autumn_in_philadelphia

Saturday

"Whoa! Does this stuff stink!" Shawn exclaimed waving his hand in front of his face. He wrinkled his nose in repulsion at the acrid-smelling concoction he and Cory had created. The bathroom was a mess- tubes and capless bottles lay all over the counter and floor.

"Yeah," Cory agreed with an expression that mirrored his best friend's. "It smells like the chemistry lab after that Hopkins guy blew up a burner last year."

He leaned over the plastic container that held a foul-looking green sludge. "Yech!" he remarked as he stuck his finger into the goop.

"What's it feel like?" Shawn questioned, brushing his long bangs out of his face.

Cory pulled his finger out and held it in front of him.

"I dunno," he said tipping his head to the side as he studied the slime oozing down his index finger. "It feels like...like..."

Suddenly, his eyes popped open and his mouth lengthened in a silent cry of pain.

Shawn jumped up from his seat on the bathroom floor. "What is it! What's wrong!"

"F-f-f-fire! Fire!"

"What! Where?" Shawn spun around looking for flames.

"Feels like fire!" Cory shrieked, jumping up and down, shaking his finger crazily. "It feels like fire! Get it off, Shawn! Get it off!"

The boys scrambled wildly around the small bathroom, bumping into each other and everything else.

"WaterwaterwaterWATER!" Cory frantically shook his head in the direction of the sink.

"Right!" Shawn turned the faucet on full blast, flooding Cory's green fingertip in a torrent of water.

"Hot! Hot! Hot!" Cory continued to writhe in pain.

Shawn blinked at him.

"The water, Shawn! You turned on the hot water!"

"Wha-? Oh, sorry. Sorry." Shawn quickly made amends by turning the faucet head to the right.

Relief washed over Cory's face as the burning sensation died away. Eventually, he took his finger out of the stream of water. He and Shawn inspected the abused finger which was an angry shade of red.

"Ow..." Shawn moaned.

Cory stared at him. "Whadya mean 'ow'? It's my finger that was burned."

Shawn squinted at him and shrugged. "I feel your pain-"

The bathroom door flew open just then and slammed the wall with a forceful crash, making the boys involuntarily jump. Eric stood in the doorway breathing heavily.

"Out," he huffed. "Now."

Cory forgot about his injured appendage. "Hey, it's my bathroom, too. You can't just barge in and tell us to leave. We were here first."

"Oh, yeah?" Eric smiled tightly at them.

"Yeah," Shawn and Cory replied in unison.

"I see." He stepped a ways into the bathroom. "Okay, let me put it this way: I have a date in two hours..." He put an arm around Cory and the other around Shawn. "And I have a huge zit on my forehead. NOW GET OUT!"

Cory and Shawn found themselves standing in the bedroom with a locked bathroom door behind them. Cory's shoulders drooped and he sighed. Shawn looked confused.

"Great," Cory flopped down on his bed. "Now what?"

Shawn looked at him. "Lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling?"

"We did that last week."

"Oh, yeah." Shawn sat Indian-style on Eric's bed. "Now what?"

In the bathroom, Eric was in a panic. There was no way he could let Amanda see him like this and yet there was no way he could break their date...he had worked for over a month to get her to go out with him; he may never get another chance with her. He rummaged through the shelves of the medicine cabinet looking for something that promised fast results. Coming up empty, he scoured the bathroom looking for anything that might work. His eyes fell on a plastic container filled with a green goop. "Acne-fighting facial wash" the label read. Eric frowned. It couldn't hurt to try it.

He picked the container up and dipped his fingers into it.

"Whoa! Does that reek!" he exclaimed aloud. He cringed at the odor, but glopped it on his face anyway.

Outside, the boys were still sitting on the beds. Their laborious task of staring into space was rudely interrupted by a blood-curdling scream from the bathroom.

"So, little girl, what part of New York are you from?" Jonathan smiled at the face Audrey made at his nickname for her.

"The Village," Audrey tapped her pencil against her nose and absently flipped through her folders. She sat at the kitchen table which was stacked high with books and papers, most of them hers.

"Really? What street?"

"Sullivan," she replied with a raised eyebrow, wondering what it mattered to someone from Philadelphia. "You know Manhattan?"

"Do I know Manhattan?" he scoffed, handing her some papers. "I was only born and raised there."

