𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 ⎮Neteyam x Aonung

seven

Neteyam flinched furiously at the sound of his name being called out by the teacher, who interrupted their English lesson for a quick moment. The last thing he expected to hear from the woman was her telling him to follow her to the principal's office.

Immediately the boy was able to feel his heart pick up its pace and the sweat starting to crawl out of his skin by creating little droplets on his forehead. A faint sting in his chest made him turn to his sister in panic, who shared the same look of horror. "What did you do?" she whispered frantically as her gaze darted from the teacher back to her visibly stressed brother.
After hesitantly getting up from the chair and readjusting the hood of his black sweater, Neteyam simply shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know!" he yelled at her in hushed tones before marching to the front with small steps.

Being the centre of attention with all of these pairs of eyes watching and observing him caused his anxiety to rise actively. He could feel the blood pushing up into his brain and the color of his face changing to a deep crimson that was getting hotter by the second. It got even worse when he heard "Ou, the nerd's in trouble!" followed by a sly whistle from none other than Ao'nung himself in the very rear. Fortunately, they had already exited the classroom and shut the door when the reef na'vi and his friends began mischievously laughing.

"Excuse me?" the boy muttered, his uncertainty shining through his voice after finally being able to breathe normally again. "Why does the principal want to see me? Did I do anything?" he added while feeling his tail flicking aggressively the closer they got to the office. The teacher slightly smiled at him in response, the harsh sound of her heels pounding on the ground ringing through the corridor. "I don't think you need to worry," the woman simply exclaimed as she knocked on the magnificent mahogany door with her free hand. She stepped to the side and pressed the handle to let Neteyam in, whispering a quiet "I can't promise anything, though!" before softly closing the door again and walking away. Her noisy heels made it abundantly evident to the young man.

Not even seconds after the 18-year-old stepped foot in the office, his nose was already overwhelmed by the scent of old books, wood, and a hint of leather. It smelled expensive, if that made sense.
As he gazed around in order to observe the luxurious-looking room, he accidentally lost himself in the beauty of the architecture. He quickly pulled himself together when he noticed the principal sitting at his desk with a faint smile displayed on his face. His hands were intertwined and rested comfortably on the surface. "Good morning, Neteyam. Thank you for coming here," the man said abruptly with a deep voice, one that the student had only heard once before—on his first day.

Without hesitation, Neteyam immediately seated himself on one of the dark green armchairs, greeting the man as well.
"You're here today because I wanted to offer you an opportunity to use and possibly expand your skills in the best conditions," the principal remarked as he tucked a single strand of his long, curly hair behind his shoulder. Neteyam, on the other hand, didn't understand a word the stranger had just spoken. "I'm sorry, I don't really understand.." he apologized before looking at the expensive name tag on the desk: Mr. Tonowari.
The man responded by giving a small nod. "I looked at your documents and grades from the school you attended before transferring here, because many teachers have already been talking about you, and it's only been a week. That's impressive," the principal replied forcefully, leaving Neteyam speechless. He was happy that he hadn't been called because he'd done anything stupid, but he still didn't know what the man was up to or where he was going with it.

"My intention is to offer you the opportunity to tutor my son. Obviously in exchange for payment. I know that this is very sudden, and I'm not expecting you to decide right away, but it would be a pleasure."

Neteyam was taken aback by the sudden request as he found himself unable to open his mouth and utter anything.

"Unfortunately, I am too preoccupied to do so myself. To be honest, we tried hiring professional tutors before, but he's too stubborn to listen to and learn from grownups. A little strange, I'm aware..." he added, followed by a lengthy and exasperated sigh.

While remained mute, the boy gradually began to rearrange his thoughts one by one. Was it worth his valuable time to tutor another kid who is probably simply too lazy to study? On the other hand, that would be effortlessly earned money.
"How many times and where would I be tutoring your son if I accepted, Sir?" Neteyam inquired in order to be more educated and to assist him in making a decision.

"Well, based on my son's behavior, it's probably best if you just came to our house. That, however, is entirely up to you. Preferably twice or three times every week, but if something comes up that prevents you from doing so, please let me know."

Neteyam felt himself letting out a breath he didn't even notice he was holding. Even if much of his previous anxiousness had evaporated, a tinge of nervousness remained in his veins. From the looks of it, he'd be getting paid well, but he was too afraid to ask how much it actually was.

The principal abruptly cleared his throat, causing the student to jump slightly in his seat. "I forgot to mention that we'd pay you $100 at the end of each week, if that's alright with you."

The moment those words left the man's lips, Neteyam's eyes widened and his lips parted in disbelief. That would be $400 a month from only a few tutoring sessions!
The youngster already suspected the principal's family to be wealthy, but he never anticipated them to pay him this much.
"They must really love their son.." he reasoned to himself.

"Um," he then mumbled gently to mask his surprise. "Yes, I think I could do that. It would be a pleasure to tutor your son, Sir. Thank you for choosing me for this opportunity," Neteyam said softly to the man, attempting to calm his pounding heart.

"That's fantastic news! I'll give you the address right away. Is it possible to begin on Monday at approximately 5pm?"
The man pulled an expensive-looking pen from his drawer and scrawled something on a piece of paper before sliding it across the desk and into Neteyam's hands.
The excited boy nodded without hesitation. "Of course, Monday is perfect."

"Excellent work. Thank you for your willingness to do so, Neteyam. You may return to class now, but if you have any further questions, please do not hesitate to email me, as we will most likely not see each other while you are at our place."

"I should be thanking you, Sir. I'll get going now,"was the last thing Neteyam said before he sprang out of his chair and hurried out of the office with noticeable haste. The excitement in his blood became too great to bear, for he would not only receive proof that he was already famous among the professors, but he would also earn some easy money without having to do much work.
A resounding success!

However, before stomping off, he forgot to ask one specific—and perhaps important—question.

"Who the hell is his son?"
.
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