In With the A Crowd

Author: Janet (SkyGirl5)

Genre: S/V, AU

Summary: inspired by Never Been Kissed - When Sydney Bristow receives the once-in-a-life-time opportunity to work on an undercover assignment back in High School she is foolishly hopeful that her past experiences would lend her the wisdom to succeed that time around. Sadly, she is very mistaken and ends up being utterly miserable. That is until she reveals her secret to a certain English teacher who just might admire her on more levels than one. [22]

Disclaimer: Sydney, Vaughn, etc are properties of JJ Abrams and ABC. And NBK is owned by whoever owns that.

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Chapters 1-10 // Chapters 11 - 22 + Epilogue

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Prologue

“Bristow! Bristow, get your ass in here!” editor in chief George Carlen shouted out of his office. It was just a few hours before The Herald went to press and his migraine was already beginning to set in. To make matters even worse, he had one reporter forced into early maternity leave and another laid up with a broken wrist an arm after a wayward jet skiing vacation. He was down to his last resorts and they were not looking pretty.

A moment later a mousey looking woman with her matte brown hair in a messy bun at the back of her head and glasses that took up half of her face skidded into his office. “Yes, Mr. Carlen?” Sydney Bristow asked, pushing her glasses further up on her nose.

“I need you on an assignment, Bristow,” he growled, regretting his decision before it was even made. This woman before him was really not what he had in mind but, sadly, she was all he had, so she would have to due.

“A-an as-assignment?!” she stammered. She was just a fact checker slash occasional editor and had never actually been given a real writing assignment before. Of course, she had always wanted one, as her dream profession was being a reporter extraordinaire, but since she was just twenty-four years old she was willing to work her way up to that position, as long as she did not have to work too long.

“Yes, an assignment – an undercover assignment. This is big stuff, Bristow, and you can’t screw it up!”

“Un-undercover?” she stammered, once again adjusting her glasses. Sydney’s mind reeled as to where she would be doing this undercover work. With the mob? No, too risky. With the government? No, too illegal. With a local business? No, too boring. Perhaps, she thought finally, it was with some sort of foreign war. Yes, yes that was a possibility, albeit a terrifying one.

“Yes,” Mr. Carlen continued, “At McMillan High School.”

Oh. High school. The other battle ground. “High school?” Sydney repeated, trying to make her voice sound as upbeat as possible. High school – yeah, that was just a blast the first time around. For Sydney, high school was…well, the seventh circle of hell was putting it mildly. But the second time around had to be better…right?

“Yes, on Monday morning you’ll be enrolling as a senior there. You’re young enough to pull that off, right?” Mr. Carlen asked. He knew that Sydney was not very far out of college, though it was difficult to tell her exact age, which was hidden beneath dark rimmed spectacles and thick bangs.

“Yes sir…what is my assignment there?” she asked, praying it had nothing to do with cheerleading or athletics, two of her weakest points.

“It’s up to you, but I expect you to make notes on potential subjects and submit them to me weekly, understood?” Mr. Carlen asked gruffly. Sydney nodded. “Good, now here, take this.” He held out a manila envelope, which Sydney took from his hands. “It contains all the information you’ll need. Have a nice first day,” he said, obviously mocking her. Then, he dismissed her from his office and Sydney hurried away quickly, nearly hyperventilating. What had she gotten herself into?



Chapter 1

McMillan High, population approximately one thousand students ranging from grades 9 through 12, towered three stories above her as she stood on the sidewalk, chewing her on her bottom lip. All around her students with backpacks slung over their shoulders were milling around, meeting up with friends and laughing, exchanging answers for last night’s homework assignment, or chatting about what happened over the weekend. They were all having fun (or as much fun as one could have at seven fifty in the morning while on the way to high school); all except Sydney, that was. She was terrified.

She was going back to high school. It should have been a simple assignment, of course. After all, she had done high school before; graduated with a 3.9 grade point average, in fact. And it would have been easy had high school actually been a nice time for her. Heck, even if it had been an alright time. But no, of course, for her it had to be utter torture. Every single day walking down the sidewalk towards a looming brick building was like walking the green mile towards the executioner’s chamber. She knew each and every moment inside those hallowed halls would be filled with snide remarks, teasing, and time spent with only her teachers, her only real friends in the whole school. So yes, she was very much anticipating her new assignment – anticipating its end.

It’s going to be fine, she tried to tell herself. True, her own high school experience at East Granite High had been one horrific nightmare, but now she was older and wiser. She could use her own experiences as a how not to, so to speak. As long as she did exactly opposite as she had done eight years earlier, everything would be fine…in theory, of course.

Taking one last deep breath, Sydney decided that some mental coaching would help her get through that terrifying moment when she set foot into McMillan High, her new “office” for an indefinite period of time. She told herself everything was going to be fine; she was going to take it one day at a time. Maybe she would even enjoy her experience there; maybe it would be good for her. After all, she was going back to a place that was once the bane of her existence. If it went well the second time around, some old, still bleeding wounds might just have been healed. And, if not, it would be a learning experience none the less.

With one final adjustment of her new glasses (slightly smaller than the old ones with silver frames instead of ebony), Sydney ascended the stairs leading into the school. There, she was met with something completely nonexistent during her own high school days: a security check point and metal detector. This was very surprising to her. Of course she had heard of such things in larger, inner city schools – it was practically a necessity there – but in the medium sized town of Nixon, Maryland? This seemed slightly unnecessary. Then, from the banks of her memory she recalled an incident two years prior at a neighboring school district where a boy brought three knives to school intending on doing some ill harm to classmates. With this in mind, she figured the school added it simply as a precaution.

After setting her backpack down on a table like the other students, Sydney passed through the metal detector thankfully without setting it off. She smiled politely at the security guard rummaging through her belongings, but he seemed to be ignoring her until he asked, “Where is your school ID?”

“Oh…this is my first day,” she told him politely.

“You need to go to the office,” he told her, pointing behind him. Sydney nodded and picked up her bag, thanking the man for his help. He said nothing, but merely scowled at her and watched her walk towards the office as though she was some sort of criminal. Slightly unnerved, Sydney pushed open the office door and waited patiently for the secretary to finish her phone conversation.

Fifteen minutes later as Sydney was exiting the school’s office, packet of information in hand, a bell rang over head and the students in the hallway began to scatter. Glancing down at the schedule she held, Sydney found that this was the warning bell, giving the students five minutes to get to homeroom, which began at ten minutes after eight. Pausing at a water fountain to find the map also given to her by the school’s secretary, Sydney quickly determined the quickest way to room 205, which held her homeroom and her first period English class. Smiling softly at this, Sydney hurried towards the nearest stairwell; if English (her favorite and best subject) was her first class of the day maybe this assignment was not going to be so bad after all.

While Sydney was attempting to hurry up the stairs she unfortunately tripped on one of her untied shoelaces, which resulted in her tumbling down a few stairs. In a crowded stairwell this was the absolute worst situation. Students immediately began tripping over her on their way up to the second and third floors, shouting out, “Freak,” and “loser” as they passed.

A few minutes later, once the bell signaling the start of homeroom rang, Sydney was able to stand up and brush herself off. Then, she continued her climb up the stairs, both ego and body slightly bruised.

When she arrived at room 205, not surprisingly all the students were already seated and facing the front of the classroom as roll was being called. So much for slipping in unexpectedly. Sighing, she grasped the door handle and pulled it open as quickly as possible, which emitted a loud squeak resulting in everyone looking her way. Immediately, the students in the classroom began whispering and talking about themselves, most likely discussing the new girl’s outfit which was nontraditional to say the least. Very loud plaid pants, a baggy white sweater and a gaudy beaded necklace with black men’s work boots was not the way to subtly begin one’s career at a new school. Sadly, Sydney was not entirely aware of this fact.

“May I help you?” the man standing at the front of the classroom asked.

