Chapter Two:
Three hours and two stops later, we finally arrived at The First Academy for Boys. I exited the Mercedes, studying the enormous gothic building. It stood before me, twenty feet high— give or take— with metal bars, double the thickness of my entire body, guarding the entrance. It would be difficult to break in.
Difficult. Not impossible.
As we arrived at the main gate, which towered over me in a gloomy state, Dr. Banner punched in the code, waiting for the gate to open. Instead another keypad came out and Dr. Banner typed in another series of numbers. I frowned as another came out. This continued for several minutes until at last it finished, clicking in approval and the gates sliding open slowly.
I smirked at Dr. Banner's weary expression, "Thorough," I snickered.
Dr. Banner shot me a withering look, "Necessary," he growled, rubbing his temples but resuming his way in.
We walked into a door that was aptly named 'office'. Dr. Banner held the door open for me and walked in behind me where we encountered the small room that was colored in a gaudy yellow. Honestly, it looked like someone had decided to take a piss on the wall.
A woman sat behind the desk, shuffling papers around so that it looked like she was busy. Dr. Banner plastered a smile on his face, walking up to the woman as I found a less than comfortable chair to sit in.
It was about half an hour later when Dr. Banner came over, all the paperwork signed and an irritating look on his face. I snickered at his expression and he shot me a death glance that only caused me to laugh even more.
Finally as my laughs subsided, I blurted out, "I get to flunk them, right?' I clarified, hopefully.
Dr. Banner rolled his eyes, sighing in an exasperated tone, "Yes, but you need to remember—"
"But I'm their teacher," I said quickly, pulling my hair away from my face, "I can flunk them if I wish," I said, ignoring Dr. Banner's red face.
"Yes you can flunk them if you deem necessary— but remember, we need them," Dr. Banner said wearily.
I smiled him a winning smile, batting my eyelashes innocently, not wanting to give him an aneurism in the middle of a quiet, piss colored office, "I'll only flunk a couple people, I promise," I swore, placing y right hand over my heart, unable to stop my mouth from twitching into a smile.
Dr. Banner groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in silent frustration.
Suddenly, the door opened and a tall lanky man with white blonde hair and a cheesy tie walked out, "Welcome! Hello Jonathan, how have you been?" the stranger asked, shaking Dr. Banner's hand.
Dr. Banner nodded politely, seeming out of place in the miniscule office as he stood, "I've been well. I trust that you have been doing well, Erik."
The man nodded, the smile seeming too fake— as if the plaster still had some drying to do on the imitation of what a genuine smile should look like. The stranger was lanky, but tall— he seemed to be the last person to run a school such as this. But I knew better than to judge by appearances.
Dr. Banner turned to me, giving me a gentle push towards this 'Erik' character, "Isabella, this is Mr. Varner. He is the principle of The First Academy."
I extended my hand to Mr. Varner, smiling a bit when his grip crushed my hand a bit, "Pleasure to meet you," I said with the sweetest tone.
Mr. Varner nodded, seeming a bit distracted, "I must admit, I have heard great things about you. But I never imagined you would be….so young," he trailed off, examining me.
I tensed at his words, but I plastered a smile on my face, "Thank you, sir,"
Automatically, I knew that I would not like this man. He was incredibly irritating, and I had to strive to avoid at all costs, "Do you have any question?" he asked me, gazing at me. He had given me a speech as I was in my own world. I really didn't care.
"Yes," I said boldly, "What are the ages of my students?" I asked, wondering how much I had to curve my language for them.
"The boys range from eighteen or nineteen," Mr. Varner answered thoughtfully.
I nearly choked on my own spit at this. These people were my age.
I glared at Dr. Banner who seemed to be suppressing a laugh, "You son of a bitch," I muttered under my breath to him.
"What was that?" Mr. Varner asked curiously.
"Nothing!" I said applying a sunshine mile, "No one informed me that I would be working with students within my age range," I said, aiming it towards Dr. Banner who was convulsing with silent laughter.
