In which we see a little of what Edgar is like in class.

Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

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Chapter IV - Brown


"Okay, can anyone tell me the exact date of Queen Mary the First's Coronation?" Asked Mrs Nott as she stood by the blackboard, piece of chalk in hand and looking at her Grade 11 students expectantly. She frowned deeply when she saw all of them looked as if they had no clue. Mrs Nott found herself growing frustrated. They had been going over Bloody Mary's reign for a whole week now and she had told them multiple times to memorise key dates -especially since she would be giving them a quiz before the short two week Halloween break. It would cover the most important things they had learned since the beginning of the year in August, but judging by the reactions of the class, they were all woefully unprepared.

Wilhelmina Nott's sharp brown eyes roamed the class intently, watching with increasing displeasure as most squirmed and immediately looked away when she caught their eye pointedly. Her lips pursed when she caught sight of the slackers in the very back row, the worst one being a girl with bushy, messy blank hair tangled with leaves and twigs….and was that purple paint? The girl wasn't even paying any attention, hunched over what seemed to be a sketchpad, her right hand moving furiously across the page. What was her name again? Something Beauregard? The other staff complained about her enough that Nott could recall at least that much. However being a new teacher herself, having only started a week and a half before (the old History teacher had inexplicably found herself being hit with a strong wave of Wanderlust and had left the small town as soon as she was able), had not yet been directly confronted with the infamous student.

It was of Wilhelmina's opinion that the only reason the girl misbehaved was because the other teachers didn't discipline their students properly. But Nott had been a teacher for fourty years, and had dealt with her fair bit of unruly youths -even gaining quite a reputation because of it. She wouldn't let some silly girl mar her record.

Well, that settles it, Nott thought angrily, straightening up and marching towards the girl in question, the class remained silent, watching her curiously. She resisted the urge to sneer at another female that had a little too much face on her makeup. Honestly, youths these days.

She arrived next to her target's table and stood tall and proud, staring down at the black haired girl expectantly, waiting for her to look up. Seconds ticked passed, and Nott began to grow irritated, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and glaring down at the still oblivious female. The class watched with vague interest, wondering who'd crack first.

Seconds turned into minutes, until finally three whole minutes had passed without even a glance from the girl (who Nott was scandalised to see was covered in splotches of paint in various other places upon her attire as well), and finally the teacher cleared her throat.

Still no acknowledgement.

Nott felt her face grow hot. Such disrespect! "Miss Beauregard." She uttered loudly. The girl in question jumped in her seat, banging her knees under hear desk and her pencil case falling to the ground, the components rolling away. She blinked quickly, as if trying to regain her bearings before slowly turning her head and looking at her History Teacher.

Nott resisted the urge to take a step back in surprise, so startled she was at the sight of the girl's gaze. Her eyes were large and colourless, as if God had simply not bothered to fill them in at all. It was as if she wasn't really looking at Nott at either, instead just merely looking in her direction, like she was looking through her teacher at something behind her. If Wilhelmina didn't know better, she would have immediately pegged the girl as blind.

Beauregard was still staring at her, having not said anything during the brief silence in which the history teacher had been lost in her thoughts.

Nott quickly regained her composure, remembering that she was still in front of her whole class and needed to remain calm. "Are you aware, Miss Beauregard, that I've been standing next to your desk for almost five minutes?" She asked in a tight voice. The girl shook her head.

"No." She answered simply, voice breezy and unconcerned. Nott bristled and unfolded her arms, placing one on her hip and glaring down at her.

"Clearly you haven't been paying an ounce of attention in my class Miss Beauregard, and that is unacceptable. However, perhaps you can answer my next question and prove me otherwise?" She proposed, still glaring hard at the utterly unconcerned looking female, who said nothing in response, instead merely continuing to stare at her.

Wilhelmina wondered how on earth the girl could manage to unnerve her by merely staring at her.

"In which year, was Queen Mary the First officially crowned?" She asked in a tight voice. Beauregard continued to remain silent, but thankfully (not that Nott would ever admit it) averted her unrelenting gaze to the ceiling. Perhaps she was thinking, Nott thought to herself after a few seconds ticked by without a response.

Finally, the girl looked back at her, straight in the eye (and even then it was if she was looking through the elderly woman) for a long moment, before shrugging helplessly.

Now it was Nott's turn to stare. "What, might I ask, had you so preoccupied that you were basically absent during the whole lesson?" The woman asked angrily. Beauregard (and really, what was her first name?) picked up the sketchpad which had previously been left forgotten on her desk and held it up for her teacher to see.

At first, Nott could only stare at it in amazed disbelief, for she could not believe her eyes. She slowly took it from the girl's hand to hold it closer and confirm that she was not seeing things. It was an extremely life-like drawing of the forest at the back of the school, captured at an angle that even the mountains in the distance could be seen clearly. The girl had been in the process of colouring it in, and had somehow even managed to get the dreary clouds and heavy fog just right. It looked more like a camera captured photo than a drawing, albeit a picture that had no colour in some places, but even then, it still looked stunning, as if it were done on purpose. The detail was utterly astounding, from the dead autumn leaves on the ground, to the already lightly snow-tipped mountains.

The rest of the class, who couldn't see the drawing, could only wonder what had made their normally strict and no-nonsense teacher utterly speechless, and though the tried their hardest to catch a peek, they yielded no results. Instead they could only assume that it was something so horrific that not even the teacher was unaffected. They wouldn't be surprised if it was, Beauregard was a weirdo, everyone and their mother's knew that.

"M-Miss Beauregard," Nott started, peeling her eyes away from the page and looking with wide eyes at the girl who up until this point, had merely been staring patiently at her teacher. Wilhelmina Nott had never been so pleasantly surprised by a student in her life. She had seen her fair share of talented youths yes, but never like this. Why, she was sure that she had never even seen a professional present something as breath-taking as what she held in her hand in that moment. Beauregard could be great in the future.

