Chapter 2: Notes

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Shockingly enough, the next day he (the eccentric millionaire. Who else?) makes another scene by dragging his feet through the door of the English classroom only fifteen minutes into first period. It makes me curious: English is first block, so now that he's at school for the majority of first period, will he stay for second period? Will he still be late? What class does he even have second period? I didn't even know he took more than one class.

The English teacher is speechless as he slowly meanders through the class to the only empty desk, which is unsurprisingly right beside me (I'm the teacher's pet. Nobody wants to sit near me, because they're afraid they'll be in the teacher's line of sight). I swallow and brace myself for the loud clunk of his backpack, which occurs one moment later, as expected.

The English teacher, Mr. Hawkes, looks at him for a long moment with a helpless look, before continuing with the analysis of Shakespeare's Hamlet.

"... And can anyone tell me what the main purpose of this monologue is?"

No one, as usual. I wait for the usual pattern of a few students, then me. The class watches (while simultaneously trying to avoid eye contact with the teacher for fear they might be picked) as Mr. Hawkes surveys the classroom, before his gaze lands on the eccentric millionaire sitting beside me.

"Ah, yes. Mr..."

"Davis."

"Mr. Davis." Mr. Hawkes continues to watch him. "Can you tell us the meaning of Ophelia's monologue?"

He's silent for a moment, then leans back comfortably, and for a second I think he's just going to have a staring contest with Mr. Hawkes until he moves on. He looks at Mr. Hawkes with a cool, collected expression, unmoving.

"It's a comparison."

Mr. Hawkes blinks. "Please elaborate."

"Ophelia describes all of Hamlet's previously good qualities, in the context of his current madness. Also, Hamlet's speech just denounced her, women, and love, so there's also the comparison between their two speeches."

I look at my notes, frowning. Act III, Scene I- Ophelia's monologue is a comparison. She describes all of Hamlet's previously good qualities in the context of his current madness. Additionally, Hamlet's speech just prior denounced her, women, and love- comparison between two speeches.

There's no way that's a coincidence. Is it? No- his wording was practically verbatim. I look up to Mr. Hawkes to see him look stunned for another second before nodding and turning to write that on the board. I look at the eccentric millionaire. He's just barely smiling, looking straight ahead. His eyes flick to me, and he smirks a little more- and if that doesn't confirm it, he winks.

For the love of-

I consider telling Mr. Hawkes. He wouldn't be able to do anything about it, but at least he'd know. I decide to wait until after school- his classroom will be empty, and I'll have some time to mull it over.

He shows up for the last five minutes of calculus second period, and doesn't seem to be in my biology class third period, which is a bit of a relief. But then, in physics, he shows up about twenty minutes late and takes the spot beside me, even when there's another empty seat at the back of the room. I eye him suspiciously, but he doesn't even bother gracing me with a glance. Maybe he isn't going to read my answers out of my notebook again?

"Trevor, since you clearly see no value in arriving on time, and therefore must already know everything, perhaps you can inform us on how to calculate the energy of a photon," Ms. Jenson says pointedly, her tone like ice.

"It's Ryan, actually," he says.

"Please, pardon me," she practically spits. "Now, the energy of a photon."

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