September 16th, 1993 - 11:48 PM
Two little feet raced pitter-patter down a chatter-filled hallway in A.C.M.E. Arts & Sciences, its occupant laden with pen and petition, eagerly calling out to any hapless individual that came her way as that ever-present tam-o-shanter bounced atop her head.
"Signatures! Come put down your signatures! Sign the petition! Bring baseball back to A.C.M.E.!" Olivia called out, her little jingle ringing in its thick Scottish accent down the corridor and bouncing off the walls. "Baseball for all! Hear you shout! Let them know or we'll strike out!"
Like a fuzzy brown bullet she shot through the school, passing students and teachers, janitors and gym instructors, nearly running into the wall on two occasions, and receiving a sharp reprimand of "Watch it!" or "Land sakes!" from those whose book pages and scarves she ruffled on her flight down the hallways.
"Let your voice be heard! Put your name down! Have a- OOF!"
Olivia gasped as she landed on the hard, linoleum floor, having been knocked back by something tall and firm. She shook her head and looked up... and up... and up, into the stern face of Basil, teacher of Advanced Science and Deduction. Even for a mouse he was rather lanky, towering above Globetrotter and practically a giant to Olivia. The only other mouse in the school who reached his height was Pinky. He glared at her, one eyebrow cocked in silent judgement as he peered down from above, a great slab of papers cradled snugly against his side.
"Oh...," Olivia mumbled, gulping as she quickly stood up, face scrunching, and shook off her clothes, her little tam-o-shanter and petition laying very sorrowfully at her feet.
Basil sighed.
"Young lady," he began, bending down to pick up her hat and place it securely back on her head. "This is the third time this week we've met under unnecessarily chaotic circumstances and it's become... rather an interference in my daily schedule. Would you kindly keep harnessed certain frivolities at play, Miss Flabbergast?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Basil," Olivia muttered shyly, and not unkindly. "I'll be more careful."
She picked her clipboard with petition up off the floor, a little embarrassed.
"Sign my petition...?" she ventured, holding up the paper for Basil to see. He bent down to get a closer look at it.
"What's this for?" he asked.
"It's for a baseball stadium!"
"Baseball stadium?"
"Yes!" Olivia said, nodding excitedly. "So we can get sports back to the school!"
"Sports?" Basil nipped, practically spitting out the word as though it was a nasty slur. "Miss Flim-Flam, the last thing this university of science and culture needs is a bunch of dimwitted degenerates galloping about chasing after a ball. You'd do better to abandon the whole matter, in my opinion."
Olivia hung her head.
"But I doubt it will amount to anything," he continued, picking lint off his cardigan in a snooty fashion. "The most you could hope for is ten signatures, at least. Continue on your hapless venture if you must."
"Really?!"
"Yeeees yes yes. Now, run along."
"Thank you, Mr. Basil! I'll get more than ten. You'll see!"
"Jolly good," Basil replied curtly, sarcastically, pausing to flick a piece of dirt off Olivia's jacket. "Good day to you."
Olivia watched him as he went, his long shoes snapping click, click, click against the floor. She drew out a long breath of utter relief. Basil was fairer than Globetrotter. Anyone was fairer than Globetrotter. However, he still could get a bit cross when rubbed the wrong way, and it certainly wasn't the first time she'd gotten on his irritable side. She'd have to be more careful.
And so, as she continued her trek down the school hallways, calling out as she went (a bit more quietly this time), she jogged rather than sprinted, slipping between passerby with an "Excuse me" or "Pardon" and taking extra precaution not to bump into any more teachers, especially Globetrotter...
"Petition! Come you all and sign! Redefine!"
Maisy tossed Olivia an annoyed glance as she ran past, huffing a little and flipping back her hair as she dug through her locker.
"Since when did the principle allow kids to run around the school? I didn't think he'd be cool with that," she muttered.
Next to her, a chocolate-furred mouse leaned against his adjacent locker, deep in silent conversation as he texted rapidly on his phone.
"Why do you care?" he asked, not looking up at her.
"I dunno. It's just... This is like... a high-profile university, right? There shouldn't be any kids."
"We're kids."
"Um... Excuse me. I'm like... nineteen."
"Yeah. That's young, Maisy."
"Whatever," she spat, flicking her hair back again as she found what she was looking for: a red pencil with yellow flower print slapped all over it.
"Olivia is Flaversham's daughter," Gadget spoke from across the hall at her own locker, snapping her bulbous goggles atop her head as a matter-of-fact. "Everyone knows that." Tillie nodded next to her.
