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stunudo · 6 years

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BAU Prep School AU: 2018

Welcome to the Frederick Buchanan Institute located in scenic Quantico, Virginia, a senior high academy that shapes the best and brightest minds. Its motto is “Behavior, Analysis, Unity,” the mascot the Submariners, colloquially “the Unsubs”. The small school supports the most accomplished faculty from across the country. (image link) 2016-2017 school year Class of 18

Let’s Try This Again

August 21, 2017 12:47pm

The dampness of the air lingered on every blade of perfectly shorn grass. The mud and chalk melded into a homelike aroma, welcoming JJ back, as she strolled from her car in flipflops and oversized sunglasses. She wrinkled her nose; those boys were going to be a smelly mess in this heat. As she crossed the football field, she spotted him taking shots at the goal, bouncing the balls at all angles and doing bicycle kicks and generally goofing around. He was in his element, his grin wide across his features, which was understandable; he still believed himself alone.

JJ burst into a comical round of applause as he hit the turf hard, after an overly ambitious kick forced him into something resembling a snowboarding move.

“Need a hand?” JJ peered down as he lay with his chest heaving.

“Nah, I’m good. The grass will bury me by next week.” Luke Alvez waved off her outstretched hand. “What are you doing here Jareau?”

“Had to make sure my boys were on their best behavior,” She kneeled beside him, now lounging on his side.

“So, you’re not checking up on me?” Luke teased, balancing his forearms on his knees, unable to settle the excitement within himself. “Cuz I’d say you have enough to worry about right now.” She leaned back, rubbing her perfect baby belly affectionately. “What’s the countdown to now?”

“29 days, but who’s counting?” JJ glanced down her nose. “Come on, humor me with some drills. I need to move.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Luke rolled a nearby ball her way before dramatically flipping back upright.

That’s how the students found them, their new coach playing goalie as their overly pregnant coach kept him dodging for every corner of the box with her pristine aim. The upperclassmen suffered through tryouts before school began each year as their games started the second week of September, freshmen rarely made starter squad anyhow. If the boys wanted to learn something about grit, these were the best teachers they could have asked for. Not that teenagers ask for things so freely given.

Friday September 1 10:32am

It was as if no time had passed, they filed into the Delaney Owens Memorial Library with casual conversation spilling over the meeting’s set start time. The faculty of the Frederick Buchanan Institute gathered for their annual staff pop-wow. Penelope Garcia sat straight backed at Headmaster Hotchner’s left as her boyfriend and football coach, Derek Morgan leaned casually beside her, making small talk with veteran math teacher, Jordan Todd.

“Alright, everyone, let’s make it official. Welcome to the new school year, for those of you unable to attend our little development weekend in July, we have two new staff members this Fall.” Hotch gestured to the middle of the table to his right. “Luke? Would you like to introduce yourself?”

Luke nodded and held up his hand in a short wave, “Luke Alvez, your new Foreign Language teacher and interim soccer coach. Originally from the Bronx, played professionally after college and have been teaching in California and most recently the Carolinas for eight years.”

“Thanks, alright, now the other new face. Matt?” Hotch looked to the far end of the table, the statuesque Asian man smiled slyly with only one cheek.

“I’m Matt Simmons. I’m filling in for Coach Jareau’s classes while she is on leave. I am currently taking a leave of absence, myself, as foreign correspondent for Al Jazeera, but before that I was on the D.C. political scene.”

“Oh, the girls are going to eat you boys up!” Mrs. Todd teased the pair of attractive new teachers.

“Jordan.” Hotch chuckled.

“Oh, who am I kidding, this day and age, everyone is going to love you.” She sighed, spinning back to the headmaster in her seat.

“Right, anyway, welcome, to you both. Penelope?” Hotch kept the meeting succinct.

Ms. Garcia squealed quietly as she spun to address the whole faculty. “Friends, teachers, countrymeh- peoples. Hi!” The meeting continued, Penelope and Hotch covering the new schedules and upcoming events. Something in the air felt more relaxed than years past, as if the summer had yet to release the staff of her transfixing spell. They made their way to the cafeteria, Chef David Rossi’s delights tantalizing their noses from halls away.