He looked up and winked at her. "Few blocks over from you on Waverly. Spent all my spare time in Washington Square when I was a kid."

"No kiddin'?" A broad smile broke over Audrey's face. She instantly felt less lonely just knowing that she was in the company of a fellow Manhattanite. "How come you never said you were from New York?"

Jonathan shrugged. "It never came up. You haven't exactly been the world's biggest conversationalist this week, ya know."

Audrey laughed lightly. "Guess I haven't," she admitted, tucking a lock of silken fire behind her ear. Her voice had lost its proper, almost British- sounding tone; the New Yorker in her was no longer inhibited.

He gave her a mischievous grin. "What's another name for New York?"

It took her a moment to realize what he was asking and when she did she merely shook her head, not about to take the bait.

"The Big Apple," she returned saucily, pretending to be immersed in her notes.

"Come on," he urged with a pleading look. "Lemme hear ya say it. No one around here says it right."

Audrey teased him by hesitating before she obliged. "Long GuyLen," she drawled. "A 'nother name for New Yawk."

Jonathan grinned.

"My aunt, Ruth, lived on St. Mark's Place when it was the main drag for the hippies. What's the Village like now?" he asked taking a seat across from her. It was incredibly nice to hear the familiar accent from someone other than himself. "Been awhile since I've been there."

Audrey crinkled her nose. "It's kinda over run by college kids from NYU now. In fact, almost everyone who lives there is associated with the University somehow."

"You say that with some annoyance sounds like."

She shrugged. "I liked the Bohemian vibe it used have. You know, when all the musicans and artists and writers used hang there. When it was really unique. Now it's just like the rest of the City."

Jonathan nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it was no big thing to see guys like Bob Dylan and Simon and Garfunkel at the local folk clubs." He faltered slightly when he realized that Audrey was probably too young to know who they were. "Listen to that," he said shaking his head, trying to make a joke out of it. "Does that show my age or what? You've never heard of 'em, have you?"

"Are you kiddin'! Of course, I have. You don't grow up in the Village and not know who they are! In fact, my dad worked at one of the clubs on Bleeker Street that Dylan used to frequent; he'd always have these great stories about Mr. Dylan comin' in and playin' the joint."

Audrey folded her long legs underneath her. "Whadya miss the most 'bout home?"

Jonathan thought about that for a moment. "Pie," he said finally without explaining what he meant by "pie". "Nothin' can come close to..."

"John's Pizzeria!" she said with him, giggling. He laughed.

"Absolutely. Best pizza in the world, I say."

They grew silent, each thinking about home. Sudden waves of homesickness hit Audrey.

"How'd you end up teaching and here?" she asked, fidgeting with her pencil.

Jonathan looked at her intently, debating on how much to tell her. "I was a serious screw-up as a kid- got into a lot of trouble. I had this teacher who managed to get through to me somehow, so..." he tooked a deep breath. "I decided to get serious about school, went to college- NYU, in fact- and became a teacher. I served my internship in Jersey and got a job out here last year."

"So your teacher- you followed in his footsteps?"

"Her footsteps," he corrected gently, smiling in reminiscence. "Yeah, she never gave up on me. Should have, though, she really should have."

"That's why you're doin' what you're doin' for Shawn, huh?"

Jonathan met her tranquil gaze, surprised that she had made the connection. They hadn't talked about the situation with Shawn; he had only mentioned that the boy was staying with him until his parents came back. He nodded in confirmation of her assessment.

"George doesn't understand why I'm doin' this," he said. "but I know that it if hadn't been for Mrs. Danvers I'd be elsewhere right now and very bad off." He sighed and leaned against the table. "I see a lot of myself in Shawn when I was his age. I don't want him to go through all the junk I through. I want things to be better for him."

He stared into the distance with a morose expression. Audrey reached across the table and rested her hand on top of his.

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU BOTH!"

Cory and Shawn thundered down the stairs, into the living room, and through the kitchen past a very surprised Allan Matthews. Eric followed just seconds behind them, a thin green ooze clung to his reddened face. He raced past his dad, jarring the cup of coffee that Allan held. The beverage splashed out of its container and splattered his tie.

The screaming and house-shaking brought Amy Matthews out of her bedroom. She found her husband standing dumb-founded in their living room. Her daughter sat calmly on the couch brushing her doll's flaxen hair.