"Okay, but, like...," Maisy continued, pulling out a journal and tucking it under her arm, "... he works. When does he have time to watch her? He just lets her run around the school?"
"Well, isn't Mrs. Judson her nanny?" Tillie offered helpfully, albeit rather quietly. "I think that-"
Several students sprinted by. Tillie paused to let them pass before continuing.
"I think that she watches her in the nurse's office most of the day and lets her run errands."
"Yeah, but-," Maisy began, before being cut off herself as another batch of students trundled by, and then another. "But that doesn't give her leave to just-" More students. "To just run around whenever she-" Even more students. By this point, she could barely even see Gadget and Tillie. "Oh my gosh! I hate not having neighboring lockers!"
"It's lunchtime, Maisy," the male mouse said beside her, closing his phone with a sharp snap. "We should get going."
"Ugh. Fine. I'm starving anyway."
And so off they went, quartet heading for the cafeteria at the prompt hour of 12:00 PM, taking care not to bump into anyone as they entered the huge room.
Unlike the rest of the school, this area was terribly outdated. Or, rather, it had none of the classiness that the majority of the facility offered. Far from being dressed up in a mahogany coat, with comfortable seating, double-pane windows, and classical music that pumped itself like oxygen through the more casual areas of the building, the cafeteria resembled nothing less than something vomited out of an 80s shopping mall. The blue and purple paneling; the flashing neon food signs; the Whitney Houston music trapped perpetually within the speakers. It had it all. Students called it "The Flashback" or "The Blot", depending on who you talked to. The space had been heavily renovated a decade ago in an attempt to reflect the aesthetic at the time, and if the principal in office hadn't been ousted at the time for his radical ways the facility may very well have looked quite different by this point. As it stood, the cafeteria was an eye sore for some, a breath of fresh air for others, and it was a popular spot in which to congregate. If nothing else, the music was a relief. There was only so much Chopin one could take.
Chatter filled the dining area as the quartet entered. Already the tables were filling up, the smell of pizza and dumplings heavy in the air. Once upon a time, the food had reflected the decor: posh, healthy, and expensive. And then, of course, the cafeteria had been renovated, and with it the menu. No one had ever bothered to change the hot dogs back to ham; the grilled cheese back to caviar. Lemon sherbet tasted much better than shitake, and the students liked it that way.
"Think they're gonna have the jelly sauce again today?" Gadget asked, standing up on tip-toe to peer over at the food counter.
"Ew. Gosh. I hope not. That stuff is gro- HO MY GOSH," gasped Maisy.
"What?" Gadget asked, looking around, eyes wide. She hoped another wasp hadn't broken into the cafeteria again. Two had welcomed themselves in in the last week and she didn't think she could handle the stress another day.
"He's here," Maisy stressed, clutching at her heart and grabbing hold of Gadget's shoulder rather tightly.
Tillie and Gadget followed her gaze all the way across the floor to the food bar. There stood Pinky, dressed today in lab pants and a blue and gray striped shirt whose sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Had it not been for the ridiculously long white lab pants that spilled over his shoes, Gadget thought he might have looked rather fetching. As it stood, though, he didn't. Maisy thought otherwise.
"Ugh. He's so hot."
"So hot he melts your brains?" the male mouse quipped, back to texting on his phone.
Maisy shot him a nasty look. Tillie didn't even notice.
"Wow. Clam chowder special," she mused, completely serious as she stared, astonished, at the counter.
"You're focusing on the food?!" Maisy exclaimed, flabbergasted. Tillie remained oblivious.
"Oh, I hope Mrs. Brisby isn't too early today. I rather like lunch break...," Tillie mused, loosening her shawl a little.
"But you also like her classes," said Gadget, smiling.
"I do. They're fun."
"Learning about weeds is fun?" asked Maisy.
"Agriculture is more interesting than you think it would be! You should try it sometime. It's fun!"
"Tillie, the only fun thing about this school is the lunch break."
The dark-furred he mouse with them rolled his eyes, his hands in his pockets.
"Seriously, Maisy? Not even the Chemistry class is interesting?" he mentioned, incredulous.
"Okay, well, that is a little bit interesting..."
The he mouse sighed.
"You're incredible. Our parents are paying good money for this school. You should be grateful. Come on. Let's stake a seat."
A few tables down, a gaggle of mice, moles, and a rat or two sat, chattering loudly. One of them, a black-haired mouse in a frilly, once-piece dress, sash around the middle and dark hair tied up in a bun, stood up in her chair and waved in their direction.
"Maaaaaaisy, girl! Come on! We've been waiting for you!"
