Waking up this Tuesday morning, Philippe J. Coulson felt once again very lucky. His beautiful wife, Melinda May, was still sleeping peacefully by his side, a frail smile breaking the impassive shell that she tried to maintain most of the time when she was awake. They were the opposite of each other, like the two faces of the same coin, which made them all the more complementary. Phil spoke and smiled a lot, he had a pure charisma and you wanted to trust him on the spot. Melinda was a cold, reserved beauty, which allowed her to look at some aspect of their lives much more reluctantly than her husband, who tended to be involved in anything that was important to him. Fortunately for them both, their meeting, then their marriage, had the effect of tempering the too radical characters of their personality. Melinda had learned to open up thanks to Phil and Phil had learned to lay down the limits that were needed, in his work as in his everyday life, thanks to Melinda.

Phil stifled a yawn and sat up on his elbow, giving himself a few moments to contemplate his sleeping beauty at his side. At least, he thought she was asleep.

"You know that watching someone sleep is a psychopath thing?" May asked sleepily.

She opened her eyes and darted at her husband, who smiled maliciously in return.

"Not when that person is your wife, your wife whom you desperately want to kiss every second of every minute of your life."

He leaned over her and kissed her languidly, running his hands under the simple t-shirt she was wearing. She raises a hand behind the neck of her husband to deepen the kiss. The door opened and they heard an indignant cry.

"Yerk, seriously?" the young red girl who had just entered choked.

Phil and May reluctantly parted to face their daughter, Natasha, fourteen years old. May sat down, a smirk on her face.

"It will teach you not to knock, pretty heart."

"I only came to remind you that like every morning, you have to get up. It's not normal, you are adults, you should come to get me out of bed, and not the other way around. And believe me, I learned the lesson. Know that you kiss like octopuses while your room is right next to mine...

She shivered dramatically and finished in a cavernous voice:

"It's going to traumatize me for the rest of my life."

"We don't just kiss each other like octopuses," May retorted, caressing her husband's neck. "We also do many other things in this room if you want to know everything."

Phil almost choked on his saliva as Natasha blushed violently and came out slamming the door. They heard her mumbling.

"What is she saying?" Phil inquired.

Melinda chuckled.

"Something about a good fifteen years therapy", she answered.

Coulson turned to her with a smile and stroked her cheek.

"Where were we?"

They resumed their kiss but stopped before any slippage. Natasha was right; it was more than time to get up. As May spun in the shower, Coulson got dressed and went downstairs. Two of his three children were sitting around breakfast. Natasha struggled to recount the "traumatic experience" she had just lived to her older brother Antoine Triplett, nicknamed Trip by the whole family, and aged sixteen. He gently mocked his little sister by drinking his coffee. Phil laid a kiss on his daughter's head.

"Does that console your poor traumatized brain, darling?"

She pouted.

"It's a start", she mumbled.

His father shook his head, bowing to his son and looking around. One person was missing.

"Where is your sister?"

His two children raised their eyebrows together.

"Do you really need to ask?" Trip said with laughing eyes.

"No, indeed," replied Phil.

He went up the stairs and headed for the door facing Natasha's room. He entered, noticing the sleeping figure on the bed. He shook his head and sat down beside her.

"Get up, Bobbi. It's time to get up."

As he expected, the girl didn't move an eyelid. Coulson retried, unsuccessfully, before deciding to move up a gear. He got up and turned on the light. A wild grunt greeted his attempt and a blonde head dipped under the pillow.

"Bobbi, get up."

She mumbled something incomprehensible and it took ten minutes to make her emerge. Bobbi, now sitting on the bed, her long, tousled blond hair, was staring at her father with resentment.

"I hate you", she mumbled.

Phil laughed and kissed her little head.

"I love you too darling. Get ready, we're leaving in fifteen minutes."

He went out and another grunt came to him. Going down the stairs, his eternal smile glued to his face, he told himself how lucky he was to have his family. His three children and his wife made him happier every day.

Thirty minutes later, the family car parked in the Roosevelt Junior High School car park, where Phil and May taught. They always managed to arrive early to prepare their classes, and to talk with their colleagues, which tended to slightly annoy their children who had to hang around, as Natasha said, forty good minutes before the start of classes.

Once the merry family dispersed, Phil went to his room. He took his things out of his binder and prepared for all the classes he should be giving today, including the homework and exercises he planned to have his students do. Phil was a man of foresight, even though May was beating him heavily on this point, because she loved to deal with all eventualities. The first class he would have was that of the 7th, a class he considered pleasant and dynamic although sometimes turbulent. Some good elements, a majority of students in the standard and a small group of "rebels" he managed to manage in general. He could indeed boast of being a teacher that many students liked because of the good contact he had with them and his passionate personality. And what was certain was that the 7th were far from being his toughest class.

Skye stopped in front of the classroom. The door was closed, and nothing but the idea of having to knock and endure the inquisitive glances of his new "comrades" was turning her stomach upside down. Finally it was a good thing that she didn't eat anything this morning, otherwise she would have vomited all that time; as a first impression there is better.

