Roman

I know the sound of machine hum like I know the sound of my own heartbeat. The familiar clickings and whirs of the equipment keeping Emory alive having long since become the soundtrack of my life. The heart monitor is beeping, the IV drip is flowing and the ventilator is wheezing, generously producing the rise and fall of Emory's chest.

On the outside she looks peaceful, a perfectly healthy seventeen year old girl. You'd never guess the horrific circumstances leading up to her hospitalization. The only remaining evidence being the jagged, pink scar running from her temple to jaw line.

If you've never seen someone you care about in a coma, take it from me it's hard. They're not dead so you can't mourn them. They're still part of this world, yet not part of it. The staff tells me that Emory's subconscious is awake and that she's aware of the things going on around her. I desperately hope they're wrong. Being imprisoned in your own body sounds more like hell to me than something to hope for.

The dim lighting in the hospital turns everything into a strange shade of blue. Clarke says they do it on purpose, something about calming the patients. But it makes me feel depressed, like I'm stuck in one of those Edgar Allen Poe poems.

Emory loved poetry. She used to spend hours talking about the importance of immortalizing life. I would let her continue, giving no hint that I understood any of it. There was nothing quite as entertaining as watching Emory get riled up about the things she loved. Honestly she could have lectured me on mathematical complex analysis and I would have just sat there, taking it all in.

I remember one night, years ago when we hid ourselves away in Emory's old tree house pointing out constellations and holding each other close. She had recited an old John Keats poem, Bright Star. I can still remember with perfect clarity, how her words pierced the darkness around us and seemed to give meaning to my life. It was one of those moments that stretched on forever and somehow ended too quickly. If you asked me then, I could have sworn we were infinite.

A few weeks later, a jeep lost control on the street swerving onto the sidewalk where Emory happened to be running. Now she's here. The same place she has been for the past three years. What makes it worse is that it's all my fault.

I got involved with the wrong crowd at a young age and tried to get out. But there are some things you can't walk away from. I warned her not to intervene; I told her that it was dangerous. I should have known better than to believe she would listen.

Emory was one of those extraordinarily selfless people. Such a noble and rare quality, and no wonder it's rare because it's that selflessness that almost cost Emory her life.

There are witnesses I'm sure, but none with balls enough to come forward. It doesn't matter though like I said I already know what happened. All the pieces fell together after I received that horrifying late night phone call three years ago. I knew what she had done and I knew whose fault it was. Because let's be honest, we can't blame Emory for trying to fix my life. I know the blame for her current unresponsiveness lies solely at my feet.

I can't lose hope though. If I do, I'll lose track of who I am and everything I have left; the world will turn upside down and I won't have a place in it anymore.

With each night that passes, I visit her. Reading to her out of the journal I gave Emory for her fourteenth birthday. She used to take it everywhere, jotting down anything she liked. Song lyrics, memories, even quotes from her favorite people.

Every now and then I'll come across a page that includes me, like the moment I told her I loved her. I found the entire scene catalogued and outlined on page 73. I've probably read the whole thing front to back at least twelve doze times by now. But I keep reading, in hope that if she really is stuck in her body awake but paralyzed, hearing the words she once cherished so much might bring her some measure of comfort.

This time of night its quiet in the hospital, visiting hours ended several hours ago so no one disturbs me. The only reason I'm still here is because a girl I go to school with Clarke Griffin, lets me stay after hours on the condition that I don't go wandering around or steal any medications. Which isn't a problem I left any remnants of my old life behind me after Emory's accident. If it weren't for me, she wouldn't have gone to meet with those people in the first place and she wouldn't be in a coma right now. I can't dishonor her by continuing the life that destroyed hers.

The fingers of Emory's right hand are cold, laying clasped in the both of mine. I bow to place a kiss to her fingers. She wouldn't want me to spend the rest of my life waiting for her to wake up. Instead she'd tell me to get ready for school tomorrow.

If I'm being honest I'll admit that I don't want to spend the rest of my life here either. Most days it just feels like I'm waiting for a miracle that'll never come, holding on by a thread. But even if I'm away from this place it's not like I ever stop thinking about her. No matter what I do or how far I go, I always end up being pulled back to the hospital right back where I started.

My friends will be angry when they realize I have no intentions of going back to school. The whole thought of returning to Smallville high makes me sort of sick. Instead of showing up to my classes I'll most likely go to work then visit Emory again, like I've been doing all summer. It's more constructive than going to school anyway; at least I get paid for work. It's not like I need a degree for what I'm doing, a good mechanic doesn't have to show people where he went to school. Plus, I have bills to pay. Granted my parents would let me move back in with them if I asked but I don't want to. I've learned all I can from them. It's time for me to enter the real world. No, I don't think I will be going back to school this year.

I scowl into the darkness. If my mind's so made up, why am I so torn? I know it's because she would be disappointed. She would want me to finish school. Maybe if she could just grasp my hand, or give me a sign. If only I could hear her voice again...

