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It all starts quite innocently at first.
Steven is sitting quietly in the teacher lounge, trying to grade a tower of exams he had collected in the previous week, all while peacefully sipping on his freshly brewed coffee when Cynthia straight up barrages through the doors, almost toppling herself on his table in the process.
“Steven- *huff* do you- … I- *huff* to-” She wheezes out, taking labored breaths as she tries to lift herself up from his desk, sputtering more incoherent nonsense while at it. “...- mind for a *huff* period?” She looks at him, expectantly.
“What?” Steven can’t help but ask, confused, watching as Cynthia’s jaw tightens in frustration for a moment before she takes a few deep breaths and tries again.
“I asked, if you would mind watching my class for a period.” Cynthia says finally, eyebrows scrunched together as she scans Steven in search of… whatever it is that she doesn’t seem to find because her frown deepens significantly. “Please, you are the only one free next hour and I’ve got an emergency at home.”
Substituting in Cynthia’s homeroom classes is like asking to have a nice little vacation in the psychic ward and everyone knows it. The only fact that makes Steven even consider this request is that Cynthia seems genuinely distressed by the situation at hand. Her still shaky hands are clenched around the phone and she’s sending him a pleading look.
“I-...” Steven starts unsure, but seeing how Cynthia’s eyes instantly flood with gratefulness, he is left without any other option but to sigh in defeat “I’ll do it.”
He isn’t even able to start regretting his decision when Cynthia embraces him in a quick but rib-crushing hug. “Thanks Steven, you are the best.” She says only before she sprints towards the doors, gaining some raised eyebrows from other teachers in the room. Equally dumbfounded, Steven can only stare at her disappearing silhouette with something akin to exhaustion already forming in bones.
“You will regret that.” Lance comments from the side, looking up from his computer to glance at Steven with a weary expression. Redirecting his stare at the red-haired man, they lock their eyes in what could be called a shared pain. “I had two in a row with them and even I was ready to lose my sanity at the end.”
Dear God, what has he done…
Gulping, Steven gathers his papers and slips them back to the drawer. “Wish me luck then.” He says and as on cue the bell rings through the school halls.
Standing up, he can feel some pitiful glances landing on his back, and as he leaves the door frame, a few quiet ‘good luck’s echoes through the room.
He will definitely need it.
“Hey, hey, look at this!”
Steven is greeted with a loud yell almost as soon as he enters the second floor. A loud *bang* and crash can be heard from across the corridor right after and he would be lying if he said his heart didn’t leap in his chest at the sound. Speeding up, he prays that nobody is seriously hurt.
“You are an idiot.” A monotone voice taunts and Steven makes it time to see how Flint tries to body-tackle Volkner from his place on ground. The teen fails miserably as the blond kid steps aside, leaving him to crash against the wall.
A collective sigh travels through the small crowd around.
Internally feeling the statement, Steven grabs the nearest kid by an arm and gives them keys to the classroom. “Open the door, Lucian. I will take Flint to the nurse.” He says, catching the attention of class 7B, who started murmuring to each other as soon as they saw him. The impromptu gathering on the hallway comes to an end as the students make their way towards the classroom, leaving only one person behind to stall for time. The blond kid stares at Steven patiently, eyes devoid of any emotion as he puts his hand in the air as if waiting to be called for an answer.
“Mr. Steven, I can take Flint to Ms. Joy if you want.” He offers with tone equally indifferent as his stare, clearly used to the antics of his friend. Steven only sends him a dubious glance.
“Are you sure you just don’t want to skip class, Volkner?”
The teen gives him a sheepish smile and slowly lowers his hand. Seeing as there’s no more objections, Steven grabs Flint's shoulder and hoists him up, making sure that the kid doesn’t lose his balance. A purple bruise is already forming on his forehead and God knows it may not be the only thing he got from that nasty fall.
The trip to the nurse's office is more than indicated then. Miss Joy isn’t going to be happy seeing the red haired trouble-maker again this week but it’s currently at the bottom of Steven’s priority list. Looking back to make sure Volkner is going to the classroom, he starts to slowly guide Flint towards the staircase.
What a great start…
As it turns out, Flint didn’t suffer any concussion, although he managed to bruise both his forehead and somehow a leg . This revelation makes the teen exhale with relief and Steven almost raises an eyebrow. Was he expecting more?
He does get an answer when Miss Joy proudly announces that nothing got broken nor sprained this time around. God, just what is this kid doing between the classes?
Scratch that, he doesn’t need to know.