"GIIIIRL! I was just about to ditch these losers! Gimme a sec!" Maisy called back, beaming. "Sorry, guys. I gotta go."
"Wha-..? But I thought we were gonna-" the male mouse began, taken aback.
"Sorry, Dex. I forgot I'd promised Marvell I'd be here at noon. We'll catch up later, I promise. Okay?"
"Yeah. Sure...," Dex shrugged dejectedly.
"Thanks, Dex. Bye, y'all!" said Maisy, and she ran off to join the loquacious group.
"Bye, loser!" Gadget joked back, shaking her head. "Airhead."
"Remind me why we hang out with her again?" Tillie asked, as the remaining three headed for the food bar.
Gadget shrugged.
"She's been my friend since middle school. I'd feel weird just ditching her."
"You wouldn't be missing much," Dex muttered, although there was a hesitancy in his voice.
Gadget threw him a sideways glance as she grabbed a tray, Tillie and Dex following suit.
"You know that's not true, Dex. She's a bit into herself, but you know she loves you."
Dex shrugged.
One by one, a steady line of students at the bar filed past the counter, picking off a box of salad here, a cup of macaroni there. Things reached a stand still at the chili bowl. Dex and Gadget stood up on tip-toe for a couple seconds, flattened back out on their feet, stared at each other, and rolled their eyes, sniggering. But of course...
The hold up, as per the norm, was Pip, one of the restaurant hands and the only chipmunk in the entire school. He was terribly chatty, not to mention contentious if you dared complain about any aspect of the food. Either something was wrong and he needed to comment on it, or someone he recognized as a friend had just crossed his path. Judging by the chipper tone of his voice, Gadget guessed it was the latter today.
"So what's with this petition? Lemme see that paper, sister!"
And he whipped from someone's hand a petite clipboard entrusted with several sheets of lined paper. He read through it quickly, nose almost touching the paper.
Gadget, Dex, and Tillie peered around the crowd ahead of them to see who had handed him the paper. Oh. Naturally.
There stood Olivia, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet as Pip perused her petition, a wide, expectant smile on her face. Was there no place she wouldn't invade?
"Hmmm," Pip mused, tapping his foot a mile a minute as his keen eyes roved over the paper one more time. "Weeeeeeell, I don't usually sign these things, buuuuut... baseball sounds like a worthy cause. Ya' got a pen?"
"Here you go!" Olivia squeaked happily, extracting from the inside of her coat pocket a blue pen and offering it to Pip. He took it swiftly and signed the petition just as fast.
"Just make sure you get me a position as umpire!" Pip said, handing her back the petition and pen.
"Oh, I will! Thank you!"
"Say, uhhhh... how many signatures you got on that thing so far?"
"Twenty-three!"
"Heeeeeey. That's not bad!"
"Come on, Pip!" a student piped up, brows furrowed.
"Yeah, we've got class!" a girl vole squeaked from behind the trio.
"All right, all right already! Sheesh!" Pip nipped back, rolling his eyes. "Hey. You keep gettin' those John Hancocks, okay?" he said, winking at Olivia.
"Um... Okay!"
And with that, she was off, not even bothering to grab an apple or a cracker, something that others cast glances at her for. Olivia passing up an opportunity to nab some food? She must mean business...
"She's so cute," Gadget mused, watching Olivia sprint around, on the hunt for more signatures, as she moved up a couple steps in line.
"Yeah," Dex said, arms folded. "She's a trip." Despite himself, he smiled after her. Little kids amused him sometimes, even if they could be a bit pesky underfoot.
As more students spilled into the cafeteria, fingers pointed, some quite shamelessly, in the direction of the food bar. Dex followed the invisible lines to a spot some paces behind them in line. But of course. They were all directed at the new teacher, Ronald Pinkus. The girls seemed particularly smitten, giggling and whispering and acting, in Dex's mind, perfectly idiotic. In fact, come to think of it, as he looked about the room, most of the girls were in deep conversation, their eyes trained on the same subject in the room, including Maisy's group. He shook his head. This was a university, not a middle school. Daftness came in all ages, he supposed.
"What?" Gadget queried, taking notice of the furrowed brow and the folded arms.
"Nothing," Dex muttered, shuffling forward a few paces as the line moved ahead. Both he and Gadget grabbed a plate of chocolate cake.
Gadget looked back at the new teacher and snickered.
"Don't let it get to you."
"She's just as bad as everyone else."
"Who? Maisy?"
"Yeah..."
Gadget shrugged.
"It's probably just a phase. Next week she'll fall for Basil again or someone."