“Yes I…” That was the last coherent word that came out of Sydney’s mouth, for when she turned her head sideways and caught a glimpse of the man speaking to her, her jaw hung slack. The sandy-haired stranger, who she could only presume was her new teacher, was just a few years older than herself. His brilliant green eyes shone with kindness and his smile made her knees wobble. He was dressed in a crisp light blue dress shirt with a dark tie – navy perhaps, maybe forest green; it was hard to tell – and khaki pants looking utterly perfect.

Without even realizing it, Sydney stood there for nearly a full minute looking progressively more and more like a mental patient as the whispers in the room grew to a loud hum. “Are you alright?” the teacher asked finally, noting her silence and peculiar expression.

“What? Um, yes,” she managed, her face growing dangerously hot. “I’m…new here…,” she gulped. Was it at all possible that she happened to be invisible at that moment? Nope? Damn.

“Oh right, I got an email about you,” the man said, walking over to his desk. After rummaging through a few stacks of papers he pulled one out with an, “Ah ha! Sydney, right?” She merely nodded. “Alright then Sydney why don’t you have a seat right there in the middle. I’m Mr. Vaughn, by the way.”

Sydney mumbled something incoherent under her breath before scurrying over to the vacant seat in the middle of the classroom. There, she sunk down into the oh-so-uncomfortable hard plastic chairs until her nose was barely visible above the desk, wishing she had an invisibility cloak stashed in her backpack. If the first two minutes were any indication, it was going to be a very long semester.



Chapter 2

Since homeroom was only eight minutes long, giving just enough time to take roll and read any important announcements if necessary, Sydney barely shrank down into her seat when yet another bell rang. Luckily, she did not have to try and fight her way out of the classroom with her new sneering classmates. It was bad enough she had to face another new set of them in just a minute.

When Michael Vaughn noticed the only remaining occupant of his classroom was his very fish-out-of-water looking new student, he approached her with concern. “Um, do you need help finding your way to your next class?”

“Oh no,” she said quickly, barely gazing up at him, “I have English in here next…”

“Oh,” he laughed, “my apologies then.”

Sydney managed to give him a half smile before pulling a blank notebook out of her backpack and trying to look busy. Luckily, her plan worked, and Mr. Vaughn returned to his desk. Sighing with relief, Sydney tried to burry her nose into the notebook resting on her arm, hoping it might absorb her and save her future humiliation.

Of course her English teacher had to be the single most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her entire life. She could not get an old lady with purple tinted hair and Coke bottle glasses; no, oh no, she had to the teacher who looked like he had been ripped off the cover of a grocery store romance novel, except wearing more clothes. Then again, the only bright side to this was even if the class became a little dull re-learning things she already knew, she could always pass the time by simply looking at him.

After just another minutes, sleepy looking students began filing slowly into the classroom and taking their assigned seats. Sydney hardly noticed this since she was reviewing her new schedule once more. Only when someone tapped her shoulder did she look up. “Excuse me, this is my seat,” a girl with platinum blonde hair and a fashionable eggplant colored shirt said in a snippy tone.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Sydney mumbled. She dumped her notebook and schedule back into her backpack and stood quickly, nearly tripping in her haste to exit the seat.

“Freak,” Eggplant-shirt muttered as Sydney escaped the desk. The two girls surrounding her, presumably her friends, shrieked with laughter at this comment; Sydney ignored it.

“There’s a free seat right there, Sydney,” Mr. Vaughn told her, pointing to a chair towards one side of the front row. She mumbled a thank you and shuffled her way towards it before collapsing, still praying for invisibility. Sadly, it would never come.

“Now, class, before we get back to our discussion on Hamlet, I’d like you all to meet a new student. This is Sydney and she’s joining us from…where is it?” he asked her.

“Um…,” she stammered, trying to think up a lie on the fly. “Alaska, you’ve never heard of it,” she mumbled, immediately cursing herself the moment the words left her lips. Yeah, Alaska, that was normal.

“Alaska? Really? That must have been fascinating. Did you grow up there?” he asked politely.

Sydney shook her head silently while trying to think of a fix for her prior statement. “No, we, um, moved a lot… ‘cause of my dad’s job.” There, much better; plausible yet vague.

“Oh I see. Well, welcome to McMillan then. I’m sure you’ll like it here; we’re very friendly,” he smiled.

“Not to freaks,” Eggplant shirt muttered. Her cronies giggled immediately and Sydney sighed. She did not even have to be introduce to Ms. Eggplant shirt, she already knew exactly who she was; the most popular girl in school, or one of them anyway.

“Thank you, Susan, for volunteering to read your homework assignment first,” Michael smiled at her. As Susan gave sounds of obvious protest, Sydney couldn’t help but smile; it was always fun when stupid people were put on the spot.

While her English class could have gone worse – much worse – she could not say the same for the rest of her first day of school. In each of her classes she was met with more “freak” insults than she could count, and she did not receive one friendly smile all day long. At lunchtime, Sydney sat all by herself at a circular table in one corner of the cafeteria. Luckily, she had packed her lunch so she did not have to deal with disgusting school food or the less-than-cordial students in line around her. Sitting at that table, munching on raw carrot sticks, Sydney had flashback after flashback to her own high school days of sitting in a similar position. At least that day no one was throwing food at her, she thought positively.

By far her worst class of the day was gym. It was bad enough she had to take that class at all (sadly it was a requirement for her student façade), but taking it with a class full of boys and girls was utterly dreadful. First, there was the mocking of underwear as she changed, which Sydney knew was merely out of force of habit (there was nothing wrong with her panties, she knew this – they were from Victoria’s Secret!). Then, during mat-ball, she was pelted in the face with one of those retched foam balls, sending her glasses askew and all the males in the class howling with laughter. Finally, to add insult to injury, after she tripped over a shoelace and stepped aside to retie it, a cruel classmate kicked a foam ball at her, nailing her squarely in the back of the head. Since it was a foam ball, it did not harm her physically, though her pride was significantly bruised.

By the time Sydney was shuffling to her new locker at the end of the day, she was ready to quit her job at The Herald just to escape the humiliation of another day of high school. As she did the combination to her locker over and over aging, with each attempt another one of her books dropping to the floor, she did not notice Mr. Vaughn approaching from behind her. “Need some help?” he asked as he picked up her copy of Hamlet.

“OH…no, I’m okay,” she grunted as she tugged on her locker’s latch after yet another failed attempt.

“Are you sure?” he asked. She gave him a rather helpless look and passed the piece of paper holding her combination into his outstretched palm. He opened her locker on the first try and gave the combination back to her.

“Thank you,” she said genuinely.

“First days’ area always rough; it’ll get better I promise,” he smiled at her.

“Thanks,” she managed once more before burying her face into her locker, knowing it was pink if not a deeper shade of crimson. Standing there as students bumped into her on their way home, she could only pray that he had been right.



Chapter 3

Unfortunately for Sydney, things did not get much better in her very first week at McMillan High. She thought that maybe since it was just the beginning of the school year for everyone, cliques had not been created in an iron-clad fashion yet and she could at least get in with one of the groups. Sadly, this was not the case. She failed to realize that while it was the beginning of another school year, for the most part these students had been together for the previous twelve years. If anything was universal about high schools around the country it was the fact that once a clique was formed, it rarely, if ever, changed.

For the most part, Sydney’s misery stemmed from the fact that her new name seemed to have become “Freak.” This was an insult Sydney was essentially immune to, having heard it many a time in her own high school career. It was merely the fact that people seemed unwilling to bother to know her real name that irked her. They never even introduced themselves or asked her name, even when she smiled politely to them. It was always just, “Oh great, I have to sit next to the new freak,” or “Great, I have to share my book with the freak.” That attitude was going to get old very quickly.

