Ohayo, minna! Welcome to TUTORING = HELL! This fic is a slightly twisted true story, of when I myself had to tutor on a particularly bad day. (Gasp!) The sheer… how should I put this… STUPIDITY of everyone there nearly drove me beyond any semblance of sanity, and I wrote this in the middle of it to relieve my stress. Now on to the important stuff. This is kinda AU, involving Hotaru when she's a senior in high school, and there's one guy with a non-Japanese name, even though the fic takes place in Tokyo. However, it'd kinda not AU because she's still Sailor Saturn, blah, blah, blah, all that jazz. So, let's get on with it, then!
Tutoring = Hell!
Rated PG for mild language and other not-so-important stuff
By Sailor Jedi Witch (SJW)
It all started as a regular day. Several long, excruciating hours of babble from old, boring adults that normal people like to call teachers. (Which I find to be quite comical.) Chatting with friends, writing a little, reading a lot. Just an average day in life of an… almost… average teenager (many people would consider having the power to destroy entire planets and basically bring forth mass destruction in the blink of an eye a little abnormal… but hey,) going to an average school in an average town. Right?
Wrong. Very, very wrong.
This day, may it be marked in time forever as December 13, was the day I, Tomoe Hotaru, had to tutor.
I know what you're thinking. 'Tutoring?' you say. 'What's so bad about tutoring?' I'm sure you think that just about any competent person, especially school valedictorian, could handle a mere couple of hours tutoring a few peers, who either were forced to come by their parents, or just needed help cramming for a History test or something.
Again, you're very wrong.
I knew that things wouldn't go quite as smoothly as I'd hoped when I realized that there were ten people and only one tutor, me, seeing as my partner had neglected to show up. (My decision to strangle him, however, was made a little later on.) But I, with narrow-minded determination, walked over to one of the tables, dropped my books, and announced that all those present should, at this time, take out all their study materials and wait for me to come around.
"Why should we wait for you?" one kid with spiky hair asked.
"Because I'm going to be your tutor. My name is Tomoe Hotaru, by the way."
"Oh."
All was silent for a moment, so I assumed that things were going well, and began moving about, making sure that nobody needed help.
I was doing this, rather idly, really, for some time, until Spiky-hair raised his hand.
"Tomoe-sama," he called.
"Um, I'm not really anyone that special, just one of your peers. No need for formalities."
"Oh… um, what's a peer?"
"Someone of equal age, and/or maturity."
"Oh… um, what's fomralities?" Dear God! I thought exasperatedly. He can't even say it right!
"Nothing, nothing, don't worry about it. So, what did you need help with?"
"Help?" Oh, please, spare me!
"Yes, help. I assume you called me over because you needed help. Right?"
"I called you over?" Sob, sob. Why, oh why do they have to get high just before they study?
"Yes, you did.""Yeah, sure, whatever, Tomi-san."
"Tomoe."
"Yeah."
So now are you starting to see what I mean? And it gets worse. Oh yes, much worse.
"Tomoe-san?" This came from two girls in a corner.
"Yes?"
"Hey, do you know who wrote the American national anthem?"
"Francis Scott Key," I rattled off immediately. I mean, who didn't know that? Their eyes widened in awe (or shock) momentarily, and they glanced at each other quickly and smiled.
"Hey, could you come here for a second?"
"Yeah, sure."
So I walked over calmly, prepared to offer a little piece of wisdom to some confused, yet semi-normal human beings. When I arrived at their table, they pulled out a sheet of paper from under their books.
"Hey could you do us a favor and… ah… help us… find the answers to some of these?"
I looked the sheet over quickly, and saw exactly one hundred questions, with nearly all the answers below, formatted for multiple choice, scrawled in red ink. Now, this was insulting. I may be something of… an overactive academic… (for lack of other, ruder terms,) but I know what cheating is. And this obviously was the answer key for a test, stolen from a staff room or the library or something, which I think definitely qualifies as a cheat sheet.
Well, it did help that I could recognize the History teacher's handwriting since I had willingly graded so many of his papers, and while I was in his classroom chatting after school he said that he seemed to have misplaced his incomplete answer key to the next test… But that's not the point here! The point is, they were asking me to fill out the incomplete answers to this cheat sheet of theirs, thinking that I was soooo gullible. Well, it wasn't going to work.
"I'm sorry, I can't help you out there," I said calmly, feigning ignorance.
"No, you don't understand, we need this."
"No, you don't understand, I can't help you."
"Why?"
"Because… because I'm not sure what your book might say about some of these questions. You see, every historian has his or her own point of view about some of these things. For example, the building of Fort Necessity. Some say it was already there when the army arrived, and some say it was built in haste to defend against the enemy, hence the name Fort Necessity. Still others say…"
"Ok, we get it. Thanks, bye!"
I turned and strode over to my own little table, pretending not to see them roll their eyes behind my back. Despite it all though, I grinned, for my plan had worked. Rule #547 of the Unspoken Terms of the Unofficial Tutors' Guild: When all else fails, bore the pants off of 'em!
All was well for a short time, too short in my opinion, and then another incompetent student presented himself. With a heavy sigh and not a glance at who the Moron-of-the-Hour was, I walked over to where his voice had come from and sat down next to him. Still without looking at the person himself, I listened to him explain about how he couldn't understand what the book was saying. I looked over it for a moment, then finally decided to lay my eyes on the poor, misguided fool who couldn't understand the cause of World War II.