"Come back to me, Em come back to me." As my words settle into the deafening silence I'm terrified that I have my answer.

Kenna

"This is impossible!" I flop into the sea of clothes on my bed, assaulted by the scent of my mother's favorite lemon fabric softener.

Davina's laughter comes bubbling through the laptop speakers on the bed next to me. "It can't be that helpless Kenna," my friend says. "Your closet is twice the size of my bedroom."

I groan, but my protest is muffled by all the clothes. About an hour ago I realized that I hadn't picked out an outfit for the first day of school, so I had a panic attack and now it looks like my closet vomited all over my room.

I lift my head so I can see the laptop; thank God for Skype I don't know what I'd do without my friend's advice. "I was thinking maybe a jean skirt and a sleeveless white shirt.-"

"Isn't that against dress code?" Davina asks, picking at her nails, ever the rule follower.

I wave her off. "No one bothers with the dress code on the first day. They're too busy. The front office is like one of those lines of sugar ants after you squish one, they run all around like it's the end of the world."

"In their defense Kenna, if you're squishing them, it kind of is the end of their world," she points out.

I shake my head "You're not listening that's not the point; no one is going to be dress coding on the first day. And stop picking at your nails I thought we agreed you were going to break that habit."

Davina folds her hands in her lap, removing them from my line of sight. "You're right, sorry. Go on."

"As I was saying, I did some research and Cosmopolitan says I need to dress 'flirty' but not 'slutty.' What does that even mean?" I scrunch my eyebrows.

"What about that outfit your dad got you from France? That was cute." Davina advises.

I grimace. "My cousin borrowed it for a camping trip about a week ago and lost it."

She makes a face. "What kind of person goes fishing in a designer romper?"

"My seriously disturbed cousin," I let out a harsh laugh running my hands through my silky hair.

Davina leans forward from where she sits. "I see your dilemma, but there has to be something in that closet of yours. Have you asked Octavia?"

"No." I admit. "I don't like getting her on Skype. I always get her brother and then it gets weird."

Davina laughs, "You're such a coward, Kenna. Hold on let me get her."

Davina disappears from my screen for a brief moment and I face my closet once more, perusing the racks for what feels like the hundredth time. Davina's right, it's pretty large, logically there has to be something in here that would work. "Maybe I should pick the shoes first. Build from the bottom up?" I wonder aloud.

"Ask Octavia," Davina's voice tells me returning to her screen.

"What do you think Octavia?" I ask.

"What do I think about what?" Octavia asks. "And why am I looking at one of Kenna's shirts?"

Turning back to the lap top I see that in my tirade, a shirt has landed on the webcam. I remove it, "Hi."

Octavia grins, "So I hear you're having outfit problems?"

I shake my head. "My dear, dear Octavia, this is more than a problem, it's not like I asked a fat person when the baby's due, or stepped on someone's shoe in the movie theater, I can't figure out what I'm wearing for the first day of freshman year. We have a crisis on our hands."

Kenna thinks she doesn't have anything 'flirty' in her closet." I can almost hear the quotations in Davina's voice

Octavia nods, "So what about-"

Davina cuts her off, "Her cousin lost her romper camping."

Octavia makes a face. "Really? Why would you-you know what no, I'm not even gonna go there."

Despite the dreariness of current events, I feel a faint smile creeping onto my face, no matter what mood I'm in, my friends always manage to make me smile.

"What about your overalls?" Octavia asks.

"And for a shirt?" I ask.

Octavia's face crumples like it always does when she's concentrating on something. "Hmm, wear that blue one with the flowers."

"No, I got it!" Davina snaps her fingers and points at me. "What about that maroon shirt we got from the Coldplay concert?"

"Excuse me," Octavia objects. "But I think it's my turn to wear that shirt?" I ignore her.

"Yes!" I say clapping my hands "I even know where it is, it's hanging in the back of my closet next to that dress I wore at the Gilbert wedding. Now if I can just find my overalls…" I drop to all fours, scouring through the piles on the floor. "What are you guys going to wear?"

Octavia's voice comes from overhead. "My purple shirt, you know the lacey one and my combat boots of course."

"No surprises there," I say. She wore those combat boots with almost everything. Where could those overalls have gone?

I accidentally tug on the corner of my bedspread, thinking it's another shirt and the laptop comes crashing down on my head. Ouch.

"Kenna? Are you ok?" Davina sounds worried while Octavia asks, "What was that?"

"Oh nothing, the lap top just attacked my face is all," I offer, rubbing my head.

The screen of my lap top looks a little wonky, the resolution having turned purple and green. But after giving it a good thwack with the palm of my hand it goes back to normal. I can see Davina in her vintage themed bedroom and Octavia in army green one, walls so littered with pictures you could barely see the paint underneath them anymore.

I hear another, deeper voice coming from the background of Octavia's screen. "Octavia, do you have the laptop? I need it!"

Octavia rolls her eyes, "It's my turn! Can't you live without it for like three minutes?"

"He doesn't sound happy," I say.

