"Seriously, Wallace?"
He shrugs at her indignant response with apparent nonchalance, turning his shoulders back towards his blood-sputtered video game interface. His fingers fly rapidly over the controls. "What? You're the one who says you've got nothing to do."
"I never said that!" She sends a pillow directly towards his shaved head. He ducks it.
"Well, sorry if 'I need to get out of that house' was interpreted otherwise over here."
She flops back against the mattress, straight hair in a messy spread. With Wallace's apartment being more man cave than home, guest seating didn't seem to have been a decoration priority. "Well, I did, okay?"
"Okay."
Ugh, men.
"But it doesn't mean I have to go teach."
"Careful with that tone, young lady." His eyes don't leave the screen. "That's my career we're talking about."
She sighs and pulls back up with adolescent ease. Petiteness has its perks. "I'm not you, baby brother. Driving the fear of God into the hearts of gangly teenagers isn't exactly my cup of tea."
"Yeah, sure. And you call me that one more time, you're never hanging out here again."
"Like I want to."
"Like you have anywhere else."
"I can go to Mac's."
"Until she starts making out with her fiance."
She sighs in defeat and resettles on the carpet next to Wallace. Adjusting to just how much everyone else has moved on has been - challenging. But of course, it's her fault for expecting life in Neptune to be remotely the same way she left it before Quantico.
The step-siblings sit in relative silence until Wallace's last game life proves brutally short.
"Seriously, Veronica. It won't be that bad." He tosses the controls to the side.
"Says the 35-year-old bachelor playing a video game on a console that's more expensive than a couch."
"For the record, I got this beauty for Drey."
"Ah, yes, brother of the year."
"Jealous?"
"Very," she snarls sarcastically. "I lost my Daddy to Almira. You gonna make me lose my brother too?"
"Dramatic much? Our dad has plenty of love to share. A new baby girl isn't gonna make you any less his daughter."
"Our dad, huh? You seriously call him that?"
Wallace shrugs. "It's not like my own father left me anything. I mean - other than Drey, of course."
She nods acquiescently. "What's his last name again?"
"My dad?"
"No - well, yes. I mean Drey."
Now Wallace laughs. "Would it surprise you if I said 'Fennel'?"
Her eyebrow lifts. "He took your name?"
"Yup. Told me he needed a fresh start after coming over from Chicago. Couldn't blame the kid for having nobody else. It's not like he and Mom or Darrell share any blood."
She nods again. Knowing about Wallace moving out to live with his half-brother was one thing; seeing it, entirely another. "So are you, like, a super conscientious and upright citizen plus super responsible brother now?"
"As far as Drey is concerned, yes."
"And Darrell?"
He laughs. "Sure, once that kid is done with law school, he's making more dough than I am."
"Because you're a - what's that word again? Teacher?"
"Seriously, just quit with the Princess Ariel vibes."
"Always knew you were a girl, Fennel."
"Watch your tongue, there's two that answers to the name now."
"Ah, ever the protective mother figure, shielding her young from the wiles of wayward women."
"I'm gonna ignore that mother hen jab just to point out how disturbing your sentence really sounded."
She rolls her eyes. "Seriously, chill. I'm not a cougar with access to your impressionable little bro."
"But the social service department might be a lot more strict on what a teacher says."
Her hands find the pillow and deliver it to his face again. "I am not teaching at Neptune High!"
"Because teachers suck?"
"No, I didn't say that." She softens.
"Good, cuz I happen to like my job. But it's just journalism, Vee. We need a sub until Mrs. Hawkins comes back from maternity, and then you could skip along to your new high-powered NYC office and paycheck. Take it as a chance to give back to the community."
"Cuz working my butt off for twelve years in the public sector isn't really serving the people."
"Not like this." He grins.
She sighs and looks away.
Cuz there's nothing like bringing up a teenager to make Wallace level the argumentative playing field.
"Unless, of course, you'd rather help our mom change diapers, be my unpaid housekeeper, or help Mac plan her wedding," he pipes casually.
She shudders at each mental image. Why did she think a long break before she starts her next job was a good idea again?
