So this fic has been subjected to a major rewrite as of December 2013.

I never really planned on revamping this, but the ideas kept coming, and well, now we have Princes and Frogs, version two.

In the interest of both disclaimers and explanations, inspiration has been taken from Meg Cabot's brilliant and wonderful "Princess Diaries series" (as well as many plot elements tweaked to fit both our lovable TT characters better, and my own writing), but the prose, for good or for bad, is all my own.

Unlike my other recent re-posting "Ten Things I Hate About You", I'm writing this fic as I go. That means updates will probably be less frequent, and I have less time to edit, so chances are I'll make more mistakes as we go, but it also means I can take more suggestions for plot structuring!

Hope you enjoy this revamping, it's been quite fun re-hauling this one.

Oh, and I just have to say… there's some absolutely great RobStar scenes coming up. When the ideas came, I had to stop doing everything and just pound them out. They'll be out within the first three chapters as well, so you won't have to wait too long for them.

Although I don't know how long this fic will be (I'm thinking like six or so chapters), but, only time will tell.

OK, now without further adieu… Princes and Frogs, Chapter One.

Chapter One

Until today, my life was typical for a sophomore in high school. It was routine. One might go so far as to even say mundane.

It was certainly was lacking any characteristics that would cause someone to want to make an E! Hollywood Story about it, or include an article in the New York Times about, or cause paparazzi to follow you around and interview all your friends and family for the hope of the smallest tidbit of gossip.

But that all changed today—the day I found out I was a princess.

It was a Tuesday.

It had all started out so innocuously, too.

There was nothing about this Tuesday to indicate it would be notable from any other Tuesday in my life.

But it was very notable.

It was the middle of the school year, not even quite time for midterms yet, so my routine had been fairly set: wake up at seven, eat breakfast, get dressed, and then wait for Rachel to pick me up to take me to school.

I suppose I should explain a little more for those of you who are just being introduced to the story of my life.

It seems odd to have to explain Rachel, she's been a constant presence in my life since I was nine, although most people are surprised to hear this. I suppose it's because we're so different. I favor pastels and bright colors whereas Rachel favors their darker versions. I talk a lot, Rachel barely at all. Rachel loves poetry and reading, and English is perhaps my worst subject. Oh, and I'm a bubbly optimist and Rachel is a tough-talking pessimist.

Although now it's impossible to imagine my life without her, I suppose if it hadn't been for the fateful day when we were nine, we wouldn't be friends at all.

I had went into the bathroom after Recess to wash my hands before lunch (even as a nine-year old, hygiene was very important to me) when I heard someone sniffling, with the clear signs of only having just finished crying and trying to hide it from the most recent entrant, coming from a stall. I don't know what most normal nine year olds would do in this scenario, but at nine years old I was only more chatty and more optimistic than I am now, so I called out to ask if this person was OK.

Why, I think the fact another nine year old would ask if she was OK shocked Rachel into revealing herself.

Up to this point, Rachel and I knew of each other, and were friendly, but one could hardly consider us friends. But that did not mean I was about to leave a fellow comrade crying in the bathroom. And Rachel seemed nice, not at all like that Kitten who stole other people's toys, so I asked her again what was wrong.

It was clear she didn't want to tell me, but somehow the whole sordid tale came pouring out of her. She and a boy by the name of Mal had been working on a project together (I believe it was something like drawing pictures of elephants, it was a bit hard to get the details that day through her blubbering, and since that day, Rachel refuses to talk of it. Naturally, the first day your heart is broken is the hardest to relive) and apparently they had really hit it off. He suggested they play hide and seek together during Recess, but by the time Rachel came out, he was already in an intensive game of tag with another girl.

Well, even at nine, Rachel could take a hint.

I suppose the fact I took an interest, the fact I tried to provide some comfort, but mostly the fact I never told a single other soul and in fact covered for Rachel so none of our fellow classmates would know just where and how she had spent the last half hour of Recess… well, that cemented our friendship.

And after six years of friendship? Well, sometimes time is the only measure you need of why you're friends. That and fate intervening in the first place.

And I'm sure glad it did—Rachel is one of the funniest, kindest (although she tries hard not to show it), most loyal, and most intuitive people I have ever met in my life. She is like a sister to me. I know everything about her; and she knows everything about me. She's one of the people I'm gladdest to have in my life.

… and not just because she drives me to school.

Although that certainly doesn't hurt.

On normal mornings, Rachel picks me up at 7:42 am sharp, and we head off to school. Sometimes she has her boyfriend with her. For the last month consistently she's had her brother with her.

… which I suppose has me overdue for another small explanation.

Rachel's brother is Richard, and he is the source of the only secret I hold from Rachel: I think he's positively dreamy.

Which, of course, is something I plan to take to the grave with me. Rachel can never know.

Besides which, Richard's a year older, gets straight As while also being a black belt in about ten different types of martial arts, is nice to everyone, and has a very finely sculpted… torso thanks to being a black belt in about ten different types of martial arts. (Also, let me add the only thing that provides his… torso with any competition is his face).

That is, to give you a brief overview.

And he might be the reason I've been waking up a half hour earlier to make sure I'm ready for Rachel in the morning.

It takes a lot of work to look naturally pretty, and well, I know Richard would never look at me that way, but I certainly don't want to give him any more reason to not look at me that way.

