47: Alex in Wonderland

Alex woke on Tuesday in a state of dread and anticipation and hoped he wouldn’t be sick. He recognized the sensation. It was similar to what he often felt just as he was about to embark on a new assignment for the Agency: excitement and the thrill of the chase mixed with dread at the thought that he might be found out by the group he was attempting to infiltrate and what would happen to him if he was. But he wasn’t about to go on assignment for the Agency, he reminded himself as he crawled out of bed and headed for the bathroom for a shower. He was going to teach his first class at the Northern Lights Community College, French 101, in fact.

Yet, even though he knew this, the feelings of anticipation and dread stayed with him as he continued his ablutions and got dressed, then went to the kitchen to find Derek already there making breakfast for them both, though he was grateful to see that it was only toast and coffee. He wasn’t sure he could handle anything more and that surprised him. Even before, he’d always managed to eat a decent breakfast. So why was this any different?

“Morning!” Derek said brightly, glancing over his shoulder as he buttered some toast. “Just in time. Man, you look terrible. Didn’t you sleep last night?”

“Actually, I slept quite well, but when I woke up I was feeling suddenly sick to my stomach.”

Derek nodded as he handed Alex a plate of toast. “Yeah, that sort of thing hits people differently.”

“What sort of thing?” Alex asked as he took the toast to the kitchen table and sat. There was already a carafe of coffee there and he poured himself a cup.

“You know,” Derek offered. “New job butterflies, my dad calls them. Happens to us all.”

“And under other circumstances, I might even agree with you, but what I’m feeling is more than nerves. There’s a sense of dread as well.”

“What do you think that means?” Derek asked with a frown as he settled himself in the other chair and grabbed a piece of toast and poured some milk into a bowl of bran flakes topped with raisins that sat in front of him. Just the sight of it made Alex want to be sick so he concentrated on his toast and coffee.

“Well, in my previous life, it was just the feeling I had when I was about to infiltrate another terrorist group, knowing what my fate would be if they ever found out who I really was.”

“So, do you think that when your students discover that you are a human being and not the Mighty Thor or the son of Harry Potter, they’ll turn on you?” Derek asked in all seriousness.

Alex choked on the piece of toast he was chewing as he started to laugh. Derek gave him a smirk. When he had gotten himself under control and the piece of toast down his throat with the help of some coffee, he gave his gwador a shrewd look. “You did that on purpose.”

“Moi?” Derek retorted with feigned indignation.

Alex grinned, suddenly feeling better, though the feeling of dread did not go away entirely and he half-wondered if it meant something more than just nerves, but decided to ignore it for now. “Thanks,” he said, knowing he need not say anything more.

“No problem,” Derek replied in an offhand manner. “So do you think Edhellond is still standing?”

“Hmm…the question of the hour, isn’t it? I’m tempted to make a detour on the way into college just to see.”

“Yeah, me too,” Derek said. “Unfortunately, I have to get to work and that’s in the opposite direction.”

“Will you be staying at the resort or coming home?”

“Depends on the weather, I suppose. I’ve got an overnight bag in my car just in case. If I’m not coming back tonight, I’ll call you and you can tell me all about your first day, otherwise, God willing, I’ll be back by seven at the latest.”

“Good enough,” Alex said, downing the rest of the coffee and deciding against a second cup. He glanced at the microwave clock. He still had two hours before his first class. “I think I’ll head over to the college now, make sure I’ve got everything I need.”

“Good luck,” Derek said as he finished his cereal and got up to throw the dishes into the dishwasher, “or break a leg or whatever.”

“Thanks,” Alex said sincerely. “I’m sure I’ll need it.”

“You’ll do fine,” Derek said more warmly. “Just remember, you’re the grown up and they’re wet-behind-the-ears freshmen without a clue. Remember how that was?”

“All too well,” Alex said as he left the kitchen to finish getting himself ready. He put on his coat and grabbed his book bag. Derek saw him to the door. “You’re going to be great, I just know it,” he said. “Just remember to breathe every once in a while.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Alex couldn’t help saying, giving Derek a grin.

“Did you wash behind your ears? Are you wearing clean underwear?” Derek quipped and Alex laughed as he headed down the hall to the stairs and out to the parking lot where he found his car. It had snowed overnight, so he took a few minutes while the car was warming up to brush it clean before getting in and setting off. Traffic was light even for what passed as rush hour in Wiseman and the roads were dry and clear, for which he was grateful. On a whim, he detoured to Edhellond and slowed but did not stop as he reached the mansion, finding it still standing. There was a light on in one of the bedrooms upstairs, but otherwise the place appeared dark and quiet. He could almost believe that everyone was snug in their beds still, but even as he thought that, he saw the front door open and Finrod was stepping out, drawing his cloak closer around him as he looked about, breathing in the fresh air, before heading for the gate.