I dunno, Veronica, maybe the "you need to take a vacation" prescription every single doctor hurled at you?
"So how often would I have to show up?"
"Let's see - so how am I supposed to excuse you this time?" His fingers shuffle smoothly over the tablet screen until he reaches the last and latest page on the file. He props it towards the slouching young man before his desk. "Any pleas, Mr. Echolls?"
The boy, tall and lean, shifts his weight to the right. He looks up - and then down again.
"Orlando." The older man's voice is level, stern. "Anything?"
"No," he mumbles.
With the quirk of an eyebrow, the current judge of Orlando Echolls's fate slips back on his swivel chair. "Any reason why Seaver deserved that fist to the face?"
"No."
"Any reason why he is currently bleeding in the nurse's office while you - movie star offspring - is peeing his pants while interrupting my office hours?"
"I'm not peeing - "
"Yeah?"
Orlando grunts, blatantly upset, and plops down on a nearby chair. He locks his brows, obstinately looking away from his companion.
Said companion would have none of it. "You realize that I could be talking to your mom about this."
Orlando shuffles.
"And you know how she likes to get 'disappointed?'"
"No, you wouldn't - "
"I wouldn't." He leans back, cocky. "But TMZ would gobble it all up, wouldn't they?"
The young man licks his lips.
Gotcha.
"And if the academic woes of Aaron Echolls's grandson were to be plastered all over this week's issue" - he narrates with controlled nonchalance - "how're ya gonna get the girl?"
And blond hair barely skimming his brows, Orlando falls back in defeat. "Fine, whaddya want."
"That's not how you talk to your teacher."
"Look, I can't do this. Lo - "
"That's Mr. Echolls to you, Orlando."
"Fine!" He jumps out of the seat, hands flaring in frustration. "What do you want, Mr. Echolls?"
Logan smiles, leans back, and crosses his ankles on the edge of the desk. "Simple: An A-worthy paper."
Orlando's face falls. "No, no, no. You know how much time that's gonna take?"
"Not more than you currently spend trying to get Sheila's attention."
Well, that shut him up.
"It's not like that," he offers two seconds too late.
"And why else would Seaver Vandergraff be fighting with you - unless it had to do with his sister?"
"It's just - well, Sheila herself never said no."
"Right, and Seaver has no right over her. Twin brother is not father."
"Exactly!"
Logan smiles at the sudden vulnerability in the young man's face. Empathy is a magical thing. "But that doesn't make your mom particularly enthusiastic about her, does it?"
Orlando sighs - drooping shoulders and all.
"Look, I know this is the oldest-sounding thing I could possibly say." Logan shifts back upright. "But I've been young before, you know? I've been in these hallways, heart burning over the girl of my dreams. I know what it's like."
The student looks up.
"And if it's meant to be, then neither your mom nor her brother are ever gonna be able to do anything about it."
"You think?" The raw hope sounds almost heartbreaking.
Young love.
"I think you can do better than moping around wasting your life, kid." He stands up and folds away the tablet. "You write me an A paper in class, and I don't tell your mom about the fight. And I guarantee to persuade her about your being smitten with Sheila Vandergraff. Deal?"
"Fine." The harsh tone doesn't match the excitement in his eyes.
"Good. Now scurry off to class. I've got quizzes to grade. I'll see you at home - working on that paper."
The sharp ring of the school bell hits him hard. Surprised, he glances at his watch. Apparently, 90 reflection papers require more than 90 minutes to grade properly.
Logan sighs, but he smiles as soon as his eyes land on the photograph on his desk. Orlando has complained numerous times that no one keeps printed and framed photographs past 2020. But what could he say? He's a sentimental guy.
His smile deepens.
It had taken two days to convince him back then - two days of pleading and dodging paparazzi before Charlie finally let him through the door. But when he finally did, something changed.
Suddenly, I wasn't alone anymore.
A small knot forms in his throat. He contemplates the picture of him and his brother again. Maybe blood really is thicker than water.
