Someday, somewhere, I'll embarrass you

*

Monday, Oct. 14

"Ms. Ross," Principal Kwan stood as his newest prospective teacher stepped into his office. "How are you today?"

"Good." She shook his hand then sat. "Thank you."

"So, right to business: I've been looking over the resume you sent. I don't see anything in your background that would be beneficial to this school."

"I do have a degree in both Business and English, sir."

"That doesn't mean you can teach," Principal Kwan said bluntly.

"No, it doesn't. Nor am I looking for a teaching position, per se. I was thinking more along the lines of substitute."

"Ah."

"And beyond that . . . I heard about the endowments of computers Mr.. Luthor bestowed on Smallville High last year. I can get you other things that the school needs like--"

"How?" Principal Kwan demanded, leaning forward at his desk.

Isis scooted forward in her chair. "Writing grants, sir. For the school."

He snorted. "We can do that ourselves."

"But do you and your staff have the time?" She waited for an answer. "You don't. Everyone in your employ is busy doing other, important work. I on the other hand could spend my time, when not substituting, repaying my 'debt' by getting money for the school. Not just money but equipment, sponsorships, scholarships, special afterschool programs . . .if it can be got I'll get it. Or at least put in an articulate request for it." Isis sat back, pleased with herself. If Principal Kwan rejected her offer it would be out of spite and pride.

"You're related to Peter Ross, aren't you?"

"Yes." She didn't explain the exact nature of their relationship.

"If I hired you, how am I to know that you wouldn't show Mr.. Ross favoritism?"

Crossing her legs comfortably, Isis said, "You don't. I can only promise that I won't. As my resume shows I do have a degree in Business, Principal Kwan. Showing Mr.. Ross any kind of preference over other students wouldn't be ethical. I would only be a substitute teacher, however, and wouldn't be in any position to show him any kind of favor. Substitute teacher . . . not exactly a position of power, Principal Kwan and that's precisely why I want the position. I don't think grant-writing will help or hurt Mr.. Ross any more or less than it will every other student."

"You are very eloquent, Ms. Ross." Isis inclined her head in acknowledgment. "But I'm afraid your appearance isn't exactly one that the student body of Smallville is used to seeing in their teachers."

That was about as close as most people got to saying they didn't like Isis' hair. She had been very careful to be as professional as possible for their meeting. Her braids were pulled back in a neat bun so that their rainbow colors were less obvious. She was wearing one of the only three suits she'd brought with her.

"As I've been saying, sir, I don't believe as a substitute the children will be very much influenced by me. When I'm not covering a class I plan to be here, in the main office, or in the town library, or at my laptop researching and writing up grants."

Kwan didn't seem to be impressed.

"If you believe my . . .appearance would be truly disruptive to the student body then I am willing to change my hairstyle . . ." Only barely. "But I would hope that Smallville's students would be a bit more open-minded. But they are your students." She smiled sweetly. "You know them best."

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Isis' smile never wavered, nor did her eyes, although she stopped seeing him after a moment. "No." Isis' vision snapped back into focus as Principal Kwan continued, "No, I don't believe that will be necessary."

"Does that mean you're hiring me?"

"Yes, Ms. Ross, it does."

A grin split Isis' face. Principal Kwan stood and she did also. "Thank you. This is the kind of background experience I will surely find useful when I go home. You shan't regret it."

A smile graced Principal Kwan's face for the first time. Isis thought that she might have to change her opinion of him. He took her outstretched hand. "I'm sure I won't, Ms. Ross. Enjoy your Columbus Day. I'll be seeing you tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'm Peter's ride. Have good day, Principal Kwan."

*

"Whoa! Check it out!"

A hush fell over Smallville High's parking lot as a sleek dark red car pulled into the lot. Whitney ribbed Clark who had the misfortune of walking behind his fellow football players. "Yo, Pete's cousin get a new car?"

"I guess so," he answered noncommittally.

The deep red car slid to a smooth stop in front of them. "Mercedes-Benz SLK430, AMG-series. Sweet."

"Mmm," Isis purred, getting out of the passenger side door, "a man who knows his car. I like it."

Pete slid out of the drivers side, opened the back door and grabbed his bookbag. "Clark!"

