The room was filled with a deafening silence, filled with the sounds of pencils rubbing on paper. The heavy breaths of the students was occasionally interrupted by the sounds of pencil lead snapping under the pressure. A single look around the room, and one would see a mix of behaviours; some students had a neutral face that would be present during sleep, some were carrying their heads in their hands with eyes 20 seconds away from tears.
"Time is up! Stop writing."
The teachers collected the scripts, seeing some act like they were thinking about lunch, and some looking like they just left their grandparents' funeral.
"This is end of the paper. As this is a formal examination, there will be no additional classes for the rest of the day, if any of you do not know."
"You all are dismissed. Have a good day, and get ready for your next paper on History on Wednesday."
Upon the announcement of dismissal, the students walked out of the room with discussions on problems and solutions. However, one of them remained in her seat with her face in her arms planted on the table. Her light pink hair was a mess, clearly being fidgeted with within the past 30 minutes. Beside her was another girl with brown hair dressed in two ponytails, looking at her with eyes of worry as her friend emitted choked sobs.
As the chief examiner looked at the pair with a forced resting face, he could not help but show a slight frown at their predicament.
"Young ladies, I know you both are not in the best of emotions right now, but you cannot stay in the room. How about both of you follow me to the General Office?"
The brown haired girl nodded, and signalled her friend to leave her seat and follow him. The pink-haired girl got off the chair, and rubbed away tears from her reddened eyes. As the girl held back tears, the pair took the time to look at the examiner. He obviously towered over their short stature, but noted that he still was probably a few centimetres shorter than the housemaster. Unlike other teachers, who carried golden pocketwatches engraved with family crests, and tailored suits that complemented their polished dress shoes. he wore much simpler clothing, a far cry from the 'elegant' standard. A white dress shirt, with rolled up sleeves. Somewhat baggy pants, covering what seemed to be heavy set, possibly military, boots. And instead of the gold chain hanging off his pants, sported a simple wristwatch made of steel. His face bore a thick set of spectacles. His hair is as black as mama's, the pink-head thought. His eyes were, unlike their peers and other teachers having shades of emerald or sapphire, were a shade of dark brown, almost looking jet black. His skin was less fair, bordering a cream tone. I think I had seen people like him with Daddy before. He said there were business partners from Xing, the brown-head thought.
As they picked up their bags, the now curious teacher looked down at them both and inquired of their names.
"My name's Becky, and this is Anya," the girl with ponytails said.
The office was of a different design to their classrooms. Instead of walls of a wooden finish with the aroma of polish and timber, the walls were concrete coated with a strong white paint, releasing a pleasantly sweet stench, the tell-tale sign of lead paint.
"I should really tell them to change the wall paint. Don't they know how dangerous lead is?" The teacher muttered to himself as he passed the examination papers to the office clerk, occasionally glancing back at the girls. The two sat on the well used waiting sofa chair. Anya had reverted back to her previous helpless demeanour, and Becky looked at her with the same worried face. Turning to face the pair, he introduced himself.
"Sorry, I wasn't able to talk to you two just now due to procedure," the teacher said, sitting on the chair next to them.
"I am Mr. Godfrey Lee. I am a new teacher here. I get that your names are Becky and Anya, correct?"
nod
"Sorry Mr. Lee, but why did you bring us here?", Becky asked.
"Well, the other teachers don't really console students after papers. After all, crying over spilled milk is 'not elegant'. But I'm not like other teachers. In my previous teaching job, this is common practice. And I sense that Anya here didn't have a great experience with the paper."
Anya looked back at him, holding back more tears like a depressed puppy.
"It was so hard. I couldn't draw some graphs and the numbers did not match up all the time." she cried.
"I can't get another bolt...I just can't,", she said. Godfrey looked at her with concerned anger. While he knew the pressures of this school, which prides itself on being the pinnacle of excellence, he could not stop himself from feeling this feeling of anger towards the school administration. To have this kind of stress on a student, it seemed excessive, especially considering her age, and the exorbitant school fees they charge.
"I am a Math teacher. Do you two have some homework on hand?", Godfrey asked, hoping to see where the girl stood in the cohort.
Anya and Becky dug through their bags and pulled out two sheets of paper. The assignments were already marked and dated the previous week.
For Becky, other than some minor mistakes and logical errors, he could tell she could manage well, albeit perhaps needing some help.
Anya's was another story.