Mr. Varner seemed oblivious to our interaction, seeming genuinely worried, "Is there a problem?"
'Yes!' I screamed internally, wanting nothing more than to back out. But nevertheless, I shook my head, "No, no problem," I said in a sing song tone.
Mr. Varner nodded, distracted. He then reached for a clipboard and handed it to me, "These are your students. I'll call them to the gym. Please hold on for a minute," he said with a bright smile, holding up one finger for me to hold on for a minute.
I turned to Dr. Banner, giving him a tight hug He was the closest thing that I would have to a father. He protected me and taught me all I needed to know. Dr. Banner did the same, holding me close, "Stay safe, and try not to kill anyone," he whispered into my hair.
"No promises," I muttered, pulling away before I began to cry.
Dr. Banner smiled softly, curling the strand of my chocolate hair back, "You are strong; a group of boys will be no trouble for you," he said as encouragement.
I opened my mouth to thank him for al he had done for me— all he had done in my favor. But a loud static-like screech interrupted whatever I was about to say. Mr. Varner's voice rang out, "Will the class of 30C please report to the gym to meet your teacher, thank you," he said in a polite, sweet tone.
I began to see red and anger surged through my veins, intoxicating everything that it contacted— and with that, the touching moment was over. Dr. Banner chuckled as he read my expression, "So it begins," he muttered more to himself than anything.
Mr. Varner joined us once more, his smile sickening, "Shall we introduce you to your class?" he asked happily.
I whipped toward hi, beyond normal anger, "For future reference," I snarled quietly, "Never act polite to my class."
With that said, I stormed out of the piss colored office, clipboard in hand. It was time to introduce my class to hell.
~TMW01~
I entered the gym to see a cluster of boy standing in the center of gymnasium. The room itself was quite wide; colored with a shade of sky blue and white. A pair of double doors was in the far corner— safe to assume that it was the weapons and gadgets room. The bleachers were on the right, a sky blue color as well and fairly clean.
My presence was finally noticed and a young blue eyed boy waved to me, whistling as if I were some pet of his, "Hey lady!" he yelled, displeasing me automatically, "When's the teacher getting here?" he yelled, his eyes appraising me as he bellowed.
I forced a smile, thinking of the many ways I could kill him, "Any minute," I said calmly.
"Cool," he said, trying to put swagger in his every action as he turned back to the cluster of boys. Instead of looking suave though, he looked downright ridiculous.
I narrowed my eyes for a moment before smoothing my expression out. This boy had to be taught manners if he were to continue in my class.
"Hey," I called out, walking up to him, "What's your name?" I asked.
Many of the others turned to me, their attention captured. I saw a certain twinkle come from the boy's eyes. I almost laughed at this. He thought he had a chance.
"Mike. Mike Newton," he purred, his voice as slick as oil— and equally disgusting, "And who might you be beautiful?" he asked in what was supposed to be a flirtatious tone, his hand trailing down my arm.
I flinched then smacked him across the face enjoying the shock that crossed his face. Silence echoed across the room, deafening to any ear and louder than the chattering that had occurred before.
"Class hasn't even begun and you are already at a C, Mr. Newton," I snarled at him.
Mr. Newton's eyes widened in a mixture of anger and confusion, "Wait, what?" he gabbled.
At that moment, Mr. Varner chose to burst through the gym door, panting, "How did you get here?" he asked, dumbfounded.
All heads turned to me in unison. It was quite comical and I couldn't help but smirk, "Mr. Varner," I pronounced in perfect clarity, "I am a professional. It is my job to know the layout of my next mission," I said with a small laugh.
Mr. Varner nodded, looking at loss.
His gaze shifted to the students' dumbfounded look, his own expression a cross between amusement and pity, "Class, this is your teacher for the next nine months. You have a morning class and an afternoon class with her. You fail her class, you fail The Academy," he paused for a moment before adding a heartfelt, "Good luck," after his little speech. He then turned from where he came and fled, leaving me with the class.
