What is it you want? {ADLER!}

[DR. EDITH ALLINGHAM]

"And that concludes our discussion on post-modernism for today. I'm not fond of tests, but considering that the district would give me a big failing grade on my teacher report card if I didn't give one, you'll be having an in-class essay on post-modernism on Friday."

A collective groan rose from Dr. Allingham's AP English class, and she sighed, taking her stockinged feet off her desk.

"I know, I know, groan all you'd like, but a grade's a grade. You're all very intelligent students, and if you can't pass a simple test on post-modernism, you shouldn't be here, anyway. Now, then." Clearing her throat in a manner almost delicate, the teacher organized a few stacks of paper on her desk in a fashion most meticulous. "We'll be starting Wuthering Heights discussion tomorrow, so please have the first four chapters read by then. Of course, you all already have that reading done, seeing as I assigned it a week ago." She cast a slightly wry glance over the heads of her students, most of which either cringed or looked pleased with themselves for fulfilling her expectations.

Clearing her throat, Edie fumbled about with a pack of cigarettes and a few pencils in her desk before drawing out her red pen and starting on the stack of ungraded papers before her. She didn't believe in that "red pen causes increased anxiety" crap. Students who were doing things wrong needed to correct said things as soon as possible, and therefore, it was best for her to point them out as clearly as possible. Edie believed, quite honestly, that red got her point across most effectively.

She sat there grading silently for several minutes while the students studied or read or chatted quietly amongst themselves; they knew better than to talk too loud when Dr. Allingham was working, so the level of the talking stayed comfortably low. Edie smiled, satisfied, and marked a final grade at the top of an essay.

And then the bell rung.

"Alright, out, all of you," Edie called with one of her trademark sly smiles that she flashed almost exclusively to her students. "Oh, by the by, Emilie, could you stay after for a moment?" Her eyes fell onto the pretty girl, and she raised her eyebrows expectantly. "Just a quick thing I'd like to discuss."

[EMILIE SIMONE]

In the grand scheme of things, Emilie couldn’t quite understand what all the fuss was about. It was one essay, and quite interesting topically, if one was only willing to put forth a bit of actual thought into it. Besides, they had a few days. Dr. Allingham was going far too easy on them. Had Emilie been the teacher, she concluded privately during the next few minutes spent twittering away with Patrick Neilson as their teacher graded something or other, she would have sprung the thing on them out of the blue. Perhaps on Friday, still. Perhaps not. Surprises were simply more entertaining. It was interesting, trying to pick out exactly who would squirm.

Take Patrick, for instance; he was squirming. And whether at the idea of having to read four chapters of classic literature in one night or the way her blouse was sliding just a little too low over her bra, Emilie hadn’t the slightest clue, although she was almost certain she could have made a very educated guess.

It was then that the bell rang. And as Mr. Neilson bent down to “help with all those books” (really, there were only three), Emilie found all evidence pointing in the direction of a hypothesis proven correct. She couldn’t help but smile slightly to herself. Boys were far too easy to read. Most boys, anyhow. There were, as always, a few exceptions…but she preferred not to think about them all that much.

Emilie was just five feet from walking out the door and on to the freedom of a stuffy, crowded hallway when her teacher’s voice jarred her back into reality. She turned, slowly, books clutched tight to her chest—not so tight as though shielding herself, however—as she made her way back towards the desk, brows raised in a manner very similar to her teacher’s. What exactly she could possibly want a word about, Emilie hadn’t the slightest clue. Best to play it safe.

“Yes?” her tone was politely curious, blue eyes wide—but not too wide—as she met Dr. Allingham’s gaze, careful not to steal an obvious glance down at the papers she was grading. It’d be horribly rude to appear a snoop.

[DR. EDITH ALLINGHAM]

Looking up at Miss Simone, Edie immediately recognized a highly intelligent girl.

