Simon understood Jack. At least, he was pretty sure he did. He was good at reading people, and discovering intentions, and Jack was pretty easy to figure out. He had pretty controlling parents, and that was why Jack took charge in choir and bossed everyone around. He wanted something he could control. He wanted something that was his. And Simon could understand that. His parents never gave him much of a say in anything besides the books he read. When they wanted him out of the house, he left and when he was in, he mainly stayed in his room, out of the way.
Jack felt worthless. Simon could see it on his face when he got a question wrong in class or in quiet moments when no one spoke. Maybe that was why he lashed out at the others and told Simon that his real parents had never wanted him all along.
And when he was alone, Simon thought that maybe it was true. Those were the days when he covered himself with blankets and called his sister up on the phone. She told him everything was alright- though she didn't know what the problem was- and he asked her what she remembered of their real parents. She told him all she knew.
And though occasionally Simon despised Jack, he understood him. Sometimes he hated what he knew, but deep down, he knew Jack was sad and lonely, just like him.