“I’ve got to be honest, I am surprised Jareau didn’t make it today,” Luke confided to Emily and Hotch.

“I was surprised I got her to stay home,” Emily deadpanned. “I’m sorry about tryouts, she really doesn’t listen to reason.”

“No, it was fine. Besides, kept the guys on their toes, her shooting past me even with that big belly.” Luke smirked, Hotch sighed as Emily’s face fell.

“She was playing?!”

“What?” Luke froze. “Uh, no, not really.” His face a mask of fear and inability to lie. They had arrived to find their meals waiting. Two tables set equally for seven, saving Luke from the awkward explanation, he quickly followed Spencer, who was chatting with Alex and Stephen animatedly.

“Smooth, Alvez.” Derek patted him on the shoulder as Emily stepped passed them, anxiously checking her phone. Matt Simmons was the last one to join his coworkers, Rossi had already served everyone and had sat himself between Kate and Tara. This left the last free seat next to Alex Blake. He slipped between the Drama and Debate teacher and the ever-bubbly Guidance Counselor. “Ladies, how are we doing this afternoon?”

Alex didn’t respond but held his curious gaze as Penelope began excitedly chippering away to his right.

Tuesday Sept. 5 10am

The summer heat hadn’t relented for two weeks, leaving the players exhausted and desperate after only an hour of running drills. The linemen had the field while the quarterbacks and wide receivers were working through their flexibility drills inside. May Howard never wanted to tackle her own teammates as badly as when they were able to walk back into the airconditioned school.

“Submariners! Positions!” Coach Morgan barked from his perch on the sled. “That means you too, Turner!”

Lucas filled in beside May as their hands and heads fell into line across the turf. Their lungs strained as they waited for the starting whistle. Their coach eyed them, leaving the moment lingering; training their reflexes as much as trying their patience. Then the blast, a jolt of force pushed the large metal framework.

“Don’t stop, get it,” Derek pushed his team. “You go until the play ends. You go until their line breaks and then you take them down!”

May hated being shorter than the guys in moments like this, her legs crossing twice as many steps to keep up with theirs. Lucas laughed as the Coach drew out his ending whistle. Their bodies burning hotter than the midday sun.

“Shower up. We hit the playbook tomorrow. Hard.”

12:57pm

Azalene Curtis could not believe this is where they had been enrolled for the new school year. The place was a freaking castle, she gawked out of the driver’s side as pulled up to the parking lot nearest the Rothschild Auditorium. Her little brother, Jackson, was running late for Freshman Orientation and of course she had to be the one to drop him off. Her hair was braided and wrapped around her head to keep its weight back and off her neck. She helped her brother out of his side of the car and walked him to the doors that had been propped open.

“Lena, you can go now.” Jackson grunted, his elbow crutches easily maneuvered over the lip of the door frame.

“Are you sure? This is an old building, make sure you ask for help if there are too many stairs.” She always worried he would be too pig-headed and miss a class, something their parents tended to ignore when it did happen.

“Are you going to be like this all year?”

“What? Looking out for you? Hell yeah, high school is vicious.”

“You said the same thing about middle school.”

“And I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Whatever, loser, see you later.”

“Have fun, Jax!” Lena turned to descend the slightly inclined walking path. A sleek red convertible came to a screeching halt at the sidewalk. A tiny Hispanic girl nearly jumped from the passenger’s seat as her older brother called from the driver’s side.

“Don’t be rude, Rita. It looks bad on all of us!” Ignacio Cruz reprimanded his freshman sister.

“Go to Hell, Iggy. I’m only rude when you make me late!” And she ran past the Curtis siblings as if they weren’t even there.

Wed. Sept. 6 7:31am

“Good morning everybody. My name is Matt Simmons and I will be filling in for Coach Jareau this fall. I know formality is expected here, but I believe in mutual respect. If you can act in an appropriate manner, you get to call me by my first name.” He stood at the front of his first hour Journalism class in a fresh gray button down matched with a black and white paisley tie. He read the crowd easily, from the overly attentive girl in the front row to the completely disinterested guys in the back.