And she liked that. In fact, she was very fond of Emilie Simone as a whole, largely because she was very clever, and Edie was very partial towards her more clever students. It was a tragic habit of hers, but one she couldn't help; it was hard for her NOT to be a little judgmental towards the students who didn't do the work she assigned or didn't study or simply didn't understand. It wasn't hard to pass her class, but only if one was working to one's full potential. Dr. Allingham was a brutal grader.

"Thank you, Miss Simone." Dr. Allingham slipped the cap back onto her red pen with a satisfying little click before tossing it back into the drawer. She slid her papers off to the side, laced her fingers together, and looked up at her bright young student with one of those not-quite-there smiles of hers, as if she had a secret.

"Have a seat," she added, indicating the chair across from her. "You're not in trouble, by the by, in case you were worrying. But you don't seem to be, which is good." Almost against her will, she found herself taking in every little detail about Emilie, analyzing her posture, her clothing, her expression, the way she wore her hair. Edie had never fully understood why she did such things as that, but she'd always rather enjoyed taking notes on the little things. Perhaps they would prove useful someday.

"I'm quite impressed with you, Miss Simone," Dr. Allingham began, glancing up at the ceiling pensively for a moment, then back into her student's face. "You have good marks and all that. I was just curious if...hm. How to put this."

She tapped her finger against her lips.

"Are you, Emilie, working to your full potential?"

[EMILIE SIMONE]

Emilie nodded curtly at the gesture of thanks, fully aware that she hadn’t had all that much choice in the matter, anyhow. If she’d pretended not to hear Dr. Allingham today, it would have only brought further badgering tomorrow; besides, there was no telling what this was all about. It could be nothing more than a returning of an exceptional test grade. It wouldn’t have been a first time for such things, anyway.

Still, she couldn’t help but smooth out her dress once more than necessary as she sat, legs crossed and books positioned neatly on her lap. They were habitual, her movements. Not necessarily calculated, but well-practiced; she had, after all, sat cross-legged most of her life. Even the way she tilted her head—slightly, creating the illusion of giving her full attention—was practiced. It had to be, living with Adolfo. Not that her English teacher knew anything about that.

“No, I’m not. I mean, I didn’t think I should be…” her voice trailed off into a light chuckle. Friendly, confident. Granted, chances were she was already well-liked; it wasn’t cockiness that told her this, merely experience. The English teachers tended to like her. Teachers in general, really, because she was bright. Again, it wasn’t bragging. Facts were facts, and Emilie wasn’t one to dumb them down. Besides, it was only logical that they liked her because she was smart. No doubt Dr. Allingham was much the same.

There was no hiding the momentary flash of shock as it spread over Emilie’s face. It was entirely plausible to assume that she’d only been asked that particular question less than five times in her entire life. Even more plausible was the assumption that one of those times had been a joke. Her marks weren’t good, they were wonderful. Straight A’s across the board, no questions asked, especially not about her potential. In a way, it was almost infuriating. Who was she, anyway, to assume things like that?

Still, composure was kept. It wasn’t difficult; Emilie didn’t have much of a temper anyhow, particularly not with teachers, and especially not with teachers she liked, and she liked Dr. Allingham a great deal, all things considered. She spoke slowly at first, brows furrowed in slight confusion.

“Well, with all due respect, isn’t it all relative? Full potential, I mean,” she paused for a moment to gauge her teacher’s reaction before continuing, careful not to cross over the line into defiance or denial. “It’s just…you can’t really gauge that sort of thing, can you? I mean, not without being subjective, and even then who’s to say you’re measuring potential correctly? Because I could say I am, and you could counter me by saying I’m not—which I’m pretty sure is what you’re going to do—and there’d never be a way to judge who was correct.”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure where the words had come from; it was silly, arguing over something like this with a teacher. She should have nodded, said a simple “Yes, thank you” and left the classroom just like that. No doubt it would have made things far simpler.

