She seems…like the rest.

He had seen her around school occasionally. He didn't really know her all too well. What was her name, again? Heck, she looked so familiar. O-something… Olivia? It was right on the tip of his tongue... Odessa? No. It didn't fit. Well, whoever she was, she was his fourth tutor since his junior year of high school began. Or rather, potential tutor. But he was pretty positive that she would be the next.

Hayner sat low in the uncomfortable office chair, his back nearly parallel to the seat and his legs stretched out in front of him. What's-her-face had just sat opposite of him and his parents. God, how he hated this…this process. It was getting pretty old after three obviously failed attempts. Some overachieving snob would introduce himself, or herself in this case, to his parents. They would instantly love the snob, and look down upon Hayner even more. While treating him as lower than his or her godly self, his ever-so-accomplished tutor would try and help Hayner study for a week, maybe two, tops, before they got so frustrated that they quit. Then the next snob would come and try to tame Hayner, the terror (so he had been dubbed by his three ex-tutors).

She was number four, and it was only October.

"Hi, I'm Olette. Olette Brooks," she said with a grin firmly pasted on her face and hand extended.

Ah, that's it. Olette.

"Hayner," he said, returning the handshake politely. And that's about all he said that entire meeting. His parents greeted themselves with superiority as "Mr. and Mrs. Michaels" and droned on to Olette about Hayner's lack of concentration, motivation, intelligence…the list really did go on and on for them. Olette appeared only semi- interested, with the occasional nod and "yeah". She rarely contributed anything of substance to the conversation until his parents began questioning her.

Hayner noticed that as she responded to their drilling inquiries, Olette had the nervous habit of flipping her wavy, chestnut hair over her shoulders. Now that was annoying.

"Clubs? Well, I'm the secretary of the Spanish club, treasurer of our class, head of prom committee, vice president of student council, and I'm in chess club, book club, yearbook, and track," she listed proudly, counting off her achievements with her fingers.

Yeah, just another overachiever.

His parents seemed satisfied enough with what's-her-fa, uh, Olette's, résumé, after that seemingly endless list of activities. More than satisfied, actually. They were infatuated with her; her top-notch grades only improved their opinion of her. His parents simultaneously stood up and happily walked Olette to the door, confirming times and fees. Hayner didn't even bother to get up; he remained slumped down in his chair, staring at the ceiling tiles.

"It was really nice to meet you, Hayner," her voice broke his intense fixation on the tiles. He jolted up out of his trance and stumbled out of his chair toward the door.

"Um, yeah, nice to meet you," he said as he wiped his strangely sweaty hand onto his camouflaged cargos, extending it to her. Wait, was this his new tutor? Treating him…nicely? She took his hand in hers daintily and gave it a firm shake.

"See ya tomorrow?" she asked, her lips curling into a smile.

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

His mom shut the door after Olette. "She seems…good," she muttered to his father, "What do you think, Hayner?"

"Eh," he replied with a tilt of his head as he bounded up the stairs. Hayner ran into his bedroom and watched Olette walk to her car.

Maybe number four was different.

Maybe.

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author's notes: Yay. A Haynette. Why Hayner and Olette, you might ask? The real question is why not Hayner and Olette. I plan on making this a short chaptered fic, not too long, but I had too many ideas about this to make it a one-shot like I would have liked. And I'm ever so sorry that this chappy was so short. The next ones will be longer, hopefully. So, please, please review. I wanna see if I should take the time to make it long, or if I should just stop. And you can criticize me if you want, too. Have a super day!

disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own it.