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Fun fact about home-schooling/online classes: there were no parent-teacher conferences. This was great in so far as saving everyone from pure awkwardness and the strange mix of sweat, old socks and overly processed food which always clung to high schools. It was even better when it came to misleading people about grades. Sure, teachers could send concerned emails, but Scott’s inbox was so crammed with important subject lines revolving between IR and Tracy Industries that he rarely had chance to notice any school-related messages before Alan managed to delete them. So really, whether it was in terms of past bullying or incomplete assignments or a general hatred for the inflexible schedules of regular schooling, being home-educated was freaking awesome.
In Alan’s defence, he didn’t intend to make a habit of not finishing assignments. It just sort of happened. His priorities were elsewhere – specifically in space – and yes, the use of the word elsewhere was intentional, because he wouldn’t say his priorities were wrong – c’mon, in what world was saving lives less important than solving frickin’ algebraic formulae? – they just didn’t necessarily align with his education. Also, school could get boring. So, when International Rescue was struck by a busy spell and Scott asked if he could handle more missions on top of his classwork, Alan might have sorta ever-so-slightly exaggerated his own ability to multitask.
Okay, fine, he totally lied his ass off. But he did save a lot of people and wasn’t that the important thing? So what if he had nearly twelve missing assignments? He’d get them done eventually. Who cared?
His teachers cared. His teachers actually cared a lot, apparently. They were concerned enough to demand a call with him, video-engaged and everything. He sat in Dad’s rarely used office in the Roundhouse so that he could appear ‘professional’ and ‘put-together’ rather than his usual spot: chilling at the kitchen counter so that he could nod at all the right places and appear focussed when it reality he would actually be staring out of the patio doors at the waves or wildlife or sometimes even a Thunderbird, whichever appeared first.
He had four teachers overall, one of whom also served as his academic advisor – basically the woman oversaw absolutely everything and assessed his grades every semester to decide whether or not he was being sufficiently educated. Alan had a love-hate relationship with her, because on the one hand she was kinda cool and accepted that he had a less-than-ordinary lifestyle but on the other she was always lecturing him about turning up to online classes on time and maintaining an average amount of complete coursework. That last one made no sense to him. Why did homework matter? Provided he was getting good grades in actual assessed papers, what was the problem? Allison – the advisor – did not agree with this and right now she was making her point yet again.
“We understand that you have extenuating circumstances,” Allison continued in her low-pitched matter-of-factly drawl. She pushed orange-rimmed glasses higher up her nose. “However, there are certain baselines that you have to maintain. It’s part of our agreement, Alan, remember? I cannot continue to sign off on paperwork claiming that International Rescue isn’t affecting your education when it very clearly is. Your classes have to come first. We’ve talked about this.”
They had, in fact, talked about this. They’d talked about it a lot, in fact. Alan felt guilty about that, because Allison was genuinely kind and open-minded and had only freaked out a regular amount when he’d told her that the reason he hadn’t turned up to five online tutorials in a row was because he’d been busy rescuing geologists from a rockfall on Mars. Admittedly, she’d called Scott directly and while Alan didn’t know the details that conversation clearly hadn’t been fun because Scott had spent the remainder of his evening nursing a strong drink on the balcony while Virgil tried to reassure him that no, you’re not completely messing up Alan’s life, relax, you’re doing great, oh my god, no you don’t need another drink, give me that bottle. So. You know. Allison had her moments but, overall, she was okay in Alan’s books.
He propped his chin in his hands and summoned an innocent smile. He’d have tried for charming, but he knew that would fall flat. “We have talked about it and I’m trying. Really. I even attended my maths tutorial yesterday!”
“For the first time in a month,” Stuart, the maths professor, complained.
Alan winced. “Okay, fair point, but I’m turning over a new leaf.”
He had absolutely zero intentions of turning over a new leaf. He just wanted to get these guys off his ass so he could go back to acing exams and avoiding homework like he dodged space debris. He also didn’t want Allison to call Scott again. Scott had told him that he was on his final warning after the last two calls and while Alan was fully aware that he had his eldest brother wrapped around his little finger, he also really didn’t want to get temporarily stood down from IR and Scott absolutely had that power.
He widened his eyes in an attempt to look endearing. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just- I missed one assignment and then a second, but while I was trying to catch up with those I didn’t have time to complete the next one and then the one after that and it kinda snowballed. It got overwhelming. I didn’t know where to start so…”
“So you didn’t start at all?” Allison finished for him dryly, arching a brow.
“Exactly!” Alan caught her sigh, despite her attempts to stifle it. “Wait, hang on. Was that a bad answer?”
Stuart looked almost amused. “This ain’t an interview, kid.”
