Just the Paldea gang being chaotic.
As fun as talking about art with Brassius was, Juliana had to go back to school eventually. While she was getting decent grades, she found herself dreading Mr. Salvatore's class more and more as he prepared them for midterms.
"There are many of you who have been doing well," he said, speaking one language so that the whole class could understand, "but there are some of you that are not."
Juliana groaned and flopped over her desk. "Why do I even need to learn more than two languages?" she mumbled under her breath. "English is spoken everywhere. I know Spanish. Why can't I just find a translator app?"
Salvatore turned to her. "Is there something you want to say, Miss Juliana?"
Juliana lifted up her head. "That's relevant? No."
"Then please refrain from disrupting my class."
So she sat through the practice test, trying hard to learn. She left the class with her usual low grade and a doodle of a Quaquaval playing the flute.
She was out in the schoolyard again when a shadow came over her. She looked up, hoping to see Mr. Hassel again and find out exactly what was with that stranger cornering him last time, and she cringed when Salvatore walked by.
If it couldn't be Mr. Hassel, why couldn't it be Ms. Dendra? This is her classroom.
Salvatore walked past her, then stopped. Seeing something Juliana didn't, he turned the corner of the flower patch she was sketching and knelt down.
He poked something, a worried expression on his face, and then was relieved. So whatever he'd touched wasn't dead.
Art forgotten for the moment, Juliana stood up to look for herself. There was a Pawmi lying in the dirt.
"Mr. Salvatore? Is that yours?"
Why did she always switch between languages when speaking to Mr. Salvatore? To prove she wasn't completely stupid, and was in fact bilingual like most of the planet?
Salvatore looked up. "No, Miss Juliana. I found it shortly before you did. The poor thing must have had a hard time in battle."
He gave her the same courtesy, at least.
"Did you try a Potion?"
"I just found it myself," Salvatore reminded her. "And I have no Potions to give."
Without another word, Juliana handed him a Potion. Without another word, he used it on the Pawmi.
The Pawmi slowly opened its eyes.
Salvatore burst into a mixture of languages. Juliana caught "gracias" and "thank you," so she assumed that the rest meant the same.
Meanwhile, Florian had found Ms. Dendra on the other side of the schoolyard. He had a very important question to ask her, and she didn't seem to notice him approaching.
Story of my life, he thought, and tapped her on the arm.
She turned around, swinging. Florian stepped back, out of her path, and then she realized that it was a teenager in his school uniform. "Oh. Sorry about that. What can I do for you?"
Florian took a moment to settle his heart rate. "I was wondering why you haven't graded me for my last few classes," he said when he'd calmed down.
"I didn't?" Dendra thought about it, only to realize that she didn't remember him. "Are you a new student?"
"I was here last year, so, no."
"Huh." Dendra thought it through. "Well, I don't remember your performance. How about you help me out for some extra credit? I've been wanting to make a sandwich for the school nurse, since she's helped me so much."
Well, helping a teacher make a sandwich didn't sound so bad.
He didn't expect that the helping would be taste-testing. But as he found himself at the nurse's office with a stomachache, he understood why Dendra would want to thank her. That sandwich was completely inedible.
"You have a mild case of food poisoning, Master Franklin."
"Florian," he corrected, only to groan when the pressure of talking made him feel sicker.
She didn't notice. "You'll throw it all up and be good as new in a matter of hours!" She handed him a plastic bucket. "Can you tell me what you ate to end up here? The cafeteria uses the best foods."
Florian opened his mouth, then retched into the bucket.
Florian wasn't in art class, but Arven was. It was hard to tell which surprised Nemona more.
Hassel noticed something was different. It took him a good few minutes to realize what it was.
"Has anyone seen Master Florian?" he asked his class.
"Who's Florian?" asked a random student.
"He asked where Florian was," said another random student.
"Even better," said Juliana, who just wanted to stir the pot at this point, "why is Florian?"
"I think you should focus on how is Florian," Penny said quietly.
"Vasquez? He's sick," said Arven, diverting the bit.
He also diverted Nemona's attention. "Does he have rabies?"
"Are you really that stupid?" Arven complained.
"You should look up what that disease is," Penny said at the same time.
Hassel, clearly regretting starting this mess, decided to cut it short. "I'll accept that he is sick," he said, cutting off whatever Juliana was going to say in her friend's defense. "It just means that he'll miss preparing for midterms. Even though art may not be the most important class in the grand scheme of things, I do want you all to pass." He looked at Arven. "Master Arven? You do know how to take notes, don't you?"
"I just write what you say, right?" Arven sounded unsure.
Luckily, Hassel confirmed it. "Yes. And considering that this is your first time in this classroom in a very long time, I suggest you take diligent notes."
"Art's easy," Arven said.
"Don't," said Juliana. Not even she knew if she was speaking to Arven or Hassel.
Neither of them listened. "If art is so easy," said the teacher, "can you please tell me what 'value' is?"
"It's what it's worth at the auction house." This time, Arven sounded confident in his answer.
"No," Juliana said quietly.
Hassel, who was usually a very nice guy, turned around. "I suggest you start hitting the books, or else I'll start getting the F stamp ready."
"What happened to being a dad to the students?" Arven grumbled to himself as Hassel started actually teaching.
"My dad does this all the time," said Juliana. "It's called 'motivation.' I need a lot of it. By the way, you'd probably know 'value' as 'greyscale,' 'shadow,' maybe 'tone?'"
"I don't think he liked my tone," Arven said seriously.
Juliana was quiet for a moment. "Dear lord, you're gonna fail."
Florian was better in time for history class, or at least his admiration of the teacher was stronger than his food poisoning. Walking into her classroom, Florian and Juliana were greeted with an old-fashioned chalkboard propped up against the wall, containing an odd combination of letters.
"A-B-B-A," Juliana read out loud, "C-C-A-A-D..." She turned at the sound of Ms. Raifort entering the classroom, then gestured behind her. "Are you posting everyone's grades publicly?"
Raifort chuckled. "Which do you think is your grade, Miss Juliana?"
Juliana pointed to one of the Cs. Raifort gently lowered her finger to one of the Ds.
"Relax," said the teacher once the student's face fell. "These aren't the grades."
"Then what are they?"
Raifort tapped the chalkboard. "As you know, the midterms are coming up," she said. "And since it's only cheating if you're looking at the answers..."
"I don't think that's true," Florian interrupted.
Raifort stopped talking. "For real?"
"My dad's a lawyer."
"Then he's probably a better lawyer than mine," Raifort grumbled, and she reached for the chalkboard eraser on her desk. "I have the worst freaking attorneys."
They watched her in silence for a moment. "So do we get study guides?" Nemona asked.
Raifort lowered the eraser, and her head, in shame. "Free day until I make them," she decided.
The entire class got out their Rotom phones.