Tricky Measures Chapter 2, a ncis: los angeles fanfic

Chapter 2—Wild Words

"Ms. 'Ronika! Ms. 'Ronika!" Nikolai yelled. "I had it first!"

"No, he didn't!" shrieked his friend Madeline. She yanked the toy truck from him, and he fell over. "Ha ha! Now you can't get it!"

Nikolai was so mad that he forgot to cry. He got right up. "Ms. 'Ronika!"

Ms. Veronika had seen and heard the entire exchange. "Nikolai might not have the truck," she said, "but neither do you, Maddie." The teacher took the big yellow Tonka from the little girl. "Both of you go play with something else."

"But I want the truck," objected Madeline. "My mommy said—"

Ms Veronika frowned. "Your mommy can say all she wants. Either go play with something else, or go sit on your favorite chair." Then she walked away.

Nikolai smirked in a perfect imitation of his father, and his eyes twinkled, too. He moved away from Madeline, and joined a group of children playing with Legos.

The group of disinterested sophomores filed into their classroom and dove for a few particular seats.

"No, people. This will not do. If you cannot sit down in an orderly fashion, then I will give you assigned seats as far away from your friends as possible," announced Mr. Goldblatt. He stood at the head of the class waiting for the students to sit down.

Kira groaned and grumbled, as did her circle of friends.

"I really do not want to be here," she whispered to her friend Tone.

"Me either," he said, slouching in his seat. "Do you know what this is about?"

She shook her head. "Nope. It's some dumb class my mother wanted me to take."

"Yeah? Mine, too!" he shrieked without thinking.

"Tone! Be quiet!" Kira warned.

He made a face at her.

Mr. Goldblatt studied his students. He saw that they were too clubby, so he made a decision.

"Students, I have decided to divide this class up," he began.

The entire class moaned and groaned.

"Oh, no," Mr. Goldblatt soothed. "You are not sitting in tables of four. We are doing a Continental Divide. There are thirteen boys and thirteen girls in this class, and by some oddity, there are exactly twenty-six desks."

Most of the students sat up straight. They were very apprehensive.

"This is a class in self-defense," the teacher continued. "There are many ways to identify the need for self-defense.-"

"I thought this was a Health class!" Tone shouted.

"Are you an umnik, Tone?" Kira hissed.

Mr. Goldblatt was unfazed. "It is a Health class, Mr. Parker. Health isn't always about the inner workings of your bodies."

"Hey! I have only one body!"

"Oh, boy," Kira mumbled. "Now you're in for it."

"Settle down, people," Mr. Goldblatt continued. "First, we are separating the desks into two teams of thirteen each. Second, boys will be on one team, and the girls on the other. Third, you will sit down quietly and properly, or trade unruly behavior for a lunch period in the Office Detention Room. How does that sound?"

Nobody said a word. They realized that they had lost the war.

"Let's go," said Mr. Goldblatt. "Move the desks, please." He ignored his students because he knew that they would drag the furniture in the noisiest way possible, and he wasn't disappointed.

"Now, organize the desks into wide rows and short columns before you sit down."

"What?" Jerzy asked. He was completely confused.

Tone whapped him upside his head. "Just do what we do." He couldn't believe that the world's stupidest student was in his class.

In less than fifteen minutes, the entire classroom was rearranged. Mr. Goldblatt said nothing.

The students scrambled into the desks, and then sat quietly. They were unhappy with the decor.

Mr. Goldblatt smirked. "Now, doesn't this look ridiculous? It happened because some of you chose to ignore various rules of the school, and in my class. We will stay like this until this term is over."

"Term?" asked Pansy. "Aren't the terms like ten weeks?"

"Like…Yes, they are, Ms. Marshall. When the report cards come out."

The class groaned loudly.

"Okay," said Mr. Greenblatt smugly. "You just learned your first lesson in self-defense!"

"What's that?" asked Tone.

Kira glared at him from across the room. "Consequences!" she shouted. "Everything you do that's not right gets you consequences!"

