There was something about a clean classroom that made it infinitely easier to focus. Minimum clutter, organized textbooks, a system in place to keep it running smoothly. It was strangely relaxing, in a way. Call it a strange sort of joy, perhaps. The point still stood. It made it easier to concentrate. Although it may not have been part of his job description, he did it anyway. After all, he signed up for the job. Might as well go the extra mile.
Salomon placed the cleaning rag he brought on a nearby desk, examining his handiwork. This late in July, he didn't need to be at the school just yet. The unique situation with DuPont, however, permitted bending the rules to a certain extent. Thus the new principal they had hired allowed the teachers into their classrooms early to prepare.
This particular day was the scheduled day teachers could come in and prepare for the next school year. Salomon made sure he came early so he could figure out the best way to organize and restructure the classroom to a better standard. Mucking through Bustier's notes was… an experience. He wouldn't dwell too long on it. He had tasks on hand to perform.
Double-checking the desks to make sure he got every spot wiped clean, he hummed in content and put the rag away. All that was left were the books and the chalkboard now. Was Bustier in the middle of a lesson when the investigation descended on the school? The chalk marks were still on the board. Unacceptable. He'd need to wipe it clean and make sure the erasers were dusted. Only then could he rest and perhaps sit down for lunch.
He double-checked what was left on his to-do list. So far, it was just reorganizing the books and cleaning the chalkboard. The books bothered him less than the chalkboard, so he turned his attention to the chalkboard. Taking hold of the cleaning rag again, he detected slight movement out of the corner of his eye.
Oh. Was someone here? A teacher or a student, he couldn't tell. Although he found it amusing how they thought they were being sneaky.
"You do realize I can see you?" he said out loud. The person lingering out the door to his classroom flinched. Both parties knew they had been caught.
"Uhh…" a young woman's voice uttered. "I was just passing by, and I stopped to look in?"
Salomon chuckled. "It's not exactly subtle when half your foot is in my classroom," he joked. To her credit, the young woman had the good grace to look embarrassed.
"May I come in?" she squeaked.
"You may."
Salomon occupied himself with wiping down the board while she came in. Setting the cleaning rag down after spraying the cleaner on the board, he glanced at the young woman that entered his classroom.
She had reddish-brown hair cut in a chin-length bob, her fringe sweeping to the right. Her clothes were plain, consisting of a loose white turtleneck with stud earrings and a long, dark grey skirt. Completing the look was a pair of black kitten heels. He had half a mind to ask how her eyes were such a vibrant ruby red but chose not to ask. She was looking at the decorations he had placed in the classroom.
"Are you a teacher too?" she asked.
"I am," he answered. "I teach language, literature, and Spanish."
Her eyes shone a bit. "That is actually interesting," she added. "I'm going to be teaching geography."
"How interesting."
The two teachers, young and experienced, chatted. Since she was going to be working at the school, Salomon figured he'd get to know his co-worker a little more. He introduced himself first.
"I'm Salomon Oropeza Ibáñez," he said. "Who might you be?"
She extended her hand for a handshake. "Callidora. Callidora Diamandis."
"Pleased to meet you."
"You as well."
Salomon smiled, accepting the handshake.
"I'm a new teacher," Callidora added. "This would be my first time teaching." Salomon raised an eyebrow. "I'm trying to get ideas for my room."
"Ah," he hummed. Although there were some questions he had. Because surely, they didn't release teachers from training before they were ready?
"Miss?" Callidora turned to him. "If you don't mind my asking, how much experience do you have in teaching?"
"Well," she drawled. "I'm still new, I'm in training right now."
The train of thought screeched to a halt in his mind. She was still in training? What was she doing applying for a teaching job if she was still in training? Weren't they usually more thorough than that?
"… how far along are you?" he asked, pensive.
"I have my bachelor's, two years of training, and my certification."
"Then that means you're technically out of training."
Callidora's expression froze. Salomon had to wonder if there was a miscommunication somewhere. Because right now, he had half a mind to go to wherever they taught new teachers and ask what in the world was going on.
