili alone. Lamar kept proposing that they join his gang, two white kids among the crazy mixture of black, Mexican and Asian, would mean entering a new zone for business, but both brothers were firm, and Lamar respected that. The mutual respect turned to a strained friendship, when Fili actually managed to help Lamar in a fight at school, one for which he got detention, but the gentle nod from Lamar reassured the boy it was worth it.
Bilbo never though he would actually get a job in teaching, it wasn't as if he needed the money. He was from an affluent family, the only child, he studied English literature and had two degrees from it. While at high school Bilbo discovered his unique talent for writing, and since then all his past time was sacrificed for this burning passion to pour his soul onto paper. Under the encouragement of his professor Gandalf, Bilbo at the age of barely twenty-one had published his first book. After several years his book gained a lot of recognition and money, but on the day of his twenty eighth birthday Bilbo awoke feeling empty.
"It's high time you dropped by for tea!" Gandalf greeted his former student with a huge smile. Bilbo would frequently come and visit him at university to talk about everything and nothing connected with literature.
"Thank you Gandalf." Bilbo replied politely taking the cup from the old man. He sat down with the cup in his hands and he glanced at the liquid.
"Something seems to be troubling you greatly." Gandalf suddenly noticed. He looked at his friend with worry.
"You remember my mother?" Bilbo gently asked the older man.
"Why of course! She was one of my favourite students!" Gandalf smiled widely at the smaller man.
"I remember she once told me she feels empty inside. Hollow. That nothing would bring her joy or sadness at the same time." Bilbo started explaining what he was going through.
"You mean the notion of being in bottomless pit of sorrow?" Gandalf gently told him.
"Exactly. Last week I woke with the feeling that my life is pointless. I feel no joy, nothing makes me happy. I tried to sit down to my newest book, and for the first time I have absolutely no idea what to write about." Bilbo looked at his friend terrified.
"Dear Bilbo, there may be many reasons for how you feel. You rarely go out, have few friends and you lock yourself in with books as company." Gandalf started speaking slowly carefully choosing his words. "I can't blame you for that, I often do the same thing. But as a friend, I'm worried for you."
Bilbo looked at him with those deep blue eyes and finally replied. "I'm so lost, I have no idea what to do."
"Why don't you get a job?" Gandalf suddenly suggested.
"A job?" Bilbo's eyes went wide with surprise and fear at the same time.
"I know you never worked, and you don't need to, but think of it, meeting new people and gaining experience in life; think of it as an adventure." Gandalf was suddenly enthusiastic about the idea.
"But I never had a job and I have no idea who would hire me... I have no experience and no real qualifications." Bilbo began mumbling, clearly very worried with the idea.
"Wait just a moment!" Gandalf began searching for something in his messy desk. There was always papers lying around and Bilbo had no idea how Gandalf could work with such a messy desk.
"Here is it!" Gandalf pulled out what looked like a traditional old fashioned letter. "One of my former students is a headmaster in a school in Chicago. We correspond quite regularly and recently he's been complaining that one of his best English teachers was retiring and he needs to find a replacement." Gandalf passed the letter to Bilbo and pointed to the fragment where the author was complaining about losing one of his teachers. "As you can see he asked me to recommend someone for the post, and I think it would only be logical to recommend you."
"But what kind of school is it?" Bilbo's voice was full of fear.
"I'm not sure if the best kind, but it's all about experiencing an adventure! You don't have to take the job permanently just sign a year contract and see what happens next!" Gandalf was clearly enlightened by his idea and before Bilbo could even protest Gandalf pulled out his phone and assured Denethor he had found the perfect person for the job.
Standing at the blackboard in the classroom Bilbo was beginning to panic. He did the teaching part of his studies in hope he would one day teach at an University or College, but never in a junior high school. He was perplexed with the neighbourhood, the shabby houses and poverty everywhere. He was perplexed seeing the colourful mixture of student sitting now in front of him. He was perplexed with the curriculum he was given, and with the very idea of being there. He rented an average looking flat nearby, which was probably the highest standard in the area, and he was stricken with fear about this whole Gandalf's "adventure" idea.
He introduced himself to the students and read out the list of kids. Three missing on the first day. Then he tried to encourage them to open their books, but it turned out only a few students had any course books. Slowly the class was becoming louder and louder and Bilbo had absolutely no idea how to make them calm down. He was feeling weak and somehow his voice stopped in his throat.
He nearly jumped when the door to the classroom suddenly opened and another student came in. He was taller than most kids, and he had long dark wavy hair. He was dressed poorly, clearly the clothes had been washed too many times, but he was clean. Bilbo immediately noticed the whole class went silent and were glancing at the newcomer.
"I'm sorry I'm late." The boy mumbled and took an empty seat at the front. He pulled out his books, most of which looked shabby and used, but at least he had something with him.
"What's your name?" Bilbo asked gently.
"Oakenshield." The boy replied using only his last name. The class began murmuring again, and Bilbo could clearly hear the last name repeated by some students. He glanced at the attendance list – Killam Oakenshield.
"Since few of you got course books, I think it would only be reasonable to start the school year with a fragment of ..." Bilbo didn't even have a chance to finish his sentence when someone's phone began ringing with a squeaky tone and the class clearly though that was hilarious and began laughing.
The boy in the first row was the only one not laughing, Bilbo suddenly noticed. Without warning the boy stood up and turned around to look at the class. Under his cold gaze many of the students immediately stopped laughing or talking.