[DR. EDITH ALLINGHAM]

Emilie was very bright, and Dr. Allingham was always a bit partial to her smarter students. Not that she didn't value hard work, but any student that was close to her own level of comprehension pleased her and reminded her that there was still hope for the future. Emilie was one of those students.

However, there was something a little...false about her, maybe. Calculated.

But maybe she was assuming too much.

“No, I’m not. I mean, I didn’t think I should be…”

"Your behavior in my class is impeccably good," Dr. Allingham replied with a nod of confirmation. "I should think discipline referrals are not something that show up often on your permanent record, Miss Simone."

At her question, she watched with a mixture of amusement and acknowledgment the shock that appeared on Emilie's face just for a second before the girl resumed her poise. She was certain that this was not a question Emilie had been asked in the past very often, but she was also fairly sure that few teachers Emilie had ever had were as perceptive as she was. (Not to brag - it was a matter of fact, after all.)

“Well, with all due respect, isn’t it all relative? Full potential, I mean. It’s just…you can’t really gauge that sort of thing, can you? I mean, not without being subjective, and even then who’s to say you’re measuring potential correctly? Because I could say I am, and you could counter me by saying I’m not—which I’m pretty sure is what you’re going to do—and there’d never be a way to judge who was correct.”

"I neither confirmed nor denied if you actually were working to your full potential," noted Edie, "though your argument brings up a very valid point. However, relativity does extend far beyond the concept of 'full potential,' which, in retrospect, is really a very silly concept in the first place...but, regardless." She paused, cracked her knuckles.

"As it stands, that question was merely the basis for a discussion," the teacher continued. "As I mentioned before, your grades in this class are excellent and are in no need of any repair. By any teacher's standards, you are working to your full potential in regards to your scores. However..." Here she paused again before continuing. "I am curious to know if you think you are learning anything."

Her eyes were watching Emilie far more closely than it seemed, gauging her every movement, action, and word, trying to deduce who she was just from these fleeting moments together.

"I'd like you to answer honestly, as well. I'll not be offended if you say you aren't."

[EMILIE SIMONE]

Well, of course her behavior was impeccable. How else would it be? Emilie was nothing if not impeccably behaved, after all; home, school, it was all the same difference, really. Follow the rules and it was much easier slipping under the radar. Still, she couldn’t help but shake the feeling that Dr. Allingham wasn’t quite as easily fooled as most other teachers (or people, for that matter) she’d come across.

Lips pursed slightly, Emilie nodded in agreement. In truth, she’d never even been inside a school administrator’s office, the closest she’d ever gotten having been to catch a glimpse of Christian’s referral form during one of the days he’d insisted on pestering her one way or another. It didn’t take anyone of great intellect to think up something like that, though; Emilie made perfectly sure to only toe the line when as far away from authority as possible. Perhaps her English teacher wasn’t quite as sharp as previously assumed.

Still, she was worth listening to. Actually listening to, with none of that nonsense head nodding and simultaneous planning of how to find an excuse to withdraw from the conversation within the next minute and a half. Dr. Allingham made a good point, as much as Emilie hated to admit it; in fact, she had to keep herself from turning the corners of her lips down slightly. Even so, she narrowed her eyes a bit. Not hostile so much as cautious, Emilie proceeded after a momentary pause, working her lips back and forth as she thought up her answer. Her honest answer.

“Well…no, I don’t suppose so,” she shrugged, sure to look her teacher in the eyes as she spoke.

“It’s interesting, and all, but it’s just…I’ve read Wuthering Heights before. Twice,” she added quietly, glancing down at the desk before continuing. “And Frankenstein as well, which I know we’re supposed to do next. So. There’s that, but it isn’t really anything that can be fixed, so I guess I’m just wondering why you’re asking me this in the first place…”

Emilie trailed off, eyes flickering over Dr. Allingham’s as her fingers tapped lightly on the books balanced in her lap, not so much out of nervousness or boredom as mere habit.

