Greetings! After much consultation, concentration, and conversation, we HAVE decided to include a small mystery in Clemenceau High. WHOOOTS!! -cue clapping- Unfortunately, we have no idea what sort of mystery that will be...
Any ideas, anyone? Or should we do a lame version of the-boy-who-misplaced-his-lunch-money-and-subsequently-found-it-in-another-pair-of-pants?
(Maria: Can we go now?? We have announced our presence, displayed our plans, and have notified the readers that we are alive and well. Let's scram!! -whines-
Clarinda: -grins sadistically- Poor Zac! Now let's add in asthma attacks, soggy sandwiches, and perhaps a sprained finger or two!)
Chapter 4: Increased workload
"Franklin Trotteville!" cried Mrs Potts indignantly. Frank looked up, startled at the sound of her voice. Gosh, thank goodness! He was just about to fall into deep, Sleeping-Beauty-like slumber during the ever-boring Primrose's lesson. It was becoming a daily occurrence (the sleeping bit, not the Potts bit).
Mrs Potts was their form teacher, rather old, rather kind. She was also rather strict, unfortunately for Frank and Fred. However, that was a small consolation considering she was not The Primrose.
Mrs Potts had a good many pleasant wrinkles on her face and looked about forty-five. Her brown eyes were always warm and soft, though they could look rather horsy when she was stern. Frank never got tired of that look. Until now, he was still trying to imitate it, but to no avail. It was one of the very 'rare issues' of his, and he found it irritating.
He had once been caught standing in front of Mrs Potts while trying to make that face, and it had been just as embarrassing as your pants falling down while you are on stage singing the National Anthem in front of a live audience. He had twisted his face into a half frown, half goggle that looked very much like a toad that choked on a fly and had resultantly not eaten for a month. Frank had only realised that his teacher was staring at him after a whole five minutes. Now that, to Frank, was a lot.
Mrs Potts was currently standing at the class door, carrying a towering stack of at least thirty books. After a curt nod to Primrose, she staggered to Frank and set the books on his table with a satisfying bump. Frank's two brothers stared at the books, while Frank looked desperately at Mrs Potts, feigning ignorance.
"Would you like me to deliver these books to the orphanage for you, Mrs Potts? I would be delighted to. It has been such a long time since I have done a good deed…" Frank ranted on and on, trying to change the subject. He knew very well what those books were for.
Mrs Potts nodded absently, and interrupted the desperate Frank in the middle of his tirade.
"My dear Mister Trotteville, do be quiet and listen to me. These books are for you. They contain a whole year's of fifth and sixth form work, and you are not to donate them to some charity. You have agreed with your father to skip forms, have you not? Well here are the books; you will do as much as you can. You are not to listen to your teacher when he or she is teaching but work on these instead. If you manage to pass the exam, at the end of the year, you will definitely be sent to university. If you are not able to... welcome back to the life of the normal. Do I make myself clear on this point, Mr Trotteville? Mr Trotteville!"
Frank had ignored Mrs Potts halfway through her speech and was looking dejectedly through the mountain of books. There were Philosophy, Advanced French, Latin, Geography, History, Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Arithmetic, Literature, Higher Art, and a fine, leather-bound book on the complete works of Shakespeare. Frank planned to use that one for lifting weights.
Suddenly, the whole gravity of his situation came crashing down on Frank. That was too much, and he groaned, pushing away the books and burying his head in his arms.
Looking around, Frank noticed everyone was staring at him in shock with their mouths hanging low. Primrose looked absolutely gobsmacked. Her eyes were stretched far apart, and her mouth looked like it was poised to catch flies the size of tennis balls. Frank grinned at her and posed, throwing in wide, film star-like kisses for good measure.
Turning back to the books (he refused to think of them as his), he flipped through one of them randomly and frowned. How was he going to finish them in a term? Mrs Potts flashed the boy a smile, almost mocking, turned on her heel, and left as suddenly as she had come.
Frank stared mournfully at the pile before him. Fred snickered.
"This is called pressure Frank, you know that word don't you? Pressure, Pressure, and more PRESSURE!" He sniggered at Frank's horrified face. Frank glowered dangerously and clenched his fist, shaking dangerously close under his brother's nose. Fred smirked and went back to his work. Frans simply sighed and shook his head.
The Primrose, curious, went over to Frank's table and bent dangerously low to see the books. Frank looked up hastily in fright upon seeing a rough, distorted shadow. The boy jumped. He had honestly thought the living, rotting egg tart aliens had arrived! The shadow was too round to be true! (Unfortunately, it was true.) Frank covered his hand with his mouth, ugh! That smell! The Primrose did not notice Frank's gesture. Her poor student spoke to her.
"Yes Ms Primrose, would you like to help me with the sixth forms? Can you even do them anyway? Let's see…" Frank bent over a sixth form math workbook and grinned like a Cheshire cat. Looking over, Fred was sure that if Alice (from wonderland) were here, she would have taken a look at Frank and mistook him at once for her beloved chopper-flashing moggy.
Frank flipped through a few pages until he came across an especially complicated sum. He then proceeded to pull out a textbook and read it in the most annoying professional voice. After about five minutes or so, he looked up and pointed to the complicated question.
"Can you solve this?" he innocently inquired. Ms Primrose glared at him. What a rude boy!
"Obviously I can solve it! Why would I be a math teacher then?" she asked impatiently. Frank shrugged.
"To show off," he mumbled. "Pompous old coot of a toad…" He pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and began writing laboriously. Soon, a most horrendous sum was created. Frank looked through it once and nodded, before addressing the pumpkin once more.
"I have no idea what form work this problem is from. But I assure that I will respect, err no… Look up to you if you can solve it."
Primrose smirked. "If you think a question set by a fourth former can be so difficult, then… then…," the teacher could not think of what more to say. She was not very bright at thinking of such things, anyway, so it made no difference on the whole.
" Franklin's not an ordinary fourth former, Ms Primrose," called Oliver Sunns from the back of the class. "He wouldn't be skipping forms otherwise. His intelligent quotient is high as high can be."
Oliver was a boy of middle height, gangly, with grey eyes and blonde hair. His skin was rather tanned, and he had a rather sharp tongue. Oliver also had a very strong and pleasant Scottish accent, which made itself clear as he spoke.
Fred turned round and grinned at him. Oliver grinned back obligingly. The teacher put on a dignified expression, and stared at the boy genius for a moment or two. She then bent over the paper, expecting the answer to come out at once from her head, but to no avail. It was much, much harder than she had thought.
Frank grinned and leaned over to his brothers. "You know, if she knew how to behave like a real school teacher, she wouldn't have bothered. It just goes to show…"
"…That she is no doubt a female clone of Goon?" answered Fred. Frank shook his head.
"It simply shows that she has amazingly broken all the negative records of teachers' already awkward behaviour! It's just so simple! Though I must agree that I wouldn't be half as surprised if she had been a Goon twice related and thrice disinherited."
The triplets chuckled as the silently watched the teacher struggle with the math problem at her table. Frank soon got bored and went on with his work. He was mildly surprised. All he had done to that question was to tweak it a little to make it seem complicated.
It was simple, really, he thought to himself as he memorised some French verbs. The only reason Primrose had gotten herself such an esteemed job was because her pathetic diploma had looked good on her résumé to a desperate principal.