Octavia throws me a look, "He's never happy when we're with dad. The computer's like his escape hatch or something, I don't even know what he does with it it's not like he actually does any homework."

The sound of a fist pounds on her door.

"Can't we share?" Octavia groans.

The door is thrown open and her older brother Bellamy comes bounding into view.

"You should have locked your door," Davina recommends.

"I did," Octavia argues. "But that only works if your brother doesn't know how to pick a lock."

"You know how to pick a lock?" Davina sounds impressed.

Bellamy bends down; Octavia's screen now dominated by both their faces. "I know how to do a lot of things."

Just then, Davina's older sister Clarke comes bursting into her room. Davina jumps and places a hand over her heart. It's moments like these when I wonder how Davina and Clarke are related at all. Clarke has blonde hair with scarred, sun-tanned skin from the sports medicine club. Then you have Davina, chocolate brown hair and so dainty you'd think her parents sent her to etiquette school.

"Clarke!" Davina says. "You scared me."

Clarke doesn't look amused although come to think of it, Davina's sister never does. "You need to go to bed, you have school tomorrow."

"So do you," Davina's cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. She hates it when Clarke acts like her mother.

Bellamy's tone turns teasing from Octavia's screen. "Nice PJ's Clarke." Unlike Clarke and Davina, Octavia and Bellamy do look alike, both with tan skin and freckles, dark unruly hair sprouting from their heads. The only difference are their eyes. Bellamy has brown eyes while Octavia's are almost purple.

Clarke pulls her robe tighter around herself, realizing she has an audience. "Bellamy," she says acknowledging a fellow senior "Ready for school?"

"Oh you know me, I'm ready for anything."

Clarke rolls her eyes and stares pointedly at Davina. "Five minutes," Then disappears from view.

"Bye Clarke, nice talking to you," I mutter.

Bellamy laughs while Davina grumbles after her sister, "You have no idea."

Just then, Octavia's corner of the screen turns into a whirl of color and all we can hear is Bellamy's voice over Octavia's struggles. "You heard her O, it's time to go to bed."

"Bellamy!" Octavia shouts just as the screen freezes, giving us an up close look at Bellamy's lips before it goes blank.

"Octavia's got her hands full," I say.

Davina nods. "Umm hmm. I should probably go to bed though, before Clarke comes back-because you know, she will."

"Ok, night. I love you."

"Love you too. See you tomorrow," She smiles at me and it's only a moment before her side of the screen goes blank too.

I love my friends. We're more like sisters really; they're the only people on this Earth who truly accept me. But I hope this year things will be different. Unlike most girls my age, I know I'm beautiful. I like the way I look. And I like it when boys look at me. Some call it self-centeredness, I call it self-confidence. This year I want a boyfriend. It'll be a wonder if I get any sleep tonight, my heart is pounding I'm so nervous.

Clarke

My alarm goes off before the sun even rises, practically giving my vacation accustomed body heart attack. It physically hurts to get out of bed this morning.

Davina's already up. I can hear her banging around in the bathroom like she's hunting zombies. I remember when I used to care about looking my best for school, but that's the difference between seniors and freshman. For seniors like myself the novelty has sort of worn off. Pulling on a pair of comfortable jean shorts and my standard red sport medicine shirt I feel ready to face the day.

"Davina," I say letting my fist fall on the bathroom door. "PLEASE open the DOOR!'"

"It's not my fault you didn't wake up earlier," She says.

Screw it. With a sudden burst of energy, I march straight back into to my room to locate the tools I need. In no time I'm storming back to the bathroom, dropping to my knees and setting on the lock. The sound alerts my sister who almost drops the straightener. "Seriously Clarke?"

The tumblers click under my hand and with a grunt I push open the bathroom door.

Davina leans towards the mirror over the sink, sucking her thumb with an accusatory glare. "Burn yourself?" I ask.

Her scowl doesn't lessen which looks strange in contrast to the innocent white dress she's wearing; perfectly setting off the fake tan she got with Kenna. She only got it so my mother and I couldn't yell at her about how tanning in the sun causes skin cancer.

I give her a slight smile and push past her to grab my toothbrush.

"Has anyone ever told you how completely unbalanced you are?" Asks Davina.

"Just you," I say squeezing my favorite Scoop flavored toothpaste onto my toothbrush.

Davina throws her hands into the air and walks away from the bathroom. The sound of my sister stomping around her room in annoyance brings me a strange sense of enjoyment.

Unlike my sister, I don't take forever to get ready. All I do is brush my teeth and run my fingers through my wavy blonde hair. And it's good it doesn't take me too long because after spending so much time picking the lock, all I can do is grab a granola bar before my phone vibrates with a text from Finn.

He's waiting for me in the driveway, his teal truck glinting in the sunlight. I used to tease him about his ancient vehicle but it's become quite the endearing thing, tied up in all things that are Finn, unique and carefree.

I hop in the passenger seat as he shoots me a smile. The same smile that got me through every shift interning at the hospital this summer.

"Morning," he sing songs.

"Morning," I chuckle.