"… is that enough?" Callidora asked. Salomon paused.
"The training is good," he said. Humor began seeping back into his demeanor. "But wait until you actually start teaching."
They both got a chuckle out of that. Little by little, the awkwardness and tension melted away. While Salomon finished with the chalkboard, he let Callidora look around his classroom for ideas. She was going to teach geography, so perhaps a globe would be a nice addition to her classroom? He'd have to ask around for places that sold teaching supplies. Might as well tackle the list he had prepared. The new principal said he'd schedule another day for teachers to finish preparations for the next school year if they couldn't make it today. He might as well take advantage of that.
"How long have you been teaching?" Callidora suddenly asked. Salomon set down the cleaning spray and the rag. He counted in his head how many years he had under his belt now.
"Around twelve years, give or take."
"So you know what you're doing then."
"For the most part," he said. "Even then, I'm learning new techniques." Callidora's mouth hung open in an "O" shape. Salomon had to smile. "Looking forward to starting your career?"
Callidora nodded so quickly he was afraid her head would pop right off. He was assuaged, mostly, by the wide grin on her face. Picking up the erasers (finally), he headed to a part of the room least likely to cause dust allergies.
"So um," Callidora muttered. "Salomon, you said?" Salomon turned to face her. "Is it alright if I ask you a question?" He nodded, encouraging. "You, your room…" her hands clenched tightly, then released in a bout of frustration. "How? I honestly don't know what to do with mine."
Salomon hummed thoughtfully. "Well, to start, I have a theme." Callidora nodded, summoning a pencil and a notepad out of thin air. He went through the checklist he had developed after years in the field for setting up a classroom. Starting small, then building up into a coherent theme. His field was literature, language, and Spanish, so his setup would be different than hers. For the most part, it all boiled down to personal preference. Which came with experience.
"This one, they should have training." He pulled up the grading software DuPont used. "They said in the emails they'll host a workshop to cover this. Should be sometime in the next month before the new school year."
"Whoa," Callidora marveled. She stepped away for a bit to get a water bottle. Pouring a red drink mix into it, she asked, "So I should be getting an email around the time it's scheduled to start?"
"In a few days, yes."
He corrected a few minuscule mistakes he noticed in the grading. Out of his peripheral, something strange caught his attention. It was small and easy to miss, if one wasn't in the know. But he saw it. An abnormally long canine tooth protruding from her mouth. And a second abnormally long canine tooth. He must've been staring, given the look Callidora was giving him. Followed by the question mark floating above her head. Salomon turned back to the computer.
"While you're here, I'd appreciate not becoming a meal," he said aloud. Callidora went silent, unsure of how to answer. Salomon tapped his canine tooth, which prompted a gasp and a covering of her mouth. Callidora's eyes went wide with shock, innately understanding he had figured out what she was.
A vampire.
Salomon observed his young co-worker, sympathy making its way through. "You don't interact with humans often, do you," he asked. Callidora shook her head, the shock giving way to a quiet solemnity. In a way, though, he had to give credit where it was due. It was impressive that she, a young vampire, would take a risk and apply to a school where there would be many humans.
"How, though?" she asked. "How did you know?"
A pause. "… let's just say I had a student turn out to be a biter." Callidora's eyes resembled dinner plates, which elicited a chuckle.
"So, it wasn't my eye color then?"
"No."
Truthfully, he hadn't paid too much attention. Only enough to notice they were more vibrant than would be in a human's. But then again, maybe he was becoming jaded.
Suddenly, Callidora's eyes glowed, her pupils turning into slits. Salomon gulped, ever so slightly.
"I will let you know now," she asserted. "As a teacher, I won't be letting my nature take control. That is not something I wish the kids to see."
Salomon felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "I can respect that," he stated. He cursed himself for allowing his voice to sound shakier than he intended. Callidora looked him up and down.
"… you are a smart man," she admitted. "I would respect that you please keep this all under wraps." Salomon could sense a however coming. "Otherwise, I will bite." He fought the urge to yelp. "Self defense, nothing more." That did little to soothe the fears now. He held his hands up, palms forward.