"What is going on?" Amy looked from Alan, who just shook his head and muttered incoherently about his tie, to Morgan.

"Eric is going to kill Cory and Shawn," she sweetly told her mother.

"And why is he going to do that?"

Morgan shrugged and resumed styling her doll's hair.

The boys streaked through the living room again and this time Eric was quite aways behind them, the pain he was experiencing was slowing him down. Morgan looked at him, made a face, and left.

Amy blocked her oldest son's way to the kitchen.

"What's going on, Eric?"

"Nothing." Eric swiped at his inflamed face with his shirt sleeve. "I'm just going to hang Cory and Shawn."

Amy gave him a reproachful look.

"I mean hang OUT with them," he said with a plastic smile.

"Sure you are," Amy guided him over to the couch. "What is this stuff on your face?" She pulled back from him slightly. "And why do you smell like that?"

Eric laughed callously. "This?" he pointed to his face. "Well, you know I have this big date today right?"

"With Amanda, yes..." Amy regarded him through narrowed eyed, suspicious of where this was going.

"And you know how I woke up with this little, um, shall we say, facial irritation this morning?"

"The barely visible pimple you were concerned about. Yes..."

"Yeah, well, I went to put some medication on it and," his voice began rise, "Cory and his stupid friend turned my whole head into A BURNING ERUPTION!"

"Eric!" Amy pushed him back down onto the couch. "Calm down and stay put."

She walked over to the bottom of the steps and peered up.

"Cory! Shawn!" she called in a neutral tone. "May I see you, please?"

A few moments later, the two culprits slinked down the steps.

"Yes?" Cory gave his mom a charming grin. Shawn hid behind him.

"Care to explain what your brother put on his face?"

Cory's grin froze on his face. "Well, it's a very funny story actually..."

Amy folded her arms across her chest. "Make me laugh," she challenged.

"Well," Cory sensed Shawn trying to creep away, so he reached behind his back and grabbed his friend's shirt tail. "Ya see we were kinda bored and thought, hey, let's mix a bunch of stuff from the bathroom together and see what we get...ha ha ha... and well, we kinda got this stuff that smells real bad and burns like crazy... see..."

He held his finger up hoping to garner some sympathy from his mother. She wasn't impressed.

"Why did Eric put it on his face?"

"That-that's the funny part," he stammered. "See, we kinda, sorta used Eric's almost empty face wash jar to mix all the stuff together in and, I guess, that's why he used it?"

"You just ended that whole thing in a question," Shawn observed in a whisper.

"Huh?" Cory's features marred in confusion. Apparently, his best friend had been living with their English teacher too long. "Look, if you're not going to say anything helpful, don't say anything at all."

"Cory?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"I'm not laughing."

"No, no." His face fell. Cory knew fully well that he was in big trouble and that his mom would most likely call Mr. Turner and tell him about the whole thing and Shawn would be in trouble too. "You're not laughing."

"Maybe you don't have much of a sense of humor, Mrs. Matthews, and that's why you're not laughing," Shawn offered.

Amy arched her eyebrows and gave him a warning look.

"Okay," Shawn's face reddened in embarrassment. "I'm not going to say anything else."

Amy was about to further reprimand the boys when another scream was heard from upstairs.

"Mom!" Morgan ran into the living room with her hands over her ears. "Make Eric stop yelling!"

Jonathan couldn't believe it was noon already; the morning had flown by and he and Audrey had accomplished nothing on their agenda.

"Wow," he remarked, pushing his chair back from the counter. "Look at the time. Ya wanna go grab something to eat? There's no John's Pizzeria 'round here, but Chubbie's ain't too bad."

Internally, Audrey cringed at the mention of food. Externally, she smiled.

"Why don't I make lunch?"

"You don't have to do that," he said, though a homecooked meal did sound good. He didn't do any cooking outside of sticking a frozen meal into the microwave and Katherine wasn't exactly a domestic goddess. "Besides, I don't think there's much of anything to make lunch with."

"Oh, I can find something," Audrey said, already investigating the food supplies. "And I don't mind at all. I like to cook. Mum taught me how to take nothin' and make somethin'."

"Mum?" he repeated with amusement.