"So, are we ready for another great year at Smallville high?" he mocks.

I nod and Finn turns the radio up, drowning out the squeal of tires as we peel away from the curb.

Davina

I don't have a ride unlike Clarke, so I'm stuck riding the bus. Thank God for my iPod, which effectively silences the world around me. The ride seems to take forever but when the school finally looms into view, I almost wish it had taken longer. I've passed Smallville High on the way to the grocery store with my mom about a million times before but for some reason knowing I'm now a student here makes the scene all the more intimidating.

Most of the students that I can see through the gates are milling around the courtyard, huddled into groups chatting with their friends before the bell rings. There's a group of guys throwing a water bottle around, kicking it back and forth as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, meanwhile a few band students are laughing outside the library with their instruments and I can even hear the cheer squad marching around campus in their uniforms shouting at any student close enough to hear their stunning yet annoying school spirit.

I gulp. It's a lot to take in on the first day. I thank God that my friends and I agreed to meet before school starts, otherwise I'd be walking around awkwardly waiting for the bell to ring. I hold my head high when I get off the bus trying to look like I've done this a million times, determined not to play the part of a scared little freshman and head straight to the marble bench under a particularly large hickory tree near the bus area. This is our meeting spot and it looks like I'm the first one here. But I have an excellent view of the student parking lot from here so I can watch for them as they arrive.

It's not long before I see Bellamy's van, easily distinguishable by the ghetto paint job he and his friends completed with black and white spray paint. His van comes to a screeching halt after Octavia's brother manages to park, barley avoiding the three cars around it. I hadn't known vans could fishtail like that.

The star players of Smallville high's football team stumble through the doors. I think about Clarke, a veteran sports medicine student and how she's helped out with the football team since her freshman year. And thanks to her constant commentary I feel like I know these guys, like we've been friends all summer even though I've never really met them.

The last one to shakily make her way out of the van is Octavia. She looks bewildered for a few seconds, then spots me and waves, stumbling for a few steps before regaining her stride. Bellamy gives her a brief hug before she goes. You can say a lot of things about Bellamy, but whatever he is, he's a really good brother. Despite the elbow ribbing with Octavia over the computer, I know they have an excellent relationship. Being a big brother might be the one thing he excels at aside from football.

"Davina!" Octavia starts running towards me like the excited little freshman she is, so much for blending in and looking dignified, I think.

I stand and wrap my arms around her when she gets to me. "You look awesome!" I say.

"I do? I'm really nervous. Bellamy's been telling me they shove people in trash cans for wearing the wrong shoes."

"He's just trying to freak you out." I grasp her shoulders and take a step back. "You look hot!"

Grinning she says, "So do you, I've always loved that dress."

I chose to wear a simple white dress today and jean jacket. Plain but elegant, a safe kind of sweet. "Well, thank you but white's not really hard to match."

She shoves my shoulder.

"Octavia, Davina!" We turn to see Kenna coming towards us in the pair of overalls she got from Charlotte Rousse. We tried to tell her she could get the same pair online for half the price but Kenna insisted the overalls at Charlotte Rousse were better. Her and her labels; it makes me laugh.

Kenna collides with us and we cling to her in order to stop from falling over. "I'm so excited to see you guys!" She says like we haven't seen each other in weeks even though we talked last night.

She pulls back and I can't help but compare her beaming face to the sunny day overhead, bright and fierce. "Are we ready?"

I turn to the face the campus before us. Five buildings and four stories of students trying to make their way in an unfair world, with my friends by my side suddenly it seems like an adventure. Without a word, we link arms and walk onto campus.

Anna

Everyone has a way of coping with things. Some people like to exercise, or listen to music, my ex-boyfriend Jeremy likes to draw. I read. Finding it easier to live in a world where plot lines are controlled and predictable.

I got so into reading these last few days I almost forgot today was the first day of school. I even had to check my phone to make sure it was August 24th. Summer was hell, I should be happy school is starting but it's only going to get worse from here.

It's my fault of course. Everyone told me not to go out with someone older than me. But Jeremy was nice. Besides, he used to stalk me at the library so I thought it was pretty much fate we be together. By the end of last summer I was a goner. I had fallen hard. And I thought he had too.

Until I saw him taking with his sister's friend, Bonnie. After her uncle died, Bonnie spent the night over at the Gilbert house to spend some time with Jeremy's sister, Elena. Bonnie was curled up on the couch sobbing her eyes out when Jeremy came into the room.

We were supposed to go out that night; he didn't know I was watching from the stairs. Jeremy helped Bonnie off the couch and held her close. He never kissed her, but I knew, by the way he was looking at her… it was how he looked at me, only more.

So I met him the next day and confronted him. He said it was ridiculous but I still broke up with him. One month later Jeremy and Bonnie started dating and I was invisible. Ridiculous huh?

Maybe breaking up with him wasn't smart, because now I'm in high school and have no friends. I hoped that high school was going to be worth something, even though all I feel is the ache of his loss and anxiety for another year. A whole year carrying the one secret no one can ever know…especially Jeremy.