"Promise you won't say a word," she requested.
"I won't," Salomon said out loud. I'd rather not have the Coven breathing down my neck, he kept to himself. It took every ounce of willpower he had to not cover his throat. It would immediately give him away.
Callidora looked him down. Then, her eyes stopped glowing, her pupils returning to a round shape. She seemed to accept that answer, although Salomon chose not to push it. The clock said it was lunchtime now.
"I'll see you around," she said. "I have to go think of what I want in my room."
"See you around."
Satisfied with knowing he won't squeal, Callidora left the room. Salomon released the breath he had been holding. That was too close for comfort. Maybe he'd gotten too comfortable, what with all the strangeness he had been seeing. He let himself fall back on the chair, the only support he had right now in the wake of the encounter.
Of all places, he didn't expect to see another vampire in his workplace. The debacle with the vampire student back in Spain was an experience he'd rather not have to repeat. But then again, life just loved yanking the carpet out from under his feet.
Speaking of which… where was his lunch?
Knock knock knock
"Come in."
The door opened to reveal none other than Amaia, Andres, and Marinette. Who was awkwardly tagging along in the back. Andres had his sack lunch in his hand. He felt relief washing over him in that instance.
"Tío, Amaia put me on the leash again," Andres chirped.
"I did not," Amaia retorted.
"Hi," Marinette greeted.
Salomon had to laugh. "What perfect timing." His niece, nephew, and neighbor came with lunch. And it looks like they brought extra goodies from the bakery. How lovely.
"Whoa," Andres marveled, looking around the room. "Tío, is this your room?"
"It is."
Amaia surveyed the classroom, visibly impressed. It was slightly bigger than his classroom in Spain, but it felt nice and spacious.
"I hope I'm not intruding," Marinette mewled.
"I wouldn't say so," Salomon replied. He closed the applications, then he shut down the computer. Once that was done, he turned to the three teens.
"Andres and I noticed you forgot your lunch," Amaia said. Gesturing to her brother, he held up the sack lunch proudly. "And we asked Marinette to come since she knows the school." Marinette just waved. Looking to the side, Andres had his little gremlin smile. The smile that let Salomon know he was up to something.
"Amaia wants a head start on homework too, she told me," he quipped. Amaia immediately reached over and pinched his arm. "Ow!" Marinette's eyes darted between the bickering siblings. Uh oh, should she do something?
There was no need. Salomon stood up and planted himself between them.
"Alright, enough," he commanded, placing a hand on both their shoulders. Amaia and Andres immediately stopped fighting, not daring to look their uncle in the eye. "Both of you stop now."
Marinette's eyes widened. Because wow, he was kinda scary. Amaia did everything in her power to avert Salomon's stern gaze. Andres, meanwhile, grinned like his life was on the line.
"I didn't do it," he whimpered. Salomon looked down at his nephew.
"No matter. I'm ending it."
Marinette backed away. So, so slowly. This was Bustier's replacement? If so, she was thoroughly scared for her classmates. She only hoped the casualties would be minimal.
Minutes later, the group of four was sitting down for lunch. Marinette wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Sure, they assured her it was a friendly lunch between neighbors, but she was certain Alya, Chloé, or Lila would spin it into something else once they got wind of it. Maybe she was catastrophizing too much?…
Andres was suddenly smiling his gremlin smile, followed by a mischievous giggle.
"Start something and I'll take away your game system, Andres," Salomon flatly stated. Just like that, Andres deflated. Amaia stifled a snicker in between bites of her lunch. Marinette's eyes skimmed over the three family members.
"Is it always this lively at home?" she asked.
"Worse," Amaia stated.
"For the better," Andres added.
"Pfft!"
Marinette tried to stifle a laugh. It didn't quite work.
"Usually, Mireya helps with keeping order," Salomon said. Marinette felt a chill go down her spine. "Except she's at the vet today." Marinette's spine was relieved of the ice-cold chill.
"I was wondering where she was…" Marinette uttered. If Mireya was out today, then that'd explain why Tikki was suddenly more relaxed. Seriously… what was with her?