“I know, but…” Shit. He was digging himself into a hole here. Any deeper and it could serve as his own grave. “I just meant… Okay, I don’t know what I meant.” He resisted the urge to faceplant onto the desk. “Can you just tell me how to fix this? Please?”
“The thing is,” Ms. Duke announced, “it’s gone a little too far.”
Ah, yes. Ms Duke. Here was Alan’s many, many thoughts on her, simplified into a single word: what a bitch. She was a new addition to his timetable, temporarily replacing Rebecca while she was on maternity leave, and Alan couldn’t stand her. It was a two-way street: she also appeared to hate him. She was the only teacher he wasn’t on a first name basis with. She set him obnoxiously long essays with insanely short deadlines. One time he’d been concussed but she’d still expected him to submit a three-thousand-word analysis. Clearly she was evil incarnate.
“Okay,” Alan said slowly, leaning back in the office chair so that the sun streaming through the window would obscure his scowl. “But if we all want to solve the problem, what’s the issue? I’m literally asking how I fix it. What more do you want from me?”
Allison opened her mouth. Ms. Duke cut her off.
“I would like a meeting with your parents as soon as possible.”
Alan stared incredulously at the holograms as if he’d somehow misheard. Stuart was gaping at his fellow teacher. Allison looked as if she wanted to be engulfed by a black hole. Celine – the fourth of the little soiree – appeared absolutely horrified, clasping her hands to her mouth and coming dangerously close to smudging her rose lipstick.
“Um,” Alan floundered. “Sorry, what?”
“Now,” Ms Duke continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I don’t appear to have any details in my records. What would be the best way for me to contact your parents?”
Sometimes life just gifted you a joke all wrapped up with a ribbon. It was too perfect to let the opportunity go. Allison recognised the evil gleam in Alan’s eyes and tried to interject, but it was too late.
“Well,” Alan announced, without breaking eye contact with Ms. Duke. “That depends. Do you have access to a Ouija board?”
The call ended very shortly after that.
Three days later, Alan got summoned back to that office by Scott. He had spent the past seventy-two hours trying to avoid his brother. This meeting had been inevitable. He folded himself into a corner of the couch – who kept a couch in an office, anyway? It was weirdly like a therapy session – and stared at the ceiling.
Scott sank into his chair and said nothing for a long moment.
Alan stole a glance at him.
Scott steepled his fingers beneath his chin and then, finally, asked in a long-suffering voice, “Did you tell your teacher to buy a Ouija board?”
Alan tried not to laugh. “No.”
“No?”
“No. I asked her if she had one, I didn’t tell her to buy one.”
“Alan.”
“She asked for the best way to contact my parents! I gave her the only option!”
Scott buried his face in his hands. “You know she meant guardian.”
“Then she should have said that.”
“Alan. This is a sixty-year-old woman.”
“Scott. This is a demon in disguise.”
Scott lifted his head from his hands and oh, okay, so he hadn’t been having some kind of mini meltdown like Alan had initially thought, he’d actually been hiding his own laughter. He pushed his chair back and came to stand by Alan’s side.
Alan squinted up at him, trying to gauge his expression. “Are you mad?”
“No,” Scott admitted. “Just concerned.” He shoved Alan’s feet off the couch so that he could sit down. “C’mon, bud, you’re better than this. Why aren’t you doing the work? I know you’re smart enough.”
“It’s boring.”
Scott tried to repress a smile. “Yeah, I know. I get that. I find Tracy Industries paperwork boring too, but it’s one of my responsibilities, just like school is one of yours. Sometimes in life there are things we don’t want to do, but that doesn’t make them any less important.”
“I know,” Alan sighed, hauling himself upright. “But if people need my help, I can’t just ignore them.”
“No,” Scott agreed. “You don’t ignore them. What you do is ask for help. If you need time to focus on schoolwork, just tell me. I’m on your side, remember? And yeah, IR is cool and far more exciting than writing essays, but school doesn’t last forever, Al. Focus on it for now, okay? And then, once you graduate, if you still want to be a part of IR then you can fly Three for the rest of your life without anyone nagging you about homework.”
He caught Alan’s shoulder and squeezed gently until Alan looked up at him.
“So? Do we have a deal? You’ll tell me when you need time to catch up on coursework and in return I’ll let you keep flying Three?”
Alan grinned. “Deal.”
“And for the sake of my sanity,” Scott continued, clearly amused, “do not tell any more teachers to buy Ouija boards.”
“Scott! I didn’t tell her to buy a Ouija board!”
“Uh huh.”
“You’re laughing. You think it’s funny too.”
“…Maybe just a little.”