Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being a homeroom teacher meant being somewhat a masochist – a whipping boy, to be exact– other teachers complained for their own incompetence when the class was acting up. Principal was dumping tasks, that could be done by someone else, but why the hell not make it the homeroom teacher’s problem? Parents came to complain at random - what was suppose to be ‘just a quick word’ developed into a hour long, full blown quarrel in the middle of the corridor. The students were complaining at teachers, schedules, canceled field trips and cafeteria food – nothing miss Stańczyk, an art teacher and a homeroom-teacher of class 3A - had a control over.

Also issues with students: Travis Phelps who was most likely abused by his father and Miss Stańczyk was unable to help due to status quo of his family. If she even though about acknowledging Travis' bruises and bloodshot eye, she’d never find employment in Nockfell or any neighboring towns.

Mary’s parents were going through nasty divorce, the girl was in shambles – a straight A student now barely scoring Cs. she would be in far worse state if not for Sal - who was, strangely enough, called ‘Sally Face’ by everyone, even teachers, at Nockfell High - a patient, very optimistic and well rounded student that was a dispensary of free hugs and kind words.

The same Sal Fisher that had a paperwork so extensive it could compete with Lord Of The Rings trilogy - all related to past accident, he had as a child - Police reports, CPS interventions, medical documents, psychological exams, exemption from PE due to chronic pain and past injuries and to top it all off miss Stańczyk had never seen Henry Fisher, the teen's father. The school secretary claimed she saw mister Fisher once, when he came in with an armful of papers, signed what had to be signed, then left to be never seen again. No matter how many times miss Stańczyk invited mister Fisher – either by notes given to Sal, mailed letters, faxed reminders or even via phone calls - This man was elusive, apparently too busy to come to school no matter which time of the day.

After almost three years of evasion and running around the bush, Sal finally confirmed that ‘this time, someone will come for sure’.

There was a knock at the classroom door. Miss Stańczyk raised her gaze from the artworks she was grading – the mother’s day was approaching so ‘a Mother’s Day card’ seemed like the obvious choice. Then her blood run cold when, during the assignment, she heard Jane’s faint sniffle – fuck, she forgot not all students had either good relationships with their mothers or even had them – Sal’s mother, for example, died in a freak accident by being mauled by a dog! Milena Stańczyk! You heartless ass!

„I’m sorry, mrs. Johnson” the art teacher said „but you must have mistaken the meetings”

Lisa looked confused for a second as she glanced at the doors, checking the number.

„That’s 3A”

„Uff… so I’m in the right place” Lisa sighed relieved.

„Uh… Larry is in 4D” Teacher prompted.

Lisa knitted her brows.

„...but you wanted to talk about Sal?”

The teacher blinked confused.

„Sal Fisher?” Lisa nudged the conversation.

„Yes?” the homeroom teacher replied slowly „I’m sorry, mrs. Johnson, I know your family and the Fishers are close but I can’t talk about my students with people not authorized by-”

„Didn’t school get the memo yet?”

„Huh?”

„I married Henry, Sal’s father, a couple of weeks ago? We contacted the school about it.”

The homeroom teacher glanced at the class register, then frantically flipped through couple of pages. There, in the contact list, was added Lisa’s info as a second parent. Her surname, now being Johnson-Fisher, and the address was updated.

„Oh!” the woman sucked in a breath „oh. oh. I’m so sorry, mrs. Fisher!” She immediately corrected herself.

Miss Stańczyk shoot up from her chair and outstretched her hand. Lisa squeezed the offered hand as she sat down.

„I’m gonna apologize in advance with any blunders with names- I-”

„It’s perfectly fine” Lisa smiled warmly „It’s a still fresh development - I can’t sometimes believe it myself!”

„So, uh… Larry is still using his… biological father’s name?”

Lisa was taken aback by the question.

„You don’t have to reply if that’s not something you want discuss!”

„We talked with Larry about it – he decided to keep Jim’s surname.”

„I see…”

„Uh… did Sal, do something wrong?”

Miss Stańczyk glanced at Lisa who was sitting in an almost unnaturally polite way, with her hands on her thighs. She tensed up.

Oh… right. So far Lisa was summoned to school for Larry, who was getting in trouble a lot in the past.

Old habits die hard.

„Not at all! It’s just… I haven’t had a chance to speak with mr. Fisher directly, he never attended any of teacher-parents conferences, all documents were either mailed or faxed to school or brought by his-your son. It’s kind of our regular song and dance, so I was surprised to learn someone finally came.”

Lisa perked up, whenever it was the fact Sal wasn’t in trouble or the fact that the homeroom teacher acknowledge their familial ties is yet to be determined.

„That’s a weight off my shoulders!” Lisa sighed. „we got pretty worried, there might be some issues-”

“Not at all!”

„That’s… good, good” Lisa’s voice said reassuringly „did you notice anything... odd about his behavior? He doesn’t speak much about school.”