Her paper was covered in micro-crumples and partially visible pencil marks, clearly being the product of multiple erased attempts. Amid the red crosses and teacher's frustrated remarks, he tried to decipher her childish handwriting. Considering her age, it was a confusing mix of ingenuity and ignorance. Some answers had little to no eraser marks, with clear, concise working, almost as if she copied it from an an answer key. Some were crumpled to the point that clear crease marks were present with ghosts of previous attempts present on the question perimeters, with working that was like she was writing with little to no understanding of the lessons, being more guesswork than logical reasoning. Given some questions, he would trophy her at the top. Given others, he would put her at the bottom. I am going to suspect that many of these questions, she copies from her parents' answers. Inconsistency like this is honestly suspicious.
Anya looked at him staring with a look of insecurity as she saw his face of confusion.
He must think I am as stupid as sy-on boy says I am.
Looking at him, she attempted to listen into his thoughts.
…
...
…
…absolute silence. She was dumbfounded. Why was it that she could read everyone's thoughts, even animals like Bond, but could not read this teacher's? She concentrated. Perhaps his were hidden deeper within, she figured.
…
…
…
…again, the only sounds she were hearing were the winds coming from the windows and some typewriters in the background. Suddenly, her worries of the paper and her scores were overshadowed by her confusion and somewhat fear.
What is this teacher!? Is he a machine? An alien!?
She tried again, only to gain curiosity of Godfrey, who was intrigued at this girl, who a moment ago was crying at her wits end, that was now squeezing her eyes shut and pushing her fingers to her temples, like she was trying to read someone's mind. As she opened her eyes, she saw Mr. Lee who was looking at her with intrigue. She quickly realised her pose looked quite stupid, and instantly returned her hands to her lap in a blush. His face returned to one of concern. Godfrey knew that unless he had more material to work with, he was going to have to assume that she sat at the bottom of the cohort.
"It's hard growing up. You will always have expectations by your parents. If you can't meet them, you get punished. And when you do meet them, it is never enough." Godfrey told the two girls. Anya and Becky looked at him with intrigue.
"When you meet their expectations, suddenly they want more. From wanting a simple pass, to a high grade, to a high rank in class. It will never be enough."
"I want you two to understand that life is hard. It will always be. But it is not about the success stories in life that make someone. It is the failures. It is the lessons we learn to ensure we do not make these mistakes again, that will push us towards improvement."
"If either of you two feel tired, stressed, or just want to talk to someone, you can talk to me."
The two girls looked at him with a look of both inspiration and joy, that some teachers do care.
"Who is your Math teacher?"
"It's Mr. Jeffery."
"Do you two ask him when you have questions?"
"He normally does, but when we ask for more details, he just gets more frustrated."
Godfrey walked out of his chair, and talked to the front desk.
"...Could you get this checked, please? Thank you."
The two girls suddenly felt a tinge of fear. If he was to report to the school about Mr. Jeffery's behaviour, they might get in trouble for snitching. And the last thing they needed were more Tontrius bolts.
"Please don't tell the school about Mr. Jeffery!" Anya pleaded, as she ran up from her chair and started tugging on his shirt. Her eyes started welling up again with tears as she thought of the consequences.
"What? No. I wasn't planning on that."
"You weren't?"
"No, it just so happens that Mr. Jeffery will be going for long-term leave. I am just checking who will replace him."
"Really?"
While it seemed like too much of a coincidence, Mr. Jeffery was sick. He had been having problems with his heart for a while. His doctor had been telling him to not get too agitated. This job of having to manage students, like Anya especially, had probably been eating at his health for a while now.
Godfrey simply planned to convey this conversation he had with these two girls to the new teacher, to request them to take some more time with struggling students. He also planned to raise the issue of student stress to the housemaster, and discuss possible solutions. While the housemaster was all about elegance, he certainly was not heartless, and would try to make the school experience not torturous at the least.
"Mr. Lee, there is currently no one taking the position, as Mr. Jeffery only told us of his plan for leave a week ago," the office clerk stated.
In that moment, the two girls came up with a sudden urge, but felt too sheepish to ask, especially since he had been one of the more understanding teachers that they knew (albeit they only knew him for the past 30 minutes). Godfrey looked back at them, and saw them looking down at his knees, with their hands together on their crotch. Looking at their uneasy stance, he asked them what they wanted.
"C-could you be our teacher?" Anya spoke up, with Becky nodding in agreement.
Godfrey was surprised, to say the least. He hadn't even taught them a single thing, let alone even substituted their class. And yet they were asking for him to be their teacher. It was almost like this entire encounter was planned. Not to mention the increased work he would now have.