The poor, misguided fool was Brad Thompson, star quarterback of the Varsity football team. A/N: That would be American football, mind, not Everywhere-Else football, also called soccer.
Normally, I would've disregarded the fact that this young stud was Big Man on Campus, wanted by every single female being between the ages of 13 and 25 within 50 miles of Tokyo, and incredibly attractive. I would even have disregarded the fact that he was sitting so close to me that I could feel the body heat emanating from his sweating thighs on my own.
But noooo, NOW is when the full effects of puberty decided to kick in.
So there I was, one moment in complete possession of my senses, the next utterly struck by the way one lock of Brad Thompson's golden hair fell into his huge, crystalline blue eyes. Let me tell you, it was a bit of a sensory overload. It felt like every sweat gland in my body decided that now was the time to empty itself of about a ton of water, my heart started beating the same way it would as if I was being chased by an entire pride of lions, and my hands were shaking so hard I'm sure that Brad must've thought that I was having a seizure.
That is, of course, if he knew what a seizure was. Which, by the way, I discovered that he did.
"Um, daijoubu ka?" Brad inquired softly.
"Huh? Oh, yes, yes, of course, I'm fine!" I hated my mouth for allowing those last two words to come out squeaky.
"Cool." Brad smiled that lady-killer grin of his, the one that exposed every one of those gleaming teeth, and my stomach began to turn somersaults in excitement. Bad hormones! Bad, bad!
"So what do you not understand?"
"Well, I don't know why that Hilfmer-"
"Hitler," I automatically corrected.
"Oh. Anyway, I don't understand why he wanted to kill all those Jewish people."
For a moment, I was actually impressed. The guy at least asked a question that made sense. Unlike Pothead over there, who didn't even remember that he had called me over…
"Well, no one really knows why he did it. Some say he was deranged-" Quickly noticing the bewildered expression that flashed across his face when I used a "dictionary word," I recovered by saying,
"I mean, crazy-" Aha! Now he got it! Uh-oh, wait, I caused him to smile. Crap!
"Others say he was just… evil," I finished, deciding to smile as well. Might as well fight fire with fire… sort of…
"Hmm. That was really cruel of him. He didn't even have a reason for all the bad stuff he did." Even though my brain was scoffing at how those must've been the deepest thoughts that had ever entered his brain, my heart was melting as his face became thoughtful, and my body was practically hollering, "HE'S SO CUUUUUUTE WHEN HE THINKS!"
I once thought I had willpower. I once thought I was in control of what my mind and body ordered me to do. After all, I did, for the most part, fend off the powers of that weird Death Buster lady that possessed me, right? And whenever I transform into a Sailor Senshi, me literally having the blessings of Saturn, protectorate of Death and Destruction, there's always that part of me that's calling to give into that power, to swing that damned sickle of mine and destroy everything, and I fight it. I fight those strong urges, even my destiny.
But blast it all, I couldn't resist the charms of a GOD FORSAKEN, MORTAL, TEENAGE BOY!
THAT REALLY, REALLY, REALLY SUCKS!
Anyway, moving on, I just smiled and kind of scooted in a bit closer, and he smiled back and we were just staring at each other. I swear, those eyes were hypnotic! I was frozen right there, not able to do anything but drink in his cologne/sweaty smell, and stare into those eyes, the ones that were staring right back at me.
The worst part is, I was enjoying it. A lot. Even that really snobby, intelligent part of my brain was swooning.
And then, just when I was getting used to being infatuated with the same person that everybody else was infatuated with, something lobbed me over the head.
A big, sticky, made-of-paper-and-spit something.
So I turn around, ready to maul the little pitcher-in-training that thought he was so funny, and I spot Pothead and Spiky-hair laughing their little drugged-up heads off.
I'm telling you, I was this close to transforming in front of everybody, and blowing up the whole bloody school right there and then. As a matter of fact, I still think they deserved it, and it would've have been quite simple. It would have been clean, easy, and very stress relieving. Not to mention it would shut that little voice in my head right up. It would've been shocked right out of existence…
But then reality and common sense got in the way, and I realized that all of this tutoring nonsense was turning me into a little schizophrenic. So you know what I did? Well, I did what any normal, pissed off, hormonal teenage girl would do in a situation like that.
I bribed my ride, Rei, Sailor Senshi of Fire, to… ah… singe them a little with her Fire Soul attack.
Actually, I didn't, but I plan to do so later. What I really did was slap them really, really hard, then grabbed my books, and strolled out of the room like it was nothing. It was quite a little show, really.
So here I am now, just outside the library, writing in this little journal of mine, and dumping my misery onto the shoulders of a blissfully lifeless little sheet of paper. (Well, actually, five blissfully lifeless little sheets of paper, but you know what I mean.)
I've made a breakthrough discovery today, which might possibly change the world: Tutoring is HELL!!!!!!
But wait, someone's coming out of the library. I'll get back to you, little journal.
Twenty minutes later…
Oh my. Oh dear. I think I'm hyperventilating. Breath in through my nose, out through my mouth. In through my nose, out through my mouth. In through my nose, out through my –
AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! I JUST CAN'T BELIEVE MY LUCK!!!!!
Well, no time to write now, Rei's here.
Let me just say one thing though: Maybe tutoring isn't such hell, after all.
In through my nose, out through my mouth…
~*~*~
Well, how did you like it? Please review! I really want to know what you think! Ja ne, darlings!