Miss Stańczyk was taken aback by the question.

First they both would have to set a baseline of what was considered ‘odd’ in Sal’s case.

Wearing haircut more associated with women and female clothing, which didn’t bothered miss Stańczyk herself – as a graduate of Fine Arts academy, she had seen more eccentric way of self-expression – but it was hardly accept by more... conservative teachers. It was a hill miss Stańczyk was ready to die on, especially when battled against that old fart teaching math. It was a constant battle in teacher’s lounge, when old timers, teachers who should be on pension decades ago, complained time and time again about ‘indecency’ and ‘fall of humanity and christian values’ however miss Stańczyk's rebuttal that ‘father Phelps wears pink canonicals during advent and lent’ and ‘the rainbow was the oldest symbol of Christianity, as well as symbol of Virgin Mary, as it showcased union between sacrum and profanum’ fell on deaf ears.

Eating breakfasts in bathrooms? That was later explained by the teen himself, and even though miss Stańczyk understood the reasoning… still... a bathroom? Seriously, Sal?

The, almost unnatural, obsession with supernatural could be struck as odd, but also the teen was buddy-buddy with Todd Morison from 2B, so it was a somewhat given. Once the blue haired teen sniffed out, that his homeroom-teacher had Slavic roots, Sal was obsessively asking miss Stańczyk about strigas, upiórs, drowndeads, leshys, Baba Yaga and Svetovit. The scarred teen was in luck, as she was a folklore enthusiast herself, so the art teacher didn’t mind sharing those spooky stories with him during art class.

Also knowing a bits of Sal’s medical background, she cataloged all grim illustrations full of people with dog heads or holes in their abdomens, broken-like-glass faces, dark shadows with red eyes, blood and gore that frequented in his works as some sort of softcore art therapy.

There was a lot to Sal Fisher. Miss Stańczyk suspected there was even more than the teen let the teachers, parents or even his own friends know.

There was no beginning nor end to Sally Face's ‘odd’.

“He is a bit unconventional” Miss Stańczyk smiled politely, which made Lisa smile shyly in return “but it’s within the norms… at least for me.”

Chapter Text

The art teacher knew her depictions of Christs, several saints and few themes from the Bible - she came from a religious background and she well… studied European art, which was ‘chock-full of Jesus’ every since He first appeared in Late antiquity. However miss Stańczyk would me lying if she didn’t rely on Travis’ knowledge during lessons as she, a thirty-something years old woman, didn’t know the Christianity like a barely fifteen years old Travis Phelps. He knew his own faith too well in fact - to the point of remembering the Bible, actually remembering it, being able to quote it at any given moment with deadly accuracy - It was borderline creepy to be honest, but it could be also be miss Stańczyk's scepticism, not really of God, but definitely against the establishment that was the church.

Travis was also the only one who scoffed at how his art teacher made small jabs at Catholicism – she wasn’t disrespectful, of course – but she was lenient, sometimes aloof, with descriptions, just to grab the students’ attention. Calling Mary Magdalene ‘the prettiest girl in town’, John the baptist as ‘predestined to be homeless’ while Arma Christi ‘was a visual reminder of Christ’s PTSD’.

Travis was irritated but found satisfaction in constant corrections of his homeroom teacher during ‘history of art segments’ of their art class. Miss Stańczyk had no problems with giving him good marks for ‘oral answers’ or ‘engagement during lesson’, which was the bulk of his grade, raising his C- to B+. Whenever miss Stańczyk’s mind jumbled trivia, Travis’ hand was already in the air ready to correct her. The class didn’t mind their usual song and dance as long as they were not the ones being questioned.

The class was perfectly balanced - as all things should be. There was an issue miss Stańczyk and Travis Phelps couldn’t find a common ground on, tho – a rainbow.

Travis Phelps hated every mention of it. Of course it was mostly due to his father drilling into him contempt for any form of ‘the other’. For many ‘hardcore Christians’ every single rainbow was somehow an offensive LGBT symbol. Miss Stańczyk spend hours trying to convince Travis that colors of the rainbow, as in weather phenomenon, and LGBT flag’s tones didn’t even match – they were not the same rainbow. Then she tried to explain that the colorful arch was a christian symbol – a symbol of union between what's holy and profane, a symbol of Virgin Mary, Christ sat on it on many occasions, like on ‘The last judgment’ by Hans Memling. That mandorla had rainbow-like variation. Many churches had something called chancel arch and most of the time those had artistic takes on that weather phenomenon.

Phelps’ refusal to accept the fact was a little bit of an issue as colors were bread and butter of art. Thus Travis struggled with his works, he wrestled against pigments as some sort of personal vendetta. The class created vibrant, colorful drawings full of life, Travis’ works were bleak – with sparsely used colors but mostly keeping close to black, browns and grays – and the homeroom teacher gave in, teaching Travis to crosshatch, shade and use various tools like ink, charcoals or graphite.

