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It was your third week at H.H. High School, filling in for Mr. Goldenfold. There had still not been an official reason for him to be gone but you figured that the more hours filling in, the more money and thus you could not care a lot about it. There were rumours it had to do with a therapy course he was doing, something about weird eating habits…
No matter what it was, it meant that you had taken over his Math class, reading up on the different students and his comments on them. One particular student had caught your eye, a fourteen-year-old boy who seemed to do horribly in this class, and frankly, in pretty much all of them. It wasn’t that he had a below average IQ or something, no, the reason was his eccentric grandfather showing up at random, at all times of the school day, to drag him out of class much to his, and your, dismay. You tried to remember his name for a moment, thinking back to Mr. Goldenfold student evaluations.
Morty Smith seems to have difficulty staying focused in class and often complains about the numbers on his papers jumping around in front of him. He tries to do his homework but there is a lot of excuses coming from him each time, always involving his Grandfather, Mr. Sanchez. Mr. Sanchez has had a lot of reasons to pull Morty out of class lately, though there is not much I can do.
Morty Smith, yes, that was his name, a sweet but not extremely bright kid. You had set your goal on turning things around for him, even offering his parents to do some extra classes with him which they were very enthusiastic about. The grandfather was just the problem that needed to be handled but you needed to build up the courage to say something, after all, it had been six weeks now and it had happened at least five times.
There was just something about him, his whole being radiating some kind of authority that you felt intimidated by to the point where you could not stop yourself from letting him do whatever he wanted. Even despite knowing his usual habits by now, (always Math, always on a Tuesday) you still could not prepare yourself for the mood he set when he burst into your classroom.
It was Tuesday today and you were in the middle of explaining Pythagoras. Morty was too busy staring at Jessica as usual but when you said his name, he turned his attention to you and stuttered out an apology and a nearly correct answer; yes, obviously four squared was approximately 20. You wrote the correct answer down as another student volunteered, hearing an aw man from the back of the class.
Your chalk nearly broke in half, causing a horrible sound as it scratched across the blackboard. You and your students gasped at the noise but the uncomfortable feeling subsided quickly when you turned to see spiky blue hair. Sanchez .
“M-M-Morty,” he said frantically, walking right down the lines of tables. He looked focused on reaching his target, slamming Morty’s school books together, “C’mon on, you’re coming with me.”
“Rick, I can’t leave school, I’m behind when it comes to Math!” Morty said and a few people around him started to snicker. Rick on the other hand just started pulling at his grandson’s arm who yelped. The sound coming from the poor boy made your blood start to boil and you dropped whatever you were doing and started approaching them, wishing to stop whatever scene the asshole was trying to make.
Despite his intimidating aura, something inside of you snapped this time. You couldn’t not do anything this time. You had to put your foot down, even if it meant risking to get humiliated by him in front of your students, a thing he was very much indeed capable of.
“Mr. Sanchez, your grandson is struggling with Math enough as it is,” you said sternly, arms crossed over your chest to signal that you were not changing your mind, “I can’t let you take him out of class again for whatever reason.”
“I told you,” Rick reminded you, still holding on to Morty’s arm, the boy looking beyond defeated, “Pro-prostate exam.”
“For the sixth time in a month or so?” You scoffed, tapping your foot.
“Y-yes, it’s a real pain in my ass, or should I say his ass, but not even his moron dad wants to take him,” came the reply and now the class had really started to laugh. Morty seemed like he was ready to dig his own grave of shame.
“Quiet!” You said loudly, turning to give the classroom an angry glare. Slowly, it was quiet again and you faced the older man once more, “You’ll have to reschedule his appointment, Mr. Sanchez, I simply cannot let you do this today. Again. Morty, go sit down.”
“Y-yes,” Morty squeaked but Rick just raised his voice, clearly trying to puff himself up like was he imitating an angry rooster. You wanted to roll your eyes.
