Alias=Life
Cadet
A/N: I know that my readers have been wanting me to update my other stories (which I will get to very soon) but this idea was in my head and I couldn't fight it any longer. I get my new computer in a week and ditch this old, virus-infested felgercarb-box, so I'll update then. This is another AU story, taking place when Sydney is in high school. Sydney is a... well... I don't want to give too much away. You'll discover as you read. Vaughn is her substitute teacher who shows just a *little* too much concern towards her, which ultimately leads to other things. Hopefully, this satisfies my readers and my muse. Enjoy, Train Wreck
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Chapter 1--
Life seemed so pointless at times like these. She knew she had been taught to think otherwise-- eight months being taught otherwise-- but she couldn’t help it. It was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when the tunnel was really a labyrinth built to keep people from finding that light. To keep her from finding her light.
“You’re fine,” her father spoke.
It was a statement, rather than a question. She really wasn’t, but nobody dared to think the truth, out of fear that the truth would make things too complicated. The truth of the truth was that there was nothing complicated about it. People went through life, choosing to believe what they will, refusing to face the one, simple truth, the universal truth; that when you close your eyes, you have to open them sometime, and when you do, nothing really changes.
Everybody, except for her.
“I know,” she lied.
There was momentary silence that seemed to stretch out for ages. There was nothing awkward about it, the silence her and her father shared and embraced. Their silence spoke louder than both of them and their words ever could, making their positions very clear.
“Then get going.”
It was a process of baby steps; walking before running; testing the water before diving into the darkness of the unknown. Of course, there were those who progressed faster than others, those who learned to run before they learned to walk and those who did a cannonball into the frigid waters, the cold never bothering them, and splashing the onlookers in the course. She was one of them.
“You need to slow down, Sydney.”
Those words echoed in her mind. Maybe she was right. Maybe she did need to go back to the basics and reset. Now was her only chance at a fresh beginning and golden opportunity. She could dive in like she always did with everything else, only to regret her actions later when she realized that everybody else was still at the side and she was in the deep end, alone. Or, she could dip her toe in and slowly get used to the idea that everything was different and nothing was as it appeared. She could learn what she was diving into, adjust, then slowly begin to become one with her surroundings, starting shallow and going deeper.
Then again, that was never any fun.
Stepping out of the car, she gave her father a longing look. She had wanted him to say something like, “Have a good first day,” or, “Good luck at school today,” but their familiar silence took the place of her wish. It always did, because in the end, wants meant nothing and all that mattered was what could and would be done to survive. She had learned that and accepted that long ago; wanting everything and expecting nothing, but still holding onto the tiniest shard of hope; hope for that one day, that “Good first day” would come.
“So this is my new home?” she asked herself, as she heard the engine of her father’s car and felt the loss of its presence as it sped away, “I guess I’m trading one prison for another.”
It didn’t matter where she went, it was all a prison to her. She was a prisoner of herself; a prisoner of her mind, of her hope and of her fear. A prisoner of everything she had ever learned and everything she would come to learn, just like every other living, breathing person on this earth was. It all came around, full circle, the irony like a cruel joke told too many times; seemingly funny at first, but annoying as hell when the harshness of the joke takes its desired effect and we’re reminded of that severity seven times over.
The tiny suitcase she had at her side was lighter than one most people would carry. Come to think of it, it was much lighter. For someone with nothing but baggage, she carried nearly nothing with her. It wasn’t because she didn’t need it, but because she didn’t have anything to fill a suitcase up with, except for some clothes, a couple of books and her journal. It was all she had and all she needed to survive; again, about survival.
Unfolding the piece of now sweaty and crumpled paper which was clenched in her palm, she read the number off of it, looking around at her surroundings. It was your typical, rich private school, just like all of the other ones her father used to send her to, until she took her… leave.
As she made her way towards the dorms, she wondered if she’d have a roommate. She had had one at her last school and they didn’t get along very well. Julia was her name and she was very narcissistic. In her opinion, the world stopped when she did, and Sydney just rolled her eyes.
“I wonder if the dunce who puts us together even bothers to read our files.”
If he did, he would have learned that Julia and Sydney were polar opposites, ultimately leading to Sydney’s expulsion and Julia’s concussion and six stitches to the head.