Trays full, they set off to find a table. Tillie waved at them from a corner. They headed towards her.
"I dunno. I kinda...," Dex began, then stopped as they reached the table, sitting down with their trays. Tillie was already deep in her bowl of clam chowder.
"You what?" Gadget asked as she pulled her chair up.
"It's... whatever."
"What?"
Dex picked up his spoon, swirled it around in his own bowl of clam chowder, then set it down. Screw it. He grabbed his fork and dug into the chocolate cake instead.
"I miss when we used to hang out more."
"What are we talking about now?" Tillie asked, only half-interested.
No one said anything right away. Gadget picked at her sunflower seed salad for a minute, then spoke.
"You're her brother. She'll come back around eventually."
Dex shrugged again. He was about to shove another large piece of chocolate cake into his mouth when something lightly bumped his elbow. He turned and looked down. It was Olivia.
"Sign my petition?" she asked, her little whiskers upturned in a wide smile.
Dex couldn't help but mirror that infectious grin. In the distance, something... someone... caught his eye. It was Maisy. She frowned at him and shook her head. Dex frowned back. He took the clipboard and pen from Olivia's outstretched paws.
"You know what? Sure, kid. Baseball, right?"
"Uh-huh! We're going to have a mascot again, too! I hope..."
He handed her back the clipboard and pen and ruffled her hair, or, rather, the top of her tam-o-shanter.
"Break a leg, kid."
"Thank you!" she beamed, and off she went.
Dex smiled. In the background, Maisy shook her head. Dex snapped his fingers and winked, finger-gunning her. She rolled her eyes and went back to talking to her friends.
"Ugh. He's such a tease," complained Maisy to her company, twirling a strand of her long, golden hair as she sipped soda through a straw.
"He just cares about other people. Heck, I signed her petition," the black-furred mouse said. "How come you never hang out with your brother anymore? He's been lookin' kinda sad..."
"He's not even my real brother, Marvell. He's just my half-brother. You know that. Do we look like we're related?"
"But y'all used to be so close! What happened?"
Maisy shrugged.
"I dunno. We just... shifted."
"Don't you mean 'drifted'?" offered up a boy rat next to her.
"Whatever," Maisy shrugged. "Anyway, what do you guys think of him?" she smirked, jerking her head in the direction of Pinky still in line at the food bar.
All at the table turned their heads to look at him. He seemed to be picking out quite an odd assortment of foods: a hot dog, two cups of custard, and several pieces of cheese - just cheese. Every person that passed him a "hello" he greeted with a chipper "Good morning!", and his attitude towards the servers was polite and enthusiastic. Those around him couldn't seem to keep the smiles off their faces. Even the students generally known to be more reserved or stuck up couldn't help but throw him a curious glance. He was, for lack of a better term, "sunshine-y".
The boy rat popped several corn puffs in his mouth, his dry expression unchanged.
"He's kind of a twink, isn't he?"
Maisy slapped him on the shoulder playfully.
"He is not!"
"Dude. Come on..."
"He's not that young," Marvell said, filing her nails as another of their group, a white mouse in a red shirt and with a yellow sash tied about his neck, came and sat down beside her, a cup full of fizzy raspberry water tottering dangerously on the edge of his tray. "He is kinda cute, though..."
The white mouse set down his tray carefully... but not carefully enough. Slip went the cup, the mouse grabbing it before its contents could spill out entirely.
"AH!" Marvell yelped, jumping a little. "Stuart, that's the second time this week!"
"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry, Marvell!" the little mouse said, apologizing profusely as he skittered off towards the food bar. "I'll go get some napkins!"
"Awww, man. I just washed this," lamented Marvell, picking up a corner of her frilly blue frock, now tainted with fizz. "Well... At least it's just water. I can work with this, right? Looks kinda... sassy?"
The boy rat sat up, the better to look at Marvell's new fashion statement. The water had painted the rounded edges of one side of the dress. It could have passed for an interesting pattern if one squinted hard enough.
"Yeah, sure. You could pass it off as the new look," he suggested, smiling.
"Hm," Marvell replied, smirking as she sat back down, ringing out the dress edge.
Maisy didn't seem the least bit phased.
"I think he's kinda hot," she said, eyelashes fluttering as she sipped at her soda noisily.
"Hotter than Globetrotter?" sniggered the boy rat.
"Okay, Globetrotter's in his own league. Okay? I can never compete with that."
"Ummm...," Marvell mumbled, covering her mouth in a vain attempt to hide her embarrassed smile as she pointed to a figure behind Maisy's back.