A group of girls walk past me as I stand by the gates alone. One of the girls smile at me. I think having a friend in general would be nice. But I can't summon the courage it would take to talk to anyone; my shyness has become my prison. Who would want to talk to me anyways? I'm a small Asian girl with black nail polish, faded jeans and a chocker necklace. If Jeremy rejected me, why anyone else would want me?

Jeremy

Think of one of those febreeze commercials, where the people sit in the impossibly disgusting car and breathe deeply but don't smell a thing, that's Bellamy's car except, instead of febreeze, it stinks like corn chips and sweat. There are old gyms clothes, rancid banana peels and week old peanut butter sandwiches. I've been getting rides from Bellamy for two years now and I used to think that I'd get used to the smell. But if his sister Octavia, who is sits next to me, still looks green after living with him for her whole life I'd say that my chances of getting used to Bellamy's stinky van are pretty slim.

"Hey Octavia," I greet.

She nods but doesn't say anything. Which is good since she looks like she's trying not to throw up.

"Seriously?" Matt asks flinging his hand around as a gym sock goes flying. "I can't even buckle my seat without touching something gross."

"Stop whining," Bellamy says from up front.

Matt and I exchange a look and Tyler twists around from the passenger seat, sun glinting off his russet skin and cropped black hair. "Did you guys catch the baseball game last night?"

Matt nods. "Excellent pitching on Don's part."

Tyler opens his mouth but before he can go on about baseball Mat cuts him off. "You guys know we're going to be mentors this year? For the underclassmen on the field?"

"Yeah, I'm kind of nervous about it," I admit.

"Oh Jeremy's nervous…adorable," Tyler goads.

I tell him to shut up as Matt goes on, "We get a say in what happens on the team this year."

"Not as much as Bellamy," I say. We all lurch to the right and Matt grasps the handle on the ceiling as the van tips precariously around a turn.

Bellamy is starting quarterback this year. Lucky for us, he's also our friend so he's giving us all the spots we want. Although he says that he's going to put the team first, so if we mess up he'll have to call us out on it. I'm almost looking forward to seeing Bellamy rip into Tyler; he's the only one who can hold his own against him.

Tyler shakes his head, "I don't care so much about mentoring people, just those underclassmen girls. We're at the top of the food chain gentlemen." And by girls, we all know he means Liv. The girl Tyler's practically been stalking for two years. It's entertaining to see Tyler not get what he wants for a change. "What about you Jeremy?" Tyler asks.

"Me? No, I have Bonnie." I say.

Tyler frees his arm to slap my shoulder. "That's right I forgot about you and the cougar."

"She's only one year older than me, it's no big deal," I mumble. It was hard enough for me to convince Bonnie it was no big deal, I don't need this joker on my back too.

Bellamy pulls into the school parking lot, somehow managing not to hit Ms. Lane's car, although the cutting glare she gives us makes Matt shudder.

I laugh and Matt blinks hard as Bellamy goes soaring over a speed bump. "What?" Matt says defensively. "You don't mess with Ms. Lane she-"

He's cut off as our fearless leader turns so violently into a parking spot that I swear I see my life flash before my eyes, "Hells bells," I gasp.

It takes a moment to pull myself together, but not Matt. Before the vans even at a standstill he's got the door open and one foot on the ground. "Hey Matt, I uh think you left your stomach on the seat," I say because the guy looks greener than Octavia. This isn't hard because Matt's as pale as I am, practically albino.

Bellamy's sister follows me out of the van and after taking a few shaky steps she's off to somewhere presumably safer than Bellamy's van.

Matt braces his hands on his knees. "How in the hell did you pass your driver's test?" he says to Bellamy as Bellamy closes the driver side door, making his way around the front of the car.

"What can I say?" Bellamy says. "It was my irresistible charm."

Leith, another friend of ours calls from about two cars down leaning on his muscle car. He pushes off the hood and walks over to us. "Still trying to sell that story about the DMV woman are you?" He asks Bellamy.

I shake Leith's hand and clap him on the back. Over the summer it seems I've grown another few inches and am almost as tall as he is. As it is, the top of my head barley reaches his blonde hairline. "How's it going man?"

Leith shrugs. "Alright, although I still don't believe you Bellamy, because that driver instructor didn't fall for my flirting so you gotta know there's no way she feel for his."

"Leith," Bellamy says. "It's like I told you, she asked for my number and I said I would only give it to her if she passed me."

I shake my head. "What would an older woman want with you?"

"Everything she can't have with you Jeremy," Bellamy dead pans.

"Hey!" We look around only to see Ms. Lane marching toward us in all her English teacher glory: high heels, pant suit, and don't forget that trademark cut-you-to-the-quick gleam in her eyes. Matt's face pales. "Hey, Blake!" She says referring to Bellamy's last name.

"I think she's talking to you," Says Leith.

"Yeah no shit Leith," Mutters Bellamy.

