Little

-x-

"I am everywhere."

He was considered a strict disciplinarian. A teacher feared by everyone; his gaze etched the look of a dictator; his voice was a knife that could cut through thick linen.

But being a Private school girl and having sort of a military feel to my school, I went through almost anything. Yet nothing prepared me for him, the ridiculous road bumps and constructions that mostly happen between the streets of Avenue 304 and Yules Boulevard.

And this was no easy pass; I had to be quick, elegant to my step. Therefore, I avoided his eyes (which were an amazing shade of green) and his gaze that went with those orbs. Even though I abstained from looking at him, he noticed me keenly; probably realizing that I was afraid of him from the start.

"You look very familiar," his voice scattered my thoughts quickly, "I expect a lot from you, Sanban."

I could only nod my head in obedience.

-x-

Briskly, I fled through the crowd in search of my Homeroom class' two lines. There was nothing; only seventh graders and sophomores; not a junior in sight.

I sighed quietly, lifting my shoulders up and shifting my Chemistry and Math books from my right arm to my left. The books were taking a toll on my strength, if I had any.

At one point, I was hoping to give up and just stay where I am. The different classes' messy lines turned in to two straight vertical lines; their laughs and nonstop gossip turned into silent murmurs.

I sighed again; this definitely not how I pictured my first Monday morning praise mass; so much for laying low and trying to be a good girl this year.

"Sanban," I stiffened, instinctively tensing and straightening my back. I turned towards him and bent my head down in shame. I could have sworn I heard him groan at seeing me again.

He was not very happy, "Yes sir?"

"Your class is not here," he said icily, "It's at the bottom left of the stage. Hurry, the mass is about to start."

I nodded at him, for the second time of the year.

-x-

The masses in school—though I am unsure whether I should be proud or embarrassed by it—were unusually in a large number per school year. There were usually at least six masses per month, and the biggest mass was the feast of our school saint. The school prepared nonstop to perfect this mass. And the students were to usually groan during these times.

All students and teachers were to wear formal attire; especially us students. We would wear our formal Gala uniform clad in off-white, skin-tone and sweaty stockings, and painful beige shoes. The outfit was to be worn the whole mass right under the morning streaking sunlight.

And unfortunately for our class, our infamous adviser was to watch us during the mass.

"I want to hear you sing," his tone was intimidating like always, this time with formality. He probably didn't want to lose his reputation as a tyrant of a teacher.

"If I don't hear you sing, you will sing all those songs during Homeroom period."

All of my classmates contracted their positions, much like me when I am called to recite.

The voice on the stage quickly called to our attention, and our teacher eyed us with his trademark glare.

"Please open to song number thirty-four, page ninety-nine of your Hymns and Prayers."

#34 Glory to God in the Highest

The piano played the first notes of the song; the hymn's familiar melody blooming out of the large speakers. The song's words were sung by the choir first, and then by us.

"Glory to God in the highest, and peace to God's people on earth…"

I sang, in fear of my adviser's nearing presence. I felt his eyes all on me. "We worship you, we give you thanks, we praise you for your glory!"

There was a pregnant pause in the melody and I waited until the choir responded, but I sung anyways. It was almost automatic when it came out of my lips.

"Glory to God in the highest and peace to God's people on earth…"

The last words of the song and chorus were sung.

I suspected his being standing just beside me, frozen and just watching me. I was completely nervous of the reason why he was.

For some reason, the stringent adviser's lips tugged upwards. It was almost unfamiliar to me; I was unsure if anybody else saw this. I doubted it though; their eyes were directed to the stage almost like they were too terrified to see the teacher's presence.

I was curious.

He turned towards me the second time around that year.

I was frightened, paralyzed, and any other words that described my terror. I backed away, nearly tumbling my stool rearwards.

He chuckled in an obscure tone; his harshness decreasing.

"What is your name?"

I nearly jumped at his soft voice; something I would never had imagined coming out of his lips. The hard shell that separated his gentleness from the world, cracked. It seeped out a golden ray of light; a blinding ray of light.

I like that light.

I was surprised and held on to that. To answer his question without words, I scrambled for my ID and practically shoved the card on his face.

He read it stilly, smoothly gave it back, and resumed to his previous façade. The smile on his face never left, though it was not evident. His strictness was lesser than it was and the decreased ones were replaced with a calmer feel; almost like it was welcoming, opening it to people.

He continued streaming the words, "Sing" or "Louder" during the next but all I could hear was his first gentle words to me was repeating in my head. I gave a small smile, similar to his. I understood him now.

He wasn't so strict after all.

But he was definitely something locked up, and hopefully I'll be that key that fits the part. Though I may not succeed, I will try. Should I be scared? What if I return back to my old feelings of being scared again?

"What is your name?"

And then I realized—

(I smiled)

—I'm not so scared anymore.

-x-

a/n: Credits to Ms. Belaro (my strict, strict adviser who actually has a heart) and the Hymns and Prayers.

Btw, in case you're wondering, the teacher is Wally. Okay? Didn't you take the hint when I wrote there, green eyes? You must be so shocked. :3

Ciao! And review!