Rachel pulled up this morning at precisely 7:42am, thereby not even giving me the slightest of clues as to how extraordinary my day was going to be from thereon out.

I smiled as she stopped the car in front of me and noticed the lack of any passengers in the vehicle, I hoped my smile did not falter as I opened the door and threw my bag into the front passenger's seat, "So, no one else today?" I said, attempting to sound breezy and casual, and not immensely disappointed as I was, in actuality.

Rachel smiled at me as I got into the car, "No. Gar had some test early this morning, and Dick finally convinced Bruce to let him ride the motorcycle to school," she snorted, "It would've gone a lot faster if he didn't wreck the first one."

I furrowed my brow as I toggled with the dial to switch the radio station—Rachel had it on some melodic music that was lovely, but was not doing much to wake me up, it was, after all, only 7:42 in the morning. She slapped my hand away as I turned it to my favorite pop station, and switched it to the local alternative/ rock station as a compromise, "That sounds dangerous."

Rachel waved a hand in a careless manner in response, "Dick's a good driver, and he's pretty safe. He barely even had a scratch on him last time for all the fuss Bruce kicked up. Besides, now you don't have to be polite and pretend to be interested in whatever he tries to talk about that morning."

I raised an eyebrow, "Since when were you not interested in discussing anything by Joss Whedon?" I commented, instead of saying what I truly felt, which is that I missed his presence sorely.

Rachel put the car into drive and groaned, "Richard just can make everything so boring."

See? This is why I can never tell her that I think he is the most interesting conversationalist I have ever met. And that his theories on the Angel/ Spike divide are positively fascinating. The results could very well be disastrous.

So instead I simply said what I always say, "You should be nicer to your brother."

Rachel waved a hand in my general direction, "Yeah, I'll start being nicer when he starts doing the dishes when it's his turn."

I raised an inquisitive brow at that, "Since when have you had to do the dishes?" I asked, because I happen to know they have a live-in butler. His name is Alfred, and he makes the best cookies, and always tells me how beautiful I look. I like Alfred.

"Why, Kori, I thought you knew me better," Rachel drawled, "I have nothing if not a hard-knock life. Doing the dishes is part of the grunge of my everyday routine."

I decided to ignore her, as I often do during her sarcastic commentary, and direct the conversation in a different direction than what chores Rachel may or may not have to do, "What test is Gar taking today?"

Rachel scrunched up her face as she thought about it and signaled a left turn, "I think math," she said as she made the turn, "I'm not sure though, I'm sure he'll be complaining about it all through Free."

Rachel, Gar, and I share one class: Free period. Except it's not so free, because the school appoints you a teacher and you have to go to a specific classroom and work on specific projects.

Rachel is working on writing the great Indie novel of our generation. She's also the editor in chief of the literary magazine, so sometimes she's editing that—when she's not submitting her own stories.

Gar is creative head of the school's satire magazine, so he's always scribbling some comics or working on planning the next greatest satire piece.

The two of them keep up a constant bickering as they work—I have no idea how they manage. I can barely talk and write my name at the same time, so the fact the two of them are able to function successfully enough to edit other people's pieces as they keep up a constant stream of chatter never ceases to amaze me. Or amuse me. They're a very funny couple.

I think even less people expected them to be a couple than they expected Rachel and me to be friends. If I'm optimistic than Gar is… well really optimistic. He's always joking and goofing around, the resident class clown, 24/7.

But Gar and Rachel have been dating for over six months now, and they seem… well, happy. Rachel always seems a little less acerbic once she's been with Gar, and Gar seems softer, more mature. He definitely thinks more before he speaks since he started dating Rachel.

I can't say even I am totally familiar with the details of how they got together. Rachel says that much is between her and Gar, and some things are too private to talk about—even with resident best friends who are like sisters.

All I know is that they were working on a project for history class together, Gar was dating another girl who has since transferred schools (Rachel assures me she had nothing to do with this, although I have my doubts) and Rachel complained all the time for two weeks about having to work with immature, irresponsible Gar.

Then the complaints stopped coming, and then slowly there was a compliment here and there… and two weeks after the project was finishing, Rachel told me, blushing all the while, that she was now officially in a relationship.

(Well, she only told me once I confronted her—I saw her relationship status on Facebook had changed from 'single' to 'in a relationship' and immediately demanded she come over and spill all the details. I told her it was blasphemous that she hadn't told me already before changing her Facebook status. But she brought over some of Alfred's chocolate chip cookies, so I really had no choice but to forgive her.)

(It turns out Rachel's one flaw in being a best friend, is she's not so good with sharing the gooey romantic stuff, which is a particular letdown for me, seeing as how I have none of my own gooey, romantic experiences and have to live vicariously through what I imagine—since she won't tell me anything- Rachel's have been. Through the continuous exposure of romantic comedies and reading of Seventeen though, I hope to cure her of this one shortcoming.)

So Free period is always fun.

In addition to being an entertaining window into the world of Rachel and Gar's relationship, it also gives me a chance to work on my art—which is something that I enjoy a lot… it also gives me a chance to see Richard.

I know, I'm terrible.

It's just Richard's a year older than us, and he's nice enough to help explain the difference between litotes and anaphora when Rachel's too busy bickering with Gar to even notice me.