All in all, Flint receives a cold pocket compress to help with bruising and they are able to leave nurse’s office in the ‘record time of two minutes and forty-five seconds’ as Ms. Joy had cheerfully announced before practically shoving them towards the exit, reminding Steven that he has a class to teach.
“Mr. Steven, what are we gonna do today?” Flint asks him innocently as they make their way towards the second floor. He looks up at him with such earnest and expectant expression that Steven almost wants to say ‘nothing hard’ before the context hits him, freezing him in the middle of the next step.
Because, just what is he going to do with 7B? Anyone who taught the class knows that if you want to have any semblance or a shred of peaceful time in the lesson you need to be prepared. Quizzes, task cards, presentations, and many more things not worth mentioning. The only way to have 7B calm is to drown them in the assignments till they don’t even have time to think of growing bored. Because if they do… God bless the soul teaching them in that period…
Speaking of which, Steven is positively, and terrifyingly, certain that he doesn’t have any of those on himself right now.
Cold sweat gathers on his forehead as Steven slowly turns towards Flint, who watches him with the same innocent eyes as he did when he asked the question.
“Is everything okay Mr. Steven?” The teen tilts his head in interest, unaware of the internal panic he brought upon his teacher seconds prior.
“Haha, absolutely.” Steven lies through a tight smile, teeths grating against each other as his brain scrambles for any possible activity that won’t spiral out into chaos in a span of a few seconds when presented to 7B. “I was just thinking. Maybe we could do some interactive games?” He muses loudly, keeping an eye out on Flint’s reaction.
“Really?” The kid lights up like a christmas tree on eve, “Like that one where we have to count to one hundred but if two people say the number at the same time we need to start over ?” he asks, eyes wide and shining with excitement. A small part of Steven dies inevitably at the implication.
One hundred? He thinks, reasonably worried, Wasn’t this game called ‘count to 20’? Despite himself, he can’t help but ask “Do you… like it?”
Flint nods eagerly, “It’s a lot of fun,” he says before leaning closer and whispering conspirationaly in a smug voice, “And It’s Miss Cynthia’s favourite.”
… Yeah , Steven thinks, mildly amused that actually checks out…
“Sure, we can play it.” He tells the teen, slowly getting a clue as to why this class is as it is. Talk about unconventional education...
Just as he is about to contemplate the deeper implication of this game being ‘Miss Cynthia’s favourite’ they get close enough to the second floor that a muffled scream reaches them on the staircase and Steven gets to finally remember just who he left without any supervision for more than one minute.
Rushing up to the doors of the history’s classroom and opening them quickly, he’s greeted by a sight any teacher of the Pokemon Middleschool dreads the most.
Chaos. Absolute, pure and unadulterated chaos that only a bunch of middle schoolers left to their own devices is able to create: Various items are scattered or flying across the room, with the whiteboard crowded by most of the students as it slowly but surely gains newer and more extravagant pieces of art on its surface. The noise of chatter fills up the classroom like a construction site, deafening and disturbing, and the group near the window consisting of Thorton and Riley looks dangerously close to escalating into a physical altercation. Also… are those ants on Aaron’s desk? And why is the kid talking to them?
“Silence please!” Steven thunders, catching the door frame to keep his suddenly weak knees from collapsing. Unsurprisingly, his request falls on the deaf ears.
“Hey guys!” Flint, who just finished walking towards the classroom, says enthusiastically not a second after.
“Hey Flint.” The chorus answers, all activities abandoned in an instant. Steven can only sigh in defeat - the knowledge that he’s at the lower part of the respect ladder here stinging more than it should.
“That was a short trip.” Volkner comments as he materializes near the door, taking a curious look at the ice pack Flint holds up his forehead. “And you even brought a souvenir…”
“I didn’t break anything!” The red-hair exclaims, nodding along and giving the pack to the other teen to inspect. “Miss Joy said she was proud of me.”
“She better be,” Riley snickers, also coming closer. “You just healed the sprained wrist from last week.”
Visibly forgotten, Steven listens to the conversation with slight disbelief. Last week? he almost wants to ask, but manages to stop himself.
“Yeah, it’s as good as new now, see?” Flint continues, demonstrating the dexterity of his healed hand by doing a bunch of weird, dancing moves with his fingers, “But guess what!” he switches immediately after, “Mr. Steven said we can play the counting game!”
A mix of curious and excited hums spreads through the classroom, all eyes suddenly landing on Steven himself, who can only nod along solemnly, blissfully content with letting it play out by itself. Amongst them all, one pair seems to hold something others do not.