“I can only hope for the best.”
Hope. There again, with that fruitless yet comforting word. The whole ideal of hope was ridiculous, yet so many people, even she, were guilty of getting by on it. It was impossible not to, and it was the only thing that brightened her labyrinth, acting as her candle. As soon as that candle blew out, she’d be alone in the dark with the monsters, which she understood and accepted, but still feared, all the same.
“I guess this is the building,” she thought, staring the structure up and down.
It wasn’t too big and it wasn’t too small; she hated big buildings, because she always seemed to get lost in the space and with small buildings, it was too easy to be found.
Hoisting her backpack over her shoulders and dragging her suitcase across the ground, she pushed through the glass doors. Looking back down at the slip of paper, she read her number off and memorized it.
“Room 47 A,” she chanted, it becoming a mantra on her lips.
Staring at the ceiling, a small sign hung down a few inches, indicating that the first fifty rooms were to the left, with rooms fifty-one through one-hundred to the right. The second floor had the same setup, with rooms one-hundred and one through two-hundred. The third floor was the lounge, the fourth a rec center complete with a pool, and then the roof was open to all students as well.
“Sounds basic enough,” she decided, heading to the left.
Nearing the end of the hallway, she finally found 47 A, sighing in relief that she hadn’t made a scene yet. She would just slip into her room, unpack her things, and enjoy a quiet evening alone… if her roommate would permit it.
Sliding her key into the lock and opening what would be her home for the next year, her eyes widened slightly and she couldn’t help but crack a little smile. Nice was an exception; the room looked like a really nice hotel suite.
“Looks like daddy got his money worth,” she noted, dropping her bags by the door and shutting it.
A queen-sized bed occupied the room, as well as a large, oak desk set, a television set, a phone, and even a couch. The bathroom was off the left as soon as you entered the room, and her smile grew wider when she realized the singular bed.
“One may be the loneliest number, but it finishes first every time.”
Walking over to the phone, she picked it up, pulled the cord out of the wall and tossed it in the nearby garbage can, “I won’t be needing you.”
She sat on the bed, running her fingers over the sheets; beige, floral print, followed by other semi-dark yet vibrant colors. The room on its own was nice, but bare. It didn’t bother her, since she had nothing else to put in it. Hell, her room at home was basically a box with a bed and a desk. She had gotten along just fine with that.
Walking back over to her suitcase, she tore through her things, not caring about neatness or where they ended up; nobody was going to be in this room anyway, so why did they care what it looked like? Finding the object of her desire, she grabbed her journal and her favourite pen, making her way over to the desk and grabbing a seat in the office chair.
Now for her favourite time of day.
----------
“I think you’ll find the students are more than helpful,” the principal Arvin Sloane said, placing a hand on his back.
“I hope so, since I’m just as new to this as most of them are,” he laughed.
Michael Vaughn had just been called last week to cover for a teacher at one of the most prestigious private schools in all of America for an entire semester. Apparently, the woman had had some medical problems over the summer and was due in surgery, as well as vigorous therapy. It surprised him, since he had only taught at a handful of other schools. Why would they call on him? Surely there were more experienced teachers they could find in LA.
“You should fit right in,” Arvin said, reassuring him one more time.
Vaughn nodded, as he and Principal Sloane finished their conversation and he headed towards the teachers’ quarters. Most, if not all of the students had arrived today and were getting settled. The new school year started tomorrow, Vaughn as one of the new English teachers. Checking his watch, it read 7:34pm. Most of the teachers would be at their quarters, too.
Entering the building, he noticed many teachers sitting around a coffee table, discussing what appeared to be their new classes and preparations. Most of them were older and middle-aged, but there was a handful of young ones there, much like him. A young man and woman stuck out right away, the woman smiling at him and the man signaling for him to come over, which he did.
“You must be Vaughn,” the man said, “Eric Weiss. I’m new here, too.”
Vaughn smiled and sighed, shaking Weiss’ hand, “Thank God. I felt like I was on a cruise or in a bingo hall.”
The blonde next to him laughed, covering her mouth. Vaughn turned to her, “And what about you?”
“Lauren Reed,” she said, her voice thick with her British accent, “This is my second year returning. I‘m a Chemistry teacher.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replied.
“You must be the new English teacher?” she asked.