She took courage with both hands and knocked. She was answered and she pushed the door after a second of hesitation. She glanced briefly at the rows of perfectly aligned tables and the students who occupied them and now had their eyes on her, and instead directed her attention to the man who was standing next to a desk that was facing at the tables while standing slightly apart. He was her teacher, obviously; a man of about forty-five with short brown hair and blue eyes. He smiled kindly while waiting for her to speak. He seemed rather nice but Skye had learned at her expense that you should not bet on appearances. Caution is the mother of safety.

She realized that she had stayed by the door and she stepped stiffly to her teacher. Fortunately, she didn't have to engage in conversation because he spoke low enough that his students wouldn't hear:

"I guess you're our new student? Mary Sue, right?"

She nervously triturated the thong of her bag and answered without looking into her eyes:

"Yes. But instead I prefer to be called Skye. If you call me Mary Sue I will not answer."

She had to at least try, though she could count on the fingers of her hand the number of times her teachers had agreed to call her Skye, which was very little considering all the schools in which she had gone.

Coulson raised an eyebrow, a smirk. The girl was shy but still audacious.

"I am Mr Coulson, your history teacher and head teacher. If you have a problem, or questions, or anything, tell yourself that you can talk to me without any problem, as well as any of your teachers, by the way."

She just nodded, her gaze still pointing elsewhere. He waited a moment and then raised his voice:

"Dear students, I would like to get your attention for a few seconds so get your head out of your exercise for a moment, at least for those who are actually doing it. The others, put away your phones before I confiscate them or stop what you're doing ... it's also true for you Grant, although I doubt that I'm interrupting the crucial moment of your experience of trying to send and stick your pen caps to the ceiling."

The so-called Grant, seated at the back of several students as dispassionate as he was, sneered and stowed his equipment to cross his arms on his table, while other students were laughing with him. Skye thought that this teacher looked cool and didn't get on his high horses like the ones she used to be around, but she couldn't help but curse him for deliberately drawing the attention of the whole class on her. She blushed and nervously put a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"Good," Coulson said. I introduce you to your new comrade, Skye (she smiles slightly, glad that he uses the name she chose). I expect you to welcome her nicely, because you all know what it's like to be new, so I hope you'll show how compassionate you are and how cool you are, as you say, you young people.

A new burst of laughter greeted his last sentence. Skye saw Lincoln sitting in the middle. She smiled at him and he gave her a wink; finally a familiar face among all this world. Skye felt partially reassured.

Coulson looked quickly at his class. Mainly good teenagers and he had no doubt that they would help Skye to integrate properly. He spotted a free spot at the bottom and touched the girl's arm to tell her. She jumped and stepped back as if he had burned her. Coulson raised an eyebrow but said nothing and showed her where she could sit. She nodded a second time and headed for it.

Skye sat down, feeling her teacher's gaze on her, and unpacked her things. It had been stronger than she had, when he had touched her, she had instinctively retreated. She hoped he didn't take it personally.

"Hi!" a voice beside her exclaimed, pulling her from her thoughts.

She turned and faced her neighbour, a girl with medium brown hair and a soft smile.

"Hi", she replied slowly.

"I am Jemma", introduced her neighbour. "Jemma Simmons."

"Nice to meet you. I am…"

"Skye," interrupted Jemma. "I heard. It's a very beautiful name."

"Thank you."

Jemma seemed very kind and cheerful, in other words, the exact opposite of Skye. But at least with her, she felt relaxed and confident. As Skye had just arrived and she had no documents, Jemma offered to photocopy her own. Skye felt moved by this gesture. In general, no one was so kind to her in the schools she attended. The kindness of her table neighbour was refreshing and very pleasant. They chatted for a minute, Jemma doing most of the talking, until their teacher took them back gently. Jemma blushed and reconnected immediately to class. Skye had immediately realized that her neighbour was the first kind of class, which, in itself, didn't matter to her as long as she was kind.

Skye looked at Mr Coulson, who was giving his lecture in a loud, clear and passionate voice. It made you want to be interested in the story, not like the last two teachers of history she had who spoke slowly without any passion in their voice and without taking off their ass from their office chair. But Mr Coulson was doing great movements and was walking around the classroom talking happily, pausing as he dictated the class. If she had been less tired, Skye would have listened to his as much as the others, but now she just wanted to sleep and eat. She was more and more hungry, and as a result she felt weaker and weaker. During the hour she let her thoughts wander, her eyes wandering around, fixing on a vacuum. She didn't even know what she was thinking about, basically.

The ring made her startle, attracting the amused look of her teacher and she blushed while preparing her bag. Jemma, knowing that she was no longer breaking any rules, began talking happily until they left the classroom. A boy joined them.

"Skye, this is Fitz. In fact it's Leo, Leo Fitz, but everyone calls him Fitz. Fitz, here's Skye."

"Nice to meet you, Skye," Fitz smiled at her curiously.