There was a groan from Mr. Newton, "I can't hit a girl," he said to the rest of the guys.
There was a murmur of agreement and my temper was set free. These guys thought they could do anything— say anything.
Without warning, I lifted my foot and kicked him square in the chest; sending him flying across the gym floor— smiling as he landed on the floor with an audible smack. The others watched with palpable awe, their eyes glued to me as I stalked towards Mr. Newton.
I stalked over to the waste of space, lifting him by the collar of his shirt, "I have been in the spy business since I was ten years old. Don't give me an excuse to fail or punish your miserable hide," I growled, throwing him back onto the gym floor, watching with satisfaction as he gawked at me in awe.
I turned to the other boys, watching them shrink back. I fought the urge to roll my eyes at them, "Any questions?" I barked, fighting the instinct to laugh when they frantically shook their heads.
"Good," I said, taking a step towards the rest of the group, "Now, my name is Isabella, but unfortunately, your buddy Mike, just ruined your right to call me that. You will call me 'Miss' or 'Coach', understand?" I snapped eyeing each of them with a death glare.
They nodded warily, their eyes glaring at Mike, "Awesome," I sang, uncharacteristically cheery, causing cautious eyes to turn my way, "Now drop and give me fifty!" I bellowed.
Automatically, they dropped to the ground and began their fifty pushups. I looked behind me to see Mr. Newton doing the same. I strolled to the bleachers, picking up my clip board where I had dropped them. It seemed— more or less— that they were split between eighteen and nineteen the same.
Once all were finished, I took a deep breath and strolled back to the cluster, clipboard in hand, "Here's the drill," I began firmly, "In order to pass my class, you have to work hard and practice. I don't accept anything half-assed, got that? Keep in mind that if you fail my class then you fail The Academy," I announced, giving the group a firm glare.
"What about Mr. Berty's class?" one boy with greasy brown hair asked, his hand half raised and his shoulders trembling.
"And you are?" I asked; my tone bored.
"Eric. Eric Yorkie," he stuttered.
I nodded, committing his face to memory, "You are in my class now. Each of you will have new schedules which are waiting for you at the office," I announced, taking the pen and tucking it behind my ear.
"Now I will call your name out and you will show me what you got," I said, looking to my clipboard.
A dark skinned boy raised his hand timidly, catching my peripheral vision, "Yes?" I called out, not taking my eyes off of the clipboard.
"What do you mean by that exactly?" he asked quietly.
I looked up at the cluster of clueless boys, "You guys are going to fight me," I announced, grinning.
A collection of gasps went around the room, filling it with murmurs and complaints I did not want to listen to. I clapped my hands three times, irritated at them. Almost immediately, they quieted.
I turned to my clipboard once more, "And look! Mike is up first," the false sweetness in my tone being layered heavily.
The tip of Mike's ears turned pink and he stepped forward, his face a strange red and purple hue. I wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or angry….a mix, perhaps? I could feel the revenge come off of him in waves.
"Aren't you going to put the clipboard down?" he asked rudely.
I scoffed at his suggestion, "Won't need to," I replied, staring at him with a smirk.
I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears as I said this. He bristled in irritation, gritting his teeth and balling his hands into fists. I took my pen out form behind my ear, twirling it between my fingers, "Begin," I said monotonously.
With the proverbial flag waved, Mike tucked his head into his shoulders and ran towards me, head first. Easily, I sidestepped his attack, writing down the weakness, repeating as I wrote, using it as a weapon to irritate Mike, "Runs….like….bull," I annunciated, putting my clipboard aside for a moment, "Football player, right?" I asked, unable to hold back a laugh.
Mike's face was flush with anger and embarrassment and he charged once again, only this time stopping to put force in a single blow to the shoulder. I dodged it quite easily, sighing dramatically, scribbling my notes and repeating what I wrote, "Attacks…weakly," I smiled bitterly as I head snickers behind me.