Alex came to a complete stop and rolled down his window. “Morning!” he called.

Finrod stopped and gave him a brilliant smile, looking both ways before crossing the distance. “And good morning to you, Alex Grant. You are on your way to teach?”

“Yeah, but my class isn’t until ten. I thought I would go in early, get myself settled. You on your way to work?”

“Yes.”

“Well, hop in and I’ll take you there.”

“But that is out of your way,” Finrod said.

“Not by much. I’ll still have a good hour before my class. Come on. It’s too cold to be standing here arguing. Hop in.”

He rolled up the window and Finrod went around to the passenger side and climbed in, expertly wrapping the seat belt around him while Alex did a three-point turn and headed back the way he’d come.

“Everything okay at home?” he asked in as nonchalant a tone as he could manage. “No one died or anything?”

Finrod laughed. “No. No one died and no one is missing limbs or teeth.” He flashed him a merry look. “Did you think it would be that bad?”

Alex shrugged as he turned onto Kodiak and then came to stop behind a school bus picking up a couple of children. “Derek and I could feel the tension all the way home. Loren was totally pissed.”

“And with good reason, but I assure you that no blood was spilt last night. Whatever problems we are having are being resolved. You need not be concerned for us.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Alex said as he started moving again. “What was everyone’s reaction when you told them about Gwyn and Gareth?”

“We haven’t told them yet,” Finrod replied. “Glorfindel wants to wait until the council meeting on Saturday so he can tell the Mortals as well. I believe it will be then that he will discuss forming our own SCA group.”

“And you all are going to keep this news under wraps for the next four days?” Alex asked in disbelief. “Man, I would be bursting at the seams if I had to wait that long to tell someone something like that.”

Finrod smiled. “When you normally count time in decades instead of minutes, what is four days?”

Alex could only shake his head as he pulled over to let Finrod out. “Here you go. You have a good day.”

“And the Valar shine upon your path today as well, Alex Grant,” Finrod responded as he got out. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Alex said and gave a wave as he drove off, picking up Aurora and heading west toward the college. He arrived and found his assigned parking space and made his way to Rosamond Hall where his office was. In the distance, the chimes at St. Andrew’s were ringing the hour as he entered the hall and made his way to his office, which he shared with another language teacher. Felicity Cohen taught German and was also fluent in Hebrew, having resided in Israel as a teenager before returning to the States. She was a few years younger than Alex. At the moment, she was not in the office, though there was evidence that she had been there earlier. Alex remembered that she had an eight o’clock class that would be finishing up in a half hour.

He doffed his coat, hanging it on the coat tree in the corner, and settled before his desk, idly looking through the French textbook, mentally reviewing his lesson. He had a sudden urge to call his mother, but squashed it. She would be at school herself. He took a few minutes to review their last conversation. He had called her Sunday night while he was still in Fairbanks and they had spent most of the time discussing his new teaching job with Anne giving him lots of advice, most of which he already knew but he was gratified to hear it from his mother. He smiled slightly as he recalled some of that advice now.

“Guten Morgen.”

Alex looked up to see Felicity Cohen enter the office and smiled. “Bonjour,” he replied. “How was your class?” the last was spoken in English.

“Well enough,” the woman said, flopping into her chair and spinning it around. She was dressed conservatively in a gray pant suit with a white blouse and a cameo at her throat, her dark hair falling to her shoulders and swept back behind her ears. “You all set for yours?”

“Guess so,” Alex replied with a shrug.

“Hey, you’ll do fine,” Felicity assured him. “I have every faith in you. You want to do lunch afterwards?”

“Sure, thanks.” He glanced at the wall clock and sighed. “Guess I’ll be on my way.” He picked up his books and notes and headed for the door.

“I’ll meet you back here,” Felicity said. “Have fun.”

Alex waved at her and went down the hall to his classroom. Even though it was a good fifteen minutes before his class would start, there were already a few students in the room, eyeing him curiously as he entered. He ignored them as he went to his desk and fiddled about with his books, making sure he had everything he needed. The last few minutes before the bell seemed to crawl and he wondered if he was only going to have the three students who were already there even though, according to the class list, he should expect twenty-five. However, his fears were unfounded and with several minutes to go before the bell, more students arrived, quietly finding seats, the last of them entering in a rush as the bell sounded.