Salomon downed some water before turning to Marinette. "Speaking of, I heard screaming yesterday." Marinette froze in her seat. "Did something happen?"
Oh no… oh no. How did they hear? Was she too loud? Was Tikki too loud? Out of the corner of her eye, Amaia shushed Andres before he said anything. She really couldn't lie to her neighbors, but she couldn't tell them about Tikki. A grimace, and then she answered.
"There was… a bird."
Wow. Fantastic. Good job. An Oscar-worthy performance.
Andres giggled. "Bird dive-bombed you?"
"More like scared the snot out of me, but oh well."
Marinette took a bite out of the pastries her parents sent, not quite noticing how Amaia and Mr. Oropeza had gone silent. Uncle and niece looked at one another in the eye, silent communication transpiring between them. Amaia looked towards Marinette, uncertain.
"… was it a black bird with an orange beak and matching orange rings around its eyes?" Amaia asked.
Marinette suddenly felt dread fill the pit of her stomach.
"H-h-h-how did you know?" she stammered. Andres grinned while Amaia and Mr. Oropeza exchanged looks.
"Mireya," they said in unison. Question marks floated around Marinette's head.
"It's her bird," Andres clarified. Marinette's face went blank. Because somehow, that made way too much sense. The creepy beauty owned an equally beautiful and creepy bird as a pet. Go figure.
"It got out again, it seems," Amaia bemoaned, exasperated.
… again?
Mr. Oropeza was pinching the bridge of his nose. Marinette turned a wide-eyed look to Andres. His nodding only confirmed her suspicions.
"Explains the sudden vet visit this morning."
"You're telling me."
"Never fails."
Marinette was now wondering what in the world she got herself into by befriending this family. On the one hand, she appreciated making new friends. On the other hand, they were crazy. And that wasn't even touching the walking contradiction that was Mireya. Sure, she was sweet as sugar to Amaia, but she didn't fully trust her. Tikki was scared of her for some unknown reason. And until Tikki trusted Mireya (which would be when pigs fly), Marinette wouldn't fully trust her.
Though… she was curious about what happened to Mireya's bird.
Lunchtime passed without further incident. The group of four cleaned up after themselves. Wiping off the crumbs, putting the trash where it belonged, picking up stray pieces of food. Small talk was made, Marinette showed Amaia her designs for Diego's bed. There was much difficulty choosing a favorite. In the end, Amaia chose the fourth design Marinette had sketched up. A cozy bed with an excellent structure to hold the weight of a fully-grown husky.
It turns out, today was also his check-up at the vet. So Mireya decided to kill two birds with one stone and took both her precious blackbird and Amaia's puppy to the vet. When she asked how Mireya planned to keep order between a puppy and a bird, her only answer was the hint of fear in the siblings.
Neither of them wanted to anger Mireya. That much was certain. And judging by Mr. Oropeza's reaction, it was clear who truly ran the household. Marinette made a mental note to never provoke the creepy beauty if she could help it.
"Señorita Dupain-Cheng?" Mr. Oropeza addressed. Marinette turned to him. In the background, the siblings were bickering again. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" Marinette nodded, giving her approval. "What can you tell me about your classmates?" Marinette's mouth hung open in a wide "O". "Are there any disciplinary problems? Students to keep an eye on?"
Oh dear… how should she answer? Should she be honest? Truthfully, the only real trouble was Chloé. And no one's heard from her since the fiasco that shut down DuPont. Not that anyone cared. She was likely laughing at all the peasants that made such fools of themselves. Although Marinette vaguely remembered Chloé and Sabrina looking shocked when Alya slapped her…
But! Lila was no longer in Paris, so there weren't any severe disciplinary problems, per se. And she was still class president, no? Therefore, it was her duty to assist in maintaining a healthy classroom.
"Well!" Marinette began. "As class president, I help maintain order in the class."
"… what?"
Behind them, the siblings stopped their bickering.
