Chapter Text
“And remember,” Mr. Parker starts to the entire class, folding his arms and winking, “no stupid questions.”
That’s how the first day of the world’s most chaotic AP Chemistry class started.
Ok, so Miles might be cutting out a lot of details. He might have cut out every detail, because a lot of other things happened that he may or may not be barred from telling anyone, because that’s not how it actually started. That’s how the start ended, but the start really started like this—
“There are only three rules in my class,” Mr. Parker says as he picks up the expo marker and starts writing, “number one-“
- NO MIXING MYSTERY CHEMICALS WITHOUT PERMISSION OR SUPERVISION
“I don’t think I need to remind you guys of this, but I think I needed to be reminded of it when I was in school.”
One of Miles’s braver classmates raises their hand. “What were you doing that you needed to be reminded of it?”
Mr. Parker grimaces. “Can’t say but trust me, you do not want to go through a month of high school with only one eyebrow.”
The class stares silently, dumbfounded. He continues.
“Ok rule two-“
2. DO NOT CHEAT, I HAVE SUPER-SENSES AND CAN TELL IF YOU ARE. I’M NOT LYING.
Miles blinks because he’s really not sure what he’s reading and if it’s real.
“And, uh, rule three-“
3. NO… VIGILANTISM(?)
Why there are three dots and a question mark in that rule, he’s not sure.
— But really, that’s just the middle of the start of starting to start the-
Ok, Miles is getting ahead of himself and making zero sense. The first day of AP Chemistry with Mr. Parker started late, 10 minutes late, actually. More like this:
“Another day, another dollar,” Ganke groans as he settles in a seat next to Miles. “It’s honestly kind of ridiculous we’re still here.”
Miles makes a face and throws another raspberry into his mouth before putting the container away. “Dude, we’re only, like, Sophomores.”
“Like I said, ridiculous.”
The class is slowly filling up as people continue to arrive well after the bell rang. And Mr. Parker, the new teacher, still isn’t there.
“Oh my gooood!” Fabio exclaims loudly, leaning back dangerously in his chair. “Is this guy ever gonna show?”
“You’d think he’d be on time to the first day, at least,” Katy grumbles.
“Like you ever bother to show up less than 5 minutes late,” Miles responds.
She smirks and wiggles her fingers. “That’s my superpower.”
“I wish your super power was teleporting our mega late teacher,” Julie grumbles. “I’m gettin’ sick of waiting.”
Katy mumbles something about there being ‘cooler powers than that’ and gets to her feet, stretching dramatically as she does. “Let’s try it out, shall we?” She points her palm at the door and makes a face.
Miles leans forward in his seat and narrows his eyes. “Are you… constipated?”
“No! I’m trying to summon our teacher.”
“Pretty sure you need a cool catch phrase of something to activate your powers,” Ganke says without looking up from his comic. “Like, Shazam.”
Katy considers that for a moment before turning to the door, taking a deep breath, and yelling, “Shazam!”
The door bursts open the moment she’s finished, and Mr. Parker makes his appearance. (Miles is starting calculating the likelihood that his classmate actually has a superpower)
“Sorry, so sorry,” he says as he stumbles through and practically launches his bag across the room, landing perfectly in his chair. He apparently doesn’t notice the classes awe at that feat because he continues apologizing. “Traffic was a bitc- a bit terrible. Small class, huh? Only uh, 13 kids? Alright then, I can work with that, I love that.”
He smiles at them, not aware that he’s got a bruise blossoming on his cheek and he looks like he’s just been thrown from an airplane and had to sprint halfway across the city to the school in 5 minutes.
Mr. Parker claps his hands, then rubs them together and his excitement is palpable, even if it’s the first day and he’s tremendously, inexcusably late.
“So, who’s ready for some chemistry?”
No one raises their hands but Mr. Parker is undeterred as he spins around and starts rambling while writing his name and different equations and tries to explain them without getting sidetracked with talking about his coffee or asking students about what they ate for breakfast and how he can predict not only their zodiac sign, but also their favorite baseball team and movie just by what they ate that morning.
And yea, Miles already likes him.
So his first day is kinda mega chaotic. And unexplainable. And weird. And Mr. Parker… he’s a breed of his own, honestly. As Miles sits with his sketchbook/journal/agenda open on his desk, tapping his pen along vaguely to the muffled music that’s playing lowly from the speaker buried somewhere under the pile of clothes in the corner of his room, he finds it’s kind of hard to put everything into words. Words that make sense, at the very least.
Mr. Parker is a ball of energy and enthusiasm wrapped up in a secondhand polo shirt and weighed down by what’s seemingly a library in the backpack he brings with him. He’s passionate and wants his students to be passionate. He cares.
And Miles got all that from the brief interaction they had when he introduced himself, told Mr. Parker he had leftover mofongo for breakfast, and then was promptly blown away when the man correctly guessed he’s a Leo, his favorite team is the Yankees, and his favorite movie is Dune.
“The one that came out a few years ago,” Mr. Parker winks while flipping the expo marker, “right?”
