Four days in to school after the holidays and Frank already wanted another one. It was too much; they were piling loads of work on top of them in such a short period of time. In addition, his art teacher hadn't even shown up and they'd had substitute teachers, who didn't really give a damn and were happy to waste fifty minutes -in both lessons- doing nothing important.
Despite the fact Frank was rather lazy, he actually kind of wanted to do well this year.
Already in the art room for his next class, Frank was kind of looking forward to another art lesson where he could sit and listen to music. There'd been no one around as usual, so he'd eaten lunch in the art department, alone. As usual.
Wandering in to the middle room, he dumped his bag on the floor, scattered his stationery on the desk and got a playlist ready on his phone. He shoved the device in his pocket, then went back in to 169a to gather his artwork from his folder when he stopped dead in his tracks. Apparently someone had teleported in because they weren't there a minute ago.
Taking a deep breath, Frank just slowly edged over to the shelf where the folders were stored and got his own, careful not to make a noise. Successfully grabbing his work, Frank scurried out, but was inevitably stopped.
"Excuse me?"
Squeezing his eyes shut, a defeated sigh escaped his lips and he pivoted on his heel, flashing his best fake smile. "Yes?"
The man that stood there seemed tense, though he tried to cover it up with a nervous smile. Shaking slightly, he tucked his unruly curls behind his ear, but they just fell back in to those hazel eyes.
Before properly introducing himself, he sorted the papers on the desk and adjusted his tie, which remained crooked anyway. The top buttons of his white shirt were undone.
Clearing his throat, he asked, "Are you in this art class next?"
Frank nodded, hugging his folder to his chest. His eyes darted to the floor, but they couldn't help steal a glance every time the man broke his gaze.
"That's great." He beamed, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans, which complimented the loose denim jacket he sported perfectly. "I'm Mr Way, your new art teacher."
Frank returned the anxious smile, biting his lip. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he shuffled on the spot; not too great at meeting new people. When he finally gathered the courage to actually look at him, he noticed the roots of his hair were dyed a teal colour. Maybe it was intentional, or a mistake, either way, Frank thought it suited him weirdly.
"Hey." Frank managed awkwardly, feeling as though he should shake his hand, but refrained in case it was too formal. "I'm Frank. . . Iero. Nice to meet you, Mr Way."
Mr Way glanced to where Frank was headed, tilting his head to the side a little. "Do you usually work in there for these lessons?"
"Yeah." A pang of anxiety tugged at his heart strings. "My last teacher let me. Am-am I not allowed-?"
"Oh, no, don't worry." Mr Way waved a hand dismissively. "I won't force you to work with the others if that's what you're used to. . . But I'm afraid I will need you to come in here while I explain your assignment for this year."
Letting out a huge breath of relief, Frank nodded once in understanding. "Okay, thank you." His shoulders slouched as he calmed down.
The bell screamed above their heads, causing them both to jump.
Reality suddenly dawned on Mr Way, a fearful expression taking control of his delicate features. "This is my first time teaching. Ever. Do you-do you think I'll do well? Is this a chaotic class?" Taking deep, steady breaths, he shot a fearful glance at Frank, who hoped he was smiling reassuringly.
Frank shrugged, "I'm sure you'll do fine."
"Thank you." Mr Way's voice wavered and he clasped his hands together behind his back to stop himself from fidgeting.
A few moments later, a stampede of footsteps shook the floor, meaning twenty-or-so students were about to flood in to the classroom.
Chewing his lip, Frank quickly hurried to a seat and kept a hold of his folder. Mr Way retreated to stand behind the desk, as close to the wall as he could to distance himself from the teenagers.
Brendon waltzed in, caught sight of Mr Way, then slumped in a seat next to Frank at the back of the class. Raising his eyebrows, he nodded in Mr Way's general direction, careful not to stare. "Who's he?" He quizzed curiously, poking Frank's arm until he answered.
"New teacher." Frank replied, batting Brendon's hand away.
Heat found its way to Mr Way's cheeks, painting them a faint red. Wide eyed, he scanned the students. Most of their gazes were settled on him, others were chattering amongst themselves. Thankfully, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Mr Wright walk in and he was relieved he didn't have to go through the first bit himself. He knew he would have freaked and made a right mess of it.
Mr Wright nodded to him, then turned to the class and watched as the students quietened down. "I doubt you all know, but Mrs Barkley won't be returning this year-"
Rudely, a student interrupted him, their eyebrows raised expectantly. "Why?"
"I'm sure that's none of your concern." Mr Wright quipped, silencing the student, who shrank back in their seat, knowing it was sensible not to push any further when it came to badgering this particular teacher. "So, for this year, Mr Way," he paused, gesturing, "Will be teaching your class. Now, I expect you all to behave. Those who don't will hear about it from me. I'm only next door, remember?"
Mr Way surveyed the room; biting his lip. There were so many curious eyes trained on him, so it stood out when Frank had his eyes averted to the floor as his leg bounced impatiently. He was eager to escape.
While Mr Wright explained the general rules and situation, Mr Way tried to catch Frank's gaze. Though it took a long time, finally their eyes met and a smile tugged at his lips as he nodded towards the middle room. He would hate for Frank to feel any worse than he seemed to, so he granted him permission to slip next door.
Fortunately, Frank understood the message. Slowly rising to his feet, he felt his cheeks burn as he prayed no one would call him out. He managed to make it safely, a huge weight lifting off his chest.
