Chapter Text
The hall monitors patrolled in groups. They always patrolled in groups. It had been Phasma's idea, some whispered, for she ran the hall monitors like a police force. Still other whispered it had been Hux, Student Council President In Perpetuity, who had insisted on bolstering the ranks of the monitors so, and who had made sure they always moved in packs, so no one could escape them. Still others claimed it had been Principal Snoke's stroke of genius that had made the ringing of the tardy bell a death knell for so many. The hall monitors patrolled. The hall monitors saw all.
It was a dark winter day when five of them under the command of Phasma, captain of their fell ranks, moved with purpose towards the classroom of history teacher Mr. San Tekka. It was study hall for the eighth graders, in whose ranks both Phasma and her target resided. But foul deeds were afoot and even a hall pass couldn't have saved the poor souls sequestered in the ratty classroom from the wrath of the school establishment.
The First Order, they were called, by Hux who was both so preppy he was born without a first name and such a burgeoning tyrant all his designer clothes involved boots and greatcoats.
Most of the students called them something much ruder, but as long as the Palpatine Memorial Middle School languished under the tyrannical rule of their principal and his cronies, they dared not voice their opinions out loud.
Of course as with all tyrannical regimes, some brave souls sought to change the status quo.
Poe Dameron, eighth grader, swim champion, head of the Aviation Club, and all around Good Guy. (If you asked the average student. If you were to ask one of Phasma's cronies, or, god forbid, Hux himself, they would call him a troublemaker.) gave a grateful nod to the old man in front of him.
"Thank you, Mr. San Tekka. This could save all of us."
"Are you sure you can get it to her?" the feeble old man, Lor San Tekka, local slightly out of it history teacher, enquired.
"Of course." Poe promised, with the cheerful wink that had charmed so many students. "I told you, I have connections. She's a great woman, a great educator."
"And a great Princess." said Lor San Tekka, his eyes misting over with fond reminiscence.
"That she was." Poe agreed, ignoring the fact that Leia Organa, Deputy Superintendent, had been crowned Nerfherder Princess at the local county pageant long before he had been born. You got used to Mr San Tekka going off on tangents if you spent enough time around him. He remembered the entire town history, it seemed.
There was a panicked squeak from the door and Poe looked over. "What is it, buddy?" he asked the slight, round figure whose head was outlined against the small frosted window.
There was an urgent whisper of "Phasma!" and Poe and Mr. San Tekka both paled.
"Do you think they know?" Poe asked, aghast, and Lor San Tekka nodded sadly.
"You have to get out of here, my boy." he said. "You too," he added, nodding to Bebe Eight who was still standing by the door. "Quickly out the window!"
"They're coming closer." Bebe Eight warned.
Poe shook his head. "We can't leave you!"
Lor San Tekka sighed. "Principal Snoke has had it out for me for years, I can't escape. But you can. Get those files to Mrs. Organa. Get him fired, and rid this school of him once and for all. And tell her, tell her that her brother, he's the key. “
If Poe understood he didn't let on, but he obeyed, quickly opening the low window, hijacked years ago to open all the way and rolling out into the bushes beneath. He thanked his stars that they weren't on the second story, and then reached out his arms to help Bebe Eight down. The two children crouched and watched fearfully through the foliage as the door slammed open and Phasma and her hall monitors rushed in. It was too late. All they could do was run.
If they could even do that. Across the quad they could see a figure, tall and swathed in black approaching. Bebe Eight, always brave, didn’t falter, but Poe flinched. It was never a good sign when Kylo got involved. They couldn’t sneak out of the bushes without him noticing, or at least Poe couldn’t. As the hall monitors surrounded Lor San Tekka, hustled him into his creaky old spinning chair, and pushed him into the center of the room, Poe turned to Bebe Eight.
The nearly nine year old seventh grader looked solemn. He was a certifiable genius, after all, he knew what was happening. Poe returned the mournful look, and carefully, almost ceremonially, pressed the little flash drive Mr San Tekka had given him into the child’s hand.
Bebe Eight grabbed the lapel of his jacket, and whispered, so quietly only Poe could hear, “No!”
“You have to go on without me.” Poe said. “I can probably get out, but I’ll have to wait until they leave. If I move they’ll hear. You take this, and wait for me, if I don’t come, find a way to get it to my friends. They’ll take you to Mrs. Organa.”
Poe and Bebe Eight had been together most of the past two years. They had complementary schedules (By accident last year and this year because Poe had pulled some strings) and Poe had taken the bright young prodigy under his wing even as the rest of the school neglected him. But Bebe Eight knew how important their mission was. As Kylo disappeared into the block of classes they were crouching against the outside wall of, Bebe Eight saw his chance. He crawled out from the underbrush, and dashed away, small enough and fast enough to escape without rustling too much leaves or being seen out the window.