[DR. EDITH ALLINGHAM]

The last thing Dr. Allingham was was easy to fool, and she knew that Emilie knew this. She knew that Emilie was not like her other students. She also had deduced most of her family life over the course of the few months she had had her, based on those obscure little things she tended to notice and the fact that she took a peculiar interest in the girl.

She’d checked her answers with Ms. Simone’s file. She had been right, of course. She was always right. Edie didn’t make mistakes.

“Of course,” the teacher noted, “your nephew’s record is not so clean, is it?” She pulled a very mild sort of smile. “Do you care for Christian? He’s in another of my classes, you know...you are quite close in age, are you not?”

She had long ago deduced several things about their relationship, including that Christian seemed to feel a strong bond towards Emilie.

Christian. Yes. Brilliant troublemaker. Really just brilliant, anyway.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me to get off-topic...was it? I’m never quite sure of these things.” Edie tilted her head to the side. She found that being around such an intelligent student was making her actual personality shine through, the kind she tried not to show to her students simply because she knew that it was a bit too odd for an English class.

She had diagnosed herself at one point as a possible candidate for Antisocial Personality Disorder, and parents weren’t very keen on having sociopaths in the same room as their children.

Anyway, she needed to stifle her curiosity for now. The social mores she had memorized implied that perhaps this wasn’t the time for an interrogation.

The woman watched as the edges of Emilie’s mouth tightened, a signal that she was trying not to frown. She watched her eyes narrow and noted that the motivation behind it must have been caution, not antagonism, seeing as her body language did not otherwise indicate the latter. The way she moved her lips implied that she was thinking – Edie had noticed this about her before – and the fact that the girl was actually taking the time to ponder the question implied that her response would be genuine, and not the thin fabrications Miss Simone often seemed to conjure.

“Well…no, I don’t suppose so. It’s interesting, and all, but it’s just…I’ve read Wuthering Heights before. Twice.”

The girl seemed almost demure as she looked down, almost like...shame? Well, that was no good. No need to be ashamed about being well-read, thought Edie, but she kept her mouth closed, just nodding in understanding.

“And Frankenstein as well, which I know we’re supposed to do next. So. There’s that, but it isn’t really anything that can be fixed, so I guess I’m just wondering why you’re asking me this in the first place…”

She was tapping her fingers. Possible analyses:
1. Nerves.
2. Boredom.
3. Impatience.
4. Thought.
5. Physical habit unconsciously compelled by one of the above.

“Largely out of curiosity. I was a great deal like you when I was in school.” Considering she was analyzing Victorian literature by the time she was six, that was a serious understatement. “If you are interested, Miss Simone, I could offer you an alternate assignment. I do hate to see a good intellect wasted.” She offered one of her quirky little smiles and sat back in her chair.

[EMILIE SIMONE]

At the mention of Christian, Emilie’s eyes narrowed slightly. It was never a comfortable subject no matter the circumstances, and she could never quite decide if people meant their words threateningly when the topic was brought up. With Christian, threats and casual conversation were practically the same thing, even when he wasn’t the one speaking. All the same subject matter, perhaps.

“I’m not sure what you mean…” Emilie spoke after a short pause, body tense despite her casual tone. Who was her English teacher, to ask questions like this? Who was anybody, really. Still, perhaps Dr. Allingham meant no harm. She’d never made her uncomfortable before. What else she could mean, Emilie hadn’t a clue, but maybe harm wasn’t it. Hopefully. She’d hate to get defensive on Christian’s behalf.

The matter seemed to clear up on its own, however, and Emilie visibly relaxed, although her eyes remained somewhat wary.

“It’s fine,” she nodded, “It doesn’t matter.” and although she waved her hand dismissively, she was unable to help but think that never before had her nephew been mentioned in conversation with a teacher. And how vile that sounded to begin with—calling him “nephew.” It hardly held the same charm as when he was actually around; not nearly as malicious in its meaning. Just plain disgusting. She was disgusting. He was, too.