“Yeah, that would be me. To be honest, I’m a little nervous,” he laughed.
“Don’t be. This is basically just like any other high school across the country; you have the clicks and the hormonal teenagers. The only difference is that there is a higher abundance of uptight snobs and loaded parents who flip out when it comes to their kids,” Weiss joked.
Vaughn could already tell that Weiss was the funny guy and new that they would become great friends, “What do you teach?”
“I, my friend, happen to teach the most important and interesting class of them all.”
“He’s a Gym teacher,” Lauren cut him off.
Vaughn and Lauren both starting laughing, “Hey, its Physical Education and it happens to be very important! Do you know the rate of obesity in teenagers these days? Its ridiculous!”
“We’re just teasing you, man!” Vaughn said, still laughing, slapping Weiss on the shoulder.
“You know those hormonal, uptight teenagers he was talking about? He’s the worst one of them,” Lauren joked again.
Vaughn felt a little bit better, knowing he wasn’t completely alone here. After all, he was only twenty-one, which was very young for a teacher. He did always excel at school and was smarter than most people, so he figured he’d be fine. Weiss looked to be around the same age as him and so did Lauren.
Still, knowing this piece of information, something wouldn’t settle in his stomach. He felt like something… big, was going to start tomorrow. Like this school would prove to be more to him than just a simple teaching experience. He feared it, but was excited at the same time.
----------
The first day of school starts tomorrow. Most people would either be excited and happy to be back with their friends, or freaking out at the fact that summer was over. I am neither. Maybe it’s the pills they’ve got me on, or maybe its because I’ve just never been one for big hellos and long goodbyes. I don’t know and I don’t really care.
Father decided that this private school, Mount Subasio, would be good for me and a good way to introduce me back to the real world. I wonder how he could possibly think that, since it appears to be the same as every other school I’ve ever been to. Then again, looks aren’t everything. I know this better than anyone.
I have a feeling. I don’t know what it is, as I’ve never experienced it before. It’s a feeling of… endless possibilities. No, that sounds stupid. Well… I can’t really describe it any other way. Maybe things will be better than they’ve ever been, or maybe they’ll be much worse. Maybe those eight months in complete solitude will prove to be good for me, like she said they would be. I don’t know what the future holds. Nobody does.
I can’t help but feel that this school will be much more than just another school, though. This feeling… it scares me… and excites me. I’ll write more tomorrow.
-Sydney
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Chapter 1--
Life seemed so pointless at times like these. She knew she had been taught to think otherwise-- eight months being taught otherwise-- but she couldn’t help it. It was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when the tunnel was really a labyrinth built to keep people from finding that light. To keep her from finding her light.
“You’re fine,” her father spoke.
It was a statement, rather than a question. She really wasn’t, but nobody dared to think the truth, out of fear that the truth would make things too complicated. The truth of the truth was that there was nothing complicated about it. People went through life, choosing to believe what they will, refusing to face the one, simple truth, the universal truth; that when you close your eyes, you have to open them sometime, and when you do, nothing really changes.
Everybody, except for her.
“I know,” she lied.
There was momentary silence that seemed to stretch out for ages. There was nothing awkward about it, the silence her and her father shared and embraced. Their silence spoke louder than both of them and their words ever could, making their positions very clear.
“Then get going.”
It was a process of baby steps; walking before running; testing the water before diving into the darkness of the unknown. Of course, there were those who progressed faster than others, those who learned to run before they learned to walk and those who did a cannonball into the frigid waters, the cold never bothering them, and splashing the onlookers in the course. She was one of them.
“You need to slow down, Sydney.”
Those words echoed in her mind. Maybe she was right. Maybe she did need to go back to the basics and reset. Now was her only chance at a fresh beginning and golden opportunity. She could dive in like she always did with everything else, only to regret her actions later when she realized that everybody else was still at the side and she was in the deep end, alone. Or, she could dip her toe in and slowly get used to the idea that everything was different and nothing was as it appeared. She could learn what she was diving into, adjust, then slowly begin to become one with her surroundings, starting shallow and going deeper.
Then again, that was never any fun.