And so the likelihood of one of the people in his class having a superpower increased tenfold.
But, that’s kind of hard to put into words. To say how he knows his teacher knows that he knows he gets him. Which, makes no sense, but the point is Miles vibes with the guy. But that’s not really an explanation, is it?
“He’s cool,” he says, getting a forkful of rice and beans and staring at it instead of his parents’ questioning gazes during dinner later that night, “like, super cool. Really chill.”
“Ok… and what’s the class going to be like?” His dad prods. “What’s the coursework like, and the AP exam, and how much homework will he give, and how much are test-“
“Amor,” his mom cuts in. “One question at a time.”
His dad just sighs, then turns his attention back to Miles and raises an eyebrow. “So?”
Miles blinks. “So…?”
His dad crosses his arms. “What does the actual class entail?”
“I- I don’t really know yet. We’re going over the syllabus next class.”
“And you think you’ll pass the test?”
“Yea.”
The test was never a worry, since Miles has aced basically ever exam he’s taken. But that’s all those classes really were, passing the test then moving on to the next level to pass that test.
That’s cool and all, but Miles thinks back to laughing at how ridiculously accurate the predictions were, and then scribbling down notes when Mr. Parker explained how he used statistical geographical data to figure it out, and then sketching the entire class, even June who hardly cared half the time, on the edge of their seats, leaning forward and completely enraptured by what the teacher was saying. The last thing on his mind was the syllabus.
But his dad nods shortly and says, “that’s what matters then,” and the first day of sophomore year is over with a fizzle.
Block scheduling sucks. Whatever lawmaker or school official or whoever it was who made it was for sure out of their mind. Over an hour of one class. By the second day of horrendously awkward and abysmal attempts at icebreakers by the other 3 classes on Miles’s schedule, he’s officially done with sophomore year.
But, he doesn’t dread tomorrow.
And as the clock ticks closer and closer to 6th period, he’s anticipating sprinting down the hall and upstairs to make it to Mr. Parker’s class in just under a minute. Which he succeeds in and as he settles at his self designated desk, waiting for Ganke to get there, he realizes he’s hooked.
Only on the second day of this class too. Damn.
Ganke arrives and shoots Miles a confused grin when he takes his seat. “Someone got over their sophomore-itis rather fast.”
“Think you should be saying that about yourself and Katy,” he replies, gesturing to the girl who was already seated before Miles. She turns and makes a face at him, to which he waves. “What happened to being religiously devoted to being late?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s Kitty, first of all, not ‘Katy Pryde’. That just sounds weird. Second…” she trails off then shrugs. “I only make sure I’m late to the uninteresting classes.”
“So every other class?”
“So every other class.”
Mr. Parker walks in, the bruise from two days ago basically completely healed and this time, he actually looks put together. If you ignore the limp he’s got. Everyone ignores it.
“Hello people!” He announces brightly. “Welcome to day 2, congratulations on making it this far.”
Anya sighs and throws her head back dramatically. “It’s been a struggle, sir.”
The rest of the class grumbles in agreement while Mr. Parker fake pouts in complete mockery of their very real second year struggles and starts pulling boxes of baking soda and grape juice from his apparently bottomless bag.
“Well that’s too bad because I was hoping you’d all be up to learn how to make invisible ink-“
The clattering of chairs falling over and squeaking of sneakers racing across the floor is the only warning Mr. Parker gets before everyone crowds his desk, Miles thankful he grabbed a seat close to the front of the room because now he’s got a front row seat.
So, the truth is, Miles can’t actual go into the details about what they did in class. He may or may not have sworn an oath of secrecy to the secret society he’s in (the class groupchat that takes its oaths of secrecy very seriously), who will surely hunt him down and try him for his crimes against their beloved teacher they are apparently sworn to protect.
Because doing experiments and demonstrations on the first and second day of class after arriving late was certainly not standard teaching practice. And judging by the sometimes lowkey snide comments made by other teachers (yea, Miles is talking about you Mrs. Levi), Mr. Parker isn’t as appreciated by the teaching staff as he should be, considering the last AP Chem teacher quit because the school pays nothing.
And yet, after only two days of his class, there’s no one who isn’t enamored with Mr. Parker. Its frankly ridiculous.
Miles is 100% living for it.
But from what he is allowed to disclose without fear of death by the hands of his murderously protective classmates—
Mr. Parker dipped the paint brush into the baking soda-water mixture and started writing on the paper. “Does anyone know the pH of baking soda and water?”
“Water is 7,” Natalie responds.
“Baking soda’s pH is around 8,” Reilly answers while trying to inch closer, “it’s a base, right?”
Mr. Parker nods and grabs the other paint brush and dips it in the juice. “Right, so the baking soda water mixture is basic. And grape juice is-“
“Acidic,” Anya finishes excitedly. “So when you paint it onto the basic mixture on the paper-“
“A chemical reaction occurs and it turns a different color, revealing the ink,” Miles cuts in, watching just that happen on the paper.