Tyler lifts his hand and waves to someone off in the distance, "Hey Liv, I'll be there in a second!" Forget the fact that after he says this, Liv turns away in horror, almost running to get as far away from Tyler as possible. Tyler starts after her, the man might be a pain in the ass but at least he's persistent. Doesn't change the fact that I'm still waiting for the day she pepper sprays him. Matt bets Tyler will win her over before then but I'm pretty sure I saw on Facebook that Liv took a self-defense class this summer. With any luck, I'll be ten dollars richer by the end of the day.

With Tyler jogging away and Matt still looking a little woozy from the drive I decide it would be best if I bailed. "See you on the practice field Bellamy."

Matt follows me as I walk away. "I have Ms. Lane next hour," he says.

"Great, you can tell her how you got that back eye."

He scowls. He actually got it because he got in a fight with Damon Salvatore. He never told me why he did it but I don't blame him Damon's a dick. The things my sister Elena has told me about him…the kind of things he does for Kai's gang…

It's a wonder my sister's boyfriend hasn't killed his brother yet.

Caroline

I love the first day of school. There's something comforting about getting back into a routine. The only thing I don't like are the front office people. Because they're running over each other's toes and yelling at everyone in sight. Ten minutes ago, I heard Rebekah Michelson apologize to Mr. Kane after he ran into her asking if she's always this clumsy or if today was just a special occasion. It wasn't even her fault.

And you'd have thought I asked Mrs. Guerrera to hang herself when I asked her to help me with the copy machine. She grumbled the whole time, practically dragging her knuckles on the ground. "Why they even let students like you use the copy machine I'll never know…"

It's not my fault the thing's a dinosaur. It breaks down every time we use it, even if we don't touch it it starts beeping…Like we breathed on it wrong or something…student council calls it Jaws, but we can only call it that when the office ladies aren't listening or they're liable to become even more homicidal than they usually are.

And then there are the teachers who blow through the office like tornadoes because they're running just as late as the students. Mr. Saltzman already had to scrub Ms. Sommers' coffee off his shirt after accidentally clothes lining her by the cross walk. He probably has second degree burns. You can hear Ms. Sommers' repeated apologies from the nurse's room a few yards away.

It'd be entertaining if I wasn't so busy. It's only the first day but I'm already behind. A student council's vice president's work is never done. Next Friday there's a pep rally that hasn't been planned, Student Council hasn't had our annual back to school meeting yet, which was supposed to happen last week but Francis was out of town. And don't even get me started on the carpool arrangements for the lake-trip on Labor Day…

"So there," Mrs. Guerrera slams the lid of the copier. I don't say that slamming the lid probably won't win her any points with Jaws. "Please be careful, this is the district's property and a pain to replace." She scowls walking away before I can even thank her.

Overhead the bell rings. I hadn't realized it was so late. But one peek at my phone confirms that it is in fact, 7:25. I'm an office aide this hour so it's no big deal but seeing how crazy things are, I think it's best if I stayed out of the lime light and continued to make copies of flyers. This is fine by me, since I have a lot to plan and apparently no one else on student council cares if we have a pep rally next Friday or not.

The volume outside rises to a dull roar as the students make their way to their classes. I gather the pages I've copied, stacking them into neat piles. A pair of arms wraps around me and after a brief moment of tension I relax into their familiar embrace.

"You're late," I accuse and twist around to see Francis looking down at me with his beautiful baby blue eyes and resist the urge to lean into him. Stay focused Caroline you're mad at him, I think. It's ridiculous really, the flood of happiness that comes from seeing him.

He cinches his eyebrows guiltily. "I know, I forgot to set my alarm and I'm sure according to your to-do list, we're already behind." I smile. "So I'm more than willing to dig in and get my hands dirty but," Francis pauses. "I need to go see Hayley first, really quick. I just wanted you to know that I hadn't forgotten you first."

I sigh, "Fine, I guess if you have to," His face splits into the biggest grin I've seen in a week. "But," I touch my finger to his chin and his face rearranges itself into mock seriousness. "You sir, have to be back here and ready to work in like fifteen minutes because we have 100 of these pep rally posters to put up and we still need to go over what we're actually doing for the pep rally."

He grasps my arms. "Thank you thank you thank you, I'll be right back." He leans in for a fast kiss but it ends up lasting longer because I've really missed him.

He breaks away almost regrettably, "Yeah, definitely coming right back."

I laugh as he hastens to the door, pivoting on his heel to push it open with his back, throwing me one last guilty smile before disappearing into the crowd of students.

I give myself to the count of ten to appreciate the day. Busy or not, my life is pretty great. It's my senior year, I'm dating the president of student council a.k.a the man of my dreams, and we're going to Kansas University next year along with Bonnie and Elena and Stephen and the whole group and everything will be perfect. All that's standing between us and our shinning future is what's bound to be the best and most profound year of high school. It's like my version of a fairytale coming true.

Greer

Embarrassingly enough, I've already had to ask for directions twice, I've never been to a school this size before. Its five buildings and four stories of the world's largest human sized hamster maze. A far cry from the private school I attended in California with only 500 students.