Of course the tall teen’s personal crusade against pretty colors wasn’t something that would hinder his grades – miss Stańczyk focused on technical aspect of the works and, especially, engagement – so most teens’ had good enough grades to not have parents complain.

Then finally, Travis met his match – the task was to draw ‘classmate’s psychological portrait’. The students were to not only capture the likeness of one’s partner but also try to add a twist to it - something one student associated with the other one.

As always Miss Stańczyk made her class draw lots – to let fate decide - The fate chose to pair Travis and Sal up - dangerous combination. To the art teacher surprise, Travis couldn’t just stick to his usual methods of artistic expression - he shyly added blue to the artwork to signify Sal’s hair color. It was like opening of floodgate or destruction of a dam – as the teen didn’t leave Sal’s mask in it’s usual white, but instead filled it with swirls of all colors he had at his disposal. The teen was hyper-focused on a task, almost like in trance, as he added another splotches and blobs of paint. It was also a very good portrait in and off itself – definitely Travis’ best work and his first A+ in that class. Even Sal seemed to like it, despite the fact he hated any form of portrayal of him, be it drawing, painting or even photos.

To be honest, if Sal was brave enough to ask for the painting or Travis was brave enough to give it to the other teen, miss Stańczyk would dodge the bullet.

They didn’t, thus both Travis and his homeroom teacher had to face the consequence – Travis best work made his father, pastor Kenneth Phelps, come to school.

The homeroom teacher was never this intimidated by anyone walking into her classroom. The preacher entered the room like he owned the place… which he most likely did in some shape or form, but that was beside the point.

The man scowled at her, visibly disgusted, his brows knitted in anger as if the sheer presence of someone related to art was a sore to his eyes. Miss Stańczyk finally saw the family resemblance – Travis sported a similar scowl albeit in it’s diluted form - when, one time, she called Christ a ‘necromancer from outer space’ and young Phelps gave her ‘the look’. It was also the time when she realized some jokes are better to be left alone to keep the classroom balanced.

Kenneth Phelps was angry. He threw the portrait at the teacher’s desk with dismissive disregard. He demanded confession, apology and ‘determination to atone’.

Miss Stańczyk felt like a little girl, kneeling in that fucking hot-box of a confessional. She hadn’t confessed her sins in years and for sure she won’t do it this time, because a colorful powder, mixed with seed oil and turpentine was not something to atone for.

Thankfully, father Phelps didn’t truly want any form of apology. His madman ramblings about 'giving his son wrong ideas' were just there for the sake of it, thus the homeroom teacher held her breath waiting for the angry man to scream his piece. After an annoyed huff and a promise that ‘the principal would definitely hear about it’, the man stormed off.

Miss Stańczyk looked at the crumpled portrait then it dawned on her.

Oh...

That’s why Travis Phelps hated rainbows.

Chapter Text

Miss Stańczyk meticulously spread all the drawings on the floor – she didn’t know why she saved those particular works while she shredded all of the rest, there was something in them that made her save them from the teachers’ lounge’s shredder – The art teacher took off her sneakers as she climbed her desk and gazed at the paintings from the higher vantage point.

Sal, Larry, Todd... even Travis and his sisters.

Four, five, six… ten… thirteen...forty-four! Forty-four renditions of almost exact same drawing was created for over ten years since she started to teach at Nockfell High. Most of the drawings were from students that lived in Addison Apartments or were somewhat connected to Phelps Ministry – pastor Kenneth’s kids or altar boys volunteering at the church.

Of course it could be a coincidence or her wanting to see what was now in front of her.

However it struck the art teacher as odd, that all those teens had the same answer to the good, old nightmare topic.

Of course a human-shaped shadow figure was easy to come up with even to the most unimaginative minds but there was something in a way all of the teens were fixated over the red eyes – it was a visible focal point to all of them. Larry's work were the most expressive - the mood of his piece was oppressive, as if that shadow being was stalking him for years. Sal’s drawing looked like a fuzzy chicken-scratch, but the red eyes were glowing like search lights. Even Travis, who normally avoided anything that wasn’t grounded in realism, couldn’t help but add two red orbs to a vaguely shaped form of a man.

All of them titled their works “Red-eyed demon”.

Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

It felt like a conspiracy theory, but miss Stańczyk couldn’t believe the coincidence and she knew no-one would believe her.

Milena chewed inside of her cheek, if she only had a chance to talk to a previous art teacher, she’d love to ask if they also encountered such phenomenon.

Someone cleared their throat. The art teacher turned around. There in the door-frame stood Mrs. Packerton, the math teacher, her eyes gazed upon all of the red eyed demon renditions, then she glanced up to the younger teacher standing on the desk – the older woman was furious, as if she caught miss Stańczyk red-handed on cheating during a math test.

“Get down!” the math teacher demanded “What a silly behavior!”

“Don’t chastise me” Milena scoffed “I’m your fellow teacher, not a student.”

“Then stop acting like a fool.”