At the mention of apparent similarities between herself and Dr. Allingham, Emilie couldn’t help but look up. There was a wide curiosity to her eyes just before they narrowed again, almost suspiciously. “Really?” her tone was friendly enough, but she couldn’t quite believe it. In school, perhaps, but there was far more to both of them, Emilie felt, than met the eye, never mind the fact that she was speaking—for the most part—honestly now. Not that it mattered. Dr. Allingham was a teacher, and nothing more.

Emilie paused for a moment as though assessing the offer for any sort of trap. How that could possibly happen in the case of a homework assignment, she hadn’t a clue, but if there was one thing the girl was in these sorts of situations, it was cautious. “What sort of alternate assignment?” despite her attempt to remain casual, there was a small smile on her lips at the acknowledgement of her intelligence. People noticed, she was sure, but rarely did they call her out on it. It wasn’t the sort of thing that seemed to be encouraged in high school, independent thought.

[DR. EDITH ALLINGHAM]

Edie quietly noted the difference in Emilie’s posture in comparison to the casual tone with which she spoke. The girl really was a master at keeping her composure, wasn’t she? Very interesting. She wondered if Emilie was a good actress – she probably was. Edie was a particularly good actress, too, when the situation called for it.

She didn’t have any problem with Christian personally. He was a brilliant student, but a troubling one. She wasn’t quite sure what to think of him. Really, she had no reason to dislike him or even suspect him of anything besides normal high school boy mischief, but…even being around him stirred something within her, something in the back of her mind that told her, quite sharply, that he was trouble. It was like she knew him somewhere else, under some other name, and she just couldn’t remember it…

Very odd. But she didn’t invest much in mere feelings like that. Not unless she needed to.

The subject seemed to disperse, and Dr. Allingham watched the way Emilie’s shoulders sank, though her eyes still reflected an alertness, a conscious sort of protectiveness of her nephew. “Oh, yes, yes. Of course.” It was one of those moments in which Edie, who was not socially gifted, realized she was being impolite, and managed to stop herself.

Dismissive. Hm. Clearly, Emilie didn’t have a prerecorded response on the subject, as she seemed to for some of the questions Dr. Allingham asked. That implied that she was not adjusted to talking about it. Well, Edie would not intervene further.

Watching Emilie far more carefully now, she found herself slightly surprised at the suspicion. Had she made some sort of threat? Sometimes she really wondered if anyone in the world was capable of understanding her.

However, despite the way the girl’s eyes had narrowed, she seemed genial in her tone.

“Yes. Well. When it came to academics, anyway. I was always thoroughly bored. I’d always read everything we ever worked on in class.” She smiled a dry little smile. “Of course, I wasn’t nearly as well-behaved as you.” She’d been a troublesome student most of the time. Mostly because she was so bored.

Edie found herself enjoying that little smile that crossed Emilie’s lips, and she knew that she was doing the right thing, making this offer. She knew from personal experience that Emilie probably hadn’t been challenged, or even had her exceptional intellect acknowledged, in her school career. It was, unfortunately, the way the school system worked in America. “Well,” she said, steepling her fingers, “simply something with a bit more depth. Something you haven’t done before. Books you haven’t read, assignments you haven’t tried…” She shook her head slightly. “Only if you’re interested, of course. I just hate seeing a bright mind go to waste."

[EMILIE SIMONE]

As much as she hated to admit it, Emilie was ridiculously pleased with Dr. Allingham's dismissal of the topic, and although it didn't show on her face, inside she was beaming. It wasn't that she couldn't talk about her nephew, or even that she wouldn't, so much as that it was of her personal belief system never to give anything away to anyone, and even less to strangers. Information, however seemingly insignificant, was what would come back to haunt her, she was sure of it. So, she remained cool. Always. Detached, and with a composure so resolute, oftentimes she was considered stoic and even pretentious. Which, sometimes she was.