Ever since Rachel and Gar became Facebook official, well, before Gar, Rachel and I would keep up a constant stream of chatter throughout Free, but now Rachel does that with Gar, most of the time. Something I completely understand, because he is her boyfriend, and something that I don't really entirely mind because it means that Richard and I usually chat instead. And Rachel's too busy with Gar to even notice or comment on the fact we're conversing.

And despite what Rachel says, Richard is anything but boring.

"Gar's still not enjoying math?" I asked instead of voicing any of these thoughts.

Rachel snorted, "You say still like it's a possibility that one day may change."

I shrugged noncommittally, "I am not, for one, willing to give up on him yet."

Rachel shook her head, "I can't believe your two favorite subjects are math and art and you have no grasp on English."

"I understand the language perfectly fine," I replied diplomatically, "It is all this nonsense of 'literary context' that I simply do not understand."

Rachel pulled into a parking spot, nothing short of perfectly, as she shook her head again, "I'll never understand you."

"I don't think I'll ever understand you," I returned with a fond smile.

Rachel let out a laugh at that, "What kind of horrible friends are we?"

"Honest ones?" I offered.

Rachel snorted, "That's one word for it," she said as she turns off the car with a flick of a key, "You ready to brave the day?"

I raised my eyebrows and regarded her quizzically, "Is there something I am supposed to be brave for?" I asked blandly.

"Do you need a specific reason?" Rachel asked, replying with a single eyebrow raise of her own, "It is school. And need I remind you Kitten goes to this school?"

Kitten is what one would call not a very nice girl.

I shuddered dramatically, "No, I need no reminder."

"That a girl," Rachel commented dryly as she swung open her door and hopped out of the car. She turned back to regard me somewhat contemptuously, which from being Rachel's friend for six years, I know is actually just her resting facial expression, "Come on, I want to see if I can catch Gar before class."

I laughed, "Fine, fine," I told her, and turned back to retrieve my book bag from the backseat where I threw it once it was apparent Richard was not joining us.

And it's really only an off chance—one in a hundred maybe, that I noticed it.

If I hadn't glanced up, if I had just blinked at the wrong moment…

Well, I suppose there's no dwelling on it now.

But in that split second I turned my head around, I happened to look out the rear window for a moment, where I saw a women in all red giving me the most penetrating stare. I dropped my book bag in astonishment, and immediately looked down to find it again. It only took me a split second to get a grasp on its handles, but when I looked back up to try to search out her eyes, she was already gone.

It was nothing. A meaningless encounter. It lasted barely a second.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. It was a feeling that took me over, and it was guttural, instinctual, strong: something was wrong.

"Come on, Kori," Rachel said impatiently from the parking lot, tapping her foot in impatience, "I didn't mean to throw out the Kitten thing to slow you in your tracks—I'm sure she'll ditch homeroom anyway, so you won't have to see her until after lunch…"

I snorted in response, "Kitten should never cause me to slow in my tracks," I said haughtily, finally fishing the book bag out of the back and climbing out of the car, "I just…" I hesitated and then shook my head, marking up the whole incident as too infinitesimal to even bear mentioning, "I suppose I just got distracted by my own thoughts," I said with a bright smile instead.

Rachel watched me warily, but does not push the subject, "All right," she said slowly, "Are you ready now?"

I grinned back at her, "Absolutely."

Gar groaned, his head resting on the table, "It was soul-crushing. I am nothing but a shell of my former self. Math has drained me of my life energy."

Rachel chuckled to herself and poked at his slumped form, "Maybe you shouldn't have stayed up so late watching reruns?" she said pointedly.

"That was important research and you know it!" he protested from his position on the desk.

I frowned, "Gar, why did you not ask me for help? You know I am happy to spend time to explain the concepts to you—I did quite well in geometry."

Gar picked up his head to look at me with a pitiful expression, "Thanks Kori. I just don't want to waste your time—I just have a total mental block when it comes to math. I'm beyond help."

Rachel scoffed, "The only mental block you have is that you'd rather be watching cartoons."

"Researching," Gar corrected her.

Rachel considered him skeptically, "I think you're familiar enough with the topic that we have surpassed the stage of calling it research," she retorted.

Garfield opens his mouth to respond, as I watch the two with an expression of amusement. It is before Garfield is able to return with his own zinger that Richard walks in. I have to remind myself not to immediately look at him as he comes in… but my, is it hard.

For the past month, I have been able to carefully inspect Richard for the fifteen minutes it takes us to drive to school under the guise of listening to him while he speaks. I am able to, as they say, get my fill of Richard's visage, and then move on with the rest of my day quite normally, satiated by those heavenly fifteen minutes. But now, the first time I see him all day is Free, and it is hard to remind myself not to stare.

Richard sat down next to me, and I only hoped I did not blush as his leg came in brief contact with mine. He sighed and looked at me, "Have they already started up already?"

Before I have a chance to reply, Rachel has affixed him with a glare. Rachel never misses an opportunity to bust Richard's chops. Their siblinghood could seem almost antagonistic if one did not know them better. Richard and Rachel simply communicate through sarcastic banter, with no hard feelings on either side. "Hello to you, too Richard," she said deliberately.

Richard waved his hand dismissively in response, "I just saw you this morning."

"So you don't have to say hello to me?" she asked derisively.

