A/N: Update time! I'm going to try to pick things up early in this story, just to lay everything out so everyone understands it. This story is pretty big in terms of plot, so, enjoy 
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Chapter 3
“Did everybody read the first scene in Romeo and Juliet that I assigned for homework?”
Half the kids replied “yes,” the other half was silent. Of course everybody didn’t read it; there were a handful of kids in every class who did nothing but jerked around and didn’t even deserve to be in University Prep.
“You guys, you’re old enough to know how to do your homework,” he scolded, walking around the classroom and taking note of who had completed it.
He stopped at Sydney, her head down, “Did you read the first scene?”
“No,” she replied.
He sighed, messaging her temples, when she gave him her explanation, “I’ve read it a dozen times before.”
“Really?” he said, not so disappointed, “Then why don’t you read your answers to the class for the ten questions I assigned?”
“I’d really rather not…”
“Oh, come on. If you’ve read the play, then I’m sure you did well on them,” he encouraged.
“I just don’t want to read them out loud,” she said, her voice depicting a hint of annoyance.
“Why not?” he asked, not understand her hesitant behavior.
She said nothing, just put her head back down. The entire class had been watching and were now exchanging their opinions on this peculiar girl. Suddenly, he understood.
“Oh. Well, that’s all right. Why don’t you hand them to me and I’ll read over them real quick.”
She nodded, figuring that was the best it was going to get. Her other teachers either made her read aloud or threatened to fail her, which she didn’t really care. This guy seemed reasonable, so she grabbed the pieces of papers she wrote her answers on, passing it to him.
“Whoa,” he said, briefly flipping through them, “This is, like, Tolstoy long.”
“Have fun,” she said, plastering a fake smile on her face and went back to putting her head down.
He walked to the front of the class, placing the papers on his desk, “All right, since this is only the second day in, I think I’ll let you guys off the hook on this one. But, know this; fail to complete your homework three times, I call home and inform your parents about your academic careers.”
Sydney rolled her eyes; like her father even cared. Well, he did, but he also knew enough to know that things were never going to change, so he had given up.
“I want you to read the second and third scenes from the book and complete the answer sheet I passed out at the beginning of class. Your answers will help me determine whether or not you’ll remain in this class,” he explained, hearing the kids moan and groan.
He would use this opportunity to read over Sydney’s answers;
Question #1: From what little we’ve seen and heard of the Montague - Capulet feud, what do you think caused it and why is it still going on?
A simple question. He expected a few sentences for an answer, but was surprised when he found three pages entirely on this basic question. He skimmed through it, getting an idea of what his pupil was trying to tell him.
What caused this feud? People. Human beings. Since the beginning of time, everything we’ve done was to excel and to be the best. People could care less about others, as long as they’ll come out on top. Its human nature to kill each other and bask in riches the dead has left behind. So, while it isn’t stated exactly what sparked the flame between these two families, the answer lies in the answer to all human actions and reason; nature. The darkness, greed and resentment each and every one of us possess. In the end, we destroy those we claim to love with it and pretend to be heartbroken and act like it’s a tragedy, when really, we knew it was coming all along and deep down, all we care about is that our lives are still intact. What caused this feud? We did.
He was silent, nodding his head as he read through her answer. Never had he read a sixteen year-old student write such a lengthy, detailed and somewhat philosophical response. He had never pictured things like the way she wrote them, but the more he thought about it, the more he had to agree. In short, the answer was brilliant.
“Sydney,” he said, disturbing her attempt to sleep, “Out in the hall, please.”
She sighed, wondering what she did wrong this time, but obeyed his command. She shuffled into the hall and waited for him to arrive behind her. He shut the door behind him and looked down the hall, making sure nobody was listening or watching.
“This answer--”
“Morbid? I know. I’ll change it. I just thought--”
“Its brilliant.”
“What?”
Teachers had called her work many things before, but never brilliant. She didn’t even think it was brilliant, “Its just the truth.”
“Exactly,” he smiled, “Sydney… I’ve skimmed through the rest of your responses and I have to say, I’ve never seen someone so talented with words. Too bad you don’t speak up.”
She stared at her feet, understanding what he was saying. Her father had said that to her once, that she had such a gift and it was a pity she chose not to use it. She chose not to use it because she feared the consequences; every gift came with a curse and she wasn’t exactly looking forward to watching that gift blow up in her face.
“Why don’t you want to read your answers? Believe me, you have nothing to be ashamed of! I can tell you right now, if you keep going like this, you’ll without a doubt receive the highest mark in my class.”
That came as a surprise to her. She knew she was smart, but she didn’t think she was anything outside of the ordinary, aside from her… problems. She smiled a small smile, but it was probably the most sincere she’d ever done.
“I…”
“If you don’t mind, would you stop by my classroom after school? I would love to discuss your answers in further detail,” he proposed.
“I… I can’t,” she replied, pushing past him and heading back into the classroom, leaving him standing there.
He smiled. She was holding back. He didn’t know why, but something was stopping her from herself. Fear. But what was she afraid of? Him? Everybody. Herself.
“Sydney Bristow,” he said to himself, “What’s up with you?”
He was sure he’d heard that name before. Maybe if he pulled her student file, he could find more answers.
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“Sydney Bristow?” Lauren asked, shoveling a forkful of salad into her mouth, “Of course I’ve heard of her. Who hasn’t? We all received our warning.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, growing defensive, “She’s a little… guarded, but there’s nothing wrong with her.”