"What?" Maisy asked, craning around slightly to look before swiftly turning back 'round in her seat again, shoulder hunched as she visibly blushed. "Oh my gosh," she whispered, burying her face in her hands.
The boy rat beside her could barely hide his laughter as Globetrotter walked past them, his nose deep in a very thick, very red, and very heavy-looking book. Had he actually been paying attention to their conversation Maisy might have had more reason to involuntarily add a bit of color to her cheeks. As it stood, however, he had not, and so continued towards the bar, oblivious to the fact that he was now fifth in line behind Pinky.
"That's astounding!" Pinky exclaimed, tray of food all but forgotten as he leaned across a glass awning in front of him, totally invested in Pip's latest story. "But... how were you able to keep the syrup layer from separating?"
"Oh, that's easy!" Pip replied, and on and on he went.
Two students ahead of Pinky peered back, interested. Others behind him simply chuckled... or tapped their foot impatiently. To Globetrotter it was complete gibberish. The culinary arts was a branch he rarely dabbled in unless absolutely necessary. Although I do make a mean rigatoni, he thought to himself before shaking his head disgustedly. Where the heck did that come from? He was supposed to be engulfed in Brownian Motion and Stochastic Calculus, but, as it stood, he found his attention inexplicably pulled towards a much... lesser subject. It was unfathomable how anyone could be so intrigued by such mundane topics as the properties of pancakes and how effectively one might prepare them, but the fanaticism with which his coworker now described it was almost... infectious. Nevertheless, Globetrotter frowned as he checked his watch. 12:18 PM. They were wasting precious time. He was wasting his precious time.
"Will you move along already!" he called out, voice peppered with vexation. "I've got class in twenty-seven minutes!"
"Oh! So sorry!" Pinky called back, paws quickly grabbing hold of his tray once more. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Pip. Good luck with your pancakes!"
"Same to you, my good man!" Pip squeaked back. "What a pleasant fellow," he muttered to himself, smiling as Pinky walked off towards the refreshments bar, laden with food.
Globetrotter huffed and moved forward, grabbing a single bowl of fruit and a cup of cottage cheese on his way down. As he passed the pasta section, he paused, reached out a hesitant paw towards a plate of spaghetti, then quickly snapped it back, sighing and frowning sadly as he moved on to the refreshments, grabbing a banana on his way over and angrily slapping it down on his tray.
He stopped beside Pinky, who was humming and pouring himself some English Breakfast tea. Globetrotter huffed again. Flavored water - a poor man's excuse for caffeine. How anyone could drink that stuff was beyond him. He went for the coffee, pulled down the carafe lever... and grumbled. Empty.
"Is there any place in this building that can afford a mouse a decent cup of coffee?!" he whined, popping his empty cup back onto the others.
"Oh, that's a shame there, isn't it? Have you tried the tea, Brain?" Pinky offered helpfully, as he popped a lid on his own steaming cup.
"I refuse to bow my knee to such a lowbrow form of refreshment," Globetrotter bit back, picking up his tray. "And it's Brian, you nincompoop."
"Well, how do you know you don't like it if you don't try it? Poit!" Pinky replied, unfazed by the retort.
"If I liked it I'd drink it. Good day to you."
And off he went, choosing a spot as far back in the room as possible, Pinky sadly watching him as he picked out a table devoid of occupants. Pinky looked back at the empty coffee cup, a light whimper escaping him as he stared at it dolefully. He turned back to focus on Globetrotter, who was once more lost in his big red book. Students who sat nearby gave him as wide of a berth as they could. Pinky's ears drooped. What a sad little man, he thought. But it wasn't long before they perked back up again. Why, yes. Of course! Beaming, he set his tray down at an occupied table ("Watch this for me, will you?"), and rushed out of the cafeteria, leaving several students at the table to stare after him, puzzled.
Flip. Globetrotter turned a page of his massive tome, popping a grape in his mouth and crunching down on it satisfactorily. Flip, flip, flip. He looked to his right. A girl mouse sat nearby, also buried in a book. A huge pink bow sat atop her head. He recognized her. She was one of his students. Teresa, her name was, if he recalled correctly. She was one of his brighter subjects, but struggled with the occasional mathematical theory. As it was, her nose practically brushed the pages of a book that Globetrotter recognized by sight alone: Calculus by Gilbert Strang. Teresa sighed deeply, her unironed brow effectively relaying her frustration. She looked up... and jumped a little as she noticed Globetrotter staring at her, a light pink almost the exact color of her bow kissing her cheeks. Globetrotter slowly ducked back into his own texts, his peripheral vision catching Teresa shifting her seat over a notch in embarrassment.