When they were all settled, he introduced himself. “Good morning. My name is Mr. Grant and this is French 101. Let’s make sure we’re all where we’re supposed to be. Raise your hand when I call your name.” He glanced at the class list and called out the first name. A young woman raised her hand. When he was done, two people had not responded to their name being called and one person was a new name which he dutifully recorded. He knew from his own college days that during the first week of the term the class size would fluctuate before everything settled down.

“Right then,” he said once the roll had been called. “Before we begin, I’d like to know why you are taking this class. Er… Mr. Anderson, why don’t we start with you?”

The young man squirmed with embarrassment at being singled out. “Ah… um... because I needed a language class and this was the only one that fit my schedule.”

“Thank you,” Alex said. “And what about you, Ms… ah… Barclay?”

He went through the class. Most were there because they needed a language course as part of their core requirements, a few admitted that they already had studied a foreign language in high school and wished to add another. One student said she had French ancestors and wanted to travel to France to find her father’s family. Finally he came to the last two students, but when he called on one of them, a Ms Yuong, who was of Chinese descent, instead of answering his question, she asked one of her own.

 “Is it true you’re a spy?”

There were murmurs from the other students and Alex went still. Something in his manner alerted the class and a few gaped at him with something like fear in their eyes. Alex forced himself to breathe slowly as he answered the question.

“No, Ms Yuong. I am not a spy. I am a language teacher and I’m presently working on my Masters in Linguistics. Now, why are you taking this class?”

The woman shrugged. “Because I felt like it.”

There was something hostile in that response that the other students picked up on for one or two scowled at her, though she ignored them, keeping her attention on Alex. Alex nodded and turned to the last person on his list. “Mr. Zimmerman?”

“Huh? Oh, ah my grandmother speaks French and said I should learn it. If I do well, she will take me to France this summer.”

Alex nodded and was about to have the class open their textbooks, when Ms Yuong spoke up without bothering to raise her hand. “But you were a spy, weren’t you? I heard you came to Wiseman to spy on Elf Academy. Is that true?”

Alex sighed, closing his eyes. Would he never be freed of his past? He shook his head at that thought, remembering how far back that past actually went and knew it for a stupid question. Opening his eyes, he gave Ms Yuong a stern look. “What I was or was not is not the issue here. If you wish to learn French, Ms Yuong, then let us do so, otherwise, you are free to leave and find some other class in which to torment the instructor.”

The tension between the two was palpable and no one dared breathe. Alex continued to stare at the woman, determined not to be the first to blink and he felt a small thrill of satisfaction when Ms Yuong finally looked away and stood up, gathering her books. “Perhaps I will,” she said and stalked out of the room. Alex could almost hear the collective sigh of relief from the rest of the class.

“So, are there any more questions?” he asked and everyone shook their heads. “Good. Why don’t we turn to the first chapter? We will begin with the present tense of the verb ‘to be’, which in French is être. As with English, it is an irregular verb. Here are its forms.”

He went to the whiteboard and began writing out the conjugations for the verb, speaking as he wrote, and in a fit of mischief added one word to each form: 

“Je suis espion, but if you’re female it would be espionne: I am a spy.”

The class broke out in laughter as he continued to write and recite: ‘Tu es espion or espionne, Il est espion, Elle est espionne, Nous somme espions — notice that when speaking, the final ‘s’ is silent and we only know it’s plural from the verbal form — Vous êtes espions, and finally Ils sont espions.”

He turned to face the class, grinning, and the students grinned back. “So, why don’t we practice our pronunciation? Repeat after me: Je suis espion….”

****

He returned to his office to find Felicity working at her desk. She looked up with a smile when he entered. “So how did it go?”

“Well, there was a rough patch right at the beginning,” he replied and then told her about his confrontation with the student. Felicity shook her head.

“What nerve. She sounds like a plant.”

“A plant?” Alex exclaimed, unsure he’d heard her clearly. “This is a college, not a top-secret installation with someone trying to gather intelligence for the other side.”

“Are you sure?” Felicity asked, half in jest. Then she shook her head. “Let’s go get lunch and we can discuss it then.”

He had no objections and in a few minutes they were crossing the quad to Hayes Hall, in which was one of the dining halls and where the college store and bank were located. Soon they were sitting at a table by one of the tall windows and digging into their macaroni and cheese and hot dogs.