"I organize schedules, bring treats, remind everyone of their homework—"
"Stop stop stop stop stop," Mr. Oropeza rapidly fired. Marinette blinked, not understanding what was wrong. "Why are you doing all this for your teacher? That's my job."
Marinette paused. He… wasn't going to ask her to help maintain peace and harmony? What? She could feel the stares of Amaia and Andres concentrated on her. Oh no, did she do something wrong? When she turned to look at them, their expressions were of concern. Why?…
"You've been doing all that? Among other things?" Amaia asked. Marinette nodded, not sure of any other way to answer.
"… hey, Marinette?" Andres inquired. Marinette turned her attention to the younger boy. "No offense, but if you're doing all that, how on earth are you even functioning?" She stared dumbly at him, his question ringing in her head. "Is no one helping you?"
"Alya did," Marinette responded. "Used to," she hastily added. The family before her just stared. Only stared. No one knowing what they should tell her. That is until Andres broke the silence.
"I wouldn't do all that," he said. "If they can't remember their stuff then it sucks to be them."
"But…"
"No buts, Miss Dupain-Cheng," Mr. Oropeza stated firmly. Marinette must've gawked because he was looking her straight in the eye. "It isn't your job to be taking care of everyone else. Even if a teacher, of all people, says that." An incredibly lazy teacher in his mind, but he didn't say that out loud.
Marinette, however, was stumped. It wasn't her job to take care of everyone? But-but she was Ladybug! Of course, she couldn't say that out loud. Guardian code and all. But still—!
"Marinette," Andres asked. "Don't you have any time for yourself?"
Marinette had no answer. Because… when was the last time she had time for herself?
"Did they even pay you for all those favors?" Amaia inquired.
"Wait, you can pay for favors?"
Amaia looked at her brother. "Did you see how much all that fabric she bought cost?" Marinette sheepishly remembered all the fabric and materials she had bought that day. The afternoon of the Madame Destiny attack. "It's not cheap. She at least deserves some compensation for it."
Marinette withdrew into herself. Did she make a mistake? Oh no, they were going to think she was a total disaster!…
But… Mr. Oropeza also said it wasn't her job to take care of everyone? She never heard that from Miss Bustier. She was always expected to be a model student. The kind of student who helped everyone even at their lowest point. Was that the answer Mr. Oropeza was looking for?…
Amaia placed a hand on Marinette's shoulder, reassurance in her eyes. Marinette took deep breaths, letting the anxiety melt away. She didn't have to worry about making herself look like a klutz in front of them. They'd helped her before, both outside the mask and during the Madame Destiny battle. She could trust them.
Knock knock knock
"Come in," Mr. Oropeza said. The door opened, and in walked an older gentleman. Followed by a girl around Marinette's age. Mr. Oropeza looked up.
"Salomon," the older gent said. "Long time no see."
Mr. Oropeza paused. Then he smiled. "Mr. Delmas. It's been a while."
Amaia and Andres exchanged glances, wondering what was going on.
"You know him, tío?" Amaia asked.
"Why, yes," Mr. Oropeza said, smiling. "I was in his class when he first started teaching."
Andres gaped, looking up at his uncle. "You must be older than you look." Immediately, everyone around him, sans Mr. Oropeza, was struggling to stifle a laugh. Amaia covered her face, but her shoulders were still shaking. Marinette was having much more difficulty trying to keep a straight face. Even the girl beside Delmas was giggling. Mr. Oropeza stared blankly at his nephew.
"Sorry. That was surprising," Andres quipped. Mr. Oropeza donned the most unamused expression he could muster. Because Andres did not look the least bit sorry for saying that. The little gremlin…
Marinette found herself studying the outfit of the new girl. "Oh, cute outfit," she said. The girl preened, happy for the attention.
"Thanks." She, in turn, looked over Marinette's outfit. "Yours too."
"Oh, thank you," Marinette said. She couldn't help but brag a bit. "I made them myself." The girl looked Marinette up and down, in the manner of a fashion critic. It was unnerving, but also exhilarating? Was she also a fashion enthusiast? Her clothes, accessories, and hairstyle suggested an outright fashionista.
