Handshake

Michael and Jones kept talking for another hour, both happy with another's company. Somewhere along the way, Jones began talking about his past.

"Oh, I had my future all planned out," he began, "I was bright, handsome and young. Even though I got scoffed at sometimes because of my looks."

"Your looks, sir?"

"Perhaps racism isn't as widespread in Europe, Michael, but in America it's still harder for black people to push their way to the top. Even in politics. Everything was going great at one minute and went down the drain the next. I was working for a senator, one of those people responsible for campaign strategy, you know? And then, one week before the election, that cretin's nerves break down. He goes to a strip-club, accosts one of the girls, almost assaults her and the next day the papers paint him as a horny misogynist who can't keep his…" Jones squinted at Michael, "laser pointer in his pants."

Contrary to Jones's expectations, the kid flushed crimson. His embarrassed face was so unfamiliar to Jones that the man couldn't contain his laughter.

"Sir?" Michael grumbled softly.

"Haha, sorry, sorry, it just feels like I've finally seen the kid in you for the first time!"

"What do you mean, I am a kid," was his wary response.

"Frankly, I've never thought of you as one ever since you told me you were an adult. Not with words," Jones clarified, "But with your eyes. You might not remember, it was a split moment when you almost left the classroom after your tirade. You grabbed the door handle and turned back, and you looked at us. In that instant, I felt as if I'd heard you say, 'None of you are better than me'. No child is capable of the emotional depth you showed back then."

"You gleaned that from one look?" Michael stared incredulously at the man.

"You could say, I'm more perceptive than most," smiled Jones modestly, "But now I know it to be the truth. You are far more developed than your peers. Care to comment?" he waved an éclair like a microphone.

"I don't have anything to say. I've always been like this," shrugged Michael. This was neither the time nor the place to reveal his secrets to the man.

"Ah, I guess."

Both emptied their cups at the same time and reached for the kettle. Their fingers forced it to emit a pitiful clink as the empty kettle trembled from their simultaneous touch. Jones stood up to refill it with water and Michael excused himself for a bathroom break.

As he wandered the halls, he imagined meeting Apoll, the man who had made his mother cry. After wondering why he'd reacted so darkly, threatening to ruin his manhood with a knife, Michael decided to write it off on his anger issues. It was impossible to survive for ten years wallowing in hatred and malice; and come out perfectly sensible. However, now that he knew the man's story, Michael's anger dulled like a tired blade. In the past two days, he had thought of taking revenge on whoever several times, but Apoll's actual situation only brought out pity in Michael.

The man's position had been provided by Kamyshov as a way to strengthen his own position. Apoll barely qualified to teach the younger students but he was good with kids. His enthusiasm when teaching was genuine. However, as Kamyshov's person, he could never establish trust with people like Jones and Graves. In the end, he had to fulfill the Russian's disgusting requests and was fired without delay. He had no connections of his own and Kamyshov would never expend more of his blackmailed "friends'" influence to help someone useless like Apoll.

When Michael returned to office 211, he blurted a question right after crossing the doorstep, "Did Kamyshov really think his plan would work? First, there was the surname which pointed in his direction. And then, all his plans relied on me quietly leaving back to Russia without anyone making any noise."

"It wasn't that bad," shrugged Jones, "If not for your 'performance', Marco would have appeared like the ideal candidate. Then, Kamyshov would only have to push him through trial classes somehow. His emergency scheme with the call was lackluster, sure, but I doubt he held any real hope for it to go quietly. He probably expected to be forced to rely on his connections since the very start."

Michael nodded several times to show his agreement. On that note, the two ran out of the serious topics and simply chatted for another hour. It was time for lunch when Jones decided to call it a day. They couldn't survive only on sweets and biscuits after all!

"Well, this was lovely, Michael. I do hope you will visit me again someday during the school year."

"Of course I will. I kind of have to, I owe you after all," Michael replied with confidence, similar to the way Jones had announced it before.

The man pursed his lips and spoke, "Nah, you don't. We're even."

"Excuse me?"

"You might not know it but you've really helped me out. Even if Kamyshov is still untouchable for now, Apoll's been fired. That means Graves will hire another history teacher soon, and I will have an opportunity of vetoing the candidates. If I manage to hire someone who will support me, then Kamyshov will be outvoted and outgunned at every turn. That would both make my life easier and his so much harder," smiled Jones.

"So, we're even. You don't have to come see me again if you don't want to."

Michael was torn between his go-to tactic of avoiding troubles and the newfound sympathy for Mark Jones. Perhaps, the man wasn't the perfect gentleman, but his honesty and openness appealed to Michael's trust issues. Yes, he had an agenda of his own, one he never attempted to hide. The relationships he lured his future protégés into benefited them just as much as him. From this point of view, Jones was an opportunist but not a bad person.

On the other hand, as Michael understood well, the man could prove a dependable ally seeing as their enemy was the same man. This fact clinched it for Michael. A normal boy would've never made this "deal with the devil" but as an adult he knew the worth of a comrade.

"Friends then?" he asked, acting naïve on purpose, extending his hand.

"Let's draw the line at being associates for now."

Well, at least Jones didn't try to make Michael trust him. Or did he see through the attempt at feigning childishness and played along?

As gifted as Michael was at learning, he never had a head for mind games. He settled for trusting the man for the moment. As they shook hands, Michael remembered their brief talk in the hallway, Jones's words made so much more sense now.

"…Do you think you possess something most people lack? Do you think among millions it's you who is worthy of more than most?"

Michael had lived a hard life, traveled to another world, was found by Splendid Glory and became a cultivator. He indeed possessed something no one else had in the entire world. So what if he had a long way to go? For the first time in the last ten years, Michael could smile while thinking about the future.