Mr. Parker looks up at the students surrounding him and smiles, impressed. “I’m not sure if you guys even need me to teach the class.”
Miles dips his head in pride and maybe mild embarrassment that he’s getting so excited over a teacher’s praise and reads the message written out in the invisible ink.
Peace!
— Mr. Parker isn’t all that bad.
“He’s alright,” Ganke says with a small smile he tries to hide behind his sandwich at lunch…
“Alright, let’s see…” Mr. Parker mumbles as he starts pouring the lemon juice carefully over Miles’s half sheet of paper.
He’s stupid, this is stupid. He doesn’t know why he didn’t just write his name and some random crap about himself like everyone else. His favorite color, his parents’ names, how he likes to hang out with his uncle, when his birthday is. Why did he decide to go all out, like he always does? This is an icebreaker assignment, a little mini experiment to get into the groove of the class, not an art lesson, Mr. Parker’s just going to smile and say ‘nice job’ then throw the paper away when he was done and-
Miles’s half sheet of paper, with the drawing of Mr. Parker mostly disheveled but completely smiling in invisible ink, is hanging up on the wall behind his desk. It’s the only thing hanging up there, and it’s framed. Miles feels like dying whenever he catches Mr. Parker staring at it, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He feels like he’s going to combust, but in a good way. In the best way.
…Naw, he’s better than bad and more than alright.
Miles doesn’t think he’s had a better teacher, and it’s only the second day.
The door to his room starts creaking open, giving Miles’s just enough time to quickly flip to a blank page of his sketchbook/journal/agenda and pretend like he wasn’t drawing. It’s not enough time to hide the two bowls but he doubts he’ll notice.
“Miles…?” His dad says as he pokes his head around the door and raises his eyebrows when he makes eye contact. “You’re still up?”
“Uh, yea? It’s only 10:30.”
“What are you up to?”
“Um.” He glances down at the blank sheet of paper in his almost completed book and suppresses a frown. “Nothing, making some reminders for next week.”
His dad nods and opens the door wider to walk in the room and sit on the bed (ugh), pushing aside some books to make room for himself. “And your classes are going good?”
“As good as they can, considering this is the first week.”
“Right right.” His dad cocks his head towards the desk. “What were you drawing?”
“…how’d you know?”
“You’re my son, and you’re not slick.”
Miles sighs and sheepishly hands over the book for his dad to flip through, trying not to cringe or die of embarrassment when he stops on the most recent drawing.
“Is it, done?” His dad asks, turning the page and squinting at the paper until Miles snatches it from his hands.
“It is, but it’s made with invisible ink. You’ve got to activate it by…” he trails off and shows his dad, gently brushing lemon juice in one of the bowls on his desk over the paper and revealing the completed drawing of Mr. Parker throwing his bag across the room and greeting the class.
He watches his dad’s expression shift. Minutely, like it always does whenever Miles shows him some of his art, with his eyebrows scrunching then eyes widening then his lips twitching. And finally, finally, he settles on a small grin and Miles feels something ease in his chest, the same way it did when Mr. Parker hung up his drawing, but better. So much better.
“Your chemistry teacher taught you this?”
Miles shrugs and closes the notebook. “It’s pretty basic pH stuff, more like an introduction to the course than anything since we’re probably going to be doing a lot more complicated things and-“
“Miles.”
“… the teacher taught us.”
His dad hums contently. “Mr. Parker, right?”
“Yea, him.”
“So… do you think you’ll like the class?”
Miles glances down for a second and bites back a smile. “I do.”
His dad lightly claps a hand on his shoulder and says, “then that’s all that matters.”
Miles is sitting bored out of his mind in his AP Calculus class, listening to Mr. Black drone on and on about what to expect from the test and strategies for success and blah blah blah when his phone buzzes one too many times to ignore. He pulls it out of his pocket and reads the texts.
Mr. Parker Picked a Peck of Pickled Pepper
kittkatpride has been added to the chat
kittkatpride: mr.parker is hot
(anya liked this)
(toebean liked this)
(lils liked this)
junenotjuly: agreed
fabfabi: that’s the first thing you contribute to the chat?
kittkatpride: yes
anya: yes
natwashington : I thought this was supposed to be a productive chat
breilly : no
kittkatpride: no
anya: no
(juliejones has left the chat)
(juliejones has been added to the chat)
juliejones: leave me alone
anya: this is a class chat for a reason, the whole class needs to be here
natwashington: only like 5 people are typing
havefaith: I’m here
(lisalisa liked this)
(momo likes this)
natwashington: lurkers
natwashington: just stop blowing up my phone
anya: sorry
anya: anyway, mr. parker is hot
milesm(m&m) : I think I’d die for him
gankeleee : you and everyone else
breilly : you’re not special
kittkatpride : get in line
Miles laughs quietly as he turns his phone off and tunes back into the exhaustingly boring conversation and then comes to a realization. After a full week of orientation lessons.
We haven’t gone over the syllabus.
Not that he or anyone in the class cares.