"Talented then," the girl said. "I like it."
"Why thank you," Marinette preened.
"Marinette would look good in anything she makes," Andres said. Beside him, Amaia smirked. Marinette quirked an eyebrow, wondering what she was planning. Mr. Oropeza was busy catching up with Mr. Delmas, who seemed to know him. Out of his line of sight, Amaia leaned down to Andres's eye level.
"Careful," she teased. "Your heart is showing."
Andres sputtered, urgently trying to hide his face.
"Amaia!" he squawked. Amaia just grinned a toothy grin, satisfied with her payback against her brother.
"Alright, you two. That's enough," Salomon gently chided. Marinette had to laugh. As crazy as this family was, it was nice to see some humor after weeks of despair. She turned back to the girl she was talking to.
"My name is Sissi by the way," she said.
"I'm Marinette."
In the background, Mr. Oropeza was introducing his niece and nephew to the new principal. As much as he could, anyway. Andres's nature as a little gremlin was prominent enough Amaia had to restrain him a few times.
"Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you before."
Sissi was all too happy to answer Marinette's question. "I went to Kadic. My father over there was the principal."
"Oh wow," Marinette said, awed. "I've met some people from Kadic. They're very nice."
"Let me guess, Ulrich and the gang?"
"That's them."
"I'm part of their group."
"Oh, neat."
Beside them, at the suggestion of their uncle, Amaia and Andres approached the two girls. It turns out, Sissi was quite well-versed in fashion. From the latest trends to beauty tips to critiquing outfits, Sissi knew fashion tips even Marinette wasn't aware of. Like how to pair different makeup looks with different outfits and accessories. Marinette found herself taking notes on what to do with different cosmetics. She was beginning to overflow with ideas based on this new knowledge.
Then their attention turned to fashion figures they both admired. Sissi was a fan of Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen with whom Marinette turned down an internship. She didn't bring that up, but it was cool to find a fellow fashion lover. Sissi pulled out her phone so they could watch the video of the latest fashion show Audrey attended. That was when the gushing started.
"Did you see the dress on that? Oh my gosh," Marinette swooned. Sissi dramatically fainted in admiration. The dress the model wore on the runway was breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking. Behind them, Andres turned to Amaia. Neither of them had a particular interest in the conversation, so they opted to just listen. Andres had his gremlin smile on his face.
"Let's get out of here," he joked. Amaia flashed him a grin.
"You're just lucky you get to hang with three ladies," she fired back. She had the utmost pleasure of seeing his face burn red once again while she messed up his hair.
It was then the two older men in the room suggested they step out for a bit, get to know the school and each other a little more. Sissi was more than happy to hang out with her new friend and fellow fashion lover. Marinette was eager to learn more about how to pair makeup and accessories with different outfits. She even knew what material could be made for different outfits! Sissi just had to know more about that.
Thus, exiting the room, a beautiful new friendship was blossoming.
Salomon hadn't felt this happy in a while. After the nasty event one year and a half ago, he didn't think he would be smiling again. Seeing his withdrawn niece willingly befriend others. It brought joy to his heart.
"So," Delmas said. Salomon turned to him. "How long has it been?"
Salomon couldn't help but reminisce. "Twenty years, give or take." Twenty years had gone by so fast. It was incredible.
"What did you ever do after school?"
"Oh, wouldn't you know." Salomon held his arms out wide, emphasizing the irony. "I'm standing right here back in a school."
Delmas just chortled. "Had to get into teaching, didn't you." Salomon's grin widened, fond memories returning.
"At the time, I didn't think it'd be my lifelong career," Salomon admitted, sitting down at his desk. "Strange how that turned out."
"Indeed."
Twelve years ago, when Salomon first took the job, he didn't think he would enjoy teaching a bunch of snot-nosed brats the basics of functioning in society. But as time passed, he discovered a brand new love. The love of seeing young minds piece together new information. The way their eyes would light up when it clicked filled him with unmatched joy. The fact he was working to make a difference in so many lives. It would stick with him until his time came. And he had no regret whatsoever.
