Many dinner conversation is a rehash of what's gone on before, and so is the dinner.
-Unknown
(POV: Zoe)
I threw the unsettlingly warm bag into the garbage and continued into the halls, Sherlock following like a little lamb, eyes burning into the back of my head. Still trying to read me.
"Now, tell me about the class." I say, letting him catch up to walk next to me.
"Well," He sighed, setting his gaze to in front of him, down the long hallways full of children all looking at us.
"It's a class full of upperclassmen, the teachers have found us superior to the others we have class with." He said, turning down another hallway. "And the teacher, he's actually decent, life's a bit boring and stable; a wife, son, two cats, but he's a decent teacher, not talking about his personal life, or trying to 'relate to us'," He explains. "But he sticks with facts and it's nice." He shrugged.
"Sounds nice." I nod, approaching the door, the teacher waiting for us, well, me.
"Watch out, good mood. He'll be interested in you." Sherlock mumbled, slipping past Mr. Sheraton with ease.
"You must be our new student." Mr. Sheraton smiles.
I quickly deduce everything Sherlock had said.
The fur on his shirt and tie, wedding ring, hair still tousled slightly with bags under his eyes, though he remained ever preppy showing he was probably up late with a young child. Happiness probably caused by his child, maybe they said a new word?
"Yes, Zoe Trudeau." I nod, holding out my hand to shake his.
"Well, Miss. Trudeau, it's nice to meet such a bright young lady and have her join our class." He said, shaking my hand. His grip was firm and warm, very friendly, good man.
"I think I'll enjoy this class." I say positively. "Chemistry is a strong suit of mine."
"So I can tell." He nods. "Now, let's get you introduced to the class, though I can tell your already aquatinted with my best student Mr. Holmes." He grins.
"Yes, I guess you could say that. Friends aren't really my area." I shrug.
He smiles a bit more.
"You'll be friends in no time." He said, walking into the classroom.
The class was filled with kids, maybe two years older than us, eighteen years old at least. Again, Sherlock sat in the back of the class.
(POV: Sherlock)
Mr. Sheraton stood Zoe in the front of the room, and started to introduce her.
"Class, this is our new student, Zoe Trudeau. Why don't you tell us about yourself Zoe?"
I sit up, crossing my arms. Finally, I was find to learn something about her.
"Well, I'm Zoe, for those half of you who are asleep. I moved here two days ago with my mom from America, if you couldn't tell from my accent. I have been to more schools than I can count, I have two tattoos, eight piercings total, and I don't like people." She says stiffly, gaze set over everyone's head, to the back wall.
Mr. Sheraton pursed his lips, rethinking his decision to let her speak.
"Alright, well, I think that's enough for now." He said, his laugh lacking humor as he attempted to try and lighten the words coming from his mouth. "Please go have a seat. Since you've already met Sherlock, you can sit with him."
She nodded, starting back to my desk while Mr. Sheraton started his lesson like usual.
"Seems your going to be seeing a lot of me this year." She said, sitting next to me.
"Just a perk of knowing me. They'll partner us up because no one else wants to be with me." I shrug, not really upset by it. "Just be warned, I do most of the work on these kind of things."
"Well, we'll have to work on that because I am helping, if not doing half of it." She said, pulling her papers out of her bag and onto the desk.
"Unlikely." I say under my breath.
"Very likely." She growled in a whisper.
"I am helping and you and your tight ass aren't doing a damn thing to stop me."
I sat in shock for a second. No one ever talked to me like that. They were either to busy trying to make fun of me, or didn't speak to me at all.
We sat in an awkward silence for the entire class, finally relieved to be dismissed by the bell.
(POV: Zoe)
School seemed to end quickly after that, and we were dismissed.
I got home and changed into some pajama pants and a tank top with a thin robe to hide the tattoo on my shoulder my mom still had no idea about.
"How was school?" She asked as she unpacked the last of the boxes.
"Fine, fine." I shrug. "I wasn't bad today." I lie. "I met someone though."
"Oh Zoe that's perfect!" She smiled, pulling me into a hug which I just stood awkwardly and endured. "What's her name?"
"His name is Sherlock and he's in my english lit. and chemistry classes." I say dismissing it.
"Oooo!" She smiled. "Is he cute?" She asked curiously.
"Mom!" I groan. "I've told you, dating is not my area."
"That doesn't mean you can't think he's cute." She sighed.
I rolled my eyes. "He's fine. He's pretty tall, really pale, raven black hair that's like a curly mop, and really smart, like, almost as smart as me."
"He sounds nice." She nodded. "Maybe you could invite him over sometime." She offered.
"Maybe." I mumbled. I grab a bottle of water and go back to my room.
(POV: Sherlock)
I am able to sneak up to my room and hide in there for a few hours, managing to get all of my work done before mother calls Mycroft and I down for supper.
We groan like always, mumbling something vague excuse about not being hungry, but she makes us sit, and eat at least a small portion.
"So boys, how was school?" She asked, eating a forkful of what she claimed was meatloaf into her mouth.
"Boring and the same as always." I mumble. "Same old goldfish, swimming around in the same old bowl."
"That's not what I heard." Mycroft scoffed. "I heard that you had found yourself a little girlfriend." He spat the last word like filth.
"Oh Sherlock, that's wonderful!" Mother grinned happily, probably at the fact I wasn't gay, or asexual, which she was very worried I was for some reason. "What's her name?"
"She is most definitely not my girlfriend." I growl, glaring over at Mycroft. "Not my area." I say for what seemed like the billionth time. "And her name is Zoe, she just moved here from America, and I was showing her to her class which we just so happened to have together."
"Ah yes, and your so very known for your kindness." He said sarcastically, sending me a sharp look back. "And that's all you gathered? That she was from America?" He asked rather stiffly, like a disapproving father.
"Of course I did Fatcroft." I shoot back defensively.
"Ooo, very defensive aren't we?" He smirked. "Your pathetic..."
"BOYS!" Mother erupted from one head of the table. "Stop this bickering at once!"
"Boys, you heard your mother." Father said in a pitiful attempt to help.
We roll our eyes, moving our food around with our forks.
"Now, you can either help clear up and get dessert, or you can go to your room and finish up your schoolwork."
Mother sighed, just fed up with us, accompanied with the stress of a long day working.
I leapt up at the words, racing upstairs while Mycroft, like the fat cow he is, stayed down to get ready for dessert.
!Authors Note!
Hey everyone! I'M NOT DEAD! I've just had major writers block lately, and just now find a way to end this chapter. I'll try to get the next chapter done soon, but with school, my school play coming up, and giving myself free time, it might not be up for a few days. Thanks for understanding!
-Z