“M-Morty, what did I tell you about authorities? Don’t listen to th-them,” he scolded and yanked him the other was, towards the door. How dared he come here and insult your position in front of your students? In your own workplace?
You reached for Rick’s arm, gripping it a bit harder than you had expected of yourself, “Rick Sanchez, this is my classroom, Morty is my student and when he is here, he listens to me and only me . Now, I told him to sit down, and I know he knows I expect him to do so, so you better not try think you have more power when he is in school. Are we clear?”
The whole class gasped, and Rick went silent for a moment, eyeing you with suspicion and a tad of amazement, which you figured was a result of how you had screamed at him. It was obviously something he wasn’t used to (and you weren’t surprised). He turned to you, wanting to say something but instead, he turned to Morty, “Well, what are you do-doing still standing? Go sit.”
“R-Rick,” Morty looked down at the hand on his arm, a look on his face that told you that he was relieved and happy the two of you hadn’t ended up pulling at each arm. The fact that it had probably been his fear was surprising and a little concerning.
Rick let go immediately and then cleared his throat, leaving the room without as much as a word or even just a sound. You felt triumph.
“Right,” you said cheerfully, realising how uncomfortably silent the room had gone. You stood by the blackboard again, earning a little smile from Morty, “Where were we? Pythagoras, yes!”
When everyone had left, the day ending after what seemed like forever, you were locking up your classroom. Turning the key, you almost dropped it as a familiar voice sounded behind you, “Finished for the day?”
You let out a startled gasp, turning to face Rick Sanchez with a lot less intimidation than you had earlier. You calmed yourself for a moment before smiling, “Mr. Sanchez.”
Rick just smirked at you, long arms along his sides and looking quite indifferent in his body language. You were ready to get a scolding from having humiliated him but you chose to take it with pride.
“Morty said that I should apologise, he’s a goo-good kid,” he began, shifting a little before his expression turned devilish, “You know, I-I gotta give it to you, no one’s ever dared to do what you just did, you have balls.”
“I can imagine Mr. Goldenfold wouldn’t be the one to finally tell you that you’re an asshole,” you replied with a shrug, fumbling with your keys and your bag.
Rick barked out a laugh at that, shaking his head before taking a step to stand closer to you, “Goldenfold wouldn’t look so sexy doing it either.”
That you had not expected to hear but your immediate response was a snorting laugh and a blush that crept up your neck and covered your cheeks. What was this? What was he doing to you? You swallowed, “Very smooth of you.”
“I’ve been wa-watching you for a while,” Rick admitted as he stepped closer, obviously trying to look cool as he leaned against the wall, “You think it’s a coincidence that I’ve tried to drag M-Morty out on his ass so often?”
“What a cliché,” you said with snark after you had collected yourself, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “Crush on a teacher.”
Rick looked almost offended at the word crush , crossing his arms over his chest, “Crush? Give me a break, I just thought you looked worth giving a shot.”
“Oh wow, real charming,” you mirrored him, crossing your arms as well. What a jerk, did he just say that about you? Jeez, if that was how he flirted, “I bet you’re so irresistible and I should be sooo grateful.”
“C’mon, ju-just a drink, I promise you’ll like the irresistible me,” Rick pushed himself off of the wall, reaching into his lab-coat pocket and fishing out a piece of paper, “I’ll give you my number and you can think about it, alright? There’s n-no way you’re going to say no though, I see it on you. Humans- I mean, people are so predictable.”
“I-” you couldn’t find any words; did he just call you a human?
“Here,” he handed it to you, grabbing your wrist and placing it in your palm, “Text me, send a pic, I don’t care.”
“Okay,” you found yourself replying without thinking it through. Damn, your subconsciousness had just fucked with you. What on Earth was next? You looked down at the number in your hand and when you wanted to say that you had changed your mind, you only saw that he was gone.
He must’ve walked around the corner of the hall, you thought and went to go fetch him but he was nowhere to be seen. It was like he had vanished into thin air.