"Hey Pete!"

Isis caught his arm as he came around the car and gave Pete a hug. "See you later?"

"Yeah, Isis," he said, only half there, eager to regale his fellows with tales of driving a Benz.

"All right, I obviously don't matter. Git." She went around to the drivers side. "Hey Clark," she called before sliding in.

He waved at her as she pulled off. "Isis let you drive her car?"

"That's practically my car, man! I picked it out."

"And are my eyes playing tricks on me, or were the rims still spinning when you stopped?"

"Clark, that was no trick of your eyes. It's these special hubcaps-- Oh, hey Whitney. Anyway, it's these hubcaps that have another part on top that's loose and they keep spinning even when you stop." Pete grinned from ear to ear. "I added that. Isis doesn't like it, but she promises to leave them on until she goes back home."

Brow furrowed Clark asked what she was going to do with them.

"Give 'em to me," Pete said, still grinning. "Chloe!" He waved his friend down. "Hey, did The Torch come out? How does it look?"

"Hey Clark, Pete, yeah. The paper looks surprisingly awesome. I'm sure it was that last minute caffeine boost from Lana."

Surprise made Clark's face blank. "Lana came over Friday night?"

"Yup, and you missed it big guy." Chloe and Pete ignored Clark's pathetic slump as he trailed them from their lockers to their first class of the day.

"Hey, Pete."

The group turned as one. "Hey, Whitney. What's up? Practice change?"

"No. Um, just wondering about your cousin's car."

Pete's smile returned. "It's sweet, isn't it. I'll tell you about before practice, we're gonna be late for class."

"Cool."

It was Clark's turn to roll his eyes. "You know, I didn't really think this football thing would last."

"Hey, you were right there with him for a little while," Chloe reminded him.

Clark groaned. "Let's get to class. I heard a rumor Mr.. Kinnick is out."

"We have a substitute?"

"Maybe."

"Great! I bet I can convince him to let me out of class so I can work on my article."

"What article?" both boys asked.

Chloe shrugged. "I'll find something."

They filed into class just as the first period bell rang. Rumors of their missing teacher buzzed about the classroom, rising even higher as the late bell rang and no adult made his or her presence known. Packs of playing cards were withdrawn from bookbags, headphones and portable CD-players saw the forbidden light of the school-day, as did cell phones.

"Can you help me? I'm looking for my class." She handed her possible-white knight her schedule.

"It's right there," he said pointing down the hall. "You're already late you know."

"I know. Thanks."

He watched her walk confidently, if quickly, down the hall, wondering where he had seen rainbow hair like hers before.

Isis walked into room 407. "HEY! Is this Modern English?"

There were a couple affirmatives and the odd miss-thrown paper ball.

"Great. I'm your new sub, Miss Ross." No one seemed to pay her much mind. Isis tried raising her voice over the noise. She was absorbed into the din. It was time to try a new tack, she decided. Dropping her books onto the desk she caught the attention of two students sitting directly in front of her.

Loud enough for these two to hear she said, "If you can hear me clap once." Clap. "If you can hear me clap twice." ClapClap. "If you can hear me clap three times." ClapClapClap. By that time she had gained a good measure of the class' attention. "Nifty. If you can hear me clap three times." ClapClapClap. "If you can hear me clap six times."

By the fifth clap, much of the class had joined in, wondering what in heaven was going on. "If you can hear me clap twice." ClapClap. "If you can hear me clap seven times." There were a few odd grins as the entire class clapped along, still unable to figure out what was going on.

"Nice. And that only took about five minutes. Now, as I was trying to say, I'm you new sub for today and tomorrow, Isis Ross. You can call me Isis or Miss Ross or even Miss Isis. Those are your only options. And of course Miss if you forget my name."

The class looked at her as if she had two heads and while one was speaking rationally the other was making faces at them. Especially Pete. Clark and Chloe looked from him to Isis expectantly. He just kept shaking his head, although whether to clear it or convey he had no answers was unclear.

"Some of you know me as Mr.. Ross' crazy-haired cousin from Gotham. And if you didn't you do now."

"So what?" someone called out from the back row.