"Well done, Ms. Kolcheck," said Mr. Greenblatt.

Grinning, Kira raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Goldblatt, my last name has both names. Callen and Kolcheck, please," she explained.

"Okay. Which is first?"

"Callen."

"Hyphenated?"

"Yes, please."

"Teacher, I want to upchuck," Raisa said, interrupting the Math lesson. "In fact, I need to upchuck."

"I see," replied Ms. Horvath. "Raisa, will you run an errand for me, please?" She scribbled a hasty note, and put it in an envelope that she double-sealed.

"Okay, teacher," said the nine-year-old.

Ms. Horvath handed the envelope to Raisa, and gave her a moment to exit the class. Then she wrote some double-digit and triple-digit multiplications on the board that had only one multiplier.

"You are going to learn how to do this kind of multiplication now. You will now have three numbers on top with one multiplier on the bottom. You're all very good at multiplying two numbers on top, so it's time to move onto three numbers on top. Soon you will learn to do carrying with both types."

"Oh, God, why?" complained Ursie. "The regular ones are hard enough!"

Anya found a seat by the door. She stayed there until Mr. Cohn put the class in alphabetical order.

"This sucks," she complained to nobody.

"What's wrong, Ms. Callen?" asked Mr. Cohn.

"Um…not too much," Anya sassed. "My name is Callen-Kolcheck, and I don't want to do Geometry."

Mr. Cohn wrote something in his grade book. "That's fine. Nobody in this class knows Geometry yet, so we're all good. In the meantime,let's do these five additions."

He spent the next ten minutes writing very large numbers on the board. They were in the hundred-thousands, and had as many numbers going down as went across.

"Are you kidding?!" Anya yelped.

"Young lady, you need to stop. You are not in baby school now, so you will be doing grade-appropriate work, and adding accurately is one task. Please get started, all of you," Mr. Cohn added.

Anya rolled her eyes.

"Where's Mama?" Raisa demanded to know.

"I don't know, baby," her father replied.

"Papa! Look at my picture!" Nikolai yelled, shoving his painting in his father's face.

"Self-defense sucks!" Kira griped.

"Eighth grade sucks worse," Anya growled.

"Okay, okay! All of you go sit down in your chairs right now!" Callen said. "One, two, three…GO!"

The four raced over to the dining room table, and sat down quickly.

"Why do we have to sit down, Papa?" Kira asked.

"Kira…" began her father. He went into the kitchen and returned with a trayful of snacks and drinks. He served the snacks, beginning with Nikolai, and skipping Raisa.

"Okay, guys. Mama is working, so I'm home today," he said.

"Where's mine?" Raisa demanded.

Callen looked at her. "Raisa, you upchucked today, so you cannot have any snacks right now," he said softly.

"Papa, why is Mama working?" Anya asked.

He smiled. "I don't know. She wanted to, I guess. Ask her later."

Kira studied her littlest sister. "You rvota?"

"Da," Raisa replied with a smirk.

Callen sat back in his chair. He had already received a call from her school. "Kira, spasibo, but I got this."

She laughed. "Okay, Papa."

"Guys, go get your homework and let me see it," he told them.

"Papa, mine is too hard," Nikolai said. His assignment was to count an amount of shapes and color them with the correct color.

"Nikolai, can you read the instructions?" Callen pointed to the number three.

"Yes, Papa. I got to color three triangles yellow."

"I see," said his father. "What about this one?"

"Papa!" Nikolai reacted. "One circle gots to be red."

"Go sit down, smart boy!" Callen said.

The little boy laughed, and ran to his tall chair. "Oh, shucks!"

"Here, Nikolai," said Anya, offering him her colored pencils. "Ms. Veronika won't mind." She dumped out the box. "Just remember to press soft."

"Thank you, Anya," said Nikolai, picking up the blue pencil. He colored two squares blue.

Anya made a face. "Papa, do you understand Geometry?"

"Sure, baby," he said. "What do you have to do?"

She slumped onto the table. "I have to find chords, diameters, and radiuses. With colored pencils!"