He ignored her pointed hints and turned to me, "Hey, Kori," he says, making sure to put an emphasis on my name that is not for my benefit, but the bright smile he shot me was, "How's your morning going?"

I smiled in return, "Very well, so far. Although the day is still young. And what of you? Did you enjoy riding your bike to school?"

"Dude!" Gar interjected in amazement, "You rode a bike to school? What's that, like ten miles?"

Rachel thwacked him lightly on the back of the head (I think this is what passes as foreplay for them—although again, a detail Rachel does not share with me—her supposed best friend!), "Not that kind of bike."

"What other kind of bike is there?' Gar asked, confusion clouding his eyes, before understanding settled in instead, "Oh… you mean a motorcycle? Dude! That's so cool."

Richard scratched at the back of his neck, a sure sign he is feeling somewhat uncomfortable with Gar's attention—something somewhat understandable as Gar is currently staring at him with something akin to hero worship—and I find myself smiling fondly at the paper in front of me at the gesture, "Um… thanks. Yeah, it was… good."

Rachel snorted once more, "All those arguments with Bruce for 'good'."

Richard pulled a face at her in response that has Gar and me giggling.

Rachel and Richard's arguments are almost as entertaining as Rachel's and Gar's, but with no undercurrent of sexual tension.

Perhaps the key to these humorous interactions is in fact Rachel herself.

Perhaps Gar and Richard often muse of how often Rachel and I are so amusing?

Rachel just rolled her eyes as usual at Richard's countenance, "Yeah, well, we didn't miss your sparkling conversation this morning."

"Don't lie, Rachel," Richard admonished, "Come on Kori, back me up here."

"Uh…" I said, because they're both looking at me expectantly, "I plead the fifth?"

Gar threw an arm around Rachel's shoulder, and leans closer so for all appearances he is whispering to Rachel, but he talks loudly enough this it is clear his comment is for the benefit of us all, "Yeah, Kori knows better than to get in the middle of you two having an argument."

"Uh-huh," Rachel intoned, angling her head to look at Gar with a raised eyebrow, "So if I were to ask you who you sided with…"

"Oh, I'd side with you, Rae, 100%, all the time, no matter what the subject matter." Gar hurried to add, "Because to risk facing your imminent wrath? Ha, that's a good one."

"Good, glad you know where you stand," Rachel said with a smile, looking amused despite herself, and then looks down to return to her writing.

Richard shook his head and angled himself to me to pick up on our conversation, "So what are you reading today?"

I held up the copy of the latest English assignment that was currently the bane of my existence, "Same thing as last week—'A Separate Peace'."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, dude," Gar added from across the table.

"It wasn't that bad," Rachel protested.

Richard said scornfully, "Wasn't that good either."

I frowned down at the book in my hands, "I must confess I'm rather confused by at it all. A separate peace from what?"

"I'll tell you the only thing you need to know about the whole book," Gar declared loudly, leaning across the table to stage whisper, "That one dude? He's in love with that other dude."

I frowned as I processed this, "Do you mean the one who tries to kill the other one is in love with the one he tries to murder? Or that the one who dies is in love with the other man?"

Gar thought about it before answering, "I think it's the dude who tries to kill the other dude who's in love with the other dude."

"But that's a horrible way to show affection!" I protested.

Richard rolled his eyes, "I think you're supposed to dig a bit deeper than that…" he said dryly.

Rachel flipped a page in her notebook nonchalantly, scribbling all the while, "Actually, the author, John Knowles was in fact rumored to be gay," she shrugs, "I don't know how much stock to put in rumors, especially since he had a wife, but the book was most definitely based off his own experiences at Phillips Exeter Academy, and he has said he modeled Finny off a friend…"she trailed off somewhat meaningful.

I continued to study the book's cover with a furrowed brow, hoping it will reveal its secrets to me, "I was just trying to keep track of all the plot details…" I muttered, mostly to myself at this point.

Richard smiled encouragingly at me, "It's not the most interesting book, it's easy to forget about a lot of things that happen. Don't sweat it."

"Yeah, dude, that's what they invented sparknotes for," Gar added.

Rachel glared at him.

"What?" he said at her look, "It's supposed to be a study aid. I'm not saying that's why I use it… but that's why Kori could use it!"

"It's no use," I returned miserably, "Nothing could help me!" I declared dramatically.

Richard and Rachel dawned mirror images of disbelief. It's times like this when I really remember they are related- even if only through papers and a shared life at Wayne Manor.

"Kori, I don't think anything is beyond you," Richard said kindly.

Rachel just snorted, "Says the girl who's getting an A in multivariable calculus without so much as ever cracking the book."

I waved my hand dismissively at Rachel's comment. It is a common argument between us, "You always say that—like the two are connected. Math just makes sense to me… but English," I shrugged, "All the little details fall away from me. And who can remember the difference between synecdoche and anaphora?"

"But you can remember what every number taken to the third power is?" Rachel questioned, "And the quadratic formula?"

I pouted, "That's different."

"Lay off Kori," Richard said, "She just finds different things difficult than you. Besides, it's not like you're taking a class in your second language."

"She's been here for ten years, Richard! She's not fresh off the boat," Rachel fired back.

I smiled at Richard, "It is very nice of you to make excuses for me, but the truth is simply that English does not come naturally," I groaned, "And that I must work here diligently on my English instead of working on my art if I want to even hope of finishing my work in anything resembling a decent manner."

