Author's note: I've written Ch. 4-8, but I'm just tweaking. This chapter's a little slow, but hey, we need the exposition. And it's also long, to make up for the paragraph of a chapter I did for ch. 3.

Ignoring the water dripping off of Sydney's macintosh, Michael keeps a firm hold on Sydney's arm, as he continues to stare at her.

He's normally never this forceful, especially when it comes to girls, but there's just something about the way Sydney's acting that makes him want to get to the bottom of things.

Sydney looks at Michael for a second, with an "I-can't-decide-if-I-want-to-flee-or-not" look in her clear hazel eyes, but it clears as she blinks and gestures towards a rickety-looking bench located next to the office door.

As Michael leads her to the bench, he notices that Sydney is biting her lower lip now, looking as if she's about to divulge a huge secret.

'I'm going to kill Amy,' Michael thinks, furiously. 'I don't care what she did, it obviously had to be bad.'

The twosome sit, and Michael turns to look at Sydney expectantly. Michael knits his eyebrows in concern, as Sydney slumps against the wooden back of the bench, and sighs.
She pulls back the hood of her Macintosh and looks at her feet for a moment, obviously unsure of where to begin.

"Yeah, I know Amy." Sydney's looking at him now, with a hint of weariness in her brown eyes.

Sydney's hands, apparently wanting something to do, wander over to and start fiddling with the lining of her coat. Michael, noticing this, reaches over and puts his left hand over hers, stopping her frenetic movement.

Sydney looks up at Michael in surprise, but Michael continues to look at her intently, green eyes unwavering.

"Did something happen between you guys?" Michael asks her seriously,

Sydney laughs morosely, and looks down at her hands, which were still being sheltered by Michael's.

"I guess you could say that." A hint of anger has crept into her stance, and it reflects in her voice.

"Amy and I were in the same calculus class at the start of the school year." A tiny smile creeps onto Sydney's face. "I tested almost out of every other math class on campus, so the administration stuck me into a senior-based math class."

Sydney pauses for a moment, the smile on her face growing a little larger, as she reflects on her achievement.

Michael admires the smile on her face for a second, but urges her to continue with a quiet "Go on."

Sydney shakes her head slightly, clearing her mind, and the smile that had graced her face vanishes along with the shake.

"Anyway, our teacher, Ms. Lin, asked us to form study groups to study, review for exams…and stuff." Sydney shrugs, knowing that Michael understands what she's talking about. Typical high school stuff. "Amy and I ended up in the same group, along with several of her cheerleading friends." Sydney smiles ruefully, and gazes at Michael. "And you can guess what that was like, right?"

Michael smirks, and cocks an eyebrow, but silently urges her to continue, rubbing a thumb gently across the back of Sydney's hand. Sydney stiffens for a moment, at the unexpected contact, but relaxes when she apparently realizes that Michael's just trying to be comforting.

"So you guys had a study group. With a bunch of Amy's ditzy cheerleader friends. I can imagine that. But what happened?" Michael queries, wanting to get to the root of the problem.

"So we had a study group. Amy and I, being the better ones in math, would tutor them before exams. We'd get together weekly, at each other's houses, and go over the material together." Sydney pauses. "It all worked really well at first. Amy and I would not only help the others understand the material, but we'd go over it ourselves. We were getting good grades, they were getting good grades, etc."

"But there's a but somewhere in here, isn't there?"

"Well, Amy's friends were pretty good about studying at first. But, math soon began to interfere with their cheerleading and their social lives. So…they began taking 'creative' approaches around studying."

"Ah."

Sydney nods, and continues. "It all came to head a couple of weeks ago. Ms. Lin had scheduled a midterm on the day of a big football game. Most of them didn't feel like studying, so they arranged some complicated scheme, where they ended up stealing a copy of the answer key."