All Poe could do was wait.
He didn’t have to wait long. The ominous figure of Kylo appeared in the doorway and Poe felt a shudder crawl down his spine. He didn’t know why. Objectively there was nothing scary about the boy, a whole year younger than Poe, other than his creepy taste, strange talent for predicting what people were thinking, and the fact that he obeyed Principal Snoke’s every order. (You had to give it to their Principal, he’d take anyone who could take orders, supposedly psychic emos, fascist preps, scarily tall and gorgeous jocks, most of the hall monitor squad was made of of kids from the quote unquote, “wrong side of the tracks”.)
Lor San Tekka sighed. “Really, is this the best you can do?”
Poe could hear Kylo snarl. “You’re not in a position to be passing down judgement, old man.” he said. Poe imagined his mother ranting about children and respect these days. Snoke’s Squad were practically the poster children for disrespect. They thought they ruled the school, and Snoke let them because they were easier to control than the teachers. Lor San Tekka might be a bit dotty sometimes, but he had been working at Palpatine Memorial all the way back when it was still called Galaxy High. (It had been the seventies.) He deserved better than being manhandled by Phasma’s interchangeable yellow sashed goons and then backtalked by a thirteen year old.
“And neither are you.” Mr. San Tekka said, with admirable calm. “I know who you are.”
Poe had stopped looking, too afraid of being spotted, but he could hear Kylo’s angry little huff. “Take him away!” he ordered. “Principal Snoke will want to see him.”
“You can’t erase your family!” Lor San Tekka said as one of the hall monitor escorted him out.
Poe had almost started to relax, Kylo and Phasma were talking about something while the remaining hall monitors stood in silence, when Kylo’s voice suddenly echoed from the room.
“I know you’re there!” he yelled.
Poe Dameron had a healthy fear of the supernatural even if Kylo was just a punk kid. But he also knew better than to give away his position just because he was spooked. He hadn’t had one parent in the Air Force and one in the Army Reserve for nothing. He slid further down the rough brick wall, stopped breathing, closed his eyes, and prayed.
A minute passed and he almost hoped he was safe, when a large hand grabbed the back of his jacket and yanked him up, slamming his head on the upper window pane. He was still blinking away stars as he was roughly tumbled back through the window and pushed onto the old linoleum floor. They didn’t even bother being gentle with him. Snoke had demonstrated he could get away with nearly anything, he was almost untouchable. People had been trying to get him fired for years, but he still hung on. The hall monitors could bully with impunity, Poe thought bitterly as he was dragged to his knees to see Phasma and Kylo’s pale faces staring down at him. The other hall monitors, one skinny red haired girl and an African boy with a kinder face than Poe was used to seeing on hall monitors, were posted by the door. The boy was looking away, at least.
Poe smirked. If he was about to get suspended he could at least do it with style. “So, do you talk first, do I talk first?”
Neither Kylo or Phasma looked amused. “Search him.” one of them said. Probably Kylo, the voice was low, but Poe was arguably concussed and not prepared to make a final call on that front.
Poe was pulled to his feet, and the hall monitor behind him gave him the thorough pat down usually used when a student was suspected of having a banned substance, like Ibruprofen, pot, a yoyo, or for one memorable month, a mechanical pencil.
“Thanks.” Poe said as he finished up, and added a wink for good measure. He found himself pushed into a low plastic desk chair with more force than was needed. It was worth it.
Kylo sat down in front of him. “Where is it?” he asked sharply, dark eyes inspecting Poe. Clearly they knew what Mr. San Tekka had possessed, and wanted it before it could get into the hands of someone who could use it. After the incident with the bushes Poe wasn’t prepared to meet his eyes. Psychic or not, there was something wrong with the kid. He also wasn’t prepared to open his mouth and give Bebe Eight away.
Finally Kylo gave up. “Take him to the office.” he ordered.
“The classroom?” Phasma asked, gesturing to the carefully curated retro educational dustiness that Mr. San Tekka had so painstakingly gardened over the years.
Kylor smirked. “I suspect we’ll be getting a new teacher in here.” he said, and Poe hated him. “Gut it and box it up.”
One of the hall monitors pulled Poe back to his feet and marched him out. Behind him Poe could hear the others start on the room with unnecessary roughness. The sound of paper tearing was like screams but Poe held his head up high as he was pulled away. He hoped Bebe Eight was doing his part.