Audrey gave him a sheepish look and blew her bangs out of her face. "My mother was born in Walton-on-the-Thames in England," she explained, taking some miscellaneous items out of the cabinet. "She lived in London all her life or at least until she met my dad. I guess I've picked up some British habits and sayings from her."

"What's she like?" Jonathan watched with amazement as the redhead easily found her way around the kitchen.

"Hmm..." Audrey said in response. "Incredible. Her name was Elizabeth Julia Wells. Everyone called her Lizzy. She was beautiful. She had bright blue eyes- almost electric blue- flawless peaches'n'cream complexion, and red hair, which she kept short. She was fabulous-'practically perfect in everyway'."

She paused and a sad, distant look descended over her eyes. "She met my dad while she was in New York on a visit. They married a few months later and had me the following spring. Mum taught English at the high school my dad had graduated from. Then she got sick. She died when I was thirteen."

Jonathan sucked in his breath; he hadn't expected that news. "Hey, wow, I'm sorry..." he faltered, unsure of what to say.

Audrey smiled. "It was a long time ago," she said. She straightened up and smiled. "Do you mind brunch instead of lunch?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Not at all."

While Audrey began cooking, he suddenly remembered Katherine and the plans they had had for lunch.

He reached for the phone and began to dial when he stopped abruptly, unable to recall the last two digits of her number. He gave up and opted for the speed dial number instead.

The phone rang several times before Katherine finally answered.

"Hey, Kat."

"Jonny, hey." She seemed surprised to hear from him. "I was just on my way over."

"Yeah, about that," he paused momentarily. "Look, things are taken longer than I planned and seems like it's goin' to take awhile still." It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't exactly a lie. Still he was surprised that he neglected to mention a few minor details about the real reason for the date cancellation.

"Oh. Well, that's okay. Tomorrow maybe," Katherine didn't sound overly disappointed but she didn't sound too pleased either.

"Hey, you can still come over. It's-"

"No, really that's alright," she interrupted him.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. See you later, Jonny."

"Yeah, later." Jonathan hung up the phone with an inexplicable guilty feeling burdening his shoulders.

"Good Lord, Eric!" Amy exclaimed as she ran into her sons' room. "What is it now?"

Eric was staring flabbergasted into the bathroom mirror. "Ita, um, it's goo- ...It's gone!"

Amy studied her son in confusion; she had no idea what he was talking about- she rarely did.

"What?"

"My face!" he cried pushing his nose up against the glass.

Cory and Shawn stood behind Mrs. Matthews and exchanged looks.

"You're brother's a nutcase," Shawn pronounced in a hushed voice.

Cory gave him a "duh" look and peeked out from behind his mother. "Eric, you're face is right where it's always been. It's your brain that's gone."

"Co-o-ory!" Amy said in a warning tone.

"No, you dork," Eric made a face at his younger brother. "The zit on my face! It's gone."

"Let me see." Amy stepped over to him and examined his forehead. His color was finally normal again and Amy could clearly see that he was right.

"Wow," she said stepping back. "It really is gone."

She turned to the boys behind her. "No more mixing anything together, do you hear me?"

They nodded their understanding.

"Alright," she said walking to the door. "No more. You wait until you take chemistry to do that."

"Yes, ma'am," Cory replied humbly and nudged Shawn.

"Yes, Mrs. Matthews," he said.

After Amy had left, Eric advanced on Cory and Shawn.

"Hey, guys," he grinned.

Cory gulped and Shawn got ready to run; Eric grabbed them both by the shirt collar before they could bolt.

"I just want to say thank you. You little nothings are genius'. Now I don't have to call Amanda tell her I died. Way to go. I owe you."

He let go of them and walked out of the room, whistling as he went.

Cory stared after him then he slowly turned to Shawn, a goofy grin spread over his face.

"Shawn, do you know what this means?"

"That you're nutcase brother isn't going to kill us?" Shawn shook his shirt trying to straighten his crooked collar.

"No, no. We're genius'!"

Shawn gave him a condescending look. "No we're not. We're the guys who scored a collective twenty-four on one of Feeny's tests, remember?"

"It was a twenty-eight and that's not what I mean. What I mean is that we just created a product that will clear up pimples in a matter of minutes!" Cory's voice rose in excitement. "Do you know what that means?"

Shawn looked at him and blinked. Cory was unphased by his friend's apparent cluelessness.