"I'm older than all you guys and they're giving me a paycheck so that means I get to be the boss. And I like being bossy. So get over it. Anywho, I'm not so old that I don't remember what it's like to have a sub, so you guys can pretty much have the period free--"

The classroom was immediately filled with student voices. Five minutes later they were clapping along after Isis. "People, people, people . . .I'd rather not have to do this every time I want your attention. Next I'll rake my nails across the blackboard. I promise." That calmed them quickly. "Look, you can talk quietly, play games . . .quietly, listen to music, talk on the phone, whatever, so long as you do it . . ." She gestured for them to fill in the blank.

"Quietly."

"I knew you guys were bright. Mr.. Ross told me so." Pete immediately flushed as bright a red as he could. "Now, I do have an assignment for you guys that'll be due tomorrow." There were assorted groans and grumbles from the class. "It's fairly simple, you can do it now and hand it in to me at the end of class or you can give it to me tomorrow. Whatever. I'll be writing it on the board while you guys talk." And that is what they proceeded to do. "Just make sure you get it before you leave!" Isis turned to the blackboard. When she sat down again Pete was standing in front of her desk. "Mr.. Ross, how may I be of assistance?"

"Don't 'Mr.. Ross' me! Why didn't you tell me you got a job at my school? That you were subbing for my class?!" he hissed.

"Peter, calm down. I wanted the job thing to be a surprise. And how was I supposed to know this was your English class? There are a half-dozen English classes in this school, you could have been in any of them."

"Isis."

"Look, I thought it'd be a thing where'd we'd pass each other in the hall and I winked at you or something. If you want to blame someone, blame Principal Kwan. He could have told me you were in this class when he gave me the assignment."

"Why don't I believe you?"

Isis shrugged. "Beats me. You'll learn to live with it, Pete, I'm sure. Just do the assignment, or not, and we'll both survive. It's only until Thursday. Now go sit down before Kwan comes in and accuses me of nepotism. Again."

A frown of disbelief on his face, Pete returned to the circle of his friends.

"Ice-- Er, Ms. Ross?"

Isis looked up into Chloe's too-earnest face. "Yes Ms. Sullivan," she said too-pleasantly.

"May I be excused?"

"Might I ask why?"

"I have an article to write for the paper."

"Really? What about?"

"Um . . ."

"You come up with something a little more definite and I'll let you go."

"C'mon Isis," Chloe whispered, "for old time's sake."

Isis raised an eyebrow. "I'm acting teacher, Clo. You've got about . . ." Isis checked her watch. "You've got about 17 minutes to figure out something." Three minutes later Chloe, bag in hand, had returned to Isis' desk and was out the door.

"Hey, what's going on?"

Isis looked up from the books scattered across her desk. "Uh . . ." She searched the pile for the class roster. "Ah, Mr.. Strauss, what 'goings on' are you referring to exactly?"

"Chloe Sullivan leaving the class for no reason."

"She did not. Ms. Sullivan had a valid excuse for leaving early."

"Yeah? What?"

Isis' eyes grew hard and Peter could be heard muttering an "Oh crap." With a pleasantness that bordered on frigid she said, "That is between Miss Sullivan and myself."

Clark leaned over to Pete. "Is she usually like this?"

"Only when you piss her off."

"Remind me not to piss her off."

"Is there anything else you wanted to know, Mr.. Strauss," Isis said. The room had become very quiet as everyone waited for his answer. She decided his minimal head-shake was it and returned to her work. Everyone gradually returned to their work.

"Well I guess Chloe got her way," Clark said. "But, man, I've never seen your cousin like that before."

Pete shook his head. "It doesn't happen a lot. You've gotta, like, usurp her authority or something.

"I thought only Lex could be that . . .I don't know."

"Intimidating?"

"I guess. But not really. Mom's pretty good at it when she wants you to do something. But it doesn't just happen, you know? Like you can kind of figure out what's going to make it tri--"

RIIIIIIING!!!!!!!!!!

The volume rose considerably as the class bell rang.

"Okay guys! Make sure you've got the assignment." The class stilled imperceptibly as Isis yelled out the assignment over them: "Write a poem or short story of no less than one typewritten page about what you did last summer or any story from your anthology. It's due tomorrow people!"

And then they were gone.