Stepping out of the car, she gave her father a longing look. She had wanted him to say something like, “Have a good first day,” or, “Good luck at school today,” but their familiar silence took the place of her wish. It always did, because in the end, wants meant nothing and all that mattered was what could and would be done to survive. She had learned that and accepted that long ago; wanting everything and expecting nothing, but still holding onto the tiniest shard of hope; hope for that one day, that “Good first day” would come.
“So this is my new home?” she asked herself, as she heard the engine of her father’s car and felt the loss of its presence as it sped away, “I guess I’m trading one prison for another.”
It didn’t matter where she went, it was all a prison to her. She was a prisoner of herself; a prisoner of her mind, of her hope and of her fear. A prisoner of everything she had ever learned and everything she would come to learn, just like every other living, breathing person on this earth was. It all came around, full circle, the irony like a cruel joke told too many times; seemingly funny at first, but annoying as hell when the harshness of the joke takes its desired effect and we’re reminded of that severity seven times over.
The tiny suitcase she had at her side was lighter than one most people would carry. Come to think of it, it was much lighter. For someone with nothing but baggage, she carried nearly nothing with her. It wasn’t because she didn’t need it, but because she didn’t have anything to fill a suitcase up with, except for some clothes, a couple of books and her journal. It was all she had and all she needed to survive; again, about survival.
Unfolding the piece of now sweaty and crumpled paper which was clenched in her palm, she read the number off of it, looking around at her surroundings. It was your typical, rich private school, just like all of the other ones her father used to send her to, until she took her… leave.
As she made her way towards the dorms, she wondered if she’d have a roommate. She had had one at her last school and they didn’t get along very well. Julia was her name and she was very narcissistic. In her opinion, the world stopped when she did, and Sydney just rolled her eyes.
“I wonder if the dunce who puts us together even bothers to read our files.”
If he did, he would have learned that Julia and Sydney were polar opposites, ultimately leading to Sydney’s expulsion and Julia’s concussion and six stitches to the head.
“I can only hope for the best.”
Hope. There again, with that fruitless yet comforting word. The whole ideal of hope was ridiculous, yet so many people, even she, were guilty of getting by on it. It was impossible not to, and it was the only thing that brightened her labyrinth, acting as her candle. As soon as that candle blew out, she’d be alone in the dark with the monsters, which she understood and accepted, but still feared, all the same.
“I guess this is the building,” she thought, staring the structure up and down.
It wasn’t too big and it wasn’t too small; she hated big buildings, because she always seemed to get lost in the space and with small buildings, it was too easy to be found.
Hoisting her backpack over her shoulders and dragging her suitcase across the ground, she pushed through the glass doors. Looking back down at the slip of paper, she read her number off and memorized it.
“Room 47 A,” she chanted, it becoming a mantra on her lips.
Staring at the ceiling, a small sign hung down a few inches, indicating that the first fifty rooms were to the left, with rooms fifty-one through one-hundred to the right. The second floor had the same setup, with rooms one-hundred and one through two-hundred. The third floor was the lounge, the fourth a rec center complete with a pool, and then the roof was open to all students as well.
“Sounds basic enough,” she decided, heading to the left.
Nearing the end of the hallway, she finally found 47 A, sighing in relief that she hadn’t made a scene yet. She would just slip into her room, unpack her things, and enjoy a quiet evening alone… if her roommate would permit it.
Sliding her key into the lock and opening what would be her home for the next year, her eyes widened slightly and she couldn’t help but crack a little smile. Nice was an exception; the room looked like a really nice hotel suite.
“Looks like daddy got his money worth,” she noted, dropping her bags by the door and shutting it.
A queen-sized bed occupied the room, as well as a large, oak desk set, a television set, a phone, and even a couch. The bathroom was off the left as soon as you entered the room, and her smile grew wider when she realized the singular bed.
“One may be the loneliest number, but it finishes first every time.”
Walking over to the phone, she picked it up, pulled the cord out of the wall and tossed it in the nearby garbage can, “I won’t be needing you.”
She sat on the bed, running her fingers over the sheets; beige, floral print, followed by other semi-dark yet vibrant colors. The room on its own was nice, but bare. It didn’t bother her, since she had nothing else to put in it. Hell, her room at home was basically a box with a bed and a desk. She had gotten along just fine with that.