A paw reached out to grab for his coffee, and he looked up when it touched nothing. Right. No coffee... Sighing, he popped another grape in his mouth, biting into it rather harder than necessary. Nearby, at another table, several students whispered.
"Did you find out what he teaches?" a girl vole asked, her question laced with ardor.
"Yup. He teaches Trozology," replied a male rat next to her, a pair of thick headphones hung about his neck.
"What the heck is that?" voiced another female rodent at their table, a cream-furred mouse decked out in purple - purple shirt; purple pants; purple socks; purple everything.
"I dunno," the rat shrugged. "Sounds kinda cool, though."
Globetrotter frowned. His ears twitched as tinkling laughter echoed from another table beside him.
"I knooooooow. He's so cute!" chuckled a rosy pink-eared mouse. She spoke in a barely-contained whisper along with the rest of her group, all of which sported bulky backpacks laid out on their table and decorated with all sorts of patches, stickers, and keychains. "I hope I can get a spot in his class!"
"I think he still has slots open!" one of her friends, a field rat, spoke up. "As far as I know, though, no one's actually signed up."
"Whyyyyyy? He's adorable! I'm gonna sign up just so I can stare at that face every day," a girl hamster said.
"What if you don't even like the class?" the second friend spoiled. "Maybe it's a dud. And we don't really have time in our schedules for another course..."
They all paused sadly and contemplatively at this. Then the first girl perked up.
"Well, I guess we'll get him all to ourselves then. If no one else likes the class then we'll stay just for the teacher!"
"Yeah, until every other girl does the same thing. You know we're not the only ones with the hots for him," the hamster said, taking a swig from her soda bottle.
"Well, then I guess we'll just have to fight for him," smiled the rat nonchalantly as she picked at her nails.
"Fight for him?!" yelped the other girls, covering their mouths at their loudness. "Oh my gosh. Seriously?!"
"Yeah! Anyone who comes up, we'll tell 'em to meet us at the park at two. No knives. Just like... nail clippers and hair curlers or something..."
"No no! Wait! We tell them to meet us at the baseball stadium!" offered the hamster, soda pop forgotten.
"You mean the one Olivia's petitioning?" the girl mouse asked. "It's not even built yet!"
"Yeah, but when it is we can tell them to meet there!"
"Winner gets dibs. They get to call first date," said the rat.
"And the loser has to pay for the dinner tab."
"Yeah!"
"Oh my gosh, you guys are so funny," the mouse chuckled.
They all laughed gaily.
Globetrotter's frown deepened, his mouth hanging open, another grape suspended in mid-air. Was Pinkus really... that popular? He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the conversations now swimming about his consciousness, when yet another light exchange, a distant one this time, caught his ears.
"... thinking of actually dropping Globetrotter's class to take that Ronald guy's one. It's just as many credits. Probably way more fun."
Globetrotter gulped. He tried reading a sentence in his book, only to find that he kept gracing the same words over and over and over again. Blast it. He couldn't concentrate. He plopped the book down on the table and went to devouring his cottage cheese, all around him oblivious to the private war going on in his mind.
Why do you care what they think? They're kids. They're idiots.
Yes, and have you forgotten what happened when Basil came to the school two years ago? They went gah-gah over him, too.
They didn't all abandon my class!
Nooooo, but half of them did. And Basil taught a required course at the time. Same as yours. They all went for his. He was much more interesting than you.
That's neither here nor there! I'm still employed, aren't I? My class is still sought after.
For now, and only because it's required. This new guy is significantly more popular. What if his class becomes required? What if it's worse than before? What if you become... old hat?
"No!" Globetrotter yelled, out loud. Half the cafeteria paused to stare at him. He sunk in his seat a little. How embarrassing...
In mock resoluteness, he grabbed the book before him and went back to reading. But he was only truly pretending to read, the bright crimson covers a pathetic excuse for a hole in which the frightened mouse hid.
The truth was that, despite his behavior being anything but amicable, his notorious reputation in the school had garnered him something akin to a celebrity status over the years. The course was required, certainly, even though he wasn't the only teacher who taught it, but the struggle to survive the rigorous schedule and harsh grading system he doled out had become a flat out challenge to the students. How long could you last? Would you manage to nab the ever elusive 'A' during a semester? One pupil even became famous for handing out "I Survived Globetrotter's Class" t-shirts. They hated the teacher, but reveled in the challenge. It was something that Globetrotter became ironically comfortable with over the years. Being notorious was better than not being noticed at all. He couldn't abide the thought of being second fiddle; of falling into obscurity. He'd never had reason to be concerned about it for seventeen years, even during Basil's "reign", but now...? Now he had legitimate competition. In all his years at A.C.M.E. Arts & Sciences, he'd never known an instructor so heavily discussed, so quixotic, so beloved, even on the very first day of his employment. Pinky was new and different, in all the wrong ways to him, yet in all the right ways to the students. And it terrified him.