Because in his mind, Logan knows that Charlie didn't have to let him in the house that day, Charlie didn't have to listen to his pleas for help at the sudden need to be a father figure, and Charlie didn't have to inspire him so much that he ended up becoming a teacher himself. But, he still did.
Did not have to but did - who knew real life could be this sappy?
The volume of slamming lockers and chattering teenagers suddenly increases. He looks up.
"Hey - uhm, Mr. Echolls." Orlando, for all his shaggy-haired glory, shifts at the formal name. The office door behind him swings haphazardly from the forceful entrance.
Logan smirks. "Yes?"
"You, uh, got to talk to Mom yet?"
He smiles, amused. "She says you could take whatever club you want - as long as you have one."
A sigh of thankfulness almost escapes the teen. "Even if, uhm - "
"Even if Sheila is in the same club. Happy?"
And if it wasn't generally considered a crime for a high school boy to look happy, he probably would've smiled some.
"Yo, 'Lando, you coming?" The approaching friend greets with a slap on the tall boy's shoulder.
"Seaver," Logan greets, firmly.
"Oh, hey," Seaver throws his way before facing Orlando again.
Logan clears his throat.
"I mean - hi, Mr. Echolls." Seaver begrudges, this time with a proper look at the faculty member.
Logan nods. He pauses for a moment at the sight of the two friends clapping each other on the shoulder. "You guys okay?"
"Huh? Oh yeah - totally cool," Orlando quickly explains.
Oh the short-lived rivalry of teenaged men.
"Headed to club - together?" Logan asks in a perfectly-level teacher voice.
"Yes, sir," Orlando responds. Seaver nods nonchalantly.
"Which one?"
"Journalism!" Seaver rediscovers his usual enthusiasm. He grabs Orlando - who has a confused look on his face - an inch closer. "We should totally go, man. They got this hot new teacher who's like a super detective or something. Heard she strutted into school in knee-high boots today. Like, so hot."
Logan can't help smirk at the boys. Fight yesterday over a girl, bond today over another - life's simple, isn't it?
"But journalism?"
"My sister's already signed up."
That's the deal-breaker, apparently, as the boys scurry out in record time.
And because he feels particularly sappy that day, Logan lets his eyes trail the two buddies walking away. Blood may be thicker than water; but there are certain friendships in life that make water flow almost like blood.
He glances at his Rolex - a recent Christmas gift from Duncan Kane - bought from perfectly legal money. Why was he ever surprised that the law forgave so quickly in the light of Duncan's inheritance money?
It wasn't the law that took a while.
He moves to re-organize the two-foot stack of reflection papers. But if Charlie forgave him, who was he to hold grudges against anyone else?
"Samantha Burkins."
"Here!"
"Ashley Clemmons."
"Here!"
"Ferdinand Mason."
"Here!"
She can't help smiling at the jittery teenagers, all hungry for their first assignment from the new teacher. Didn't she feel the exact same way the first day Miss Stafford came in to sub for Miss Dent? There's something about journalism teachers getting knocked up.
Don't jinx yourself, Veronica.
She looks back at the list.
"Valentina Navarro?"
"Here."
She looks up at the girl with luscious long hair and beautiful toffee skin, her hands folded neatly on her desk.
Could it be?
"Did your dad go to school here?" She asks impulsively.
"He met my mom here." Valentina answers with a soft, demure smile. "He told me to switch to journalism because you're advising."
"Really?"
"He said you once saved Mom from a bad boyfriend who was threatening her."
Carmen?
Veronica smiles. "I see."
"So you really do, like, save people?"
Veronica turns to the spunky blonde beside Valentina. The student is leaning forward, blue eyes sparkling. Now here's a journalist at heart.
"Smell a good story?"
"No, just - I think you're really, really cool." The girl grinned, excited.
Veronica laughs. "And your name is?"
"Sheila - Sheila Vandergraff."
"Vandergraff."
"Yup. On the bottom of your little list over there?"
"Ah." Now Veronica can't help grinning. She tapped 'present' on the last name on her list. "So - everyone accounted for?"
Heads nod - all except Sheila's. "Except for you?"
"Excuse me?"