“You have her in your class?” she asked, dropping her fork into the bowl, “I’m sorry.”
“Well, I’m not. Now tell me, what’s up?”
“There’ve been… incidents with her before. Not here, but at previous schools,” she explained, “At her last school, she hospitalized a girl. The one before that, she set the classroom on fire. Those are only a couple on her list of many unfortunate events.”
Vaughn couldn’t believe it. Sure, there was something dark about her, but he couldn’t believe she was some violent sociopath like Lauren made her out to be, “You’re lying! She’s not like that at all!”
“Ask any teacher you want! Call her old schools! They’ll tell you the same,” she ended the conversation, going back to her salad, “I don’t write the facts, I just see them.”
Staring intently at her, he could tell there was still something else that she was hiding.
“And…?”
“And… what?” she countered, trying to dodge his suspicion.
“Your hiding something. Tell me,” he said, his tone serious and demanding.
She finished her salad, tossing it in a nearby garbage can. She stared him in the eyes, a fearful expression across her face, “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes, of course! She’s my student!” he said, pushing her.
She sighed, “All right. When she was six years-old… she killed her own mother.”
His world stopped and he wasn’t able to process what Lauren had said, “You… you’re lying! Why would you say such a terrible thing! She’s not like that at all!”
“You don’t even know her!” she shouted, her anger starting to rise.
“Then why didn’t anything happen? Why did they just let her walk around like she was fine?” he asked, defending his student.
“They couldn’t prove it, but they knew. Besides, what good would it do them to prod a traumatized child? It would make things even worse.”
“And nobody ever said anything? Nobody ever did anything?” his fury was erupting now. He couldn’t believe it. Even if it was true, which he didn’t believe, everybody stood back and watched as this girl went through life alone? No wonder she was the way she was.
“She’s been out of school for a year,” Lauren said, “Because she spent it in a Psychiatric Ward. They said she was sane enough to join us this year, but they’re still keeping a close watch on her. You should, too.”
With that, Lauren stood from their picnic table, walking towards the teachers lounge to prepare for her next class, leaving Vaughn sitting on awe.
“That can’t be right… it just can’t be… could it?”
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She was sitting at the table by herself, stabbing tiny holes in her apple with her fork. She wasn’t hungry. She hadn’t eaten in a day, but she still wasn’t hungry. Her mind kept wandering back to her morning and talk with Mr. Vaughn.
“What’s his deal, anyway?” she asked, putting her fork down, “Why does he care?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone making an advance towards her. She said, gripping her fork tightly, “What do you want?”
It was Jimmy from her English class, the boy who hated her with a fiery passion and who’s hatred she met with her own. He was significantly taller than her, with a muscular build. He had black, messy hair, like a surfer, with bright, blue eyes that contrasted with his hair. His skin was a marvelous tan color and most girls would die just to talk to him, except for her. She saw through his façade. Why was he here?
“Look, we got off on the wrong foot--”
“Can it. I know what this is.”
She wasn’t a fool. Many had tried this tactic before, but she’d never fallen for it. Looking up from her plate, she could see all of his jock friends staring at them, struggling to keep straight faces.
“Why don’t you go back to your little friends and tell them to mind their own frackin business. I’m not going to play your game, pal, so don’t even try,” she threatened.
“Actually, they’re kind of pissed at me right now. I mean, because I’m sitting next to you and all,” he said.
“And why would that be? Its not like you had a choice?” she asked.
“Yeah, I know,” he laughed, “But… well… I don’t think they’re really my friends, you know?”
“No, not really.”
Maybe Jimmy was telling the truth. Even still, she didn’t trust him. She couldn’t. She went back to poking around at her lunch.
“Can… I sit with you?” he asked.
“Why?” she snapped, “Don’t you get enough of me in class.”
“Actually, no. We never talk and I don’t even know you. If we’re going to be spending the semester as partners, we might as well come to some sort of understanding,” he explained.
“Wow, those are some big words you’re using. And partners? We just sit next to each other. That doesn’t make us partners,” she said.
“Yeah, but that’s Vaughn’s rule; your desk partner is your partner for assignments,” he replied.
She groaned, resting her head in her arms. Things were looking grimmer than ever.
“I know,” he said, “So… can I sit with you?’
“It’s a free country,” she shrugged, “Knock yourself out.”
He set his tray down next to her and began to eat his burger. He never dared to say something or make an attempt at conversation. He didn’t know her that well yet. She just sat in silence, ignoring him and allowing her mind to wander back to the mysterious Mr. Vaughn.
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Mr. Vaughn said that I’m brilliant. I don’t really agree with him. He seems like a nice guy, but nice guys finish last. He’s too naïve to see what everyone else sees. I may never understand him, but I’ll keep doing my homework and answering the questions the way he likes. At least a good grade can come out of this.
That asshole Jimmy from my English class sat next to me at lunch. I think he’s trying to pull the classic, get-close-to-the-freak-then-embarrass-her prank, but I can’t be sure. Something about his story did seem honest. Whatever. Its his life. As long as he leaves me to my business, I’ll do the same, and if he tries to pull something, I’ll call him out.
I can’t stop thinking about Mr. Vaughn, though. He actually seemed to care and be concerned. If he knew the truth, I know he’d run away just as fast as everyone else does…
-Sydney Bristow
