!Authors Note! Anything in italics besides the quote and emphasizing words in dialogue or in descriptions is a deduction (Just for future reference) ;)
Solitude is a good place to visit, but a poor place to stay.
-Josh Billings
(POV: Sherlock)
Blasted school. Why did mother make me go again? To 'socialize me'? Well, it wasn't working. When was she going to realize that?
I can't make friends. No, let me rephrase that, I don't want to make friends, and they sure don't want me.
My intelligence intimidates them, and that's fine. They aren't smart enough to understand me anyways. No one was.
I was alone, except Mycroft that is, but he was as an ass. He didn't want to be with me, just alone with his school work, or studying.
Mother pestered me about it daily.
"But sweetheart, a friend would do you so much good. You wouldn't be so lonely, you'd be happier if you weren't always alone."
But she doesn't understand, I like being alone. I'm with my thoughts, and no one would understand those.
So I remain alone in the back of the classroom, half listening, half consumed in my own thoughts.
And that's what I did today, but it's different. A girl stands in front of us. Blood hair obviously dyed, about 5'2, her accent claims American, but her face cries Irish, as she was pale with freckles sprinkling her nose like pepper.
I sat up slightly, intrigued. I couldn't read anything more about her. Everyone else was like a book, so easily read, but she was like a diary, locked, and I didn't have the key.
She looked concentrated as the teacher spoke. I zoned out, just trying to focus on her, trying to get anything.
She finally looked at me, her eyebrow raising. She looked somewhat surprised, like I wasn't right. Well, I wasn't, but I'm not sure that's what's it was.
We stared at each other, both equally perplexed with one another. What was she doing? Was she...no. Not possible. No one besides Mycroft and I can do such things.
(POV: Zoe)
I walk to my class, making sure it was the right one, and enter the teacher instantly realizing I was new.
"Yes, hello, you must be Ms. Trudeau." She smiled. "The new student."
I cringe slightly at the term, but nod none the less.
"Well, I'm Mrs. Fusco, your English teacher." The woman smiled.
5'6, dark hair, depressed after a miscarriage, affair in the midst, late for work this morning because of a quick 'meeting' with the guidance counselor.
She then turned to the class and introduced me.
"Class, this is Zoe Trudeau, she is a new student joining us from America." She said cheerfully.
I examine the room.
Cheerleader cheating on her boyfriend with her best friend, her best friend cheating on her with her boyfriend, a girl who just found out she was pregnant (twins)...
My gazed narrowed as my eyes fell upon a boy in the back of the room. I couldn't get a read on him. He was blank.
I could see him watching me, and he was just as confused as I was. What the hell was he doing? Was he....not possible. He was just staring. I couldn't blame him, I was a bit of an eyesore.
"Now, where would you like to sit?" Mrs. Fusco asked sweetly.
"In the back, if it's all the same with you. I prefer to observe rather than be in the peanut gallery." I say.
She looks me a little confused, then the back of the room, then back at me, and bites her lip.
"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to sit up here? I'm not sure the back would do much to help you." She said hesitantly.
"I'm sorry, didn't you ask where I would like to sit?" I ask, a touch of sass in my voice.
"Well yes but-"
"And I said I would like to sit in the back. Is that an issue?" I ask.
"No, it's just-"
"It's just what? Is the back unsuitable for some reason?" I ask, narrowing my eyes, making the boy smirk, crossing his arms.
She sighed, realizing she was defeated, when a girl in the front row, the cheerleader spoke up.
"Why would you want to sit near that freak?" She asked, screwing up her face like she had just eaten a lemon.
"He's such a show off, and a compleat ass."
"Amanda, watch your language." Mrs. Fusco said softly.
"No, no, it's fine." I say, stepping in front of her. "And what's so wrong with being a freaky, showoffy asshole Amanda?" I ask her, hands on on either side of her desk, leaning down to look her in the eye.
"Everything. It's awful, like you think your to good for us." She said sitting forward to look me in the eye.
"Just like you when you started cheating on your boyfriend with your best friend." I say looking between the two girls.
She looked at me dumbfounded.
"That's not...it never...you can't prove anything!" She stuttered.
"Really? That hickey, the one you tried to hide with your collar and makeup, very poor job by the way," I start. "It's to small to be done by any male, and you've left remnants of your lipstick on the corner of her mouth." I say, a grin only comparable to that of the Cheshire Cat played on my lips.
She looked at me, tears in her eyes, bottom lip trembling, trying to stutter out a retort, but could find no words.
My eyes flicker to the boy in the back of the room, a look of shock and integument played on his face.
(POV: Sherlock)
How the hell did she do that?! Her deductions were do accurate, so on point.
Was she like Mycroft and I? Yes, she had to be, not just anyone could do that. Not just anyone had such a gift.
I need to investigate this affect of immediately.
(POV: Zoe)
"Alright, that's quite enough ladies. Zoe, take your seat." Mrs. Fusco said hesitantly.
I nod, walking down the row of desks to the back, feeling every single persons eyes on me. But I look straight ahead to the boy and my desk, feeling powerful, maybe even a bit cocky.
I sit down in the empty one next to him, dropping my book bag down on the floor next to me, pulling out a copy of Gone With The Wind and start to read as the teacher begins her lesson.