Volkner, still standing near the door frame and thus being quite close to him, measures Steven with something that can be only described as a ‘suspiciously knowing look’. Truth be told, Steven doesn’t know what else to do so he only smiles sheepishly at the kid, giving him a slight shrug and a meaningful glance in the direction of the appeased classroom.
The teen sighs, having been defeated in this silent battle of wits and offers, “Sounds like a lot of fun.” in the most apathetic yet sarcastic voice Steven ever heard.
It sure does…
Ten minutes in and the atmosphere in the class can be described as ‘tense in anticipation’. Steven looks between the students, who look between themselves with the utmost concentration written on their faces. The room is deathly silent - a miracle in and of itself - and the only thing that disturbs it are the nervous scratchings at the tables or uneven breaths.
A buzzed look is shared between everyone in the class, some of the kids hesitantly opening their mouth only to close it a fraction later, eyes skittering across the room as if making sure saying something would be safe. Seconds tick by, silence still stretching, until-...
“78” Maylene says quietly at the same time Gardenia shouts “78” and the whole class erupts with groans and disappointed grunts, Steven included.
It shows that the kids played this game more than once. They even have a strategy that holds up nicely in the first half. The problem arises only when they pass a mark of 60 and some of them get either too impatient or too excited to wordlessly consult with everyone that ‘they are about to say the number’ and from there it's a game of who can hold it in the longest before other enthusiastic players can blurt it out at the same time.
Watching it all unfold was kind of amusing the first time around. The second was more of a torture than Steven would like to admit. The third round has been… Has been, period.
“Maybe we should do something different?” He asks the class after the last of the noise dies down, glancing towards the clock. Only fifteen minutes have passed, thirty more to go. “I’m sure we can find another game that will be as… interesting? as this one.”
“Oh! Oh! Mr. Steven.” Candance raises a hand, shuffling excitedly in her seat. “Can we play ‘Hangman’?”
Ah yes, the absolute pinnacle of interactive group games. Steven looks around the room, noting how many of the heads perk up at the proposition and thinks to himself: Absolutely not.
The last time Cynthia’s class had played the Hangman on his lesson, almost two chairs had been thrown at the board, not to mention the many vividly visceral drawings of the… occupied gallows that had been made. Also, if it wasn’t for an alphabet hanging on the wall in that class, Steven isn’t sure if they would be able to get half of the words. And they were only guessing sedimentary rocks…
“I-... don’t think that’s the best choice for now.” Steven tells them instead with a diplomatic smile, relieved when the only protest he gets is a few annoyed huffs.
“What about ‘Charades’?” Myleene asks next and an excited murmur travels through the class, eyes turning expectantly towards him. Steven gulps.
God, do have some mercy on me… The 7B has never played this with him before and Steven actually prefers it that way. He will stick to having his sanity only slightly tarnished, thank you.
“Maybe next time?” He tries to shoot the idea down gently, knowing that a dismissive answer has a chance of spurring the teens even more. “How about we do something… more educational? What do you say?”
“Boo-ring.” A cacophony of voices resonates through the classroom. Cold sweat breaks on Steven’s forehead as the unstated implication of the words hits him.
If he doesn’t find something fun quick, then he can say goodbye to his patience for the time remaining.
Think, Steven, think. He chants internally, searching for anything that would be of help; a game, a task, maybe even a Jesus Christ himself. Anything would be good, as long as it will occupy them for more than five minutes. Only twenty-eight to go now, you can do it.
“Mr. Steven?” A quiet voice tears him from his frantic prayers and Steven looks up to see Volkner lustring him up, gaze calculating, “I have an idea what we might play.”
Steven looks into those hollow eyes, wondering just what had inspired this act of pity. Volkner’s suggestion might be a trap, but it’s a very good one because Steven is left without any other choices at hand, stuck between this pact with the Devil and a Hell personified rising slowly before his eyes.
“What do you propose?” He asks finally, sighing in defeat.
Volkner only smirks.
In the end, the rest of the lesson is spent introducing everyone in the class, Steven included, to the wonders and merits of a site called ‘Kahoot’.
Steven doesn’t exactly know how to feel about the fact a twelve years old boy had managed to explain the premise concisely not only to him but also to the scatter-brained group of other twelve years olds, and frankly, it's no longer his problem.
That being said, if the class 7B asks to play the ‘Kahoots’ on every single occasion its given, then all the complaints should be directed towards Cynthia, whose pet lizard decided to escape the terrarium and scare her little sister to death on the faithfull day of their enlightenment.