"I'll admit, I was surprised when I saw you were going to be the principal at this school."
Not once, in those twenty years, did he think he would see his freshman teacher again. What a small world it was.
"Well," Delmas said. "While Kadic was nice, I felt like I had to step out for some air." He sat at the desk in front of Salomon's desk. "I was quite surprised that Damocles hid such a secret though."
"I'm amazed the school didn't implode on itself earlier."
That… was something everyone had been wondering. With how Damocles accepted bribes and allowed rampant bullying to happen under his nose. It's a wonder the investigation didn't happen sooner.
"Well," Delmas drawled. "Once things get reorganized, I will be personally making sure this school is run the right way." Of that, Salomon knew from experience would be the case. "It was disgraceful on Damocles' part. Why do you think Kadic has maintained its name for so long?"
Salomon was certain he contributed to Delmas becoming such a stern headmaster, but he didn't say that out loud. It was in the past. And that's where it should stay.
"I know for certain accepting bribes is far below the list of legal things to do for a school," he stated. All this idiocy was giving him a headache. "Speaking of which, may I ask a strange question?"
"You may."
Salomon took a deep breath, wording his question carefully. "I've been told one Caline Bustier taught this class before I was hired." Delmas had a feeling he knew where this was going. "Any word on how long she's been teaching?"
"Last I knew, it was about ten years or so."
A pause. A very, very long pause. Because was he serious? A teacher with ten years in the field let class discipline get this bad.
… how?!
"That isn't much longer than I've been teaching," he realized. The idiocy finally taking its toll, his forehead met the top of his desk. Because how in the world?…
"Was she someone you knew?" Delmas asked.
"No," Salomon stated. Then he lifted his head off his desk. "I'm just trying to figure out what I signed up for." He massaged his temples. "You're also not going to believe what Miss Dupain-Cheng told me just a while ago."
Delmas raised an eyebrow at that statement. Because what was so bad about what Miss Dupain-Cheng told him? But when Salomon repeated to him what Marinette had said… Delmas's frown deepened.
"All that as class president?" he asked. "That doesn't sound right." Salomon heartily agreed. "I mean, schedules should be on everyone. And reminders, that's a teacher's job."
Which is exactly what Salomon had told the poor girl. Had no one realized how much pressure was put on her?
"If a student doesn't remember homework, then they will be graded accordingly," he added. Salomon had a feeling he was going to need an aspirin. Lots and lots of aspirin for the school year ahead.
"I'm just wondering how someone who's been a teacher for a decade let class discipline get this bad."
Delmas pondered over that statement. Because really. It was inexcusable that a teacher with that much experience would allow the situation to deteriorate as it did. And now, there was a whole class of students who have to live with the label of being bullies.
It would be that particular class Salomon would have to whip into shape. And with students like Alya Césaire and Chloé Bourgeois, it was going to be an uphill battle.
"I will let you in on this," Delmas said. "What Bustier was doing wouldn't even be considered teaching."
Salomon resisted the desire to snort. "It's laziness, plain and simple."
Delmas eyed the younger man before him. In a sense, it was amusing. Because twenty years ago, Salomon fit that very description like a glove. He had to grin.
"Lazy, huh." Salomon looked up. "Sounds like a teenage you."
Salomon did snort this time. "You still remember?"
"Teachers don't forget."
Salomon had to laugh. Because what else did he expect from the stern teacher turned headmaster? Nothing less than the best. He knew that for certain.
Yet despite the pleasantries being exchanged… Delmas took note of someone important missing. Someone… dear to his former student. The girl that was practically joined at the hip with him in their youth. Not once did Salomon mention her. And not once had he seen her around.
"I don't think I've seen Marisol," Delmas stated. "Where is she?"
At the mention of that name, Salomon's cheer diminished, replaced by a somber frown. Delmas was concerned, remembering from his time at Salomon's high school how much in love the two were. Did something happen between then and now?
"We're divorced…" Salomon finally admitted. Delmas was silent, the shocking news hitting him like a train.
"… what happened?"
A sigh.
