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Umberth College - Page 90 - On to class. - By Nightmare49 - Overview
Chapter 19: Mrs. Mott-Fodsel
Original Author: symbiote

Facing a tide of oncoming students now, Jen thought it best to ride the flow. Her first class was Modern History, which was on the way back to the dorm. See? Easy work. She kept up with the crowd for a while, but eventually was overcome by the front-runners who were on their way back to their rooms. Twice, she thought she could hear her name being called. Afraid the caller might in fact be her annoying roommate or her annoying roommate’s twin sister, she ignored it. Eventually, she broke away from the mob and began her trek around to the front doors of the History Building.

The rounded two-story building was, aside from the truly curved bricks, unimpressive. The doors were painted blue, with large panes of glass above and below the central metal frame. She had to descend two steps to get to these doors, as the whole of the building had had the appearance that it was sinking. The first floor windows almost touched the ground, and she could see inside to the spacious classrooms. The doors opened easily, well-oiled and counter-weighted so it couldn’t be slammed open or shut. This surprised her a little- if the teachers ate with the students, why didn’t they lock the Department doors?

Armed with this knowledge, she quickly moved across the off-white faux-marble tiles, her shoes squeaking a little as she went. She stopped at the first classroom door she saw and turned the knob. As with the door to outside, it opened easily. This was awesome! If for any reason she felt like sneaking into one of these classrooms, she could just skip her meal and have that time to herself! It was amazing that these freaky unbirth-types were so trusting. She would exploit that trust, if she was able.

Gingerly, she closed the door and practically skipped to the end of the hall, where a flight of stairs led up to the next floor. In addition, there was a door (locked, sadly) next to the staircase marked ‘To Basement’. Since the first floor was practically underground already, a basement level boggled her mind a bit. However, as her first class was supposed to be on the second floor in room 206, she ascended the staircase. Behind her, she heard loud squeaking noises and new that at least some of her classmates would be coming up behind her shortly.

A little to her dismay, when she crested the top stair she saw two people in front of her classroom, a blonde man and a dark-haired woman, liplocked in a lusty embrace. As soon as the woman saw her, her eyes widened and she pushed the man away, whispering something to him. Then she straightened her blouse and skirt and opened the door, turning on the light behind her. The man lingered a bit, watching her go in, then spun on his heels, clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and began walking the other direction. He winked at Jen as they passed each other.

She rolled her eyes. At least she hadn’t caught them having sex, or worse, unbirthing. It was bad enough witnessing her fellow students, but the teachers? She might have to stand up and puke. And how in the heck had they gotten up here so fast? She hadn’t seen them outside, and was sure she’d seen him, at least, in the Dining Hall. It was something worth investigating.

She followed the woman, who had taken to busy work setting up her podium. It was a bit like a director’s stand, with a little step up, and a lectern with which to hold her notes. The woman smiled as she came in, as if just noticing her. “Ahh, Rocca, Jennifer. You’ll be sitting in row 3, there near the end. It’s marked.” Jen wondered for a moment how she already knew her name, but then looked and saw that yes indeed, a copy of her picture and name was taped to one of the desks near the end. This one she grabbed, folded in half, and stuck into her pocket.

Jennifer sat down, then pulled her notes from her envelope once more. “Mrs. Mock-Food-sell? Is that how you say your name?” she asked, reading her schedule as best as she could.

”’Mrs. Mott-Fodsel’. The secretary made an error when she typed that up,” said her teacher, a little annoyed. “It’s Mott. Not Mock. And the last part is ‘fyoodz-ull’. There, now you’ll never make that error again.” Her smile never broke, though it did look a little strained. There was a little pause. “You’re early.”

Jen did not waver, “First day. Good impressions, and all that.” This caused a hmmm in her teacher, who then went back to busy work.

Jen looked around the room a bit. The desks were really old-school, not much more than a chair with an armrest, really. The desktop, barely large enough for a sheet of paper, could fold up and then slide down next to the seat. Beneath each seat was a small metal basket attached, with a thick black and silver book inside. Out the window, Jennifer could clearly see her dorm room, and saw that Gina was there, changing into ‘normal’ clothes.

'Damn!' She thought, 'I wanted to talk to her, too!' She considered getting up and going over there, but decided not to. Besides, Gina would be done and gone long before Jen even left the building.

Within moments, other students began to arrive. Among As soon as the last student had entered, Mrs. Mott-Fodsel turned and wrote her name on the board. Then she underlined it. Twice. With a third line under the double-t and all of Fodsel. Then she turned and said, “Mrs. Mott-Fodsel. The secretary made an error when she typed the schedules up. It’s Mott. Not Mock.” She smiled and put down her chalk, “The last part is pronounced ‘fyoodz-ull’.” She seemed to overemphasize the L, as if she was chewing on it. “There, now you’ll never make that error again.”

A few of the students laughed. Jen groaned a little inside. Then Mrs. Mott-Fodsel clicked her tongue as her man had done, then held up the black and silver book, “Speaking of errors, this is Modern History: The Legacy of Umbert, written by my husband, Matthew Fodsel. Not Mott-Fodsel. He wanted me to make sure you knew that. Something about being a man, hairy grunts and egos and all that.” Again, a few students laughed.

Not Jen. Up until that moment, she had convinced herself that her classes, at least, would be semi-normal. She knew now that she was doomed.

As it turned out, the class...
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