Richard shot me a confused look, "Wait, why can't you work on your art today?"

"Oh," I said airily, "Galfore says we have visitor coming today, and I think it would be best if I got all my important work out of the way before the visit," I shrugged again, "You know how Galfore is… very welcoming. This means often our visits get away from us… it is much fun, but does not leave a lot of time to complete homework."

Galfore is… well, Galfore is hard to describe.

His real name of course is not Galfore, but Galvin, I am told. But I did not meet Galfore until I was four… and somehow, in the way only four year olds can, Galfore always tells me with a twinkle in his eye, I formed the nickname Galfore. It has since stuck.

Galfore… Galfore is my everything. He is my support system, he is the one who raised me, he is the one who provides for me, but he is not my father. I suppose the best way to describe him would be nanny, but we are much closer than that. He is like my father, although technically I suppose his is my guardian. But I love him as I would a father, and he loves me as if I were his own flesh and blood, and he is the man who has raised me since I was four.

Since I came to America.

I was so young, I can hardly remember a time before America, but Galfore tells me Tameran—the small European country we both hail from—is a most wondrous place. My sister, who is four years older than I, has since returned to our homeland, and seems to find it a most wondrous place if her letters to me are to be believed. Galfore often shows me pictures, and it does seem like a magnificent place. Out of a storybook practically. There is even a King and Queen like in a fairytale.

Galfore tells me my own parents loved me very much, that they were very good parents, but that they died when I was young and it was seen best that I left the country with him.

I'm not entirely sure I understand all the details, but the older I get, the more I find out. I assume Galfore is trying to protect me, and will tell me when I am old enough and mature enough—and I reassure myself that my eighteenth birthday is less than two years away.

Rachel raised a brow again, "Who's visiting?"

"I don't know… Galfore didn't say, only that it would be a long visit, and a very important one…" I trailed off, it is unusual of Galfore to leave out so many details.

Rachel scowled, "That doesn't sound like Galfore."

I shrugged, something I often do with Rachel, as it seems to disarm her more contentious comments with ease. To be honest, I am much more worried about the English work I have ahead of me then the impending visit, "I suppose I'll find out today."

Rachel made a noncommittal noise and went back to editing or writing or doing whatever she was doing in her notebook, and that's the end of the conversation. Rachel doesn't believe in making unnecessary commentary: if she doesn't have anything else she wants to say, that's that. She's done with the conversation without so much as a transition.

I sighed and pull out my English notebook and start flipping through it to find the notes we took in class on 'A Separate Peace'. I suppose it's time to get to work.

I'm opening the first page, when I felt a tap on my arm. I turned to find Richard smiling at me, "You know…" he said quietly, so as not to disturb Rachel and Gar who are back to working on their writings, "If you really need some help… I don't mind."

I blushed, the last thing I want is for Richard to know how much of an idiot I truly am when it comes to English. Besides, the only thing worse than being his little sister's best friend is being his little sister's dumb best friend who he constantly has to aid in trying to understand the most elementary of literary concepts.

I smiled at him, "Oh, Richard, that's very nice of you but I couldn't possibly ask you—"

"Stop pestering Kori to avoid doing your own work," Rachel said without so much as taking a pause in her scribbling.

Richard scowled at her, "I'm not pestering Kori, am I, Kori?"

"Oh no," I said, afraid I am turning even more red, "It is a very kind offer, but I would not possibly even know where to start—"

"That's the easy part," he insisted, and tapped the page I have opened to in my book, "The beginning of course," he said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes, "Yes, well, the beginning—that's very helpful, Richard."

"Just let her read, Richard. If she has any questions she can google them or ask me," Rachel said.

"I don't know anyone better at English than Rach," Gar piped in faithfully.

Rachel reached out and patted his hand encouragingly, and Gar in return, grinned and threw his arm over her shoulder. She alowed him to do this, which is really just a sign of how crazy she really is about him.

Richard glared at the both of them, "Yeah, well, if you need help and don't feel like bothering the English genius—my sister—I really could help you some. I got an A in Ms. Winter's class last year, you know."

Which is really not surprising, I don't think Richard has ever gotten less than an A on anything in his life, unlike certain people at this table.

Gar sneered, "Rub it in, why don't you."

Richard shrugged, in a nonchalant and non-apologetic way, "I'm not bragging."

"Sounds like you are," Rachel commented.

"And you wonder why people are reluctant to come to you for help?" Richard asked in return.

"We're not talking about people here. We're talking about Kori. Kori's not afraid of me, are you Kori?" she said, her eyes shooting up from her notebook to find mine.

Three sets of eyes turn to me.

"Uh… not… most of the time?" I ventured.

Gar and Richard laughed uproariously at this, and even Rachel cracked a smile.

"See?" Rachel said pointedly, looking at Richard.

"It's a miracle you have any friends," Richard told her.

"I don't see you sitting with your significant other and your best friend," Rachel returned.

"Hey! They're my friends too!" Richard protested.

Rachel only shook her head as I tried to hide a smile. Perhaps I should find it annoying when Richard and Rachel go off like this, but I really only find amusement in it.