“So, you think the student was a plant,” Alex said after a couple of bites, picking up the conversation where they had left off.

Felicity shrugged. “Possibly. She wasn’t there to learn French but to cause you embarrassment. That much is obvious from what you said.”

“But why?”

“Does there have to be a reason?” Felicity countered. “Look, Alex, believe it or not, life in the ivory tower can be as cutthroat as anywhere else. There is a lot of politics that goes on with people jockeying for tenure and jealousies reign. You’re the new kid on the block, so to speak, and your past is, to put it mildly, questionable. You may not know it, but the scuttlebutt is that a lot of strings were pulled and favors called in to get you this job over others who might have better credentials if not experience.”

Alex sat back, mulling over her words, remembering the ease with which doors seemed to open for him as soon as he made the decision to leave the Agency and take up residence in Wiseman. He knew Loren had pulled some strings but he assumed it was just to allow him to get the interview when the position opened up, seeing as how he could not produce a resumé that would not be classified Top Secret. Now he had to wonder just how much he had gotten the job on his own merits.

Something in his expression must have alerted Felicity, for she gave him a sympathetic smile. “Look, I may be wrong about this, but the truth is, the committee was all ready to choose a candidate when you showed up out of the blue and then you were given the position. I know Craig was upset by it because his candidate was the one they had decided on.”

Craig Franklin was the dean of the department and, while he was unfailingly polite whenever he and Alex met, Alex could never warm to him and now he thought he knew why. “What about you? Do you resent my being here?”

“Hell, no!” Felicity protested. “I met the guy Craig was putting forth as a candidate for the job. Supercilious as they come. I was actually happy that you got the job instead.”

“Thank you,” Alex said softly.

“You’re welcome. Now look, try not to let this upset you too much. My advice, for what it’s worth, is to ignore it, laugh it off. Others are waiting for you to blow your cool, so they can say you can’t handle your classes. That’s what Little Miss Muffet was up to this morning. It wouldn’t have mattered if you had confessed to being a spy or not. She would have continued to harass you, trying to make you angry so she could report to whomever. You were smart to call her on it even if you didn’t realize she might just be a plant. Keep your sense of humor. I find that disorients your enemies.”

Alex grinned at that. “Sounds as if you’ve been there and done that.”

Felicity’s expression went cold. “Unfortunately, I have, which is why I’ve ended up here in Wiseman rather than teaching elsewhere.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex replied sympathetically.

Felicity shrugged. “It’s life, and maybe it’s for the best. Who knows?” She glanced at her watch. “Hey, we’d better finish up. It’s almost time for the afternoon class.”

“And we’ll be trying to amuse the children whose tummies are full and are ready for a nap,” Alex quipped and Felicity laughed in agreement.

They finished up their lunch and returned to Rosamond, where they grabbed their books and went their separate ways, Felicity to teach German 102 and Alex to teach Italian 101. It was a different classroom from the morning and he arrived early enough to be the first there, though students began trickling in soon after. Italian appeared not to be as popular a choice as French and he was expecting only about fifteen students, all of whom showed up. He half expected to see Ms Yuong sitting there and then chided himself on his paranoia. Still, he had to wonder as he began to introduce himself and call the roll if one of the students sitting before him was a plant also.

As he finished calling the roll and was about to ask his question of why they were taking the class, one of the students raised his hand.

“Yes, Mr…. ah…”

“Lewis, sir. Chad Lewis. My roomie is taking your French class and he said some chick accused you of being a spy and then you threw her out. Is that true?”

“Is what true, Mr. Lewis? That I’m a spy or that I threw the student out?”

“Ah… both, I guess,” Chad said somewhat uncertainly.

“Well as to the student, no, I did not throw her out. She left voluntarily. As for my being a spy, well, you found me out. I am indeed a spy.” He gave them an exaggerated sigh and the students gasped, their eyes widening at the revelation. “I work for the ICFLT.”

“What?” came the response from several throats.

“Is that, like, you know, the CIA or something?” one of them asked.

“Yes, the ICFLT is like the CIA insofar as it is an intelligence-gathering organization.”

“What does it stand for, anyway?” another student enquired.

“It stands for the International Confederation of Foreign Language Teachers,” Alex replied in all seriousness and he wasn’t surprised when a few of the students snickered, “and I’ve been sent here on a very secret mission to verify whether or not previous intelligence which has been gathered is actually true.”

“And what intelligence would that be?” Chad Lewis demanded, looking skeptical, as if he wasn’t sure if his leg was being pulled or not.