“You’re actually the Matt Simmons.” Sacha Kane took a quick picture of him. “Best first day of school. Ever.” She read her caption to her Instagram post barely beneath her breath.

“Guys? No pictures, this is a classroom.” Matt sighed. “For those of you who don’t know me, I am a reporter with Al Jazeera. I have a bachelor’s degree from NYU and a master’s from GW.”

“You’re also Hannah’s uncle.” Iggy Cruz added from his perch in the last row, attempting to bring the new teacher down a peg.

“That is correct, Hannah Chang is my sister’s daughter.” Matt smiled easily, arrogant senior guys weren’t really that intimidating after reporting in conflict zones for the past ten years. “And your father is on the Board of Regents and Maya here is Mr. Walker’s daughter. It’s really cozy here at F.B.I., isn’t it?”

“We’re all about getting cozy, handsome.” Sacha leaned back, biting her lip.

“Ms. Kane?” Mr. Simmons raised his eyebrows. “Are we going to have a problem?”

She rolled her eyes and sat up straight, his voice switched from sultry to commanding in an instant. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from his first day teaching, but this certainly hadn’t been it. Mr. Simmons turned down the lights and began his opening presentation. He left the class with reading assignments and to bring in a print media example of a current events opinion piece for the next day.

“Way to piss off the new teacher, Sacha. Since when do we have homework on the first day?” Jake sassed down at his flirtatious classmate on the way to his second period.

“Jakey, come on. He had that ready before I even snapped a pic.” She grinned confidently. “This semester is going to get me past ten thousand followers.”

10:36am

Luke Alvez’s throat hurt from talking during his morning classes. He started the semester with simple conversations, introductions and asking about the students. Second period was the beginners, but most of the teens had some knowledge of the language as their household staff or nannies may have spoken it around them. There was only one crack about tequila or cerveza, which he chalked up as a win. Now that he was done with his long stretch of classes, he realized how early in the day it was to have lunch.

“I feel like I just had breakfast.” Luke admitted as he grabbed his plate from the cart that Rossi had wheeled in to the staff dining hall, before ducking back to the cafeteria.

“You’re telling me, man. But if you don’t eat now, you’re going to regret it.” Derek shared from experience.

“How’s your first day going, teach?” Kate teased as she dug into her perfectly prepared meal.

“Pretty good, all things considered. I guess Penelope was teaching them at the end of last semester, so I can’t really win any popularity contests.”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it, man. My girl has these kids by the heartstrings and their parents by their wallets, but she was not meant to be teaching. Trust me.” Derek Morgan chuckled.

“We’re just glad you’re here now. Let the craziness of last year be left in the past.” Tara added in her comforting voice.

“Funny the history teacher is talking about leaving things in the past,” Alvez chided.

“Oh, watch out, he’s got the comeback.” Derek egged his coworkers on.

They continued like that up until the bell rattled them back to reality. The easy banter hinting that perhaps this team was going to work out while past line ups had left people slipping between the cracks.

3:42pm

Spencer had been to the principal’s office numerous times over his academic career. Usually as the victim of some sort of bullying, the bruises hidden beneath his oversized clothing. Once it was because he had explained something during a biology lesson and his lab partner thought he was sexually harassing her. And another had been because his history teacher deemed him a distraction to other students and he had to remain in the principal’s office for the remainder of the quarter during that class period. The principal promptly retired the following summer.

These experiences were racing through his thoughts as he knocked on Hotch’s office door after the first day of the new school year. Clammy hands betraying his nerves.

“Come in,” the headmaster’s voice genial. “Reid? Everything okay?”

“You tell me,” Spencer didn’t sit but stood with one hand in his pocket to hide the tension it held. “I have fewer classes on my schedule this year and you gave Sociology to a glorified cameraman.”

“Matt Simmons has an undergraduate degree in Sociology, Reid. He is more than qualified to teach an introductory class on it.”

“As do I. In addition to my three doctorates in other fields.”

