Chapter 2: Notes

Shockingly enough, the next day he (the eccentric millionaire. Who else?) makes another scene by dragging his feet through the door of the English classroom only fifteen minutes into first period. It makes me curious: English is first block, so now that he's at school for the majority of first period, will he stay for second period? Will he still be late? What class does he even have second period? I didn't even know he took more than one class.

The English teacher is speechless as he slowly meanders through the class to the only empty desk, which is unsurprisingly right beside me (I'm the teacher's pet. Nobody wants to sit near me, because they're afraid they'll be in the teacher's line of sight). I swallow and brace myself for the loud clunk of his backpack, which occurs one moment later, as expected.

The English teacher, Mr. Hawkes, looks at him for a long moment with a helpless look, before continuing with the analysis of Shakespeare's Hamlet.

"... And can anyone tell me what the main purpose of this monologue is?"

No one, as usual. I wait for the usual pattern of a few students, then me. The class watches (while simultaneously trying to avoid eye contact with the teacher for fear they might be picked) as Mr. Hawkes surveys the classroom, before his gaze lands on the eccentric millionaire sitting beside me.

"Ah, yes. Mr..."

"Davis."

"Mr. Davis." Mr. Hawkes continues to watch him. "Can you tell us the meaning of Ophelia's monologue?"

He's silent for a moment, then leans back comfortably, and for a second I think he's just going to have a staring contest with Mr. Hawkes until he moves on. He looks at Mr. Hawkes with a cool, collected expression, unmoving.

"It's a comparison."

Mr. Hawkes blinks. "Please elaborate."

"Ophelia describes all of Hamlet's previously good qualities, in the context of his current madness. Also, Hamlet's speech just denounced her, women, and love, so there's also the comparison between their two speeches."

I look at my notes, frowning. Act III, Scene I- Ophelia's monologue is a comparison. She describes all of Hamlet's previously good qualities in the context of his current madness. Additionally, Hamlet's speech just prior denounced her, women, and love- comparison between two speeches.

There's no way that's a coincidence. Is it? No- his wording was practically verbatim. I look up to Mr. Hawkes to see him look stunned for another second before nodding and turning to write that on the board. I look at the eccentric millionaire. He's just barely smiling, looking straight ahead. His eyes flick to me, and he smirks a little more- and if that doesn't confirm it, he winks.

For the love of-

I consider telling Mr. Hawkes. He wouldn't be able to do anything about it, but at least he'd know. I decide to wait until after school- his classroom will be empty, and I'll have some time to mull it over.

He shows up for the last five minutes of calculus second period, and doesn't seem to be in my biology class third period, which is a bit of a relief. But then, in physics, he shows up about twenty minutes late and takes the spot beside me, even when there's another empty seat at the back of the room. I eye him suspiciously, but he doesn't even bother gracing me with a glance. Maybe he isn't going to read my answers out of my notebook again?

"Trevor, since you clearly see no value in arriving on time, and therefore must already know everything, perhaps you can inform us on how to calculate the energy of a photon," Ms. Jenson says pointedly, her tone like ice.

"It's Ryan, actually," he says.

"Please, pardon me," she practically spits. "Now, the energy of a photon."

"E=hf, where E is the energy of the photon in either electron volts or Joules, h is Planck's constant, and f is frequency."

Word for word, right out of my notes.

"And how about if frequency is not a given value, Ryan?" She clearly doesn't believe that he'll know.

He leans back in his chair, and I swear I see his eyes flick to my notes for just the briefest moment. "Substitute the speed of light divided by wavelength."

Again, literally verbatim from a note in the margins of my notebook.

Ms. Jenson continues to glare at him. "And define the photoelectric effect."

"The photoelectric effect is when an EMR wave is incident to a metal and has a high enough frequency to electrons to be emitted."

She looks like she's trying to kill him with her gaze for what feels like at least a full minute. Then she goes back to teaching the lesson, though definitely with a sharper tone than before.

After class, I've decided that I should definitely tell both teachers that he was reading from my notes. What if they found out and I got in trouble for accessory to cheating? I don't want to be accessory to anything he does. I don't want to be associated with him at all. And I definitely don't want him to keep sitting beside me.

I'm putting the final digit of the code to my combination lock when someone bumps my shoulder. My thumb jerks past the correct number, and I sigh before spinning it twice to reset it, then start again. Someone bumps my shoulder again, and I look up, glowering. Seriously, how inconsiderate-

It's him. Of course it's him. He's leaning against the locker next to mine, looking down at me. Because naturally, he's taller than me. I wonder if you can buy height somehow? It seems like something he'd do. Right now he's giving me a faint smirk.

"You take good notes. Neat."

"I'm sure you enjoyed that," I spit, and he smirks a little more.

"Right. Thanks."

"Thanks for what?"

"Letting me read off your notes."

I gape at him. He thinks I let him? No way. "I did not let you. You just did it."

"You didn't tell either teacher."

"What makes you think that?"

His smirk widens to show his teeth. He looks like a hyena. "I was there, and you didn't raise your hand and rat me out."

I press my lips together. I'm caught between thinking I will not let him get to me and what if the teachers think I intentionally let him? "I could have said something after class."

"You didn't. I left after you. Why are you so against the idea of letting me read your notes?"

"I- you- it's cheating. Plagiarism, even."

"Don't worry. I won't tell." He leans in a little, still grinning like a predator. I lean back and swallow.

"What makes you think I won't?"

He shrugs. "You haven't yet. The teachers wouldn't be able to do much about it, if you did. So why bother?"

"Because if I don't, I'm actively allowing you to cheat off of me?"

"Hmm." He leans closer to me again, his intent gaze flicking over my face like he's searching it for something. "You'd be empowering me to break the rules, then."

"Exactly."

He smirks a little, his mouth closed now. "And here I heard you were a teacher's pet."

For a second I think he's mocking me, because he knows I'm going to tell the teachers. Then I realize that he's presenting me with an opportunity to rid myself of that stupid reputation, in the easiest way possible. I simply have to do nothing. I stare at him, and he gives me a faint, knowing grin, before bumping my shoulder with his elbow again (still grinning) and walking away.

And here I thought he was just eccentric, doing ridiculous things like buying a new sports car every week, or trying to sell shares of himself on the stock market- when he's really capable of playing me like a fiddle (I wonder if he manipulated his way into his wealth? It seems very possible, right now).

Ugh. Now what do I do? I could tell the teachers and forever cement myself in history as the teacher's pet, and with an actual reason behind it- snitching. But if I don't tell the teachers, and soon, I'll implicate myself in his cheating. Not telling a teacher right now means I'm actively, intentionally supporting his cheating. What are my other options? Stop writing notes- not happening. Keep my notebook closed- someone might notice and ask, and I'd have to confess, and I'd still look bad and probably be asked why I didn't go to a teacher in the first place. Lean over my notebook or hide the writing with my arm- that would be even more conspicuous than closing my notebook.

I take a deep breath. My nerves feel shot. I can't get caught letting him get away with cheating. Though it's technically just notes- is that cheating? He's claiming my work as his own. Mr. Hawkes and Ms. Jenson would both be disappointed in me. And my parents.

I tell the teachers.

What do you think about the millionaire cheating (ish) off of Todd? How about their conversation by Todd's locker? And Todd's dilemma? What do you think about his decision? Did he make the right choice?

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