In addition to the failed attempts to find any friends at McMillan, Sydney was struggling to get the hang of her new class schedule. Aside from English class, which was quickly becoming her favorite and easiest class, and gym, Sydney’s schedule consisted of US Government, Sociology, Pre-Calculus, and, thankfully, a study hall. Math, which was never her strong suit, was turning out to be her worst class by far. She had Pre-Calculus during her own high school days, but, apparently, had forgotten everything in her six year absence from that academic genre. It was slowly (and painfully) coming back to her, but it was still going to be a struggle. Luckily, her other classes were going fairly well, all things considered, and she hoped that in time the social aspect of her time at McMillan would improve as well.

~*~

“Good news guys, over the weekend I graded your Hamlet essays,” Mr. Vaughn smiled out at his class waving a stack of papers in his hands. Immediately, all the students groaned. “Oh they weren’t that bad guys,” he laughed.

“God, Mr. Vaughn, don’t you have anything better to do that grade our stuff? I mean, we just handed them in on Friday?” Susan asked.

“Gee, Susan, would you be implying that I, your English teacher – the man who gives you your final grade – have no life?” he asked. Susan said nothing. “I didn’t think so,” he laughing, “although you have a point; I don’t really have a life.”

“You should have a girlfriend,” another girl told him with a smile.

“Thanks, I’m aware of that,” he grumbled slightly. Then, he began handing back the assignments to the appropriate student. When he came to Sydney, he smiled at her and said, “Excellent job, Sydney,” while handing over her paper.

Sydney took the assignment with a hopeful expression. When she turned over the paper and saw a messy 100 written in red ink at the top she sighed with relief. That paper was her very first grade after just a week of school and since it was so high, it really helped her already failing spirits. As long as she could succeed academically, her time at McMillan would not be nearly as bad. Then again, at this idea, another more sickening one entered her mind.

Her time at McMillan was not simply playtime; it was an assignment. She was there to write an article on something – she did not know what yet – and it needed to be perfect, amazing. Mr. Carlen trusted her with it and was expecting her to do her best. She needed to do her best, too, to prove she was a worthy reported. She had no doubt in her writing ability, as her hundred percent proved moments earlier, the only problem was coming up with the subject mater to write on. That was going to be the absolute hardest part, even harder than eating another lunch all alone in the cafeteria.

As Sydney was making her way out of Mr. Vaughn’s classroom that day after class, she was surprised to hear him call out her name. Usually, students were only asked to stay after class to discuss a poor grade or missing assignment, of which she had neither. Another possibility would be talking during class or doing something else disruptive, which, again, she had not been doing.

“Is there something wrong?” Sydney asked.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong… I was just wondering how your first week has been,” he said to her.

For a moment, Sydney just stared at him. How was she to answer that? Truthfully and admit she had never been more miserable in her life. Well, that wasn’t true – her original experience had been a bit more miserable. Or, was she to lie and tell him everything was just swell except for the fact that she had no friends, ate lunch alone every, and tripped down the stairs no less than twice each day.

“Oh it’s um…you know, fine,” she mumbled evasively.

“I hope it is going fine, but you know it’s always nice to get into a club of some sort – it really helps you find some friends,” he said to her. “Your Hamlet paper was excellent - really excellent - and I was hoping that you might want to join our newspaper.”

“NO!” Sydney said quickly, a bit more forcefully than she should have. There was no way she could join the McMillan newspaper, even if that was her favorite part of her own high school experience. If she joined that newspaper it would be hard to stop herself from phasing back in to the newspaper girl she was born and educated to be. That would surely blow her cover and it was a risk she could not take.

Realizing that Mr. Vaughn was looking rather horrified, Sydney attempted to backtrack her harsh outburst with a rational explanation. “I mean…no, thank you. It’s a great offer but…well, I just moved here and I’m still trying to settle in, you know? I mean, I still have…boxes to unpack and stuff,” she added trying to keep with her ‘just moved to town’ façade.

“I totally understand; moving is hard,” he told her gently. “You take all the time you need settling in, but the newspaper would always welcome your help. Maybe you can reconsider it next semester.”

“I definitely will,” she promised him. While working on the newspaper would have been a blast, Sydney was honestly hoping her assignment was over long before Christmas. If it wasn’t…well, she was not going to be very happy.

“Well I’d, uh, better get to class,” she said, gesturing towards the doorway.

“Of course,” he smiled. “See you tomorrow Sydney.”

“Bye,” she waved, while walking backwards trying to get out of the room. Of course, in doing this, she tripped over a trashcan and nearly fell, but managed to get a hold of herself and run out of the classroom before she had a chance to hear Mr. Vaughn’s laughter.



Chapter 4

Sydney expected her gym class to be the absolute worst hour of her high school experience and, considering how her first day went when she was pelted continually with foam balls, she did not expect this to change very much. Luckily it did, in part anyway.

The first unit her gym class was doing was a tennis unit. Tennis was the only sport Sydney was half decent at, which was amazing considering it involved eye-hand coordination and a bouncy yellow ball. Of course, she was in no way the next Anna Kournikova, but she could at least hit the ball over to the next court without it going out of bounds, which was something.

While the tennis part of her class was going well, the other weekly unit they were participating in was not. Every Wednesday for the first eight weeks of gym class was a swimming day, which was most unfortunate for Sydney. Of course she could swim, rather well, in fact, but the act of changing into a bathing suit for class, standing in front of her classmates as they ridiculed her in that bathing suit, and then changing back into her regular clothes and being wet for the rest of the day was enough to make her want to kill herself.

On the morning of her first swimming gym class, Sydney stood in front of her chest of drawers wondering what bathing suit would be class appropriate. The only indication her teacher had given her was “no thongs”, which was not all that helpful. Sydney decided it would be best to pack two – a regular one piece and then a “takini” – and decide what to wear once she saw what the other girls were wearing.

As she stood in the locker room, self consciously hiding her body, Sydney decided that the tankini bathing suit would be just fine. After all it did not show too much skin, plus it was a bit more fashionable that the one piece. Not surprisingly, most girls in the class donned bikinis of various styles, though a few girls did wear one pieces or bathing suits similar to the one she was in.

The first task of the class was a swimming test, during which all the girls had to swim across the pool and back. Sydney did this with ease and was actually surprised to see some of the girls struggling. Everyone who passed the test was then allowed to split into two groups and play water polo while the others had to take a swimming lesson from one of the teachers on duty.

After scoring one goal in water polo and assisting in another, Sydney’s outlook on swimming class was much brighter. That was until she went back into the locker rooms to change and found her clothing was not where she left it. At first she thought it merely slipped down to the floor, but it was not there. Then, panicking, she searched high and low for it, asking people where her clothes were and receiving only laughs in response. Finally, she spotted them laying on the floor of one of the showers which was tragically on full blast.

“I guess they were just so ugly they tried to commit suicide,” one girl snickered as she saw Sydney with the lump of wet clothing in her arms. Then, she retreated into a pack of underwear-clad girls who were laughing hysterically.

Tears burning in her eyes, Sydney took a few long deep breaths, trying to get them to go away. She laid the mass of wet clothing down onto one of the benches and began sorting through it only to find that her underwear, jeans, and shirt were all entirely soaked. She had no other clothes, either, and considering all she was wearing at present was a wet bathing suit and a towel she was thoroughly screwed.

For a few minutes, she merely stood there, staring at her clothes, unsure of what to do next. She began contemplating quitting her job at The Herald just so she could escape McMillan high while still alive. After all, there were dozens of newspapers around the state. Surely any one of them would hire her.

Just as she was about to make a decision on the topic, the gym teacher approached her and asked why her clothes were soaking wet. What was there to say except lie and say it was an accident. Surely becoming a tattle-tale would make her situation only much, much worse.

The teacher offered her a pair of navy shorts from the lost and found and she accepted them, having no other choice. Shorts in hand, she deiced the only choice she had (aside from going topless, which clearly was not an option) was the additional one piece black bathing suit in her bag, the only dry item she owned. With a heavy sigh, she changed into these items as quickly as possible before heading off to her locker to pick up her books before lunch.