In the classroom Hall Monitor 21, as his sash proclaimed, watched as his compatriots tore down years of old maps and educational posters, pushed over shelves of books with white and rainbow graphic covers and fonts straight out of the eighties. He had always liked Mr. San Tekka. It seemed wrong to wreck his classroom when he was already probably getting fired. Phasma gave him a look. “What are you waiting for, Twenty One?” she asked. Phasma referred to everyone under her ‘command’ by their hall monitor number. At the beginning of the year, when he’d first been recruited, it had seemed fun. Now it just felt like she was peeling back a layer of his skin. Somebody had found tubs in the nearest supply cupboard and most of Mr. San Tekka’s effects were already being tossed in haphazardly. Hall Monitor Twenty One thought he heard something break. He winced. Phasma gave him a strange look.
“Head back to the office, Twenty One.” she ordered. “And come see me during lunch period.”
He nodded.
She was most comfortable on the edges of the school. The back of the classroom, the baseball field at study hall, the library at lunch. It was a commonly held belief that Principal Snoke ruled the school with an iron fist, but this wasn’t true. He only ruled about three quarters of it. If you were part of the last quarters, smart enough or insignificant enough to escape, the school was yours for the taking, provided you kept your head down.
Rey had learned a lot over the past few weeks. Palpatine Memorial was different from her old school, but not that different. there were still the same bullies who had to be constantly fended off, the same awful lunch ladies who could ruin your life if they didn’t like you (and they never liked Rey.), the same terrible teachers, and the same abused dregs of school society. In fact Palpatine Memorial was arguably worse than Jakku Junior High. Sure, Jakku had been a hive of scum and villainy, but at least the school there hadn’t been run by an actual sadist principal, but your usual gangs and bullies. Technically unallowed child tormentors, Rey had learned were much better than officially school sanctioned ones.
it hadn’t taken her long to realize her magical new life wasn’t much better than her old one, and she had learned to stay out of the way fast. Her cousin had taught her that, at least.
She had her lunch, earliest lunch period of the day was good for something, at least, and she had a little corner around the back of the school that was hers now. And she was perfectly content to eat her quarter portion of sludge. (The lunch ladies hated her already, she was nearly ready to take her aunt up on her offer to help her make lunches, however uncomfortable it made Rey.)
She could nearly ignore one of the usual bullies dragging a little boy who seemed small even for sixth grade over towards the dumpsters. He was putting up a good fight, she had to admit, orange clad arms flailing.
It took her only seconds to make a choice.
Tseebo wasn’t much of a combatant, even if he was wiry. It only took a couple of minutes of Rey yelling at him before he dropped the kid and scurried away.
“Sorry about that.” she told him. “Tseebo was probably just going to try to take your lunch money.”
The kid straightened, shrugged back on his backpack, and looked up at Rey with mistrust. His skin was a light brown and his hair was the colour of travel advertisement beach sand and everything about him, from his round eyes to his button nose, screamed ‘hug me’.
Well, Rey wasn’t about to fall for it. “If you’re lost, the office is that way.” she pointed. “Avoid the gym and the music block, you’ll just get in trouble.”
The boy didn’t move.
As Rey headed back for her section of wall, he started to follow her. Rey stopped short and crossed her arms. “I can’t help you.”
He shrugged. “I don’t need help. I just need somewhere to lay low for a while.”
“Don’t you have school?”
“I go to school here.”
Rey usually tried to suspend her disbelief about things, but it must have shown because the boy gave a world weary sigh. “I skipped three grades. And got into kindergarten early.”
It was a ridiculously big school, and Rey though she had seen a flashes of orange just under her sightline over the past few weeks, in assemblies and the halls. She slid down the wall and back into a seated position. “So why do you need to lay low?”
The boy sat next to her. “That’s classified.” he informed her
“Classified, huh? Story of my life.” Rey grinned sharply and, after some thought, offered the boy a slice of her apple from her measly fruit cup. He waved it off and pulled a granola bar out of his bag instead. Rey choked down a few more bites and said, “I know you don’t have lunch with me. Why are you out here?”
He rolled his eyes. “My teachers don’t care if I’m there or not. They don’t like having me around at all. I can get out of class fairly easily.” Rey nodded, she was getting a clearer and clearer picture of how this school worked everyday.
She held out a hand and mumbled around her last french fry, “Rey.”
“Everyone calls me Bebe Eight.”
Rey raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Bebe Eight shrugged. “I’m younger than everyone else, I’m eight, I take French, add in some other contributing factors and it was kind of an eventuality.”
“What are they going to do when you turn nine?” Rey asked, intrigued.
He giggled. “It’ll happen over the summer, and then when I come back I’ll be in eighth grade, so…” he trailed off, but Rey got the picture.
“You must be delighted.” she smiled, then caught herself. “After lunch this is over, okay?” Rey warned.
Bebe Eight made a noncommittal sort of whistling noise, the sort that Rey could remember being able to make before her teeth all grew in straight. Rey had a bad feeling about almost everything about this, but it was different than usual. More promising. Besides, hanging out with someone was better than sitting around alone in a new school, sulking about her family.