"Shut the fuck up." The boy spoke in a quiet tone with a threatening undertone. Within a split second the class was quiet. He boy just gave them one more glance and sat back in his spot. Bilbo hesitated for a moment to scold the boy for the language he used, but somehow instinctively he knew it would ruin the effect. And keeping the class quite was his priority right then. So he just picked up right where he ended. " a fragment of Cynthia Voigt's book Homecoming." Bilbo pulled out his copy of the book and began reading out loud.
Bilbo always lost focus when he read, and reading out loud was no different. It took him a while to notice the class was still silent. And another few paragraphs to noticed that the boy in the first row was listening carefully to his every word. He didn't realise the rest of the class was listening as well until he reached the third page he selected for their first lesson.
"What a bitch!" One of the black kids at the back mumbled as he listened to the kids talking about how to manage on the few dollars they had left and later the whole class really started listening to Bilbo read the fragment when the kids had to sleep in the car waiting for their missing mother.
He stopped reading and looked at the class surprised. All the eyes were on him, and they were clearly waiting for something.
"Why do you think she left them?" Bilbo asked quietly looking at the class.
"She was a selfish bitch!" One of the Mexican kids replied, many other kids yelled their answers and Bilbo realised he did it the wrong way.
"Could you please raise your hand if you have something to say?" He asked the class and pointed towards a girl near the window, who patiently had her hand up.
"I think their mother had no idea how to deal with reality." The girl names Aisha replied.
"That's a good explanation." Bilbo told her with a smile. Many other hands were up, some even from the kids who were the loudest at the beginning of the lesson.
"Tyrell." Bilbo pointed towards a black boy at the back.
"She was a stuck up bitch, who had too many children!" The boy spoke with enthusiasm and spite.
"Just like your mother?" One of the Mexican kids replied swiftly.
"What did you say?" The black kid immediately reacted, and Bilbo for a split second though they would actually start fighting in his class.
"Or yours Mendez." The boy from the first row suddenly spoke. "Or mine. Or all our mothers." The class went silent at that comment. "It's easy to imagine all our mothers doing such a thing."
Bilbo settled down seeing the class calm down a bit.
"Did any of you consider the fact that something might have happened to her?" Bilbo gently asked the class, and immediately saw hands go up.
"Chantal." He pointed towards a girl in the middle row.
"Maybe she died!" The girl said curtly.
"Jenna." Bilbo pointed towards another girl at the front.
"Maybe something happened to her, like an accident or something." The girl spoke slowly.
"Or she got arrested!" One of the boys at the back couldn't wait.
"I'd like you all to think about that." Bilbo slowly told them. "At home prepare a few ideas in writing, what happened to her, why did she leave her children. Was it really an accident? Was she arrested? Or did she simply leave them? Think about how will the children manage without her, what could happen to them. I'll see you again tomorrow, and we'll try to answer those questions." Bilbo smiled relieved his first lesson was over.
"So how was it?" Eowyn the history teacher approached him in the staff room.
"Bearable. I'm still not used to all this." Bilbo mumbled. "Few kids have books is that normal?" He asked.
"Most don't really care to have them. And others simply can't afford it. If I assign reading I usually arrange for books from our school library, so after the next lesson go to Mrs. Swaney and sign up on the list." Eowyn explained.
"Hey so how was Oakenshield the first lesson?" Boromir, the school coach appeared.
"Fine." Bilbo replied curtly.
"I was wondering does he have the same effect on the kids like his brother?" Radagast, the crazy science teacher spoke with hope in his voice.
"I don't understand what you mean." Bilbo hesitantly replied.
"I kept forgetting you're new here." Radagast gasped.
"The older Oakenshield always made the class quiet. That's why I gave you this class Bilbo." Bard, the head of the literature section told him swiftly.
"Yeah, the older was a prime student." Radagast gasped again.
"But you do have to be really careful with them, the Oakenshields are known for getting into trouble." The coach added. "Most students fear them for some reason, but some try to strike up, usually getting really badly hurt in the process. Don't get me wrong I really liked Fillon, and he was the best player on the football team, but I can't count how many times I had to get him out of detention or suspension to drag him to trainings or matches." Boromir complained.
"He's in the high school next door." Eowyn explained. "One of the best students we had here, but one of the most troublesome at the same time."
"Why is that so?" Bilbo asked hesitantly.
"Mainly fights." Eowyn explained. "They're from a very difficult background. You should go to the school councillor Mrs. Brandybuck and consult her. She has a file on the family."
"Are there more Oakenshield kids?" Bilbo asked surprised.
"No, it's just two of them. But both have huge files already." Bard explained. "But at least having a quiet class will make your first year a bit easier." Bard gently patted Bilbo's arm.
Bilbo met his second class later the same day, it was a seventh grade, pretty loud and pretty difficult for his taste, but somehow he survived. He thanked Bard in his thoughts, for giving him only two classes, and apart from that his schedule was to do individual consultations and some counselling. He had to work hard on the curriculum, he knew literature very well, but he had no idea about school requirements and other formal things.
He noticed the boy sit alone in the cafeteria, Bilbo quickly realised the school was divided into those who could afford lunch, which was like less than thirty percent of kids, and those who couldn't afford lunch and ate the basic lunch from the government programme. Oakenshield was in the second group, along with many kids from his class.
He watched the boy eat quickly, clearly not really caring what he was eating, but caring that he was eating at all. Bilbo remembered from his own childhood in the posh private school he was sent to, that most students would complain about food, and here he had to watch the kids not making any fuss about the quantity or quality. This was a different world for him, and slowly the idea that this really was a life changing adventure was dawning on him.