When Michael Vaughn spotted the pale girl with matted dark hair who appeared to be wearing a bathing suit with a pair of wrinkled cotton shorts, his heart broke slightly. When he approached Sydney from the left side she did not see him, but he saw the redness in her eyes indicating tears had been there recently. “They steal your clothes?” he asked softly.

Surprised by this sudden voice speaking to her, Sydney jumped slightly. When she saw it was Mr. Vaughn, she began to blush all the way back to her ears. “Threw ‘em in the shower,” she mumbled to him, focusing more intently on the inside of her locker.

Michael couldn’t help but cringe. “That’s definitely worse. Can’t anyone bring you clothes?” Sydney said nothing, but shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “Alright, come with me,” he told her before ushering her towards his classroom. With a confused look on her face, Sydney followed him.

Once inside the classroom, Michael walked over to the tiny closet in his room and pulled a grey sweatshirt from a hook on the back of the door. “Here you can wear this; it’s clean I promise,” he told her, holding it out.

“Are you sure?” she asked carefully, but before she could get the full sentence out he was already pressing the sweatshirt into her arms. Sydney set down her backpack and pulled it over her head. Once it was on, she saw that across the chest the sweatshirt had a logo from Temple University. “Temple,” she said out loud.

“Yeah I graduated from there.”

“Me too,” she said without thinking. Then she quickly added, “I mean, I want to go there,” while cursing herself.

“Oh, well I hope you get in,” he told her with a smile.

“Thanks…and thank you so much for this,” she said while tugging at her sweatshirt. If she had not already promised herself she would not cry that day, her English teacher’s kind gesture would have brought her to tears.

“Anytime,” he smiled. Then, she left his classroom praying the day did not get any worse.



Chapter 5

To make the week with Sydney’s swimming class incident even worse, she was called in to meet with Mr. Carlen on Friday after school. In this time, she was supposed to submit her notes to him and discuss the first two weeks of her assignment. While Sydney did have notes she did not have a satisfactory amount for Mr. Carlen’s opinion. In addition to that, he appeared rather angry with her that she had yet to find the perfect subject matter for her article.

Sydney calmly explained to her boss that when thrown into any new social situation (especially one with piranhas like high school had) it took time to build relationships with people one just met. Only once those relationships were built could a potential subject for an article arise. She was very thankful that Mr. Carlen bought her explanation especially since it was not entirely truthful. It did take time to adapt to a new social situation, only with her situation there was little hope of actual adaptation taking place.

By the time her meeting was over, Sydney was fully ready to collapse and have a relaxing weekend. Sadly, her weekend could not be as relaxing as she wanted it to be due to all the homework she had. As she trudged her way through dozens of math problems, Sydney began wondering if there would be any upside at all to her experience at McMillan.

~*~

“Good news guys! In today’s class we’re going to be having a little bit of fun. After all, it is Friday,” Mr. Vaughn announced to his English class once they were all settled in their chairs. Yet another week had passed for Sydney and with it September drew to a close. Luckily, that week had been the best of all her time at McMillan. Of course, the week was far from perfect, but by comparison it was the best. At least she managed to escape swimming class with dry clothes that time.

“So when you say fun, do you mean fun for us or fun for you?” a boy in the class asked skeptically.

“I mean general fun. You guys are going to split up into groups so you can do a skit in front of the class recreating one of the scenes from Hamlet,” Mr. Vaughn smiled at all of them. Immediately, everyone groaned loudly. “Oh come on guys it’ll be fun!”

“No it won’t. Why would that be fun?” another student asked rather rhetorically, not expecting an answer.

“Because…if you pick a scene where swords are involved I’ll let you use yard sticks as fake swords?” Mr. Vaughn offered weakly. This seemed to win over a few males in the class, and they immediately broke up into pairs to practice (a.k.a. jab each other with the yard sticks).

Not surprisingly, Sydney was left out after everyone had broken into groups. She did not even bother looking for a partner knowing everyone would just laugh at her; she was better off on her own. Mr. Vaughn offered to help her fit into a group, but she refused saying she would just do a monologue. The only thing worse than being laughed at when asked to join a group was being forced to be accepted into a group by a teacher and being subsequently sneered at.

Sydney already knew the monologue she wanted to read, so she did not have to waste time leafing through her text as the others did; she just got right down to reading it over and over again so she would not trip over any words. As she was doing this, she was fairly oblivious to the classroom around her until a rather loud crash shook her from her bubble. Looking up, she saw that two of her male classmates in their sword fighting fever had completely knocked over a book shelf, scattering novels every which way.

“You guys be careful!” Mr. Vaughn groaned loudly as he rushed over to set the bookshelf upright.

“You should really pick that up,” one of the female students suggested to the rowdy boys. They merely looked at each other and shrugged slightly, realizing she was probably right. Instead of picking up the books nicely, though, they merely tossed them back onto the shelves in a very haphazard manner.

“I guess that’s better than on the floor,” Mr. Vaughn mumbled as he returned to his desk.

After rehearsing for half of the class, everyone returned to their proper seats to watch each other’s skits. Two groups of sword fighting boys went first, each of which seemed to be more interested in playing with their yard sticks than in the dialog they were to be reading. Next, it was Sydney’s turn.

As she walked from her seat to the front of the classroom, muffled sounds could be heard from the students that Sydney could not make out. It sounded almost as though they were howling or barking at her, but she chose to ignore them. She began to recite her monolog, but hardly got past the first few lines when one of the boys in the back of the classroom began making noises like that of a pig. A few other boys joined in and the rest of the class laughed, nearly drowning out Sydney’s speech.

“Hey that’s enough!” Michael snapped at them finally. “Sydney was quiet while you did your presentation and now you need to be quiet during hers. Go ahead Sydney,” he said to her softly once the rest of the class was silent. She continued without missing a beat; she had already been ignoring them, so they were not affecting her one bit.

~*~

Later that day, while Sydney was walking past Mr. Vaughn’s classroom on her way to the final period of the day, she spotted him kneeling on the floor, rearranging the books on the shelves earlier destroyed. Feeling guilty he had to fix it all by himself because of the morons in her class she poked her head in the room and asked, “Do you need any help?”

He looked up at her rather surprised. “Oh…thank you Sydney, but it’s alright,” he said.

“I don’t mind,” she told him softly. “I just have a study hall right now, so if you want my help…”

“Only if you want to,” he said, though his tone indicated he actually preferred some help. Sydney nodded her head and set her book bag down on one of the desks before walking over to assist him. Just as she crouched down on the floor, the phone in Michael’s classroom rang and he excused himself to answer it.

Once he was gone, Sydney pulled the remainder of the mismatched books off the shelf and began placing them on one by one, making sure they were in alphabetical order by author. She had nearly half a shelf done before Mr. Vaughn returned and said, “Oh you know actually I was going to put them in alphabetical order by author.”

“That’s how I’m doing it,” she said with a soft smile.

“You’re kidding?”

She shook her head with a slight laugh. “No, this is how I arrange my own books and CDs; otherwise I can’t find anything ever!”

“Same here,” he laughed softly.

“You sure have a lot of books…,” she commented while they continued to stack the shelves.

“Well yeah, I read a lot…but that shouldn’t really surprise you being that I’m an English teacher and all…”

“I read a lot too…always, in fact, but that shouldn’t surprise you since I’m getting an A in your class,” she said. He smiled at her before turning back to their book stacking. As they sat there, only inches from one another, Sydney could not help but feel more relaxed than she ever had at McMillan. Typically around Mr. Vaughn especially she was a blushing, nervous wreck, but there all alone she felt comfortable with him. Of course, she had to keep reminding herself that he was her teacher, but since she was not technically a student that was becoming rather difficult.

“You don’t have any books by Jane Austen on this shelf,” Sydney said factually. She had seen almost every other classic author that she could think of except Jane Austen and was curious as to why.

“Um yeah I never read any of her books,” Mr. Vaughn told her.

“You’re kidding!” Sydney gasped, shocked.

