A/N: Another fanfic! I had this idea and couldn't resist writing about it. Enjoy.

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"Miss Bennet, pay attention!" Mrs. Norberry commanded, smacking a ruler on my desk. I turned back from the window, showing the vibrant sunny summer day, to face her. Her graying hair, usually twisted in a tight bun at the nape of her neck was loosening, implying that maybe I wasn't the first one today to give her trouble. Her brown eyes were flaming with fury. "That is the second time this class! Do you want me to give you a detention?"

"No, Mrs. Norberry," I answered immediately. "It's just that – well, I know all this." I waved my hand to my textbook and at the chalk board. "It's not anything new."

"This is grade 12 trigonometry, a whole year above you. And the beginning of the school year, Miss Bennet. This is very advanced for you." She said this as though I was merely a child throwing a tantrum, and she was just waiting for me to tire out. She was slightly amused.

Her good humor vanished when she looked behind me to see Chris Freemont whispering to Stacie Warburg, his hand on her knee, slowly crawling up to her mini-skirt. "Mr. Freemont," she barked, "stop talking and keep your hands to yourself, or its detention!"

"As I was saying, Mrs. Norberry," I continued, wiping her spit of my cheek, "it's not new for me. During the summer, I wanted to get ahead, so I read some of the material. I got a little – I lost track of time, and I ended up reading the whole thing."

Her lips turned slightly to make a small, almost unnoticeable smile. As soon as I saw it, her lips returned to her usual frown. "Miss Bennet, the reason behind school is to teach pupils. I cannot do that when you have read every lesson I planned to teach. Stop reading textbooks, or its detention."

At the end of her rant, the bell rang. Students quickly filed out of the room, hastily picking up their books so they could get to their next class on time. Mrs. Norberry sat at her desk; grading the quick pop-quiz she conducted the first half of our class.

"Again, I'm sorry, Mrs. Norberry. I didn't mean to disrupt the whole class." I had never really been in trouble before, so I thought my best choice would be to apologize. She nodded and waved me away, not looking up from the papers.

Outside the classroom, someone came up from behind me and put their hand on my shoulder. Startled, I jumped; my books slipped from my hands and fell on my feet.

"Hey nerd, thanks for stalling the class," Chris said, Stacie by his side. He strutted off with his girlfriend. He didn't help me with my books.

Sighing, I knelt down and massaged my aching toe where the textbook had fallen. I quickly picked up my binder, but couldn't find any of my notebooks. I internally cursed, wondering if someone stole them for a joke.

"Looking for these?"

A god stood before me, holding out my blue flowered notebooks. His hair was perfectly sculpted, and a brilliant shade of red. His eyes a dark, deep blue. He was dressed casually, in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. He wasn't a teacher, but he was too old to be a student.

"Um – thanks," I stuttered. I took the notebooks out of his hands and placed them in my binder where they wouldn't get lost. My eyes never left his face. "Who are you?" I blurted. I flushed and swore under my breath. Why was I so awkward?

"I'm Charles Bingley. My family just moved here from the city. I'm here to pick up my sister, Caroline, but I have no idea where the office is," he answered. Even his voice was perfect.

"Oh, it's just down the hall to your right." He started to turn. "Bye, Charles!" He turned back and smiled at me.

"Please, call me Charlie."

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"Who was that?" Lydia asked, getting some lip gloss from her wonderful, pink perfectly teenage girl locker. It was sweet and superficial, with pictures of hot male celebrities taped up on the door, covered in glitter and hearts. My locker was plain, full of books and a picture of Albert Einstein, along with the theory of relativity.

"Who was who?" I said casually, like I didn't know what she was talking about. Of course she was asking about Charles – Charlie. He was cute, charming, and unlike the boys at Meryton High. She was looking for someone new to flirt with.

"Oh, my gawd, Mary! You know who I'm talking about. That, like, major hunk that you were talking to. Who is he?" She shut her locker and crossed her arms, she meant business. Annoying, silly business.

Why did the school board set up lockers alphabetically, not by grade? I was beside my two annoying sisters, and they were the bane of my existence. Kitty, my other sister, was held up in class because she failed the pop-quiz, testing what we already knew (almost every teacher at our school held a test; it was tradition). Apparently, Kitty knew nothing.

"Just a guy, picking up his sister. He's way too old for you." I didn't want Lydia to be interested in Charlie. I liked him, and I didn't want her to have him. She'd just chew up and spit him out. Sweet, charming Charlie didn't deserve that.

"You are like, such a hippocrite. If he's way too old for me, he's like, too old for you," said Lydia, opening her locker again to check her hair. She found a straightener in her bag and began to fix her bangs.

"First of all, it's hypocrite. It's a person who pretends to have morals and beliefs that they don't actually have. It has nothing to do hippos. And second, I don't even know how old he is, I just know that he's out of school. And everyone out of school is too old for you."

"Fine," she scoffed. "You are like, so mean. Anyway, who's his sister?" She seemed happy with her hair and put the straightener back. She took out some eye shadow and began to apply it.

"I don't know. I think he said her name was Caroline." I glanced at her reflection on her locker mirror. "There's too much on the left eye," I added. Wait, what was I doing? I was gossiping, sort of, and I was critiquing Lydia's make-up. The most make-up I wore was chap stick. Clear, waxy chap stick, not like the pink, glossy stuff Lydia and Kitty applied. I'm talking, too. For the last two years, I barely talked to anyone at my locker. Now I'm gossiping with Lydia? Oh, crap, and I'm emphasizing. Like another shallow teenage girl. Ten minutes together and already she's rubbing off on me.

"Oh, thanks. You saved me from, like, a fashion faux pas. So what's this Caroline's last name? What grade is she in?"

"Um – Bingley, and I don't know," I said, quickly grabbing the right books from my locker. I needed to get out of there before I did anything weirder. "I got to go get to class." I left without another word.

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