But yet again, this would be a great thing to have. Because he had only started working after the start of the school semester, he wasn't able to teach a class by his own, always being an assistant teacher and sitting behind the class and monitoring the progress of the class, and mostly being limited to administrative and substitution work. This would give him a great chance to begin teaching for real, and gain some more say in the school.
"If I could add, you still have one vacancy to teach one additional class." The office clerk added. Clearly she wanted to see something happen.
"...I mean, if no one is actively competing for the spot, I am willing to teach them."
"Alright, I'll send it the application."
The room was filled with a strange silence. The girls were quite filled with some amount of joy (a teacher that they didn't feel a sense of dread every time they were in their presence), but didn't want to make a scene. Godfrey felt a strange sense of accomplishment for climbing the ladder in a single afternoon, but also some strange feeling of anticipation, like this would initiate something bigger.
"Ms. Blackbell."
Godfrey turned to face the origin of that call. A tall old lady rushed into the office. She wore a black suit and trousers, something he didn't see a woman wear often. Below her long face was a gold chain. 'BB', it was labelled.
"We have been waiting in the car for you for a while."
"Oh, it's my fault. I called them here to talk to them, and caused you delay."
"Why so? Did they do something wrong?"
"No, just wanted to talk to them. Anya was feeling down, and Becky followed along."
"...Who are you exactly?"
"I am Godfrey Lee. I am a Mathematics teacher here. I had just joined in the past month, so you probably have not seen me before."
"...Your complexion. Are you Xingese?"
"Heh heh (light giggle under his breath), no. My father was Xingese, but he married my mother, and converted citizenship."
"Oh. So you are a first-generation Ostanian?"
"No, I moved here for this job."
"I am Amestrian."
"...Oh, I am so sorry for asking so much. Madam, let us take our leave?" The old woman signalled to Becky to follow her. As they passed through the heavy doors, Becky gave a single wave back to Mr. Lee. Waving back, Godfrey glanced back at the clock.
12.15p.m.
The time gnawed at him, like it was trying to hint at something he was barely grasping at. Suddenly, it came to him.
"...Anya, do you take the bus back home?"
"Yes."
The school bus departs at 12.
If he was not trying to hide his panic, he would have face-palmed, right then and there.
How could he have been so forgetful? The housemaster regularly reminded the teachers to release the students on time, so that they would not miss the bus back home. He realised how big of an issue this was.
Forget getting to teach a class by himself, he may not be even able to return to work tomorrow.
Thinking a bit on how to solve this, he formulated a plan. Walking to the clerk, he requested a call to the Forger Household. After a few seconds of anticipatory anxiety, the line came through. The clerk passed the handset to Godfrey.
"...Hello, Forger Household."
"Hello, Forger household, I am Mr. Godfrey Lee from Eden Academy. May I know am I speaking to?"
"This is Yor Forger."
"Mrs. Forger, I am sorry to inform you that your daughter may be coming home later than usual."
"Miss- I mean, Anya will be coming home later than usual? Why so?"
"It is my fault, actually. I was the examiner for the examination they took today. She felt a bit down after the paper, so I brought her to the general office to talk to her. In turn, she missed the bus."
"Oh."
"I apologise for the inconvenience. If you are not uncomfortable with it, I could send her home myself."
"..."
The silence only blew his worries out of proportion.
"I-If you are not okay with it, you can come and pick her up yourself. Again, I am really sorry about the-"
"No, it's alright. You can bring her home."
Godfrey internally heaved a sigh of relief.
"Understood. I will bring her home as soon as possible."
The call ended there. Godfrey, although knew the big risk of a parental complaint was reduced heavily, was still worried of internal investigation. After all, if the bus driver chose to do a headcount that day, and realised the girl with pink hair was missing, he was a goner. He looked back at the clerk.
"...Don't worry about me. I never saw anything," the clerk told him, winking back at him and slight smirk of genuine concern.
"...Anya, I am sending you home, as requested by your mother."
Anya responded with a simple nod. She quickly stuffed the assignment into her bag, held his hand, and followed him to his car. Godfrey knew the concerns he had were still minuscule compared to the task of sending Anya back home safe and sound.
And so, their journey began.
A trip to the Forger home.
Author's Note: So I know this seems quite strange of a story to call a crossover. But there is an underlying plot under all of this. Especially since there is an OC. It will be better refined in later chapters, and the involvement of more of your favourite FMA characters will come in future chapters. But for now, this is what I have. Be patient with me, this is my first literary work. But it will be some time until I will come up with chapter 2 (I am in school at the moment, don't want to screw up like Anya here). Do give feedback if you could tell me how to improve.
Until next time, bye!