I make sure to check my schedule before walking into my first class; triple checking the numbers on the door just to be extra positive I'm finally in the right place.

Inside, there are four kitchenettes complete with refrigerators, ovens and tables. It seems the students have already split themselves into groups within each kitchenette. The closest kitchenette to me is filled with giggling girls, the next one sits completely still except for their thumbs, texting rapid fire. And it seems the last kitchenette has found their way into their fridge. It's this group on which my attention lingers.

One boy sits on the counter while two dare devils stand at his attention, both with a blob of whipped cream in their right hands. On the count of three the dare devils smack their right forearms with their left hands, causing the creamy blobs to soar high into the air… the guy on the right manages to catch his in his mouth, while the guy on the left misses, frosting the left side of his face with fluff.

It's at this moment that our teacher chooses to walk in, a black man in his late twenties who drapes his leather jacket over the chair behind his desk before making his way to the biggest kitchenette in the front of the room. He looks more like a biker than a teacher. "Alright, I'd ask who's ready to start cooking, but clearly I can see that you boys are." He says glancing over to the kitchenette in the back to whip cream boys.

I let out a laugh, I can't help it. And one of the boys looks over at me, the one who caught the whipped cream. Slowly, he licks his lips devouring any remaining traces of the sweet blob, his eyes never leaving mine. I look down.

"Please refrain from using any and all food items unless instructed. Now if you boys would be so kind as to clean up your kitchen we can get started, and Ms…?"

I look up, in horror, to see the teacher is talking to me. "Greer," I say.

He nods. "Greer. My name's Mr. Gerard. Do you need help finding your seat?"

I realize I've been standing at the door for the last five minutes, hesitating. A few people laugh, my heart beat quickens as I walk into the room, trying to find a seat but it seems as if they're all taken…

"You can sit here," Says the guy who licked his lips, making a show of getting up and holding his chair out for me. Since I have no other choice I sit down as he pushes me in.

He sits on the counter now that I'm in his chair and I feel guilty because I cost him his seat.

Mr. Gerard claps, "Who says chivalry isn't dead?" The class laughs. "Now just a little about myself, I grew up in the Bayou, and went to culinary school in New Orleans; Louisiana bred all the way. I moved to Kansas for reasons of which I will not be telling you. The rules in my class are simple: do what I say when I say it. There's a lot of hazardous equipment in here and with everyone cooking at the same time things will get a little chaotic. If you respect me, I'll respect you and we'll get along just fine. Tomorrow, we're going to do a little cooking activity but for today I don't have anything planned. And I know you're probably tired of the whole icebreaker routine-"

Just then the door opens and in walks a young blonde, hair tied up in an elegant knot with paint brushes. She's about Mr. Gerard's age and has paint stains on her jeans. A smile blooms across his face as he gestures to her, "But guess what? It's the first day of school and life suck's all around so we're going to get to know one another. I want you to divide into pairs and ask each other three questions." He holds up three fingers. "Three questions that will help you figure out exactly who this person is. Then we'll take turns standing up and telling the class about the person you're paired with. Camille, would you care to join us?"

The blonde blinks. "It's Ms. O'Connell, and I just stopped by-"

Mr. Gerard waves his hand. "It won't take long. Come on, you can do me."

The guys around me start to chuckle and Ms. O'Connell's lips thin to a fine line, "Fine then, I'll do you, Mr. Gerard," she says clearly unhappy about his choice of phrasing.

"It's Marcel Ms. O'Connell; remember?" He says as she makes her way to the front of the room. "Alright guys get to it, you have fifteen minutes."

My new friend who gave me his seat jumps off the counter and takes a knee so we're both at eye level. He's quite tall. "I'm Leith" He says.

He's polite compared to everyone else. So far this morning, all I've gotten are a few, 'Oh I'm sorry's, was that your foot?' And one, 'Um, you're in front of my locker.'

"I'm-"

"Greer, yeah I heard." He says, his long blonde eyelashes brush together; they're so long I wonder how they don't tangle. The color matches his fair hair. He shifts a little closer and I notice he's not only tall, but muscular too. His voice is husky. "You have your three questions?"

I raise my eyebrows, "Do you?" He nods. I'm impressed. "How did you think of them so quickly?"

He rolls his eyes. "The coaches in the weight room do the same thing every year."

"Oh," I nod. "That makes sense, what team are you on?"

"Football."

I nod.

"You're one question down, now it's my turn-"

"Wait! That's not fair, that wasn't my question I didn't know we started!"

"Coach says those who are the least prepared will always be the ones to lose the game, not my fault you weren't paying attention," Leith tilts his head as if to say, se la vie.

"Fine then, what's your question?" I ask.

"Would you rather watch Star Wars or Star Trek?"

I make a face, "Star Wars."

Leith reaches across me to open the fridge.

"I don't think we're allowed-" I say.

Leith grabs a water bottle and shuts the door. "Good, I can't stand Star Treck people." He says "Your turn."