“Year I just never thought about it I guess. Not really my favorite genre either,” he told her with a shrug.

“Well you have to at least read Pride and Prejudice! You can borrow my copy; I’ll bring it in Monday,” she informed him as though there was no question about it.

“Okay I will…and if you ever want to borrow anything from here just let me know,” he said in return.

“Deal,” she giggled. Then her face grew hot at the almost squeaking sound that escaped her lips. Quickly, she finished stacking the books and stood up to hopefully escape the classroom and any further embarrassment.

“Thanks for your help, Sydney,” Mr. Vaughn called out to her.

“Anytime,” she said, waving her hand as she left the room.



Chapter 6

For the first half of October, things for Sydney were a little bit better than they had been in September. She managed to befriend a girl in her Pre-Calculus class who was only in the tenth grade. This girl was obviously smart since she was in a higher level math class at such a young age, plus she was a little bit on the nerdy side and Sydney could tell she did not have a massive amount of friends. While this friendship gave her someone to talk to, which was a plus, it did not solve the dilemma she had regarding her writing assignment, which was practically non-existent. She still had time, though, or so she tried to tell herself.

The other major improvement in her life at McMillan was her budding friendship with her English teacher, Mr. Vaughn. More and more she found herself spending study hall in Mr. Vaughn’s empty classroom as the two of them discussed books they were reading currently or had read in the past. Sometimes their conversation would even delve into more personal topics, which Sydney had to be very careful about, not wanting to accidentally give herself away.

Despite the fact that she had to be on edge, constantly reminding herself that she was supposed to be a seventeen year old girl, Sydney thoroughly enjoyed her conversations with Mr. Vaughn and felt he was enjoying them as well. This, of course, caused a rather large problem for her since she was beginning to develop actual feelings for the man who was supposed to be her educator.

At first, Sydney’s attraction to her English teacher was merely physical. He was one of the most gorgeous people she had ever seen in her entire life so of course she was going to be attracted to him in the physical sense, but that did not concern her very much; after all, it meant nothing. As she got to know him a bit better, though, she realized they actually had a lot in common with their literature preferences and other similarities. After finding this out, she realized she was actually attracted to him on a deeper, less purely physical level.

The last time she had a boyfriend was…well, she did not like to dwell on the actual number of months; that was depressing. She dated a few fellow English majors during college, but found for the most part they were not really her type. It was difficult for her to meet people with other majors due to busy class schedules, so she was essentially dateless for most of her school career. She hoped that would change once she was out in the workplace, but it appeared people were not as interested in interoffice dating as they were in interoffice sleeping together with no strings attached, which was definitely not her thing.

To make her situation even more pathetic, Sydney could not even act on her attraction to her teacher. For starters he was way out of her league; there was no way someone as attractive as him would be interested in a self-proclaimed dork like her. Besides, even if that barrier wasn’t in their way, there was still the fact that as far as he knew, she was a seventeen year old student of his and thus he would never be attracted to her, so once again she was screwed.

As Sydney tried to suppress her ever-growing feelings for her English teacher, the rest of the school prepared for the big homecoming week celebration complete with a carnival on Friday night during and after the football game and a dance on Saturday night. For a while, Sydney considered going to the dance since the last dance she went to was prom, but then decided against it, not wanting the added humiliation of standing along the wall like an idiot while everyone around her had a nice time. She did, however, decide to go to the carnival.

The townhouse in which Sydney lived was located just a block and a half away from an oversized abandoned parking lot adjacent to the high school in which the carnival was being held. Sydney had no interest in the football game not being a fan of the sport, so she did not have to leave her house until around eight o’clock, as the game was drawing to a close.

Knowing the parking situation would be an utter nightmare, Sydney decided to walk. The streets were well lit and crime in that town was very low. Plus, it was a rather warm, perfect fall evening, so there was no reason not to enjoy it.

When she arrived at the carnival it was already packed. She began walking past the different fund raising booths, bought herself some cotton candy and munched on it while she strolled. While focusing on a little girl amazed by a balloon animal given to her, Sydney was not paying attention to where she was going and ran smack into someone. That someone just happened to be her English teacher.

“Oh Mr. Vaughn I’m so sorry; I wasn’t paying attention,” she apologized quickly.

“It’s perfectly alright,” he assured her. “Are you enjoying your evening here?”

“Oh well I just got here,” she laughed softly. “You’re not running any of the fundraising booths, are you?”

“No, not this year. Last year I made the mistake of participating in the pie throwing booth – I was the target,” he said sadly.

Sydney couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m sorry I missed that. You would have looked very amusing covered in white cream.”

“Thanks,” he rolled his eyes slightly. Then, he wished her a good evening before making his way through the crowds once more.

For the most part, Sydney’s evening at the carnival went rather well. She played a few games and even won a prize on one of them. It seemed as though she was going to escape the evening without even running into the crew of her classmates who enjoyed making her life miserable. That was until the stopped to put some change back into her purse after purchasing a little trinket from a fundraising booth.

She was just standing there, cramming two dollar bills down into her wallet, when something smacked into the back of her head. Surprised, she reached her hand back and felt something unpleasantly sticky. Turning around, expecting to see a young boy, she saw instead four laughing boys and three giggling girls her own age, all pointing at her.

She turned her back on them once more, purposely ignoring them as she finished zipping her purse back together. It was then she felt something else come in contact with her arm. Looking to where it fell to the ground she saw that it was a piece of a hot dog with smeared mustard on it; they were throwing food at her.

Realizing it would not cease until she removed herself from the situation, Sydney hurried past the group of laughing idiots, or tried to anyway. Before she could get past them, though, they jumped in her path and began taunting her. They were all talking at once so Sydney could not hear specific insults, but she basically got the drift. After all, with all the food being pelted at her she knew they were not saying anything good.

Fearing she was about to cry at any moment, she pushed past them as hard as she could before breaking out into a run. She did not care where she ran to; she just had to get away. By the time she had to stop due to lack of oxygen, she was in the parking lot. She crouched down in between two cars and sat on the edge of a curb, dropping her head in between her knees as she tried to breathe deeply.

Much to her surprise, after just a minute of sitting there, she felt a gentle hand rest on her shoulder. She jumped, nearly slamming her head into a car bumper in the process and turned around only to see her English teacher with a look of genuine concern. Realizing it was not anyone wielding a bottle of ketchup to finish her off Sydney put her head back in her head back down in between her knees. “I’ll be okay,” she said softly, not wanting him to feel obligated to stay.

“I saw what happened; I’m really sorry they’re such jerks. If I could, I’d give them all detention and a twenty page English paper,” he told her softly, giving no indication he was going to leave.

Sydney laughed softly at this; strangely enough it made her feel the tiniest bit better.

“I’m really sorry Sydney,” Mr. Vaughn said, rubbing her arm in a caring manner.

“I’ll be okay,” she whispered. “I’m just gonna…go.”

“Okay, I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.

“No, I walked here…it’s just a block,” she informed him as she stood slowly, wiping her cheeks try.

“Then I’ll walk you home,” he smiled at her. “Someone’s gotta explain to your parents why you have mustard all over your back.”

While she appreciated this gesture, she shook her head, refusing it. “No you don’t have to; I’ll be okay.”

“But I want to make sure you get home alright. C’mon,” he encouraged. Not really in the mood to argue, Sydney nodded softly and led the way towards her house.



Chapter 7

As they walked, Sydney noticed that her teacher was walking extremely close to her. Normally, if they were in a different situation, this would not have made her uncomfortable; however, in that situation it did. For the most part, she was wracking her brain trying to think of all the answers to potential questions Michael would have about the place where she lived, which would have no parents, grandparents, or relatives, plus all the belongings of a twenty-four year old woman. It was going to be…interesting to say the least.

“Oh you have um…something on the back of your head if you didn’t know,” he said with a slight cringe. “I think its ice cream…”

“Oh well…I obviously have to shower anyway,” she laughed nervously, cramming her hands down into her jean pockets.