She watched Dr. Allingham coolly, nodding as she returned her teacher's small smile, polite as always. It wouldn't do, being rude to someone who had taken the time out of their day to chat about something like this without seeming to try and uproot other information on the go. She'd let the subject of Christian pass, after all, and that had to mean she wasn't out for anything malicious. At least, not yet. Still, it felt a bit good to know they were alike in at least some manner of speaking, even if Emilie had the slightest inclination that her teacher may have been stretching the truth in an attempt to make her feel better. People didn't do that often enough, however, so even that had a nice feel to it. If indeed that was all she was doing. Emilie Simone was many things, but willing to drop her guard quickly was not one of them; thus, she remained as cold as she had throughout the entire conversation, and as distant as always, if only as means of some sort of bizarre defense mechanism even she hadn't quite figured out yet.

"And they didn't give you alternate assignments?" best to sound interested, wasn't it? Casual.

Oh, this woman was good. She was very good. Emilie was a greedy little thing deep down, and although she was well aware of her incredible intellect--perhaps too aware, on occasion--she didn't fish for compliments, making the ones she actually received few and far between, given the people she lived and associated with. As though Christian would ever call her such a thing as brilliant. He was far too caught up in his own self-proclaimed wonder for such things. Besides, it was always clear enough by how often they spoke and what about that they respected each other far too much for such petty things as compliments, not the mention the loathing that prevented either from giving them out. Still, it felt undeniably good that this woman, this teacher, was acknowledging it as more than a slightly pretentious attitude, as most others had done in the past.

"No, I'm interested," she responded after a moment of thought, although it was clear it had been no contest. Still, she had her questions, and she very much wanted answers. Her fingers began to tap again, slow and light, as she continued, masking the small bit of something near excitement she felt with a calm demeanor and polite curiosity. Routine, really. "Do you have anything in mind right now, or is this sort of a," she paused, as though thinking of the right word, "hypothetical offer?"

[DR. EDITH ALLINGHAM]

There were times when even Edie's AP classes became disappointing. Teachers these days didn't teach the way that they had in the past. With funding cuts, with the growing assumption that education would always be present, the focus on actually learning instead of just memorizing had waned. Everything was so dependent on test scores, now. Fuck the rest of it. Art and music could go. Thought could go, so long as the school kept making money.

It was disgusting. Frequently, Edie considered changing her career. There wasn't much of a future for her in teaching.

Regardless, the students looking back at her in her classes seemed to grow duller and duller with each passing year, and that on its own was enough to compel Edith to action the moment she saw a student with even the tiniest spark of intelligence in the depths of her eyes. Perhaps it was because she knew how it felt to be constantly bored in school, perhaps it was because she herself was growing bored with the educational system, but she leapt at the opportunity to give Emilie a project separate from the others' repetitive classwork.

"It was a rare occurrence," she said, one eyebrow raising slightly. "I usually...had to find my own ways to make things interesting." Mischief, usually. She'd even gotten into fights. Skipped class, pulled pranks, anything and everything she could to get her mind active. "But I survived. University was better." She shrugged. Indeed, Oxford had been significantly more engaging than anything else she had experienced, public or private schooling.

The slightly frosty demeanor was achingly familiar. It reminded her of herself, of her brother. Both of them had assumed that sort of intense reservedness, that 'keep-the-world-at-arm's-length' distance from the rest of the world. Nobody is worth trust until proven thus. Edie could respect that. It was why she didn't push about Christian.

Noting the tapping fingers, she advanced carefully, watching Emilie with steady dark eyes. "It's considerably beyond the hypothetical," she said after a moment, knowing in the back of her mind that Emilie was excited for the assignment, even if she didn't show it. "I would be more than happy to construct one for you, if you agree. I have the time." A slight shrug, as if it were no big deal.