Keeping his expression deadpan, Alex replied, “If you speak three languages, you’re trilingual, and if you speak two, you’re bilingual, but if you only speak one, you’re an American. So, Mr. Lewis… how should I categorize you?”

There was a second of total silence and then the entire class burst out laughing, Chad Lewis stood up and exclaimed in an exaggerated manner, giving them all a salute, “I AM AMERICAN!” The class laughed louder at that and a few even clapped as the young man sat looking very proud of himself.

Alex gave him a wry look. “Well, Mr. Lewis, if all goes well, by the end of the term you will not be able to declare yourself as such.”

There was more laughter at that. Deciding too much time had been lost over the issue of his being a spy, Alex skipped asking them why they were taking the class and went directly to the lesson. “So, if you’re all set on no longer being Americans, why don’t we take a look at the first chapter of your textbook? We will begin with learning the present tense of ‘to be’, which in Italian is essere, and like English, it is irregular.” He went to the whiteboard and began writing. “So, io sono, tu se, egli ê….”

When he returned to his office, he told Felicity about what had happened and by the time he finished, she was laughing so hard she was crying. “Oh my, that’s hysterical,” she said as she calmed down, wiping her face with a tissue. “I’ll have to remember that. So, you survived with flying colors. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Alex said. “Well, I should be getting home. Derek hasn’t called so I’m assuming he’s coming home tonight, so I should get dinner started.”

“Derek?” Felicity asked.

“My friend. We share an apartment.”

“Ah, so are you two… um….”

Divining what she was trying to ask, Alex grinned, shaking his head. “No. We’re not. We’re just friends. We were at Elf Academy together and when he got a permanent job with the Northern Lights Resort and I got this job we decided to share expenses. As the Elves would say, we’re gwedyr.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Her expression cleared. “Well, I won’t keep you. I’ll see you Thursday?”

“Yeah, sure.” He pulled on his coat and grabbed his bag and headed for the door, then turned. “Ah, maybe we could… you know… go out for a drink or something… er… sometime.” He silently cursed himself for sounding like an awkward teenager asking a girl to the prom.

“I’d like that,” Felicity said with a gentle smile. “Good night, Alex.”

“Good night,” he said and left, feeling a bit foolish, his cheeks warming. He hurried outside and to his car and in a few minutes was on his way home. When he entered the apartment it was to find Derek already there, setting the table for the two of them. A chicken was roasting in the oven, filling the air with its mouth-watering scent.

“Hi, how did it go?” Derek asked.

“Pretty well,” Alex replied. “You’re back early. I was going to make dinner.”

“Marty didn’t like the way the weather was looking so he sent people home early. I decided to treat you to a celebratory dinner in honor of your first day of teaching.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Here.” Derek came to the table and picked up the bottle of white zindfandel that was sitting there and poured some into a couple of wine glasses, handing one to Alex. “Cheers,” he said in salute, “and congratulations on making it through your first day intact.” Alex chuckled as they clinked glasses. Derek put his glass down after taking a sip and went back to preparing dinner. “So tell me all about it.”

Alex took an appreciative sip of the wine and then proceeded to tell Derek about his day. When he spoke of Felicity’s theory about the plant, Derek shook his head, coming over to the table to sit as they waited for the chicken to cook. “Man, what a bummer, but, you know, I wouldn’t worry about it. You have more qualifications than most even if you’ve never taught. Loren may have pulled strings, but I know you’ll prove to them that you were the right choice all along. At least this Felicity chick believes in you. Can’t go wrong if the girl likes you.” He gave Alex a cheeky grin.

Alex chuckled, lifting his glass to make a toast. “Here’s to the girl who believes in you.”

“Hear, hear,” Derek said and the two of them drank the toast. Just then, the timer went off. “Ah, looks as if dinner is ready,” Derek said and stood up, waving Alex back down when he would have stood as well. “Dinner’s my treat. Pour me some wine while I carve.”

Alex complied with the request and as they settled down to eat the dinner, Derek regaled him with a tale about something that had happened at work that had Alex laughing throughout the telling. Later, after the dishes were done, which Alex insisted on doing, they sat in the living room watching a movie but Alex’s mind was not entirely on the film. At odd moments he found himself recalling Felicity’s smile and the sparkle in her eyes and that image of her followed him into his dreams.

****

Author’s Note: My thanks to Ellie for providing me with suggestions as to how Alex might respond to the student’s accusation of being a spy.