“God I’m just… I’m so sorry – I know it doesn’t sound like much but I really am so sorry those kids were such jerks to you,” he groaned, obviously sounding very frustrated with them.

“It’s alright, Mr. Vaughn, really,” Sydney assured him. “They’re just…” she let her voice drift off; there really was no proper descriptor for what they had done to her. Frankly she was too exhausted to search her mental dictionary for one, either; all she wanted to do was get home and take a very long bubble bath before going to bed.

“I knew you weren’t having the best time adjusting Sydney, but I had no idea it was that bad,” he said. “If you want or need any help…”

“Thanks,” she gave him a soft smile, “but assuming you can’t magically transform me into a different person, I doubt you can help me.” With that, she pushed open the gate to the townhouse in which she lived and began digging through her purse to find her keys.

“It’s dark inside,” he teacher observed. “Isn’t anyone home?”

“Oh I’m sure someone is…,” she said evasively.

“Ok well I guess this is goodnight Sydney,” he said giving her a soft smile. He turned to leave, but stopped himself short of taking a step away from her. He froze there for a moment before turning around rather suddenly. “You know what? I just…I have to say something here because you’re a great girl Sydney, a great girl. You shouldn’t feel as though you have to change yourself to get their approval. I mean, I know it seems that way, but it shouldn’t be! They’re just jerks who are making your life miserable because they can and for some reason they’ve grown a particular disliking to you which is ridiculous because you’re really sweet and smart and…and I guess I shouldn’t be saying all this,” he groaned rubbing his brow slightly.

Sydney’s heart was so far into her throat at the amazing words he was saying to her she could hardly croak out a rebuttal. If he said all that knowing she was his student, she could hardly imagine what he would have said to her if he knew who she really was, but she was about to find out. She knew it was supposed to be kept a secret, but after everything he was saying to her plus her growing attraction to him, she just had to reveal the truth.

“Mr. Vaughn wait!” she called out before he could escape her yard. Taking two steps towards him she continued, “I have to tell you something…”

“Sydney…,” he said in an almost warning tone.

“No wait – please listen. I…I’m not who you think I am. I’m not seventeen; I’m twenty-four,” she said. With this, a look of confused curiosity crossed his face so she continued. “I’m an undercover reporter for The Herald.”

“You’re twenty-four?” he asked very quietly.

Sydney nodded her head. “My editor sent me here to do a story on teens or school or something I’m not really sure which and it was actually rather stupid of him because look at me! I’m a freakish train wreck and I obviously don’t belong in high s-”

Before she could finish the word, she was interrupted by Michael’s lips on hers and his hands at her waist, kissing her so forcefully that she was actually knocked back a step. After their kiss, Sydney stepped back and managed to croak out a rather squeaky, “Wow.”

He laughed deeply as he stroked her mustard-stained cheek with one of his thumbs. Then, he gave her another brief kiss. “You can call me Michael now,” he told her.

“Okay,” she squeaked once more, barely able to form a coherent thought after he had just kissed her.

“Maybe we should, um, go inside and you can explain…” Michael suggested, nervous about kissing someone who was supposed to be his student (and technically still was) in the middle of her front yard. Sydney nodded and walked back towards her front door, key still in hand. She shoved it in the lock and turned it, but before she could open the door, Michael’s hands were on her hips and his lips were on hers and soon they were tumbling into her house.

When they landed with a thump on the rug just inside her front door, they both burst out laughing. Sydney kicked the door shut with her foot and tried to get up, but Michael was half on top of her, pinning her down, so she just lowered her head back down to the floor and continued to laugh until Michael kissed her once more.

That time, when Michael pulled back from their kiss, he looked at her like no one had ever looked at her before. He nuzzled his nose against hers before saying, “It’s such a relief to know I won’t go to jail for doing that.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at this. “Yeah, it must be.” A moment later they both climbed to their feet and stared rather awkwardly at each other until Sydney noticed he had ice cream on his arm, which made her feel incredibly guilty.

“It’s fine I promise,” he told her with a laugh. “It’ll clean right off.”

“I know but… god look at me – I’m like toxic waste,” she grumbled, looking down at her food splattered clothes. “I’m going to go change and throw out this shirt… I’ll be back in a few minutes alright?”

“Take your time,” he assured her. She gave him a rather thankful smile before jogging upstairs to change.



Chapter 8

A few minutes later, Sydney returned dressed in black snug-fitting sweatpants and a form-fitting tank top, attire completely different than what she wore on a regular basis and it caused Michael’s jaw to drop slightly. “I just changed into my PJs for now…I’ll shower then later,” she explained rather nervously from the way he was looking at her.

“Okay,” he croaked slightly, walking over to her and placing his hands on her hips once more. “You look perfect – beautiful…mustard-free…,” he listed before kissing her once more.

“Michael,” she giggled slightly at the foreign name on her tongue. “We need to talk about this…”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“This. The fact that we started this day with a student-teacher relationship and are clearly ending it on a different level.”

“Oh yeah…that,” he smiled. Sydney smiled back and led the way into her sitting room. Upon entering the room, she flicked on a few light switches, which immediately disturbed the grey sleeping tabby cat on the sofa. The cat blinked up at her for a moment, almost scolding her for disrupting his sleep, before lowering his head back down.

“That’s just Heathcliff…he’s lazy and won’t bother you at all. You don’t mind do you? I mean, you’re not allergic are you?” she asked carefully, noting the suspicious look on Michael’s face.

“No, no its fine…I was just surprised to see him,” he laughed softly, taking a cautious seat beside the feline. “So Heathcliff huh? From-

“Wuthering Heights,” they said in unison. Then, they both laughed softly.

“Yeah I’ve had him for a few years now,” Sydney continued, stroking the cat’s back. “It was too lonely living alone and I didn’t have time to walk a dog so…”

“I understand,” he gave her a soft smile. “So…you’re a reporter huh?”

“No, I’m not actually. This is my first assignment,” she admitted rather sheepishly.

Michael laughed, not expecting this. “Well you got one hell of an assignment then…”

“I know! This wasn’t supposed to happen… I mean, I just graduated from Temple barely two years ago… I was a fact checker at The Herald trying to be a reporter when this whole thing sort of fell into my lap. My editor has all this faith in me but clearly I am failing him.”

“Why?”

“Duh!” she exclaimed. “I have no story! I’m a loser and I always have been. This evening I was pelted with ice cream and mustard and god knows what else and that was the highlight of my high school experience so far. I should just quit my job and cut my losses…”

“Oh Sydney don’t say that,” he said with a sincere sigh. “C’mere. We can figure this out.” He gestured towards the empty space on the couch beside him until she sat there. Then, he put his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly.

“Why would you want to help me?” she asked seriously. In all her life no one had volunteered help to her – not her parents, not anyone – and there Michael was just offering it with no strings attached, or so it seemed.

“Why not?” he asked with a rather baffled laugh.

“Michael,” she began very seriously, “you saw the way those kids treated me tonight. That’s how my entire life has been – always the one being teased and ridiculed. Always the big freak nerd with glasses. Just…Sydney Australia.”

“Sydney Australia?”

“Yeah that was my nickname in school. The kids said I was so weird I didn’t belong in the same country as the rest of them…so I was Australia,” she said with a slight shrug.

“Oh Sydney,” Michael said, unsure whether to laugh or cry at such a cruel thing in her life. “I promise you will never be Sydney Australia again, okay?” he said before giving her cheek a gentle kiss.

“How can you say that? I mean… why do you like me? We’re so different…,” she said distantly, leaning away from him.

“What?” he laughed. “No we’re not. Sydney look at that time we spent in my classroom talking for hours about everything, nothing…all those books we love. Every time we would sit there I would feel myself start falling for you all over again and I’d have to stop it and say, ‘She’s 17! What are you? Out of your mind!’ But I couldn’t help it…I was too attracted to you to stop falling…”

Sydney laughed nervously and looked away, her face feeling as though it was on fire. “Michael I knew we liked the same books and stuff but…but what about the other stuff…”

“What other stuff?”