Leaning against the back of the door, he closed it before collapsing in to a chair. Gradually, the pounding in his heart died. Despite the fact his legs weren't steady, he began shuffling around the table, gathering and sorting his things, separating his own sketches so the work he'd be doing this year wouldn't get mixed up with it.
-
Fifteen minutes stretched past and Frank was surprised that it was strangely quiet. Though he wasn't going to complain.
The door clicked and Mr Way entered, appearing timid. Cautiously, he offered a consoling expression. The denim jacket he'd been wearing had been discarded in the other room and the sleeves of his slightly baggy shirt were rolled up just above his elbows, the bottom tucked in to his jeans.
"Thank you." Frank blurted out, truly grateful. Anyone else probably would have left him to fret at the back of the class until he'd bitten his fingernails to the bone. He simply hated sitting amongst the other students. His experiences of the people at this school hadn't been good ones.
"Are you okay?" Mr Way asked, shutting the door as he brought a binder in to view, clutching it tightly, knuckles turning white. Unsurely, he approached, sitting beside Frank, sliding the binder on to the table. He was a lot less on edge compared to speaking to twenty students, so he let himself unwind a little.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just don't like being in there." He breathed, no desire to dig in to details. Mostly, he wanted to apologise about putting the teacher at odds, but he couldn't get the word out. Having to go through explaining the year's objectives twice took out extra time he could have been discussing it more with the whole class. Frank started to feel guilty, like an annoyance.
Mr Way smiled empathetically. "I know what you mean. It's okay, really." He seemed genuine. "Now. . ." He opened the binder, sifting through the pages until he came across the Higher Art Assignment. "There're two choices for this year." He cleared his throat, sweeping strands of hair behind his ear.
Hesitantly, Frank scooted closer so he could read what was on the page too -hoping he wasn't invading Mr Way's personal space bubble. To make sure, he paused, seeing if the teacher might move away, but he didn't so Frank eased up a bit.
"You can either explore architecture." Glancing up at Frank, he paused.
Shaking his head, Frank took his bottom lip between his teeth, running his tongue over the cold metal of his lip ring. "What's the other one? Because I don't really think I'm gonna do that."
"Portraiture." Mr Way replied, reading aloud, "You'd be studying facial expressions in-depth, likeness, caricature, age and weight and at the end, you'd put what you've learnt altogether in to one final piece."
"Sounds rad. I'll do that."
"Though, you will need a model. You have to be able to take the pictures you'd be studying yourself."
At that, Frank scrunched his nose, gripping the edge of his chair as he laughed quietly. "I'm pretty sure Brendon won't mind modelling for me." Furrowing his eyebrows, he frowned. "That came out weird, but y-you know what I mean?"
As Mr Way joined in the awkward laughter, his head tilted to the side and his eyes lit up -Frank couldn't help but notice. "I'll bring you in the criteria and some paper, okay? We can start with the pictures next lesson. Talk to Brendon about it, too?"
"Y-yeah, thank you."
-
Creeping in at the end of the lesson, Brendon slung his bag over his shoulder and leaned back against the wall, crossing one leg over the other. He was about to speak when Frank beat him to it.
"How's the new teacher?" He asked as he packed his things away, getting ready for when the bell went for next lesson, but he put a minimum amount of effort in to it because he wasn't a big fan of English.
"He's awesome." Brendon answered straight away, not even batting an eyelid. He fidgeted with the strap of his bag. "I think he nailed his first impression."
"That good, huh?" Frank pulled the zip, pushing the chair under the table when he stood up.
"Yeah, most of the girls were swooning all over him the entire time. Seriously, they couldn't have been more obvious." Brendon rolled his eyes, used to such behaviour from a few of them. "Anyway, hurry up, the bell's gonna go."
Securing his work in his folder, Frank yanked the door open, holding it as Brendon followed. He kept his eyes focused on the floor as he darted over to the shelf with his folder in hand, the bell ringing above him. Sadly, he didn't have any free hands to cover his poor ears.
A herd of students pushed their way past him and he was utterly relieved when he made it to the back of the classroom in one piece. He dumped his folder on the shelf, then turned around, glancing at Mr Way, who was already looking at him, making brief eye contact.
Mr Way smiled, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. "Frank? Can you stay behind for a moment?" He requested, shrugging the denim over his shoulders, tugging the collar up.
Frank nodded, then peered at Brendon, who looked as puzzled as he was. "You in trouble?" Brendon whispered. "I can stay if you like?"
"It's okay," Frank dismissed. They both said silent goodbyes, Brendon disappearing down the hall, getting lost in the sea of students.
Mr Way snatched his satchel from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder. "I've been told by Mr Wright that you're new here, too?"
"I've been here four months." He confirmed, stepping a bit closer so he wasn't on the total opposite side of the room.
Mr Way hopped up on to the desk, swinging his legs like a child. "Well," his hazel orbs caught Frank's, "I've also been told that it would be best for your grade if you did last year's work too. . . As well as this year's."
"Oh. . ." The floor suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world to Frank and he scuffed his shoe. "Right."
"Would it be okay if you came in after school tonight so I could explain further?" Mr Way asked, giving Frank a half smile.
"Yeah." He mumbled, disappointed that he had yet more work to complete. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he fought the urge to yawn. Making his way across the floor, he called over his shoulder. "See you later."
"See you."
[Published 24 April 2019]
[Last edited 13 December 2019]