Fitz had dark blond hair and clear blue eyes that seemed to analyze everything around him. He looked nice but a little in the moon. Skye smiled shyly, wondering if she should take leave of her classmates or stay with them. She didn't really know how it worked. Fortunately, Jemma unintentionally answered her questions:

"We'd better go. We have Biology."

For Skye, who hated anything near or far to science, Jemma's readiness was almost painful. But she had included her in the group saying "we," and she felt less lonely. Fitz sighed, giving her an apologetic look.

"Simmons loves science, and our shit teacher doesn't diminish her enthusiasm unfortunately."

They started moving forward, Fitz and Simmons bickering nicely. Skye watched them with a smile, without including herself in the conversation she didn't catch a word for since they were jabbering in scientific and mechanical terms, enough to give her headache. A movement beside her caught her attention, and Lincoln appeared in her vision, smiling.

"I see you've met the science twins."

Skye frowned.

"The science tw... ah, Fitz and Simmons! Yes they are…"

"Specials, huh? But that's what makes them so charming. If you ever have trouble in Biology, Physics, Chemistry or Technology it's up to them to address. Except for the Biology, I can help you if you have trouble.

Skye let out a small laugh at the blonde's speech flow.

"I don't know about Biology but it's clear that you master the perfect technique to speak without having to breathe. Frankly, I'm impressed."

He shrugged carelessly.

"What do you want, it's a unique gift to the world. But I can try to teach you, if you wish."

"No thanks, if I wanted to learn, I would turn to the scientific twins, as you call them. They beat you at this game."

She pointed to her classmates, who continued their little fight without stopping for a second, and shook her head gently as they all arrived in front of the Biology room.

"Touché," Lincoln grumbled. "But I'm getting better every day.

"I don't doubt it for a second," Skye laughed.

She felt relaxed and confident. Although she didn't promise to stick to her until yesterday, she couldn't help but feel good about this small group. She would have no trouble seeing them as friends, if things continued to evolve in that direction. It scared her a bit because she didn't know how long she would stay and that she was sick of suffering. But at the same time, being alone made her suffer too, even if she tried to hide it. Maybe it was better for her to take advantage of the moment ... but with a safety net and back, to avoid burning her wings.

It's a lot less serene than she came out of the classroom an hour later. This teacher was a real asshole! She couldn't stand him for a year, it was simply impossible. Lincoln laughed softly at her head and they headed for the stairs.

"Oh, so you don't like Mr Quinn?" he asked, walking. "What a surprise!"

"You talk," Fitz grumbled before she could answer. "This guy should teach mirrors so he is imbued with his person, it's unbelievable!"

Skye groaned and refrained from hugging her new "friend".

"You're taking words out of my mouth! This teacher is arrogant, pretentious and puts too much gel in his hair. Not to mention his perfume. I thought I was going to throw up when he came past me!"

"You're exaggerating," Jemma grumbled under the laughter of the boys. "And it's not the person who counts but what he teaches us, right?"

Skye couldn't hold back her smirk.

"If you say so. In the meantime it's not this teacher who will succeed in making me love science."

"And that's not the worst," Lincoln announced.

"What?" Skye exclaimed. "Is there worse than him?"

Three laughs answered her.

"You'll see," Fitz and Simmons said in unison.

Skye wanted to reply to push them to answer her question when her eyesight blurred. She wobbled and missed a step, but didn't fall because Lincoln caught her by the arm. She leaned on the rail to stabilize.

"Whoh!" the blond exclaimed. "You're okay?"

The science twins stopped two steps down and turned, worried. Skye's view lit up.

"Yes, yes, it's nothing. I just missed a walk."

"Are you sure?" he insisted. "I would rather say a vertigo."

"I'm fine, I promise you."

He hesitated but didn't say anything and released her cautiously. They continued to descend but Skye noticed that her classmates had voluntarily slowed the march. This attention touched her. Besides, she knew that Lincoln didn't take his eyes off her. He watched over her and she felt moved. They left the main building to join the gym next door.

"So?" Jemma asked. "Are you ready to suffer an hour of torture?"

Skye laughed.

"I have the feeling that you're not a fan of sport, I'm wrong?"

"Yeah, yes," the girl said. "But especially that Mrs. May is, huh, special."

"Special?" Fitz choked. "Terribly scary, yeah!"

"That's the one you were talking about telling me that there was worse than Quinn?" Skye asked, her heart pounding.

"Among others, yes," said Fitz, shuddering. "Everyone calls her the Ice Queen, and it's not for nothing. The bets are still going on to determine what Coulson and she are doing together."

"Coulson?" Skye wondered.

"Yeah," Jemma said, "they're married and it's a mystery to everyone. She's the opposite of Coulson. It's so weird."

"And she's scary," Fitz gritted.

They stopped in front of the doors. Lincoln saw that Skye wasn't very reassured by the news of the science twins.

"They exaggerate. She's not mean, it's only that she's a little cold and strict. But she is right, so if you follow her instructions there will be no problem."

"If you say so", mumbled the brunette, not reassured for all that.

But hey, when you have to go, you have to go, and anyway they would end up being late. They pushed the doors to join the locker room.