“You know…,” she mumbled, not really wanting to tell him what she was thinking. “I’m hideous…and you’re not.”

“Oh my god Sydney, you are not hideous! And if you really think that those baboons are getting into your head when they shouldn’t be,” Michael told her honestly. She gave him a skeptical look. “You’re not hideous! Ok, so maybe you could do without some of the sweaters I’ve seen you wear, but if you dressed like this more often there’s no way they could say that about you!”

Sydney laughed softly and glanced down at herself. “I’m just wearing sweatpants.”

“Well, technically yes, but its difficult to tell since they’re black. Plus they’re snug so they show if your…assets,” he told her with a cheeky grin.

“Michael!” she exclaimed, utterly embarrassed.

“I’m just telling the truth. Trust me on this – I know high school kids; I’ve been around them ten hours a day for the past five years. I guarantee you if you take my advice…well, you may not be the most popular girl in school, but you definitely won’t get pelted with condiments again.”

“I would appreciate that,” she told him seriously.

“I’m sure.”

“So what are we talking here like… haircut? Contacts not glasses? Snug pants?” she offered, obviously mocking him.

“All of the above definitely, but we’ve got to phase it in – too much at once will seem too obvious… Plus its not just the way you look on the outside. You have to be confident about it, which I know will be difficult…”

“I hate to break it to you Michael, but if I dressed in short skirts and high heels like those other girls I would never be confident. I’d be too paranoid that I was going to fall flat on my face and show the whole school my pink underwear!” she exclaimed with horror at the mere mental image of that event.

“Better pink underwear than your bear butt cheeks since you’re only wearing a thong underneath that short skirt…,” he muttered.

“Happened?”

“Twice,” he said sadly. Sydney laughed. “It’s not funny. These girls are just so…trampy at the age of thirteen…its sad.”

“Ah well sex sells,” she sighed casually. Then, with that statement a brilliant idea flashed into her mind. “That’s it!” she exclaimed, jumping up off the couch.

“What?!” he exclaimed, utterly lost.

“Sex sells!”

“Yes…,” he said slowly, still confused.

“You know what else sells?”

“…free stuff?”

“NO! Sex scandals,” she said, grinning.

“Okay,” he began slowly. “I don’t think I like where you’re going with this, but okay.”

“No, Michael think about it. If I change my hair, dress like a slut, and get contacts, people might notice me, but that’s just not enough. We need a guarantee point of interest, which is where you come in,” she smiled.

“I was afraid of that,” he sighed.

“Oh Michael come on – you’re only the hottest teacher at that school. Girls would kill to be your after school special,” she told him.

“What?!” he squeaked. “No they wouldn’t.”

“Uh yeah, they would,” she said seriously. “So, what if someone finally got a little piece of the action? Everyone would naturally be jealous of that person and jealousy really is the foundation of popularity as long as its combined with a sugary sweet yet fake disposition…and a wonder bra, of course.”

“So let me get this straight… you want to become my Monica Lewinski?” he asked carefully.

“Exactly!” she beamed, “except less under the desk on hands and knees and more doing it on the desk in your classroom during study hall.”

“Okay,” he groaned, rubbing his furrowed brow. “Allow me to point out the sanity lacking in this plan, the most pressing reason being that I could actually lose my job.”

“No you couldn’t,” she promise. “First, it’ll just be a rumor – I’ll never confirm anything. Besides, if somehow the school does find out about it we can just come clean…I’ll show them my press card and we can tell them it was all a ploy for a story that I made up all on my own. I mean… if you really don’t want to do it…,” she added more casually, not wanting to pressure him into her harebrained idea.

“No I do because you’re right it definitely has the potential for working perfectly,” he told her with a slight laugh. She smiled. “Let’s do it.”

“Yes!” she cheered happily before giving him a quick hug. Michael pulled her back into his arms and fell back onto the sofa with her, nearly crushing Heathcliff in the process, but the two of them did not seem to notice; they were too busy kissing.

“Okay so, um, what about us?” Sydney asked carefully.

“Well I assume that we still need to keep up our student-teacher façade outside of your living room?” he asked. Sydney nodded sadly. As much as she hated that, it was a small town and someone was bound so see them if the went anywhere, which would destroy their whole devious plan.

“Then that’s what we’ll do – we’ll get together when we can…we can call each other…whatever, just as long as we get to do some of the things the rumors will talk about,” he said with a suggestive eyebrow raise.

“Deal,” she laughed. Then she gave him another quick kiss. “Ok now I have to go wash the ice cream out of my hair.”

“Sounds good,” he laughed softly. Then, they both stood from the couch and walked to Sydney’s front door, where they kissed again. “Goodnight.”

“Oh wait a second,” she said, grabbing on to his hand. He gave her a curious look. “Well…I just wanted to say thank you for…for taking the worst day of my life and making it one of the best. I mean, I don’t want to freak you out or anything but I’ve never really had a real boyfriend…and I think we’ve kissed more times in the past ten minutes than I’ve kissed anyone in my entire life combined,” she admitted, though it embarrassed her to do so.

Instead of looking concerned, shocked, or, worse, amused, Michael merely smiled and kissed her forehead. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she repeated with a smile. Then, she watched him leave before going upstairs to shower, not even caring she had to wash ice cream and mustard from her hair; she was just too happy.



Chapter 9

Going to school on Monday morning, Sydney’s attitude was entirely different than it had been previously. No longer was she dreading every moment of every day she spent there. Of course she knew things would not magically change overnight and the possibility of receiving more teasing from the A crowd was definitely possible; however, she was willing to accept that and deal with it knowing she had at least one ally at McMillan.

Even though she could not kiss Michael while on school property or even accept a hug from him, she knew that things were still going to be different. When they smiled at one another, it would not be just smiling. Their smiles would say a thousand words they could not. They were on the same team and together they were going to make it, or, rather, Sydney was going to make it.

On Saturday, a mere twelve hours after her first kiss with Michael and subsequent concoction of their evil plan, Sydney was sitting in a chair at the only beauty salon with an available appointment on the day of such a significant high school dance. Of course, she was not getting her hair done for that one evening; no, her hair restyling was for a much larger purpose.

A few hours later she left the salon trimmed, styled, and highlighted, and headed towards the mall to pick out a few new outfits for herself. While on her own she was slightly fashion challenged, using Michael’s advice combined with the memory of what the more popular girls wore to school she was able to find a few outfits for herself that were not worth of being laughed at.

She was taking her full body make over one step at a time. First was the hair. Next, the gradual phase in of the different wardrobe. After that she would be switching from glasses to contacts (after she made an appointment for them, of course). Finally, any other necessary amendments would be added to hopefully complete her transformation and allow her to climb a few rungs on the social ladder.

Within this makeover plan came the subtle flirting going on between herself and Michael, which they were putting into affect right away. Their plan was to have the other students in the school believe Sydney was bettering her appearance in response to the attention she was getting from her English teacher, which only added to their attraction to one another. Or so the rumor went, of course.

Sydney walked confidently into homeroom that morning in her new snug jeans and cranberry colored top with a sliver fashionable necklace. The clothes she was wearing were those she never would have worn if her wardrobe was up to her own decision, of course. Jeans were jeans, but the top was not her style and neither was the necklace. Actually, she did not wear any jewelry at all; it always distracted her or annoyed her after a while and she ended up taking it off, so why bother wearing it at all was her motto.

When she sat down in her assigned chair, she was still the only person in the classroom so she was able to exchange a rather flirtatious smile with Michael. He smiled back and tugged on his hair before giving her a rather dorky thumbs up signal that made her laugh. After that, though, they could not talk anymore because another student shuffled his way into the classroom looking very sleepy.