"It means we're going to be rich, we're going to be famous, we're-"

"Going to be Genius Nothings!" Shawn cried catching Cory's enthusiasm.

"Absolutely!"

It was nearly six when Shawn got back home. He and Cory had spent the rest of the afternoon planning how they were going to market and sell their "miracle soap". Eric's date had gone so well that he was more than happy to endorse their product- he didn't even mind that his and Cory's bedroom smelled like ammonia and had to be aired out. The two friends were thoroughly convinced that this was one of their best schemes ever and completely foolproof. Nothing could go wrong with this get-rich-quick plan.

Shawn opened the door to the apartment he shared with Jonathan and was met by a home-y aroma of dinner cooking. He frowned and double-checked the number on the door to make sure he was at the right place. After all, Jon didn't do much cooking and he didn't know if Miss Tompkins did- he usually ate with Cory when she was over. The number on the door showed that he was at the correct location and he stepped cautiously inside the apartment and glanced around. Everything was as it had been when he had left that morning. Jonathan was sitting at his desk grading papers- nothing unusual except for the smell.

The kitchen was another matter, however. For one thing, it was in use. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he saw Audrey opening the oven door. It was a scene that he had seen before at the Matthews', but had never truly experienced firsthand.

Jonathan glanced up. "Hey," he said in greeting before returning to his work.

"Hey," he returned, walking over to the kitchen table and leaning against it. So this is what Cory goes home to every night.

Audrey turned around and her face lit up when she saw him.

"Hey, Shawn." She took off her oven mitt. "I'm so glad you're here."

Shawn looked at her in puzzlement. "You are?"

"Absolutely. I hope you haven't eaten yet."

"Nah, no." He ran a hand through his hair as a funny feeling settled in his stomach. "Smells great."

The feeling stayed with him throughout dinner as the three of them talked and laughed. Jonathan helped Audrey clear the table after the meal and Shawn watched them. Everything was surreal as though he were dreaming. The adults weren't yelling and fighting as was so often the case at home before his mom left. He didn't feel like a guest like he did at the Matthews' as great as they were and all. And he didn't feel like an intruder like he did when Miss Tompkins was over. He felt...content...for once in his life. It was a strange feeling-one he couldn't quite put into words- but it was nice.

Cory's so lucky to have this feeling all the time

Shawn settled himself on the couch and flipped on the TV while Jonathan cleared his desk and Audrey picked up her things and jacket.

"Hey, Miss Andrews," Shawn said suddenly, afraid that if she left so would the contentment he felt. "Could you stay and maybe watch some TV?" He cast a glance in Jonathan's direction, wondering if he was stepping out of bounds with the invitation.

"I should get going," Audrey looked from Shawn to Jonathan and back again. "I don't want to wear out my welcome."

"Come 'on," Jonathan said, silently thanking Shawn for asking her to stay. "It's still early."

Audrey hesitated a moment, then set her things back down. "What the heck," she shrugged as she and Jon joined Shawn on the couch.

It was around ten-thirty when Shawn drifted off to sleep. Audrey gently cradled his head as she moved it from her shoulder to the couch pillow. Jonathan took the afghan off the back of the couch and tucked it around the boy's shoulders.

"I've never seen him look so peaceful," Jonathan murmured.

Audrey zipped her jacket up and stood by his side. After a moment, she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"You're doin' a good thing here, Jon," she said quietly.

He looked at her with a small smile. "Thanks," he returned. "I needed to hear that."

She gathered her belongings and slung her purse over her shoulder.

"Hey," Jonathan called softly just as her hand was on the doorknob.

Audrey paused and looked back at him.

"You finally called me Jon."

She smiled and slipped out the door.

The final bell of the day rang much to Jonathan Turner's dismay. He still had another ten minutes before he had to meet the student teacher, and was hoping that something would come up so that he could cancel it.

Watching the seconds creep by was unnerving, so he re-read the letter from the school board he had received on Tuesday.

"Thank you for agreeing to serve as a cooperating teacher for a student teacher from City University of New York." "Like I had a choice", he muttered under his breath. "Student teaching provides an exciting opportunity for our candidates to fully embrace their role as emerging professionals and to practice what they have learned about the teaching/learning process.