Hotch eyed the younger man. “Reid! What is this really about?”

“Do you think I can’t handle the course load? Did I somehow lower the standards with a full schedule?”

“Last year I lost two qualified educators, one to a personal vendetta of a student and one to trauma from the hands of another student. I cannot put my faculty at risk of burn out or exhaustion when the very people we are charged with nurturing could, rather poetically, bite the hand that feeds them.”

“This isn’t about my curriculum?”

“No.”

“Or my attempt at a stargazing club?”

“Not at all, though that really was just asking for kids to sneak off and neck.”

“Neck?” Spencer rubbed his absentmindedly, not getting the reference.

“Spencer,” Hotch leaned on his desk top, signaling the science teacher to sit as well. “I purposely gave you a prep period this year. I don’t want you to work yourself sick. We need to all be on our A game. That means accepting a break, even if we think we’re invincible.”

Spencer’s lips curled into a blushing smirk. “Clever word choice, Hotch. Invincible is late Middle English but has Latinate roots; ‘in’ and ‘vincibilis’ respectably.”

“Reid.”

“Sir?”

“I asked a lot of you, and even more so of Penelope, last term. This is my way of trying to remedy that.”

“Oh.” Spencer caught on. “Well, it was my pleasure. Besides, I kind of owed it to her, too.”

“No, you didn’t, but that’s what makes you a great teacher, Reid. You care so deeply, you take on the burdens of other’s growth. Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself too, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Friday Sept 8 6:12pm

Maya Walker scrambled through loading the dishwasher, causing both her parents to glance between themselves. She had three different chapters to read, a dozen geometry problems to proof out and a trumpet solo to prepare for seating auditions next week. The pressure was starting to sink in. She gave up snapping Meg Callahan and just called her on speaker.

“This is only the first week of the next four years of my life and I am DROWNING, girl.”

“Hey, Maya.” Meg’s voice sounded overly cheerful.

“Did you just answer the phone at the dinner table? Nu-uh, Kate is going to kill you!”

“Rough week? That sucks,” The line became muffled as Meg clearly played on her aunt’s sympathies to get excused early from the family meal. “Okay, I have ten, twelve minutes tops before she is going to call your mom and check on you.”

“You didn’t have to answer, dork!”

“I couldn’t stand it! Chris was doing light saber noises while trying to convince Kit to eat his Brussel sprouts. They’re Brussel sprouts! It is physically impossible to like them until you’re at least twenty-five!”

“Preach!” Maya filled in. “But seriously, I am dying. Do you have homework? Maybe we can hit the bookstore tomorrow or Sunday. I am going to lose it if I am stuck in my room all weekend.”

“It’s the first week of school, I have like one page of Algebra homework.”

“Which could take hours.”

“Mrrrrrrp. Nope, sorry. I can’t draw it out that long.”

“Please? Because you value me as a friend and person?”

“Maya Walker, don’t go begging now!” Meg cackled. “But seriously, I am sorry you have so much work. And I am slightly terrified for next year. Hey, you said you signed up for Journalism, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Is Mr. Simmons as hot as Kate is saying he is?”

“Whoa, go Kate!” Maya cheered on the nurse’s taste. “Yes, he is built like a Greek god, with all the ageless beauty of his Asian roots.”

“Ugh, I wish my teachers were hot.”

“Dude!”

“Okay, well, like, not our parents, obviously.”

“I should hope so!” Mara shuddered. “But seriously, Journalism is first hour, he already knows my name and who I am. It’s going to be a long year.”

“Still a great view to wake up for every morning.”

“Whatever, traitor. So no study sesh this weekend?”

“Nah, sorry. I am babysitting and then we have something on Sunday.”

“You owe me!”

“Yeah, yeah, well I better scram. Hugs!”

“Thanks, Meg. Talk later.”

“Yep.”

Maya hung up the phone and fell dramatically into the mound of quilts atop her bed. She was procrastinating, but something about two days and four assignments felt daunting. After twenty minutes on her favorite puzzle game, she gave in. She got out her trumpet and got to work.

Next Chapter: Uphill

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