On a sudden whim, he whipped out a pen from his inside jacket pocket and wrote feverishly on a napkin in front of him. He didn't see the tall figure approach him.
"Hello, Brain!"
Globetrotter practically leapt out of his skin.
"AH! Wh-... You..! Don't... do that!" he remarked, hastily stuffing the napkin and pen back into his coat pocket. He clutched at his heart, taking deep breaths as he rested his head in his palm.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Brain!" poor Pinky replied, resting a hand on Globetrotter's back comfortingly. Globetrotter shrugged it off, literally.
"And don't touch me! I just... h-had this... p-pressed," Globetrotter snapped, still catching his breath. "Who knows where your... paws have... been..."
"Oh, well, they haven't been far, Brain. They're always at my side! Ha-ha!"
Globetrotter cocked an eyebrow up at him, speechless. There was no way anyone could be this inordinately stupid.
"Mind if I join you?" Pinky asked, all innocence, that perpetually sunny smile never leaving his face.
"As I matter, of fact, I-"
"Oh, thank you!" Pinky initiated, grabbing a chair and pulling it close up to Globetrotter. Too close for his comfort. Apparently, personal space was something of a foreign concept to this character. "You know, I don't usually eat in public. Don't want to miss The Brady Bunch, you know? Hm hm. But it's rather nice out here! I might come and sit with you more often."
Heaven forbid, Globetrotter thought, ears reddening.
"Would you kindly refrain from mentioning that abomination of a tv show in my presence? It sickens me. And I don't appreciate your unnaturally close proximity."
"Come again?" Pinky asked, cocking his head.
"Move," Globetrotter said, managing, with difficulty, to push Pinky and the chair he sat in over an inch.
"Well, you could have just asked," Pinky chuckled, still smiling. He complied, scooting his chair a couple more inches away from Brain.
"Thank you," bit Globetrotter, turning away from Pinky and directing his attention back to the giant tome in front of him. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like a little privacy."
"Oh, but, I came to give you something!" Pinky exclaimed, and Globetrotter, despite himself, shiftily looked over as the lanky mouse dug in his pants pocket for... something. "A-ha! Here ya' go!"
And he handed him... a teabag? No. Not a teabag. It was too big to be a teabag.
Globetrotter took it from him tentatively, two fingers holding it away from his body as if it might explode.
"What is it?"
"Chicory root! I just thought that, well, when you couldn't find any coffee it reminded me of my mum. She used to be a big coffee drinker, too. She stopped recently, but she still missed the taste. Chicory root tastes a lot like coffee, only better! M-Maybe you'd like it, too?" Pinky offered helpfully, a tinge of shyness peppering his smile.
Globetrotter looked up at Pinky, nonplussed... and a wee bit confused. No one ever gave him anything; not unless he directly asked for it. To be fair, no one was ever bold enough to even attempt to show him much kindness, seeing as the result was often times a sharp reply and a sinister glare. This newcomer obviously hadn't learned the rules yet.
"Teachers... don't usually give me gifts," Globetrotter admitted. "Not unless I ask for them." Nevertheless, he pocketed the chicory root.
"Perhaps that's because you don't ask nicely, Brain? People give you lots of things when you're nice to them!"
It wasn't so much the statement itself, but the boldness of its deliverance that took Globetrotter aback.
"Sooooo... you're saying... I should be nice... to get rewards?"
"Oh, no, Brain! That would be taking advantage! You should be nice to people, 'cause, well, it's nice! And then they're nice to you! Don't you like making people happy?"
"No."
"Not even a little bit?"
"No one has ever given me reason to."
"Well, maybe they would if you showed them a little smile!"
And he actually stuck two fingers up against Globetrotter's cheeks, pushing up on each side in an attempt to draw something close to a grin on his drooping face.
"Ohhhhhhh. There's that smile, Brain!"
"Would you get off?!" Globetrotter blasted, waving his arms around as he flung Pinky off of him. "I told you not to touch me!"
His cheeks and ears burned red at the sound of laughter nearby. Some of the students had been watching and were now drowning in a hushed fit of giggles. Naturally...
