Chapter 75 – Josh’s Reaction
After a week of guidance from Jade, Miss Arrowot began to grow accustomed to the pace of teaching at the domus ragged school. Seeing this, Jade decided to let her lead the morning reading session, which lasted about fifteen minutes.
“It’s very simple.” Jade handed her the book. “Just read today’s passage from the textbook. You already know the routine and how to lead it. Just do it, and you’ll be fine.”
Jade gave Miss Arrowot a brief pep talk before they entered the classroom. The students were already seated, the blackboard cleaned, the floor swept, and everything prepared – slates, books, and pencils neatly arranged on their desks.
Miss Arrowot carried herself with the poise of a proper lady – calm, demure, elegant. Yet now her fingers trembled slightly, and Jade, who was holding her hands, could clearly feel how cold her fingertips were, despite her composed expression.
“Yes… yes…” Miss Arrowot pressed her lips together, withdrew her hands, and began twisting her fingers.
“Now, take a deep breath.” Jade gestured for her to follow, her gaze steady and encouraging. “Inhale, exhale… inhale, exhale… Yes, in, out, in, and out… No worries. I’m here. I’ll back you up.”
Jade gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, made sure she was ready, and pushed open the door.
Stage fright.
Jade had experienced it herself during her time at the pastry institute.
There had been a compulsory course called Public Speaking, which taught students how to present themselves before an audience – useful for demonstrations or pitching ideas to a room full of people after graduation. Many students dreamed of opening their own cafes or bakeries, and such skills were essentials for presenting their ideas to potential investors.
At first, Jade had thought it would be easy to speak in front of her classmates – hey, these were her classmates! They had spent two years together. They were familiar with one another. What was there to be afraid of?
Wrong.
Her heartbeat raced, her fingers trembled, her stomach churned, her temples throbbed, and she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. Her body refused to calm down once she stood on the stage, even though her mind knew perfectly well that the people before her were her classmates, and that her friends were sitting at the front row, offering emotional support.
It simply could not be helped.
The good thing was, in the end, her performance had been good – not excellent, but enough to pass.
And she had not been alone. Everyone who stepped onto that stage experienced something similar. One classmate had left the stage pale as a sheet, while another had suffered repeated stomach aches and rushed to the toilet again and again before his turn.
There was no shortcut to overcoming such fear. One simply had to keep practicing, to keep exposing oneself to it, until – over time – one could stand on stage with steady composure.
“Today, Miss Arrowot will lead the reading session,” Jade announced, offering a brief introduction before giving the new teacher a gentle nudge forward. She then turned to the students. “Now, Miss Arrowot will read a sentence, and you will repeat after her. Her accent is better than mine, so learn from her way of speaking, alright?”
Noticing the tension still lingering in Miss Arrowot’s grip, Jade gave her another light pat on her shoulder and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t worry. We practiced yesterday. Josh and Clara both said you did great! Mistakes are fine, I’ll cover for you.”
Miss Arrowot nodded, lips pressed tight. She opened her textbook, took a deep breath, and began her first sentence. “Students, turn to page 30. This is an excerpt from the Lumen Codex, Acts of the Radiant Ones, Chapter XVII. Line 12. Repeat after me. And in those days, Saint Aurellian walked among the lowly…”
She paused, and the student echoed her words.
Jade stood to the side, observing – making sure Miss Arrowot was managing well while also scanning the classroom to see if the students were paying attention. Most were focused. Only a handful fidgeted: playing with their fingers, sneaking glances at others as they repeated the lines, or idly scribbling with their pens.
They were not pranksters or troublemakers who would disturb the class. Instead, they remained quiet and composed in their seats. In fact, these few were the sharper ones who already seemed to understand what lay ahead for them.
Two of the boys were also in her tuition class. They paid close attention to handwriting and to the occasional lectures on manners and etiquette when Mr. Anderson had the time and energy to teach, likely preparing themselves for service positions. Another boy, who worked at the textile factory, had already secured a position as a lab boy upon graduation. His examination result and workbooks would serve as his endorsement.
There were also four girls, all of whom had developed additional skills in the tuition class. Jenny – Jade remembered her talent for needlework – was aiming for service. Another girl was diligently practicing velvet flower-making, while the remaining two focused on embroidery. All intended to use their handicraft as proof of skill when applying to seamstress workshops or dressmaking houses. Jade could easily imagine them preparing patterns to impress future employers – perhaps even presenting their work at the charity bazaar.