"Well… how do I explain this?" Salomon mused. "I found out she was seeing someone else when I wasn't home." When they were married, no less. It was a shock, hearing from his concerned co-workers that his wife had been seen with another man. For days, Salomon tried to deny that it was true. Marisol was his one true love. There was no way she would be unfaithful.
Then the confrontation happened, and everything came to light. Marisol, the girl Salomon wanted to build a future with, found him too boring a husband after several years of marriage. To learn he was nothing more than a cheap thrill… he was certain he wouldn't date ever again, let alone find love a second time. To rub salt into the wound, during the six months of the divorce Marisol essentially made his life a living hell. She would use underhanded tactics to get possession of their property. Such as leaving cigarette butts and bottles of alcohol lying around their house.
In the end, however, Salomon won the case against her.
In hindsight, he should have seen the signs. When she quit her job for a supposedly better-paying one. When she would spend long nights away from the house, only to return in the mornings. When she would withhold telling him where she was at certain times of the week. When she would deny the mysteriously appearing bottles as hers.
It was time to move on and cut his losses before he was burned any further.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Salomon sighed. "It's fine." Thinking back, and seeing what he had now, it was perhaps a blessing in disguise. "It was time we split, anyway. Our desires were just too different."
"Understandable," Delmas said. "Though I have to ask." Salomon looked at his boss. "I don't remember you saying anything about siblings. So how did you get a niece and nephew?"
Silence. Followed by a light chuckle. "That… is a story all on its own."
"Must be quite the story."
"Oh, it is." Salomon could still remember that day, clear as crystal. "The day the divorce was finalized, it was a downpour." Which matched his sour mood. Having divorced the girl he spent thirteen years married to… it left him with immense bitterness. "Amaia was at a bus stop, all by herself."
Delmas was silent, frowning. Salomon remembered having that same expression, a year and a half ago, when he found the girl soaked to the bone at the bus stop. She had been so withdrawn, pointedly ignoring him when he tried to get her attention. He wouldn't have minded the wet car seats. He would've minded more seeing a homeless teenager freeze to death. It puzzled him, why she was ignoring him so much when he was trying to help her.
Until he saw the red handprint on her face.
"Let's just say a rough situation at home escalated."
Delmas grimaced, wondering what the girl had gone through.
"Mireya appeared soon after. And Andres was the last one to join us."
He was certain he got a few years shaved off his lifespan when Mireya appeared. Though it helped stabilize Amaia, so he took the risk.
"Is Mireya around today?" Delmas asked.
"Normally, yes," Salomon answered. "Today, she's at the vet for her bird and Amaia's puppy."
"Oh, I see."
Glancing out the window, Salomon saw the kids had gathered at the bakery. More treats? He was certain Andres would buy out all the chocolate croissants if they let him. And… oh. They were joined by the group from Kadic. Laughing and joking. The boy with the glasses emerged victorious from the bakery with a box of goodies, the pink-haired girl beside him. The kids cheered, Marinette laughing alongside Amaia and Andres.
It warmed his heart to see the girl who had suffered so much smiling again. Both of them.
Speaking of which.
"Regarding Miss Dupain-Cheng," he began. "I feel it's probably for the best she is transferred to another class."
"I will make a note of it," Delmas said, standing. "What is your reason?" Salomon presented the notes he had taken. From calls with the students' parents to talks with the other teachers, he presented the myriad of reasons why Marinette shouldn't be in this class. Adding her testimony from earlier, Salomon knew he couldn't let the girl suffer anymore. He made a note to contact her parents about this.
"I see," Delmas said. "I will have it arranged for her to be in another class."
"Is there another class open to it?"
"I will have to check." Delmas paused to think. "But off the top of my head, I can suggest Marie Mendeleiev."
A thought popped up in Salomon's mind. "Come to think of it, I remember Mr. Seurat, the art teacher, saying he had an opening."
"I shall check with him."
He would have to discuss this idea with Marinette's parents. Because while he whipped that class into shape, he would make sure she wasn't hurt anymore. It was the least he could do for her as both a teacher and her neighbor.