"Thank you, Richard for your offer," I said as graciously as I can muster, "But really—I just have to reread at this point. I promise if I have any questions, I will ask you," I added, because I do not want him to think that I don't value his offer by any means.

Richard smiled brilliantly at me, "That's all I ask."

And I have to turn back to my book or risk staring into his smile all day long.

Rachel and I are heading to lunch when I see her again.

"I hope they have hot dogs today…" I mused as we walk.

Rachel wrinkled her nose in response, "I will never understand why you stoop to eat cafeteria food."

I shrugged, I for one have never found it as appalling as Rachel, and besides, it's much easier and cost-effective than having to make my own lunch. But I have told her this before, and she still regards me as if I am an alien. "I just really like the mustard," I told her instead.

Rachel shook her head, "I suppose there's no accounting for taste."

I grinned, "I should say—what type of salad are you having today?"

"Salads are a healthy way of ensuring you have a delicious and vitamin-full meal," Rachel retorted as we head over to the picnic table we typically claim as our own.

We put our stuff down as I grin. I always find myself grinning during lunch. My absolute favorite part of the day is lunch, not just because I get to talk with my friends (I can do that in Free), not just because I absolutely do not have to work at all, and not just because I can eat, but because our school has outdoor seating.

Yes, in California where the weather is almost always sunny and beautiful, the chance to sit outside among the flowers, the trees, the sunshine and the breeze is what makes my day.

I smiled as I took in our surroundings… and found the smile slipping off my lips as I spy a woman in red standing not too far off through a thicket of trees… who looks suspiciously familiar… she looks like…

It was Rachel's voice that breaks my focus. "Earth to Kori? Do you want to go get your hot dog now, or have Gar lay into you about harming our world's most precious resource?"

"What?" I said, turning back to look at Rachel.

Rachel looked at me, concerned, "Are you feeling okay, Kori?"

I glanced back in the direction where I could have sworn the woman in red was standing just a moment ago, but see nothing. I shook my head. Surely it was nothing… but I couldn't shake this feeling… but what kind of person imagines seeing the same women in red standing in the distance twice in one day? I remind myself that it was only for a moment, and surely it was just a coincidence before I reply to Rachel. "No, sorry, I suppose I just spaced out for a moment…" I turned back to face Rachel with a grin, "You know how the prospect of mustard and hot dogs always makes me go a little crazy," I said instead.

Rachel doesn't look entirely convinced.

The rest of the day, I could not shake that feeling that I was being watched. I dropped my books twice in the hallways, and my teachers had to ask me questions twice because I'm liable not to have heard them the first time.

Rachel continued to look at me with a furrowed brow when she thinks I'm not paying attention.

At the end of the day, it seemed she was not able to hold her concerns in any longer, for she came up to me to briskly ask, "Are you sure you're OK?" This is what passes as motherly concern for Rachel.

"Yes, Rachel," I replied with a smile, because no matter what, you can count on Rachel to be a straight-shooter, and the thought is somehow reassuring, "I'm fine."

She still gave me a dubious look, "Are you sure?"

I nodded, "Yes, Rachel it's just… you know, that time of the month," I told her in a whisper.

Rachel's eyebrows shot straight north, "Uh-huh… and you realize I'm not a guy, right? I don't buy that."

I sighed, and I try another approach, "Perhaps I am just nervous about Galfore's guest?" I offered, "Or I need a good night of sleep? Or I am simply bugging about the latest English quiz?"

Rachel made a noncommittal noise in return, and then hesitated before replying, "Do you need anything? Because if you hang around school for an hour, I can take you home. I can end the meeting early—"

I held up my hand to stop her offer, "Thank you, Rachel, but there is no need. And your writers need you, so do not deny them the chance of your guidance simply because you worry a little about me. I promise I'm fine. And I will text you as soon as I arrive home," I look up at the clock in the hallway, "And now, I really must go, or I will miss the bus, and I will really need to take you up on that offer."

Rachel hesitated once more, "If you're sure…" she says reluctantly.

"Positive," I said with a grin.

She bit her lip, "And you'll text me the second you get home?"

I held up three fingers, "Scout's honor," I swore.

And it was true. I had all intents and purposes of doing just that once I got home… and if it hadn't been for what had been waiting for me when I got home, I am positive I would have done just that.

I would like to say I am not adverse to buses.

In fact, I do not normally take one look at the bus, and turn on my heel and hightail it away from my preferred mode of transportation.

It was just… today, when I went to go to the bus, I saw a woman in red, not too far off, watching the bus's doors carefully.

And well, I'm sure I was just being silly, but I was not about to become bait to a serial killer just because I was afraid of looking a bit silly.

I bit my lip. I really did not want to go back into the school and ask Rachel for a ride home. For one, it could mean waiting for at least an hour for her meeting to finish. And Galfore had asked me to come home right after school so I could tidy before our mysterious guest came (only, of course, the guest's identity was not a mystery to him, so he did not call our guest that, I am only adding that for your benefit). Further, tagging along to Rachel's meeting, which always ran long would simply be terribly boring. I also did not think it sounded like a great idea to sit around, much like a sitting duck, in an unsecure location without adult supervision for an extended period time, when I knew the woman who I found so concerning was simply waiting twenty feet away.

But I did not exactly have any other options… especially since Galfore was currently at work and would not be able to pick me up for at least another forty-five minutes.

Which did not help me at all.

