Author Notes: This is a lot longer than the last chapter, and hopefully they'll all be this long or longer. As usual, feedback keeps me writing!
Nick never liked to consider himself the smart kid. He didn't think he was all that bright, just enough to get by. People always saw him as the smart one, though. He was the one that got his work in on time, and the one who asked all the right questions. He was the student all the teachers liked, and he honestly wasn't all that sure whether he loved that or hated it. It was a very fine line.
So when Nick was told that he was expected in the counselor's office, he was a little worried. He was pretty sure he hadn't done anything to upset anyone. He didn't really talk to anyone but his friends for the most part, because that meant not getting in trouble. It was easier that way. So why was he expected there of all places? He didn't know, and he didn't really want to know. He just hoped whatever it was would be over pretty quickly. He ended up stood at the desk, his back shrugged over his shoulder and smiling his sweet smile that always had the teachers eating out of the palm of his hand.
"What can we do for you, Nick?" The woman at the desk asked politely, offering her own smile.
Nick shrugged the bag further over his shoulder, "The counselor is expecting me."
Nick had to admit he felt a little anxious as the woman at the desk typed a few things into the computer in front of her, finally smiling back at him, and telling him he could go straight through. Nick didn't want to leave them waiting, because he figured if he was already in trouble, the last thing he wanted was to make things even worse. The thing that really got on his nerves was the way she smiled at him. Nick just sat in the seat in front of her, wringing his fingers together nervously and looking down at the floor.
"You're not in trouble, Nick." She chuckled, causing Nick to sigh in relief, "I just need to ask you a favor as one of our best students."
Nick's eyebrows rose at her words, and he leaned back in the seat, crossing his arms over his chest. He felt a little more relaxed now he knew he wasn't in trouble, and even better, they needed him to do something for them. "What do you need fromme?"
"The thing is, we have what I call a problem student. Actually, that's putting it politely." She offered him a strained smile before holding out a piece of paper for him, "The only way I've managed to get this student to do any work, is to set up a sort of pen pal project, and I need someone to respond to their messages. We thought you would be the best candidate."
Nick reluctantly took the paper from her, looking down at it and noting the first words. Nosy Passerby? Was this for real? He didn't see this ending well, but he could tell by the look on her face that he really didn't have much of a choice in the matter, and the teachers could easily make his life difficult if he didn't play along. He looked up at the counselor, smiling sweetly, "I suppose I can do that. Do I get to know who I'm writing to?"
She just shook her head, "That really ruins all the fun, Nick."
Nick rolled his eyes, sighing softly, "Okay, okay. I'll get my letter written soon, and give it to you, right?" He nodded, getting to his feet and pulling his bag closer, "I hope you all remember I'm doing you a favor, so if I get behind on my homework, I should get some special treatment." Nick gave another sweet smile. He knew he probably wouldn't, but it was nice to know he had a little power over the teachers.
"Careful, Duval." She chuckled, pulling out a few papers and going through them, "You can go to class now. Wouldn't want to keep your lucky teachers waiting.
Nick was ahead in all of his classes, so he didn't really need to focus on the lesson itself. Instead, he decided it would probably be best to get this letter out of the way so that he could do any homework, and relax that night. He frowned as he read through it. The counselor wasn't lying about the problem student. The attitude was practically dripping from the page. Nick sighed softly as he started writing out whatever he could think of.
Dear Thoroughly Annoyed,
I wouldn't call myself a nosy passerby. I didn't exactly choose to be the one responding to your messages, but they seem to think I'm the best one for the job, and who am I to argue with something like that? For the record, I don't need to know anything about you. It makes responding a little difficult, since we haven't exactly got any topics of discussion open as of yet, but I'm sure we'll find a way to get through it.
If you're not going to tell me anything about you, I won't tell you anything about me. I get the feeling you really don't care anyway, and hell, maybe it'll make things a little more interesting for us. Like a game, maybe? That was a really stupid thought, and I already apologise for it. But I guess what I'm saying is that it'll keep things interesting. You could ask things about me if you really wanted, but you don't strike me as the type to want to know.
I don't really know what to say from this point. I'm stuck in this lesson, staring at the close. It's nearly over, and there's a kid in the corner of the room giving me a weird look, though I'm not sure why. I'm probably the odd kid in the school, although you know all about that, right? Otherwise they wouldn't be asking you to write to me in the first place. Hopefully this won't last too long. I'd continue this letter but the bell's about to go, and I honestly don't know how to talk to a complete stranger. Sorry.
Sincerely,
Just as Annoyed as You.