Effective communication is critical to a successful student teaching experience, and this handbook is one means of encouraging that communication. It is intended to serve as a supplement to other materials..." Blah, blah, he thought unhappily and sighed.

You have been selected as a cooperating teacher because of your strong dedication to the teaching profession, your history as a highly skilled and effective teacher, your willingness to mentor someone into your profession, and your high level of professional ethics. We deeply appreciate the time, energy, and expertise you share with our student teachers. Thank you!"

He really didn't mind student teachers being around- he just didn't want them in his classroom if only because he remembered his less than stellar student teaching days. He had been a royal thorn-in-the-side to his cooperating teacher for the most part of his internship and made the year unnecessarily difficult for them both.

Jonathan leafed through the file Feeny had given him on his student teacher with five minutes left to kill.

Andrews, Audrey Theresa

Graduate from City University of New York; fully admitted into Teacher Education

maintained a 3.7 GPA; passed Praxi I; completed all prerequisite course requirements; outstanding academic record

Audrey's resume was picture perfect and reading it made him think of Topanga who no doubt would end up with a similar resume one day.

The rest of the file contained personal information on Audrey; she was a New York City native, 21-years-old, graduated valedictorian from Elizabeth Irwin High School.

One piece of information that Jonathan found interesting was that she had attended four semesters at Julliard in addition to her sophomore and junior years of high school. The record didn't state what she studied there or why she failed to complete her training; it only reveled that she had received an unprecedented invitation to attend the prestigious performing arts school while still a high school student.

Time obstinately shuffled its feet along and he absently studied the handbook. Again. The book fell open to a chapter entitled "The ABC's of Working With A Student Teacher".

Allow your student teacher to take risks.

Be a positive role model.

Comment on the good things you see.

Don't interrupt his lesson.

Enjoy your time with your student teacher.

Find time just to talk.

Give frequent and sincere praise.

Have a thank-you party for your student teacher on her last day.

Introduce your student teacher to every staff member in the school.

Just be yourself.

Keep an open mind.

Listen! Listen! Listen!

Model effective teaching strategies.

Never criticize your student teacher in front of others.

Observe him regularly and provide immediate feedback.

Provide her with the materials she needs for success.

Quickly include your student teacher in your classroom routine.

Reinforce her strengths.

Support your student teacher's ideas.

Treat him to lunch occasionally.

Use your student teacher's abilities whenever possible.

Value and respect his opinions.

Warmly welcome your student teacher to your class.

X-cellent teaching ideas in your files? Make copies for your student teacher.

You are the experienced professional. Always reflect that in your behavior.

Zero in on areas in which the student teacher needs help, and provide support.

"Good grief," he thought disdainfully. "Almost sounds like they want you to date 'em."

A soft rap at the door interrupted his musings. He instinctively glanced up at the clock first; still four minutes to go until his meeting. He turned his attention to the doorway where a girl he didn't recognize stood. She glanced around the room with wide stormy eyes. She would have looked as though she stepped off the cover of Allure if it hadn't been for her apparent nervousness. She clutched a couple of folders in front of her.

Jonathan raised his eyebrows slightly. Must be one of the new students, he thought.

"May I help you?" he asked.

The girl jumped slightly. "Y-yes," she said weakly. She cleared her throat and frowned at a piece of paper in her hand.

"I'm looking for a Mr. Jonathan Turner." She had steadied her voice and sounded more confidant than she looked.

Jonathan stood up and came around to the front of his desk. "That'd be me," he said after a moment.

The girl stood straighter and smiled slightly as though she had just overcome her biggest hurdle.

"I'm Audrey Andrews," she said with a warm grin and extended a pale hand to him. "Your student teacher."

Again, Jonathan's response was a bit delayed as he studied her. He ventured to guess that it had been dance that she had studied at Julliard- she had a ballerina's slight build and seemed to exude a grace and poise in spite of her nervousness.

Jonathan mentally shook himself from staring at her.

"Right," he replied, slightly embarrassed. He took her hand and gave her a stiff smile. He wasn't entirely sure what he had expected the student teacher to be like, but she wasn't at all what he had imagined.

The meeting went by swiftly as Jonathan gave her an overview of what to expect. She seemed greatly relieved that she would only be observing for the first two weeks. Jonathan covered everything on his agenda much faster than anticipated; Audrey listened intently to everything he had to say and when he was finished, she asked him a series of questions about her internship. As the meeting progress, she became more comfortable and demonstrated that there was an intellectual mind behind her pretty face.