And then my eyes caught sight of one particular option, and once they did, I knew with complete certitude that I would not be going back into the school to retract my earlier rejection to Rachel's kind offer. Nor would I be calling Galfore.

"So is this the bike that has been causing you so much distress with Bruce?" I asked as I walked up to Richard in the parking lot.

Richard, who seemingly just climbed on the bike looks up at surprise, and once he saw it was me, smiles, "Yeah, Bruce wanted me to go with the blue, but I just thought the red was so much more me," Richard snarked in return, but the glint in his eyes lets me know it is all in good humor.

I mock-frowned, "Sometimes I really remember that you and Rachel are siblings."

"Only by circumstance," he returned, and then arched an eyebrow, "Besides, isn't that a good thing? Seeing as how she's your best friend and all? Shouldn't that mean you find the same desirable qualities in her friendship in my own person?"

I laughed, "You're right. I consider you a good friend," Richard smiled in the sweetest way at that, a way that had my heart beating in what felt like must be a slightly irregular fashion, as I continued, "Which is why I'm going to ask you for a favor…"

He sighed, but does not stop smiling, "I should have known… compliments always come with a catch. What is it?"

I studied the ground, unsure and a bit embarrassed with where to start, "I am sure this will sound quite silly…"

"Hey, don't worry about that," he said kindly.

I bit my lip, "It's just… there's this woman…."

Richard's eyebrows shot up, "… yes?" he said, beseeching me to go on.

I continued ahead, speaking quickly now, practically babbling,, "I keep seeing her everywhere I look today… and I'm sure it's nothing, but she seemed like she was watching… and waiting for me to get on my bus…and, I'm sure it's nothing but…"

Richard's eyes narrowed as he seemed able to sort some sense from my insistent talking, "Hop on," he said.

I blinked at him, "Excuse me?"

He is smirking at me as he asked, "Isn't that why you came over? To ask for a ride?"

I bit my lip again, "I'm not sure… I suppose I was hoping you would use your logic to convince me that I was worrying about nothing, and comforted I would go off and catch my bus…"

"Well, that's not what I'm saying," Richard said firmly, "I'm saying if your instincts are telling you to watch out, don't ignore them," he took the helmet he was holding in his hand—the helmet he himself was about to wear—and offered it to me, "Here, take this. I promise you, despite what Rachel's probably said I'm a very good driver."

I laughed as I look down at the helmet in my hands. It's a shiny red, and very sleek. "I doubt you've ever been bad at anything in your life."

His face took on a curious expression, clouded, "A few things. Now come on, are you going to hop on or not? She's only going to keep watching that bus for so long before she begins to suspect."

He was right… and well, riding with Richard on a motorcycle hardly sounds like the worst thing I could do all day.

I slipped the helmet over my head and tightened the straps on my book bag so it wouldn't go falling off as we sped away from the school, "I'm ready," I told him once my affairs have been sorted out, lifting my chin in a defiant way to hopefully mask the fact that I'm more than a little scared about climbing on the back of a motorcycle with anyone, let alone Richard.

He rolled his eyes, at first I thought it was at my faux-bravado, but when he holds out his hands, and said in this patient way, "Come here—let me make sure you've got it straight." It became apparent it was about my inability to properly buckle a helmet.

I leaned forward and blushed slightly as his hands come up around my head—he just looks so focused and as he tightened the straps around the helmet, his fingers kept brushing along my jaw… and well, I suppose it's a good thing the helmet blocks most of my flaming cheeks from view.

He smiled at me once the helmet is properly adjusted, "OK, I think you're safe now."

"I thought I was always safe with you," I replied.

Richard snorted and slid forward on the bike, "Come on, Ms. Sassy, get on."

I hesitated for another moment, because while in theory, riding a motorcycle with an attractive male (especially Richard my brain helpfully provided) sounded like a great idea—and surely, it would be one that would have taken over my thoughts and daydreams for many days, maybe even weeks, or months, contemplating about the opportunity to ride on the back of Richard's motorcycle…

The fact that it's actually happening…

Well, it made me a little worried.

It just, well, it seemed rather intimate, didn't it? A motorcycle is something you ride on with your bad-boy boyfriend. It's sexy. And to hitch a ride with your best friend's older brother? The extremely good-looking one who has no interest in you whatsoever? Sort of in a different territory all together…and that doesn't even factor in the inherent danger of a motorcycle, no matter how good the driver is…

"Kori? Are you coming?" Richard asked, staring at me, standing in the parking lot like a chump.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts out, because really, none of that matters, all that matters is getting away, and Richard was nice enough to give me his only helmet (and just because I didn't say anything about that doesn't mean I didn't notice that that's exactly what he did), and I can't not.

So, trying to smother my feelings of embarrassment, I swung my leg over the back of the motorcycle, being careful to keep a few centimeters between us—not too much that it seems like I am aware of the awkwardness of being this close to him when all it's going to do is fuel my later fantasies and not too little that it starts to get in that gray area that I know nothing about.

The last thing I want is for Richard to think I'm coming onto him.

I wrapped my arms around him—like a hug I reason, so surely this is acceptable friend behavior, because one does hug friends, and tell him "Ready," in the steeliest voice I can muster. But I'm afraid there's not much steel behind it.