"You dimwit. If you're still sitting in that chair in five seconds, I shall personally have to harm you," threatened Globetrotter, cheeks reddening worse than ever as his paws balled into fists.
"Do I get a prize if I leave in four?" Pinky smirked.
"One..."
"Or maybe I'll get one if I stay longer! It pays to be persistent sometimes, Brain."
"Two..."
"You know, you're rather funny when your ears turn red. Nya-ha-ha!"
"FOUR...!"
"Going, Brain!"
And with that, he was off, picking his food up off his tray to take back to his room, giggling to himself and humming, of all things, "Camptown Races" as he headed for the doors. One of the teachers, a Dr. Dawson, smiled at Pinky as he walked past him. And Dr. Dawson... Oh, have mercy. Dr. Dawson started singing along with him.
"I say. I do recognize that tune, young man!" Dawson said, grinning warmly. "Camptown ladies sing this song! Doo-dah! Doo-dah!"
"Camptown race-track five miles long! Oh, doo-da day!" Pinky sung back, beaming.
Others joined in. Still others. Soon, almost the entire cafeteria, minus Globetrotter and a few stragglers, was decked out in song.
"Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day! Bet my money on the bob-tailed nag! Somebody bet on the bay!"
And with that, everyone burst out into hearty laughter, Pinky's wail the loudest of all. He and Dr. Dawson exchanged a friendly word or two, shook hands, and with that, Pinky departed, leaving a trail of chuckles behind.
Globetrotter blinked, his mouth hanging slightly open again. Whatever had happened was... terrifying. This bloke didn't just have an effect on the students, but on the whole school. Even the teachers were getting involved! It was official. This needed to end. He had to be stopped...
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Pinky was still humming "Camptown Races" all the way back to his classroom. He'd just reached the door when a little someone came pitter-pattering down the hallway after him.
"Mr. Pinky! Mr. Pinky!" she called, hat bobbing wildly up and down on her ruffled, furry head.
"Hello, Olivia!" Pinky said, grinning from ear to ear.
"That was amazing!" she gasped, panting. "Mrs. Judson said she could hear you from the nurses' office. She was singing with you!"
They both giggled at this.
"Well, tell Mrs. Judson that Mr. Pinky is glad she enjoyed the song!" Pinky said.
"Oh, I will! I will! By the way, umm... do you have any more classes planned?" Olivia asked, tucking her paws behind her and rocking back and forth, the pink cheeks only complementing her humble posture. She looked awfully cute.
"Hmmmmm. Will you be here tomorrow?"
"Is that a Friday?"
"I think so."
"Yes! Yes, I will!"
"2:00 PM sharp tomorrow, little lady," Pinky said, winking at her.
"2:00 PM sharp, Mr. Pinky!" Olivia repeated, saluting him. "I'll see you tomorrow!"
And off she trotted.
"Oh! Olivia!" Pinky called.
Olivia stopped and turned around, her mouth in a curious little 'o' shape. Pulling a hand out of his pocket, Pinky tossed her a bag of crisps. She caught it with a trained paw.
"Thank you!" she exclaimed, popping open the bag and tossing a chip in her mouth as she ran off and around a corner.
"Olivia!" Pinky called again, a hand to his mouth.
"Hm?" she queried, popping her head around the corner.
"How many signatures?!"
"Thirty-seven!"
"Woo-hoo!"
"Woo woo!" she called back, before flying off once more.
Pinky smiled, giggling to himself, as he turned the door handle and disappeared inside.
Author's Notes:
- Marvell is an original character created by a friend of mine who goes by the cognomen of "Geeky". You can find her lovely art and cute character on Twitter at: GeekyBlackGirl
- Flip phones weren't exactly in wide use in '93, but I cheated here for convenience's sake and story purposes.
- The book that Teresa was reading, as well as the book Globetrotter carried around with him, are actual published works. Stochastic calculus is, apparently, a very advanced form of the subject. Brain considers it light reading.
- Your typical volcano science project is partially composed of baking soda, which, in turn, is made up of sodium bicarbonate. The whole thing is a reference to Globetrotter's explosive personality, and how he views the current predicament as such: one big problem on the verge of erupting and destroying his position if he doesn't do something... and fast.
- Globetrotter going for the cottage cheese and fruit, while sadly eschewing the pasta, is due to the fact that, in this story, he has terrible bowel and diarrhea issues. He's been told by his doctor to avoid certain foods, but finds this... a struggle at times. I dunno why I decided to give him this problem, other than the fact that it amuses me. Lol.
- Olivia is a lot of fun to write. :)