Callen laughed at her dramatics. "Baby, the word is ray-dee-eye when you have more than one radius."

"Okay, Papa. Mr. Cohn said it like that, too," she said with a smirk.

Her father nodded. "What do you need the pencils for?"

"Really, Papa? To trace the lines the right way."

He laughed. "I understand, baby. Get started."

"Okay, Papa," Anya replied. She reached for the dark green.

Nikolai objected. "Hey, Anya! I need that one!"

She face-palmed herself. She didn't want to argue with him, so she handed him the dark green, and chose the lavender instead.

"Spasibo!" her little brother replied with a smirk.

"Okay, little girl," Callen said to Raisa. "You come with me."

"Why?" In the pit of her gut, Raisa knew that he was about to put her to bed. "I don't want to go to bed."

"Excuse me?" He took her by the hand. "Let's go. And guys, when I come back down, you all better be finished."

"Even me?"

"Yes. Even you, Kira. Everybody."

Callen went through Raisa's dresser and pulled out a nightgown. He slipped it on over her head.

"Take off your clothes and put them into your basket, please."

She jerked her jeans and underwear off and tossed them toward the basket. She missed, but made no move to pick them up.

"Papa, I don't want to go to bed."

"Raisa, you told the teacher you had to upchuck. That means you are sick. When you are sick in this family, you go to bed and stay there."

She narrowed her eyes, and shot daggers at him. "No."

He sat on her bed. "So you're not really sick. Is that it? Raisa, did you lie to us?"

"I don't want to do Math!"

He frowned deeply. "We're back to that? I thought Mama talked to you about it all."

"She did, but I'm still not doing Math."

"I see," he said. "Get finished, and get into your bed right now!"

Raisa glared at her father. "Papa, you have to close your eyes and turn around!"

Callen bit back a smirk, and dutifully turned around with his eyes closed. "Let me know when you're ready, baby."

"I will." She took off the nightgown, and then took off her shirts, including her camisole. She threw all of the clothing toward her basket, but nothing went in. Then she put on and shook out the nightgown. "Okay, Papa. I'm ready."

He turned around. "Good job, baby. Now you have to brush your teeth."

"Oh, damn!"

"What's wrong, baby?"

Kira glanced at her father. "I hate writing essays," she said, wiping her face with her shirt. "I can't do them."

He sat beside her, and put his arm around her. "It's not as hard as you think, Kira. It's a matter of writing what you think, and following whatever formula they gave you."

She made a face. "Formula? Math has formulas! Self-defense shouldn't!"

He smiled wryly. "Well…it kinda sorta does. Are there any pictures or graphs you have to use?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Let me see them."

Kira pulled out her packet of study sheets. "We have to do Section A."

Callen nodded. He read through the boxed-off section, and then pointed out the Guide questions. "When you use these questions and answer them in complete sentences, you will wind up with a proper paragraph for your homework essay."

"What?"

"Baby, they're called Document-Based Questions, or DBQ's. Or, at least they used to be. Either way, you have to respond to each question on your worksheet, and then transfer the sentences to your notebook verbatim."

"What's that?"

He hugged her. "Kira, it means "exactly as you wrote it." Then he kissed her forehead. "Baby, get done. You have only three questions."

"Nuh-uh, Papa. I have nine questions."

Callen stood up and laughed. "Okay. Nine. Kira, I want you done before Mama gets home, okay, please?"

He went outside and sat on the front stoop to wait for Anna. He knew she would be home very soon, and he wanted a break from all of the seemingly insurmountable homework. He lolled against the door, which is where Anna found him when she drove up.

She got out of her Mustang quietly, and then walked across the lawn to minimize the sound of her footsteps. She leaned over and kissed him softly, and he smiled.

Keeping his eyes closed, he greeted her. "Hey, baby. I am so glad you're home. It's been an afternoon from hell."

Anna sat down and put her arm around him. He laid his head on her shoulder, and she leaned on him. They sat there and dozed for a little while, enjoying the serenity of the late afternoon sun.