"What if I had said Star Trek?" I look over at Mr. Gerard who seems to be too busy with Ms. O'Connell to notice Leith's indiscretion. Our teacher is leaning on the counter towards her, too close to be appropriate in a classroom full of children.

I look back at Leith twisting the top off his water bottle and try to think of a good question. But suddenly I can't think of anything so I say the first thing that comes to mind. "Cats or dogs?"

"Ugh, so generic," he scolds. "Dogs. My turn. University or life experience?"

"Oh that's a good one," I say, thinking. My cousin decided to spend a year back packing in Europe before she went to college and she says it's the best thing she's ever done. Then again I'm not that brave and in reality there's no way my father would let me go so I'll probably end up going to a University.

Leith starts tapping his foot.

I scowl. "Stop with your tapping you can't expect me to think with all that racket."

"All that racket?" he asks incredulously. "If you take this long to answer this one you'll never be able to answer my next question."

"What's your next one?" I ask apprehensively.

He laughs, "Answer the second question and you'll find out."

I grimace, he laughs again and I feel my phone vibrate. In the interest of not being rude I look down to see who it is but don't read the text. Elijah. "Um," I say, thoughts temporarily scattered. Now I really can't think so I pick the course my life will most likely take. "University."

"Fine," he says. "Next question?"

Oh, it's my turn again. For the sake of redeeming my earlier question I dig into the furthest reaches of my brain for the most creative question possible. After a while Leith starts tapping his leg again. I put my hand on his knee, he smiles.

"How," I ask. "Would your friends describe you?"

"They would say I'm calm under pressure, a good running back" Leith answers so fast I'm almost upset I really thought I would slow him down with this one. "What?" he says. "They tell me all the time."

"Ok, your turn. Let's hear this epic final question." I mock.

"What… is your favorite snack?"

"What?"

"What is your favorite snack?"

"I heard you, how is my favorite snack going to help you figure out who I am?"

"You'd be surprised," He says seriously. "You can lump people into stupid categories of course, but none are as revealing or argument inducing as snack foods. Think about it, what if your mom told you and your sister to go to the store to get one bag of chips and you had to agree on what you got?"

I nod my head. "Valid point, Doritos."

He holds up his hand for a high five, I smack it. "Okay," He says. "We're officially friends. What kind flavor? Please don't say salsa, I abhor it."

"You're out of questions but because I'm nice, I'll answer. I like all flavors." I laugh, "How did you know I had a sister?"

"Lucky guess. You're new here aren't you? I haven't seen you before, and I've seen everyone."

"Just moved from Star City."

He whistles. "California. How do you like Kansas?"

"It's alright, Kansas has its perks." I say elusively, I don't want to get into the reasons why my father moved, but I don't want to lie to Leith either.

If he thought my tone was abnormal, he doesn't say anything. "Wait till you see the lake, it's not much but on Labor Day we all go up there, and it's like nothing you've ever seen before."

"You make it sound magical," I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"That's because it is," He says. "But you'd have to see it to understand what I'm saying."

"So, do you always use words like abhor? Or were you just trying to impress me?" I ask.

"Definitely trying to impress you. Did it work?"

I make a fanning motion with my hand, "I'm already swooning," it's easy to talk to Leith, maybe it's because I've been so nervous about this day. But I think it might just be Leith. He has a relaxing presence about him. And I feel confident that I have him all figured out by the time Mr. Gerard calls the class to order, thirty minutes after his initially imposed fifteen minute rule. I suppose Ms. O'Connell is to blame.

We go around and tell the class all about our partners and when it's my turn, I say. "I met Mr. Leith Bayard, who is on the football team, running back. He likes dogs more than cats," Now that I say it out loud I realize what a stupid question it was to ask. "His friends say he's calm under pressure although I'm sure they'd also say he's a tad mischievous too," The boys at our table laugh and I take it as a true consensus.

He smiles at me, almost wistfully like we've known each other for a long time. And I guess in a way, it feels like we have.

Leith gets up off the ground and begins, "So Ms. Greer Norwood has just moved here from Star city with her family which does I'm guessing, include multiple sisters due to her protective demeanor. At first, she seemed shy but proved to be quite the intellectual once she started talking," I raise my eyebrows. "She likes Star Wars more than Star Trek," People laugh and I shift uncomfortably. "Greer also told me that she would choose a university over life experience but after getting to know her, I think she unintentionally lied. I'd wager she prefers life experience but lacks the courage to pursue it. She likes to laugh, hates to cook, and has never joined a sports team, to her regret I'm sure. And" Leith adds almost as an after-thought, "She loves Doritos."

Leith sits and I know I'm staring at him with my mouth open.

Mr. Gerard looks a little bemused and maybe a little, appreciative as he moves onto the next pair. "Thank you Leith, that was very insightful. Next?"

"What was that?" I whisper.

Leith slowly moves his gaze from Mr. Gerard back to me, speaking from the corner of his mouth, "That, was what I learned about you."