Jonathan was impressed by her preparation- something he hadn't done for his cooperating teacher. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe...

Audrey stood up at the conclusion of their meeting, shifting her books to rest on her hip.

"It was really nice to meet you, Mr. Turner," she said. "I can't wait to start."

"Yeah," he smiled and paused a beat. "Nice to meet you, too."

She flashed him a shy smile and walked out of the room, waist-length fiery tresses swinging as she went.

Audrey checked the clock every few seconds as she danced around the tiny kitchen of her miniscule apartment, opening and closing the cabinet and refrigerator doors without taking anything out.

She knew she had to eat something, but nothing appealed to her.

Maybe I could skip breakfast just this once. No one will know...

Audrey shook her fiercely as though trying to get the though out of her head.

No, no, you have to eat! she told herself. Come on!

The redhead grabbed a banana and poured a glass of skim milk. She forgot about the time as she forced herself to eat the piece of fruit. She managed to eat it and choke down the milk. Audrey steadied herself against the kitchen countertop, fighting to stop her body from rejecting the sustenance. Waves of nausea rolled over her.

It's all in your head, Aud. You can to do this...

Eventually, the feeling subsided and she was able move again.

Audrey glanced at the clock again and decided to go ahead and leave for school.

What's wrong with this picture? he wondered rhetorically to himself.

With an arched eyebrow, he studied Shawn suspiciously.

"Hunter."

Shawn didn't respond; his attention was locked onto to something behind his teacher.

"Hey! Hunter!"

"Huh? What?" Shawn blinked and looked up at Turner. "I haven't done anything yet."

Jonathan ignored him. "You never sit in the front. Why are you sittin' in the front?"

Shawn sighed dreamily and returned his attention back to the front of the room.

"Because English is my favorite class," he stated with a slightly goofy grin.

"Uh-huh." Jonathan took the hint and turned around. As he expected, Audrey was busy preparing for her first day of observation and was thus the reason why the front rows were filled with guys. It didn't explain one thing though...

He walked to the back row and stood in front of Eric.

Eric looked up at him and seemed annoyed.

"What are you doing in my room?" Turner wanted to know.

"I'm here for class," Eric responded as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Jonathan smiled sardonically. "Okay, but there's one problem with that."

"What?" Eric kept moving trying to see around the teacher.

"You're not in my class."

"So?" Eric stood up, but he couldn't see over Turner's head. "I signed up. Could you move, please? You're blocking the view."

Jonathan let out an exasperated sigh.

Cory Matthews entered the room just in time to hear his English teacher say,

"Get out of my room, Matthews!"

"All right," A confused Cory turned around and headed out the door. "I'm goin', I'm goin'."

Jonathan glanced up. "Not you. Your brother."

"Oh," Cory smiled sheepishly and entered the room again. "Right."

A dejected Eric reluctantly left, but Cory stopped him.

"Why are you here?"

Eric cast a longing look over his shoulder. "Just enjoying the view," he replied pushing his bottom lip out in a pout.

Cory shook his head convinced that his brother was a nutcase. "Whatever." He took a seat next to Topanga who wasn't happy to have been relegated to the back row.

"Okay, everyone," Jonathan said to begin the class. "We have a special guest who will be with us for the year. She's from the City University of New York and will be doing her student teaching here. Class, this is Audrey Andrews- that's Miss Andrews to you."

A collective sigh was heard from the front row boys.

Yeesh, Jonathan thought. This ain't going to be a cakewalk.

Mr. Feeny stopped by Mr. Turner's class to see how thing were progressing. He stood outside of the door, observing through the window.

Audrey was introducing herself to an oddly quiet class. While the girls asked her questions about herself, the boys gawked at her, all but drooling. She was quite engaging to watch actually- George seemed to recall that she had taken several public speaking courses and had been actively involved with theatre throughout high school and college and thus knew how to hold an audience. But the boys weren't the only ones whose attention she held.

George frowned slightly as he noticed that Jonathan seemed equally enchanted with her.

That won't to do, he thought dourly.

With a final glance at Turner, Feeny retreated to his office vowing silently to watch the young English teacher closely.