As Sydney sat in homeroom only half paying attention to the announcements Michael was reading, a perfectly devious idea crossed into her mind. She was going to take Mr. Vaughn – er, Michael – up on his offer for her to join the school newspaper. It would be the perfect opportunity to stay closer to him both for her own benefit and for the benefit of the rumor they were fueling. She simply had to wait for he perfect opportunity to saunter up to his desk at a time when people would obviously be watching her.

This time came just a moment before the bell signaling the start of her English class rang. By that point, most of her English class was in their seats, including a group of those who had been pelting her with condiments a few nights earlier. She waited until they were focusing their attention on the front of the classroom before sliding out of her seat and strutting her way up to the front of the room, where Michael was writing something on the chalkboard.

“Mr. Vaughn could I ask you something?” she asked a bit louder than was necessary. He gave her a rather surprised and curious look; this was not part of the plan they discussed. “Well you remember when you invited me to join the school newspaper? I was just wondering if that offer was still open because I’d really like to join. It sounds like such a great opportunity to work with you and other students – I think I’d really enjoy it,” she said with a slight giggle. Okay, so she was nauseating herself, but she had to lay it on obviously thick otherwise no one would notice.

“Um, yea, yea sure you’re always welcome. We meet on Mondays and Wednesday after school in room 112,” he said to her.

“Great! I’ll be there,” she beamed. Then she turned, and walked away with a purposeful swagger. In keeping with their plan, Michael turned his eyes down to examine her…uh, assets as she walked, though it really was not all that much of an act; his eyes were drawn to them anyway.

When Sydney slid back into her seat she could hear the group of students sitting behind her whispering about her new haircut. It really was a dramatic change since her had had gone from a dark brown to a very light color with the blonde highlights she had put in. Plus, the length was also much shorter and more fashionable and chic, as her stylist put it. This whispering made Sydney smiled softly; the plan was already beginning to work.

Once Sydney was safely in her seat, Michael cleared his throat and began their lesson of that day. Each time his eyes rested on Sydney’s face during the class he saw her smiling broadly at him and he had to fight to keep himself from smiling back. All the while he couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at the fact that the little game they were playing was going to get very interesting in the coming weeks.



Chapter 10

Through over the phone discussions, Sydney and Michael decided that the school newspaper meetings were going to be their first attempts at really getting the students to notice there was something going on between them more than just student-teacher relations. Of course, they were not positive on the details of this plan, but they were going to take opportunities if they arose. For example, during Sydney’s first meeting with the newspaper crew, she dropped her pencil and Michael picked it up for her, giving her a sweet smile in return. Also, when Michael asked for a volunteer to go with him to the printers to pick up their newspaper once it was completed, Sydney volunteered in a slightly overzealous way, nearly knocking a desk over in the process, which only really succeeded in having people laugh at her.

In addition to spending additional time in each other’s presence during newspaper meetings, Sydney made it a point to go up and talk to Michael every morning between homeroom and English class. This way, every time a student entered that classroom, they would see them speaking together. More often than not, Sydney and Michael weren’t saying anything at all; they were merely babbling random words quietly so it gave the illusion that they were deep in conversation with their own personal jokes. Every morning Sydney did this, Michael would watch her walk away, thoroughly enjoying her new, snugger wardrobe.

Of course this enjoyment came with a significant downside since they could not actually date one another in any traditional sense. As a matter of fact, they had not even kissed since the night of the carnival when Sydney revealed the truth about who she really was. This was painful for them both, but they had to be very discreet about becoming close in public. Getting caught making out with each other in Michael’s classroom was not part of their plan; they were going for a more subtle, less dangerous route.

One Wednesday afternoon as everyone was leaving the newspaper staff meeting, Sydney volunteered to stay behind and help clean up the empty cups and plates left behind from the student’s snakes. Her offer to help was more out of kindness than any sort of plan, although she did see an opportunity to get a bit closer to Michael and did not hesitate to take it. As he was clearing off the desks and setting the chairs up on top so the janitor could sweep the floor, Sydney slid onto one of the desks behind him and prodded the back of his knee with her toe.

“Hey,” he laughed, turning around to face her. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what? This?” she asked with a cheeky grin as she locked her heels around the back of his calves, trying to bring him a bit close to her.

“Um yes,” Michael laughed as he stumbled forward. He rested his hands on the desk on either side of her legs and leaned in closer to her as though he was going to kiss her, but before he could Sydney leaned away.

“Nope; too risky,” she said. He groaned loudly. “Oh come on what would happen if someone walked by that door and saw us? You’d be in the back of a police car before we even had a chance to explain.”

Knowing this was a valid point Michael grumbled and continued cleaning up the scattered paper cups. Sydney slid off the desk to help him and together they had the room cleaned up in a matter of minutes. As Sydney was packing up her backpack, Michael expressed his desires for the two of them to get together outside of the school in a situation where at least some form of kissing or closeness would be allowed. Wanting this as well, Sydney very quietly invited him to her townhouse that weekend for a date in evening; Michael agreed immediately and they parted ways with a promise of a phone call later that evening.

~*~

As Sydney was staring at her close Saturday afternoon, desperately trying to pick an outfit to wear on her date that evening, she realized that she had absolutely no clothes that would be appropriate. She realized that the vast majority of her wardrobe was a hideous disaster. The items of clothing she owned were either too big, too bag, or too plaid to be worn in the company of someone as gorgeous as Michael. She did have one rather nice black dress, but it was too fancy for that evening, so she was stuck wearing one of the outfits she normally wore to school. She did, however, make a mental note to go shopping for some date appropriate clothing that she would be able to use for the first time in her life.

To make their date in night (during which they would be watching a movie) last a little longer, Sydney originally offered to make them some dinner. Michael refused, though, stating he felt bad making her cook when she had homework to do; he would simply bring along a pizza with the movie.

When Sydney hear the doorbell ring, she rushed down the hall to answer it. Outside the door, Michael stood with a pizza box in his arms and a black baseball cap on his head; Sydney couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh good, the delivery boy is here; how much do I owe ya?”

“Ha you’re funny,” he said dryly walking into the house. “I’m wearing the cap to be a bit more inconspicuous.”

“I can see that,” she laughed softly before leaning over the pizza box to give him a quick kiss. Of course, their kiss did not end as quickly as Sydney anticipated since Michael would not release her lips from hers for a solid minute or so.

“Mm I missed that,” he sighed. Sydney giggled involuntarily with nerves at this comment; never had anyone said that they missed her let alone her kisses. “So how did your homework go? By the way, I never thought I’d be dating someone who had homework…after college, that is,” he laughed.

“Well trust me I never thought I’d have homework again either,” she grumbled.

Michael cringed. “Yeah that sucks…”

“So how do you think our plan is going by the way?” Sydney asked as she pulled a slice of pizza from the box and set it down on a plate. “I mean… I don’t know if its working.”

“Well its just been a week or so; give it time,” Michael pointed out, taking a slice for himself.

“I know but… I don’t even know how to be sexy I’m just a dud,” she sighed.

Michael nearly choked at this comment. “Syd you’re not a dud –you’re very sexy, you just don’t know it,” he said. Sydney gave a laughing noise that made it clear she did not believe him. “I’m serious! You know that walk you do when you’re on the way back to your desk in English class – now that is sexy.”

“Really?” she asked carefully.

He nodded. “Just don’t think about it and don’t try really hard – you’ve already got it.”

“Okay then,” she smiled, slightly happier. “So what movie did you rent? I hope its not R rated because you know I’m just 17,” she said, bating her eyelashes at him.

“That’s creepy,” he laughed. “Don’t say that or think that because it would make me eleven years older than you.”

That time Sydney nearly choked on her pizza. “You’re twenty-eight?! You’re kidding!” She would have guessed his age to be much younger, not that twenty-eight was incredibly old or anything, just older than she expected.

“Yeah, I guess I was just blessed with good DNA,” he smiled.

“In more ways that one,” she informed him seriously. He laughed and threw a napkin at her.

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Chapters 11 - 22 + Epilogue