Walking back over to her suitcase, she tore through her things, not caring about neatness or where they ended up; nobody was going to be in this room anyway, so why did they care what it looked like? Finding the object of her desire, she grabbed her journal and her favourite pen, making her way over to the desk and grabbing a seat in the office chair.
Now for her favourite time of day.
----------
“I think you’ll find the students are more than helpful,” the principal Arvin Sloane said, placing a hand on his back.
“I hope so, since I’m just as new to this as most of them are,” he laughed.
Michael Vaughn had just been called last week to cover for a teacher at one of the most prestigious private schools in all of America for an entire semester. Apparently, the woman had had some medical problems over the summer and was due in surgery, as well as vigorous therapy. It surprised him, since he had only taught at a handful of other schools. Why would they call on him? Surely there were more experienced teachers they could find in LA.
“You should fit right in,” Arvin said, reassuring him one more time.
Vaughn nodded, as he and Principal Sloane finished their conversation and he headed towards the teachers’ quarters. Most, if not all of the students had arrived today and were getting settled. The new school year started tomorrow, Vaughn as one of the new English teachers. Checking his watch, it read 7:34pm. Most of the teachers would be at their quarters, too.
Entering the building, he noticed many teachers sitting around a coffee table, discussing what appeared to be their new classes and preparations. Most of them were older and middle-aged, but there was a handful of young ones there, much like him. A young man and woman stuck out right away, the woman smiling at him and the man signaling for him to come over, which he did.
“You must be Vaughn,” the man said, “Eric Weiss. I’m new here, too.”
Vaughn smiled and sighed, shaking Weiss’ hand, “Thank God. I felt like I was on a cruise or in a bingo hall.”
The blonde next to him laughed, covering her mouth. Vaughn turned to her, “And what about you?”
“Lauren Reed,” she said, her voice thick with her British accent, “This is my second year returning. I‘m a Chemistry teacher.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replied.
“You must be the new English teacher?” she asked.
“Yeah, that would be me. To be honest, I’m a little nervous,” he laughed.
“Don’t be. This is basically just like any other high school across the country; you have the clicks and the hormonal teenagers. The only difference is that there is a higher abundance of uptight snobs and loaded parents who flip out when it comes to their kids,” Weiss joked.
Vaughn could already tell that Weiss was the funny guy and new that they would become great friends, “What do you teach?”
“I, my friend, happen to teach the most important and interesting class of them all.”
“He’s a Gym teacher,” Lauren cut him off.
Vaughn and Lauren both starting laughing, “Hey, its Physical Education and it happens to be very important! Do you know the rate of obesity in teenagers these days? Its ridiculous!”
“We’re just teasing you, man!” Vaughn said, still laughing, slapping Weiss on the shoulder.
“You know those hormonal, uptight teenagers he was talking about? He’s the worst one of them,” Lauren joked again.
Vaughn felt a little bit better, knowing he wasn’t completely alone here. After all, he was only twenty-one, which was very young for a teacher. He did always excel at school and was smarter than most people, so he figured he’d be fine. Weiss looked to be around the same age as him and so did Lauren.
Still, knowing this piece of information, something wouldn’t settle in his stomach. He felt like something… big, was going to start tomorrow. Like this school would prove to be more to him than just a simple teaching experience. He feared it, but was excited at the same time.
----------
The first day of school starts tomorrow. Most people would either be excited and happy to be back with their friends, or freaking out at the fact that summer was over. I am neither. Maybe it’s the pills they’ve got me on, or maybe its because I’ve just never been one for big hellos and long goodbyes. I don’t know and I don’t really care.
Father decided that this private school, Mount Subasio, would be good for me and a good way to introduce me back to the real world. I wonder how he could possibly think that, since it appears to be the same as every other school I’ve ever been to. Then again, looks aren’t everything. I know this better than anyone.
I have a feeling. I don’t know what it is, as I’ve never experienced it before. It’s a feeling of… endless possibilities. No, that sounds stupid. Well… I can’t really describe it any other way. Maybe things will be better than they’ve ever been, or maybe they’ll be much worse. Maybe those eight months in complete solitude will prove to be good for me, like she said they would be. I don’t know what the future holds. Nobody does.
I can’t help but feel that this school will be much more than just another school, though. This feeling… it scares me… and excites me. I’ll write more tomorrow.
-Sydney