They were next. They wouldn't be laughing soon enough.
Mike was beet red from a blend of anger and frustration. Tucking the clipboard under my arm, I took a single step forward and jabbed at his sides, using my leg to break the support from the back of his knees. With that, Mike fell to the gymnasium floor.
I grabbed my clipboard from under my arm and crouched next to him, "Mr. Newton, you went form a C to a low D. Be thankful I did not flunk you on the first day," I growled, imputing the grade he deserved into the slot next to his name on the clipboard.
I then turned to the rest of the boys, "Next!" I yelled, grinning at the group.
~TMW01~
In the end, all of them did only a little bit better than Mike. I finished the last kid with a jab to the shoulder blades, watching as he fell to the floor with a sickening thud. I dusted my shirt a bit, taking my abused clipboard from underneath my arm and imputing the grade.
All of them had an atrocious performance.
The last kid hobbled over to the bleachers with the rest of the boys, joining the benches of shame. I was so angry, that I was sure that steam was coming out of my nostrils in aggression. These boys were at a top of the line spy academy, and they couldn't even touch me?
"Listen up," I barked, gaining their attention, "how long have all of you been here, training?" I seethed, unable to believe the lack of capability all of the possessed.
A boy named Edward spoke up, "We've been here since we were sixteen."
I studied him for a moment, dissecting him. His build was firm, but room for toning. He had messy bronze colored hair that was spiked up in a certain style that could only be described as his own; and his jaw seemed as if it were cut from glass, the cheekbones high and having a regal air to them. He had emerald eyes that went on for miles— revering sincerity and honesty.
The kid was going to be killed if I didn't do something.
"Then how is it," I seethed, "that it seems no one can fight. None of you were able to touch me in those fights. What have you been doing?" I bellowed.
Once again, it was this Edward fellow that spoke again, "Everything we've learned has been in theory," he spoke clearly without a stutter or whimper.
I glared at him, grudgingly admitting my newfound respect for this boy. He had been able to face me without flinching. In fact, he said it with a cool tone, never conveying his true emotions. It was impressive.
I remembered him well: he was one of the better fighters, actually. But his attacks had been weak and without agility. His defense had been a mess as well.
"Elaborate," I barked, crossing my arms over my chest.
Edward hesitantly stood, daring to look me in the eye. My respect went to him ten fold in that moment as I listened, "We learned strategies, and how to approach a situation. Last year, we were taught minimal defense but never outright attack or how to use weapons," he explained, wetting his lips when he finished.
My clipboard clattered to the ground and I gaped at my group. It seemed inconceivable that it was true, "All of you are worse than useless," I groaned, rubbing my temples in frustration.
"How do you figure?"
My head snapped up to see Edward's expression in anger. I saw the other tug him to sit down but he tore away, his jade eyes crystallizing, refusing to break from mine. I sneered at him, "If someone burst through those doors, with intent to capture you— none of you would be able to stop it! Worse than that, you would know too much— you would be of some use to the other side. You provide information and we're fried!" I bellowed, causing a majority of the boys to cringe back.
But Edward stood erect, considering my words thoughtfully before nodding and giving me a genuine smile, "That's why we have you."
I felt startled at his words. He was optimistic that they would learn everything in the period of nine months. I didn't know how to react, honestly. I sighed, wishing I hadn't accepted this job. No amount of money would be enough for this.
"I have more work than I thought," I muttered to myself, clapping my hands twice, "Go back to your rooms and get a good night's sleep. You report here at five thirty," I snapped, stopping down to retrieve my clipboard.
"In the morning?" I heard Mr. Hamilton shriek in disbelief.
I whipped around, angry for his questioning, "Yes, in the morning," I snapped turning back to the doors, "Oh, and get a good breakfast— you'll need it," I snapped without turning or breaking pace, exiting the gym doors with a whirl.
A/N: Thank you everyone for reading! Please review!
Best Wishes,
TheMidnightWriter01