Jade turned her attention back to Miss Arrowot.
This new teacher was quick to find her rhythm – a capable young lady, which made Jade curious. Why had she chosen to join a ragged school? She could easily have applied to a proper girls’ academy or a boarding school. Such institutions would have offered structured training and far better conditions than this place.
Miss Arrowot, however, shared little about herself. She was rather quiet – very different from Clara, who had practically told Jade her entire life story once they became friends. There was something mysterious about her. Sometimes, Jade could not help but think: Hey, she looks just like the heroines in those serialised stories!
The new teacher finished the reading.
Jade immediately snapped back to the present and stepped forward. “Thank you, Miss Arrowot, for the reading session. Now, we will move on to the new vocabulary. Dictionary aside, we will first analyse the passage and try to guess the meaning from context…”
Jade decided she would give Miss Arrowot more responsibility the next day.
Later, after the tuition class, as she was about to discuss the matter with Miss Arrowot, Josh returned from the stall. He looked far more exhausted than usual – his typical grin absent. Raymond, who pulled the handcart alongside him, appeared just as worn out.
Jade cast a quick glance at the cart. The sacks that had held parboiled chips were empty; the pot of solidified tallow and stove were as usual; there was only a single sack of newly collected scrap fabrics – nothing particularly heavy.
“What happened, Josh?” Jade approached, gave him a quick once-over. “Where’s your facemask?”
The boy had always followed her instructions to the letter. Even if it made him stand out, he wore a facemask whenever the smog was heavy. In the cleaner air of the outskirts, he would usually pull it down to his chin.
Now, it was gone.
Before Jade could begin worrying that Josh had been bullied for wearing a mask – which, while considered odd by many, was not entirely unacceptable given the ongoing newspaper debates about whether masks could protect the lungs, and the fact that chimney workers already wore them – Josh spoke, sounding more confused than anything else. “Um, Sensei, someone bought my facemask.”
“... What?” Jade stared at him. “But you were wearing it. It’s already dirty!”
“That’s what I said!” Josh replied. “But he insisted… and paid me quite handsomely.”
Jade was curious, but decided to set the matter aside for the moment. “Come, both of you, have some water and rest for a bit first.”
She did not even need to ask further. After a short break, Josh began recounting what had happened.
Everything at the stall had gone smoothly, except for the number of customers asking when the additional penny skewer stall would reopen. After closing, he and Raymond had done as usual, pulling the handcart to the back of the seamstress and milliner shops to check for fabric scraps.
Perhaps they had collected too much in recent days for the tuition class, the shops they were familiar with had little to offer this time. After a brief discussion, Josh and Raymond decided to explore a new area, hoping that unfamiliar shops might still be willing to donate their scraps.
They managed to gather a full sack, thanks to the trading card Josh carried – a simple one Jade had made with her name on it, in case he needed to prove his affiliation or leave a contact address. It seemed Jade’s name had already spread to this area, which lay closer to a wealthier district.
“You’re her student?” The middle-aged seamstress who greeted them at the back door gave them an appraising look. “Just as I’ve heard, she has a talent for raising up the lowly. I admire her resolve in funding a school. That is a hardship I could not endure for even three months.”
Both boys understood immediately – this woman had once attempted to establish a ragged school herself, but had failed.
Josh lifted his cap and gave a small bow. “May the Light bless your path, madam.”
With a new connection secured, the boys set off to return. They had intended to head straight back, but an incident stopped them – they walked into a growing commotion.
A young lady shrieked as she cradled a man kneeling on the ground. “Matthew! Matthew! Somebody, help!”
A bouquet of exotic flowers lay scattered beside her.
Her desperate cries drew the attention of passersby, and a crowd quickly formed. Some shared her panic, calling out for help. Others watched from a distance with cold detachment. A few simply lingered, waiting to see what would unfold.
“It’s asthma!” one man in the crowd exclaimed. “I recognised the sound, it’s asthma!”
“Get a medical man*!”
“Where’s the medical man? The man’s suffering!”
“We should get a doctor!”
Voices rose, overlapping in confusion and urgency.
Raymond glanced at Josh, who stood frozen in place. “Josh?” he said. “We better get going. It’s getting late.”
Josh turned to him – and to Raymond’s surprise – dropped the handle of the handcart. “Watch the cart. I’ll be back.”
Then, before Raymond’s widening eyes, Josh ran toward the crowd, shouting as he went: “Make space! Give him room! Someone get me hot water, I need steam!”