Richard turned back to regard me, and seemingly amused and whatever he finds there, he shot me a smirk, "All right then," he said, gunning it.

And well, I guess then I should have known I was way over my head.

It's simply true once the motion gets going, no one riding on the back of a motorcycle can really worry about where their hands are on the driver or the appropriate amount of distance separating her from the driver, because one is too concerned with not falling off said bike.

Or at least, this was my experience.

It's not that Richard lied—he did seem to be a very adept driver, he certainly swerved enough in-between cars to make me think he is confident, and accomplished said swerving without so much as tilting his bike dangerously tone side that it made me think I should perhaps start to gain some confidence in him myself.

We were ten minutes out from school, and I was starting to forget about my worries, forget about my concerns of danger, forget about the woman in red, and simply start to enjoy the speed of the road, the feeling of Richard in front of me, his muscles tightly coiled… (and well, it's not exactly like I will have ample opportunity to gain such first-hand knowledge anytime soon) and the wind whipping around us when Richard angled his head back to me, "You OK?" he shouted.

I think it must have been something about the speed that made me feel so…wanton. I must confess, I lean in a little closer than strictly necessary, so that our faces are hardly far apart at all, as I answer in a soft whisper, "Perfect."

When Richard dropped me off, he insisted on walking me in.

"Oh no," I told him, trying to hand back his helmet, "Richard, you've done enough and I'm sure I was just being silly and—"

"Kori," he said, shaking his head in dismay of me, "I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this for my own peace of mind. Rachel would never let me forget it if my negligence resulted in your death or abduction or otherwise harm."

I smiled, "But I thought I just told you that any thoughts of my death, abduction, or otherwise harm were nothing but silly."

Richard shrugged, but his gaze maintained a determined look, "So call me silly."

I giggled, "You are perhaps the least silly person I know, Richard."

He frowned at the comment, "What does that mean?"

"Oh, I do not mean any harm by it," I attempted to reassure him, as we both head to my door. I had resigned myself to the fact that he would simply be walking me to the door, and find myself unable to help myself from being touched by the gentlemanly action, "I only mean you are not one… uh, how do you say? Prone to fanciful actions."

Richard's frown deepened as I unlocked the door, "So you think I'm Mr. Serious?" he asked.

I pondered that as we step inside, "No… not exactly," I laughed again and locked the door behind us, "I do not mean to imply that you are not amusing, Richard, only that, well, Gar is silly. I am occasionally silly. You and Rachel? You are almost never silly. Although I will admit you are more silly than Rachel, but it is not the first adjective that comes to mind when I think of you."

He lifted an eyebrow at that, "And what is?"

Brilliant. Wonderful. Handsome. Kind. Amazing. "Erm, dependable?" I said, flustered and not having a thesaurus on hand. It comes out as more of a question.

Luckily, Richard seemed to find this particularly amusing, or at least more amusing than offensive, and let out a bark of laughter at the suggestion, "Really? Dependable?" he questioned, his eyes twinkling with delight.

I felt myself blushing, "Erm, it's certainly an adjective that comes to mind. Certainly before 'silly'. Perhaps it is on the forefront of my mind due to your recent aid in my rescuing."

"Uh-huh, so being dependable is my defining characteristic?" Richard asked, still grinning.

"Um…" I said, unsure of how to best answer, or indeed, what answer he even wished to here. Richard surely is dependable, but I don't know if it's his most defining characteristic, or even the best adjective to choose to describe him. Luckily, I am saved from having to think of a better adjective—or a better answer—when the doorbell rang.

Richard shot me another easy grin, "Saved by the bell, huh?" he quipped.

I rolled my eyes, but grinned back nonetheless, "Something like that," I said, as I head to answer the door.

Even though our conversation isn't necessarily going to the way I would have dreamed it would… I can't deny that a conversation with Richard alone in my house is particularly electrifying and delightful, and now that I'm away from the danger of that woman, I find myself giddy with the prospect of having an undefined amount of time with Richard, alone, outside of school.

But I suppose, well, we were so busy chatting, and I was so busy being relieved that I was merely silly (and even if I wasn't, that the woman in red is far away, back at school), and just plain thrilled that Richard was in my house, spending time when he could have been leaving, talking to me, that well I, forgot about the whole previous worrisome mess almost entirely.

Which I guess is what most explains how I could be so entirely unaware, so carefree, as to not look to see who was at the door before I answered it.

Or maybe Richard is to blame. Because Richard followed me to the door, teasing me all the while, "Don't think I'm going to let you out of this that easily, Kori." Richard always distracts me, especially when he's teasing me, and grinning at me like that.

But either way, I was totally unprepared to find what I did when I opened the door.

It stopped me mid-laugh, and it made all thoughts of trying to get Richard to stay for dinner disappear from my mind, because when I opened the door there was the woman I had taken drastic measures to hide from: the woman in red.

Whew, sometimes it takes a lot of words to set the scene, doesn't it?

I know, no Cyborg—but I promise, I have good plans for him. He should be showing up chapter three, and he'll be a lot of fun.

I also can't believe it, but in 20 pages and 7000 some words, I haven't been able to get to the revelation that Kori is a princess… but not too worry, that is coming very, very soon. And it should be fun… and lead to some good RobStar moments.

Reviews always appreciated, and feedback will really help tailor where this story is going.

Thanks for reading!