However, she couldn't very well let the girl go unchecked, especially not after making a scene in front of the whole class and so she schooled her amazed expression into a frown, handing the girl back her sketchpad stiffly. "Detention after school." Nott declared finally. "And see me after class." She turned sharply on her heel, and making her way back to the front.

Wilhelmina gave the girl one last shrewd look, assessing her carefully, before writing the correct date of the Coronation (1st October 1553) and circling it pointedly and going back to her lesson.

The class went by quickly and soon the bell rang loudly, signalling the end of class. Eager students quickly packed up their things and rushed out, hurrying to their next destination in an effort not to be late.

Edgar on the other hand simply sighed softly to herself, before packing up her things and kneeling down to pick up the pencils that had fallen earlier on. She hoped she managed to find all of them, because they were very expensive, and she had bought them in Seattle. Her father wouldn't be very happy to know she had lost them.

Luckily, after hard searching, she managed to retrieve all of them (she knew the exact number) and stood with an accomplished smile on her face, before making her way to the front of the classroom where her teacher was busy.

Edgar stood in front of Mrs Nott's desk, clutching her things to her chest and regarding the wooden table with interest, contemplating whether or not she should paint it a dark cherry. It seemed like a good colour to her, very dark and elegant, and it would also add to the whole 'historic' feel of the classroom. Of course, perhaps it would be best to ask Mrs Nott if she would approve of such a colour in the first place. She learned that some people just had an extreme reaction to colours they did not like, Mr Varner and Red being a prime example. To this day, Edgar still couldn't understand how someone could react so negatively to a colour, Nevermind the fact that it wasn't even red in the first place. She didn't blame him for not seeing the difference though, she had learnt early on in life that she had better eyesight than most. It was still a shock seeing the way he reacted though.

She watched as Mrs Nott finished wiping the blackboard clean, before placing the duster down and wiping off her hands on a small towel kept on her desk. "Miss Beauregard," She started, finally paying the girl her attention after five minutes of silence. Edgar blinked at her teacher and waited for her to continue.

"What is your name?" Her teacher asked finally, raising a brow.

"Edgar." She replied, scratching her arm absentmindedly. Mrs Nott let out a hum of acknowledgement and took a seat at her desk, crossing her arms on it and watching the girl in front of her closely.

"You are very talented, Edgar. How long have you been practising?" Mrs Nott asked her. Edgar frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember, but as far as she could tell, she'd been doing it her whole life. She shrugged.

"I don't know. My whole life, I think." She answered eventually. Mrs Nott nodded as if she knew something Edgar didn't before leaning back in her seat, still watching the black haired girl carefully.

"I think you could be great if you pursued such a talent." She told her.

Edgar remained silent.

Mrs Nott cleared her throat uncomfortably at her gaze and fought to compose herself. "I was wondering if you'd like to do a Historical Painting to add to the display on the walls?" Here Mrs Nott gestured around the room, were various paintings and photos of different historical periods were hung. Edgar recognised quite a few of them herself. "It can be counted as extra-credit and can be added to your overall grade for this semester.

"What do you want depicted?" Edgar asked curiously. Mrs Nott shook her head.

"That can be up to you. Surprise me." She said. Edgar regarded her for a long moment, before nodding once.

"I can do it over the break." She told her, and much to Edgar's surprise, Mrs Nott smiled.

Edgar had never seen her smile once in the few weeks she'd been working at the school. She thought it strange.

"Excellent." Mrs Nott declared happily, making Edgar give her a wary look. "Now, let me write you up a pass for your next class."

And with that, Mrs Nott gave her the note and she was off to her next class.


"Okay everybody!" Coach Clapp announced loudly, motioning for everyone to come closer. He grinned in anticipation. "Today, we are going to play…Dodgeball!" He announced. This statement was met with mixed reactions however. Half the class cheered, while the other half groaned loudly, and then maybe a few remained neutral.

Edgar was one of the few who remained silent, but that was mostly because she wasn't paying any attention more than anything. No, instead she was reading the large sign above the bleachers that read 'Halloween Dance! Next Spooky Saturday!' on an orange banner with large blocky black writing, decorated with various standard decorations; Skulls, Spiders, Witch Hats and whatnot.

Now, it wasn't that Edgar was interested in going (she didn't see the point of school dances at all, to be honest), it was just that the sign was just so…eye catching. And not in the necessarily good way either.

"Oi, Beauregard! What are you doing standing there daydreaming? Go join your team!" Coach Clapp demanded, snapping her out of her thoughts. Edgar looked and saw that the class had already been divided into two and blinked, wondering which team she was supposed to join.

She looked back at Coach Clapp expectantly. He facepalmed and shook his head, before pointing at the second team, the one wearing yellow wristbands.

The ones which were going to be Dodging the Balls.

Edgar cringed but shuffled her way over nonetheless, grabbing a wristband from the basket as she went. It wasn't that she was bad at sports or anything, (she was average, a solid C) but no one liked to be on the receiving end of dodgeball. The throwers all tended to get a little….excited.

She supposed her best course of action was just to get hit immediately so that she would sit out the rest of the game.

However, as soon as the first five balls were thrown –all aimed at poor Hillary Mason, hitting her smack in the face, stomach, legs and everywhere in between- that plan flew out the window. Hillary was knocked out immediately, the girl not even fully registering what had happened before she was out and the Dodgers watched in horror as her limp, unconscious, bruised and beaten body was carried on a stretcher to the nurse's office, blood dripping in her wake.

Edgar took one look at Coach Clapp's maniacal looking grin and shook her head, stepping discreetly out of the playing area.

She'd rather deal with another detention.