"You just admitted that you used to help Val's mom, so you must be from Neptune. So what're you doing back here?"
Veronica leans back, amused. "I'm not allowed back?"
"But you're from the FBI, right?"
And how did that get out?
"You're not?" A male voice questions.
Veronica turns to face the two boys at the door. "Excuse me?"
"Hello, ma'am." The shorter, dark-haired one saunters forward with an affected smile. "We're so sorry to be late."
"Uhm, okay." She glances down at her list. "I don't think I have your names here?"
"Seaver Vandergraff," the boy huffs confidently. He adds, "Sheila's sister. I mean - she's my sister."
Veronica smiles at the sniggers that are already sweeping the room. "Welcome to class, Seaver. Just drop by the records office later to confirm the transfer. And your friend?"
All eyes turn to the lanky blonde shifting at the entrance.
"Orlando," the boy mutters, stepping forward. "Orlando Echolls."
The world spins for five seconds.
The Echolls are still in town?
"Welcome, Orlando. Have a seat."
Her mind races far too fast to notice where exactly everyone's seated. She profiles Orlando.
But those eyes don't look anything close to -
"Miss Mars."
She jumps back to the present.
"Yes?" She replies generally.
To her right, Sheila leans forward, face still as mischievous as ever. "So is it true that you're an FBI agent?"
Veronica leans back against the desk again. "Maybe?"
"That means yes-but-you-don't-wanna-tell-us." Seaver grins.
Veronica smirks at the siblings - twins, since they're both juniors on the list she's just tapped up.
Dear Lord, Troy has twins.
"So what if I am?"
"Then maybe you're trying to avoid telling us something?" Valentina tries.
"Okay, but what?"
"Maybe why you're here instead of at the FBI?" Sheila resumes. "Wait, are you even at the FBI still?"
Veronica smiles. "Whoever said I was an agent in the first place?"
Sheila doesn't skip a beat. "Well, Drey told Lilly, and Lilly told Val, and Val told me. But that's just hearsay. I need to hear it from the source."
Now Veronica almost laughs. "So let's say I acknowledge that I used to be an agent. What does that infer?"
"That you're no longer one," Seaver contributes.
"Correct - and?"
"And there's probably a big reason why you quit. Because - if you were at school the same time as Mrs. Navarro was, that means you've been an agent for at least ten years. That means it must be a very significant career shift," Sheila concludes.
Career shift? Guess one could call it that.
"Very good. Looks like you guys are in the right place."
"So why?"
"Why what?" Veronica scrunches her brow.
"Why did you quit? Was it harassment? Office politics? Ex-boyfriend?" The way Sheila's eyes light up at the interrogation electrifies the room.
Veronica smirks. "Maybe a bit of everything? That kind of lifestyle - it's great. But it's also very demanding. Sometimes, we need a change of pace in life."
Let's hope that shuts them up.
"Like becoming a teacher?" Orlando's droning voice suddenly pipes up.
Veronica turns. "Is there anything wrong with that?"
"No." Orlando shrugs. "But, like, isn't it better to have, like, great things in life? You know, like big, crazy, epic stuff happening? Teaching is kinda boring."
Epic.
Veronica inhales. "Well, maybe I'm just getting a little old?"
"You're so not old, Miss Mars. You're hot!"
All eyes turn to Seaver, who suddenly blushes to his roots.
"Okay, Seaver, is it?"
He nods, almost imperceptibly.
"I'm going to set some ground rules. Number one, no calling the teacher hot. Number two" - she turns to Sheila - "no interrogating your teacher on her personal life. And number three, no implying that teaching is dumb, okay?"
Heads nod - everyone's.
"As for why I'm here today." She pauses, choosing her words. "I had a great job, I got tired of a great job, and I'm back to my roots. It looks like going around in circles, but - judging from those last names, your parents might have something to say about that."
And with a wink, she sends them to their screens.
A/N: This story is a big change of pace from my usual ones. I'm actually quite nervous about it. If you'd be so kind as to leave your thoughts, I'll embrace each comment! Special thanks to irma66 for all her help. I couldn't have done this without her.