A/N I know, there's a lot of the Host in HS fanfics, but I'm bored. And I want to write a fanfic on this. I'm a HUGE O'Wanda shipper, btw. And I'm not sure about POV changing, what do you think?

Disclaimer: I'm not Stephanie Meyer, and I will never become her. I'm not a Soul, you know.

Chapter One: Blue Eyes

(Wanda's POV)

I groan as I wake up, blinking a couple times before I can get used to the bright light. I look over at my clock. 6:47. Good, I have time. I get out of my bed lethargically, and drag myself to the bathroom. After my morning routine, I knock on Mel's door.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty." I open it and poke Mel's face. She just mumbles incoherently and turns away from me. I laugh and shake her awake. "It's 7:12." I mention. She just waves me away. Then I sigh. "You're not going to see Jared!" I say singsongy, laughing as she sits up.

"Jared? Where?" She freaks out.

"At school." I say nonchalantly. "You have 15 minutes to get ready." I dodge Mel's pillow thrown at my head, and I skip to my room. I change into some jeans and a light blue t-shirt. I brush my blonde curls, trying to keep them down for once, but sigh and give up. I grab my book bag and run downstairs to grab toast. Melanie runs down, looking prettier than I ever could in simply a t-shirt and jeans with sneakers. She grabs some toast. "Wanda, you coming?" She asks. "Yeah, hold on a sec. Bye Uncle Jeb." I wave.

I put on my ballerina flats and run out where Mel was waiting by the bus stop, already socializing with the people there. You know how some people say that sisters are similar in looks and personality?

That is completely wrong for Mel and me.

Mel was tall, with a nice tan, and long brown hair. She's supermodel GORGEOUS.

Whereas, there's me. The short girl with curly blonde hair and too-pale skin for where we live- Tuscon. I'm merely a "cute," but not in the way that attracts guys. More like, "Aw, look at the 16-year-old that looks like a 12-year-old." kind of way.

That's not where the differences stop, though. Melanie is tough, strong, and athletic- she's also liked by many people and not scared to meet people. She's outgoing- and can be rather violent at times.

Then there's me. Weak, scrawny, helpless, innocent, shy me, the girl no one notices- or cares about. I sigh as I try to stay invisible, which wasn't hard.

No one noticed the tiny blonde girl.

I walked into the school, feeling even smaller than usual- even as a Junior, most of the freshman class was taller than I was. I walked over to my locker, opening it. I neatly organized it, and grabbed the books I needed for my first few classes. I closed the locker, turned- and bumped into someone.

"Oomf!" I made a weird sound as I slipped and fell, the books falling from my hands.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there." A deep voice apologized. Definitely a guy. He squats down and helps me pick up my books.

"It's fine." I smile, standing up. "Most people don't notice me." I look up into the brightest blue eyes I have EVER seen in my 16 years on Earth. Instead of putting the rest of the books on top of the pile, like a normal person would've done, he takes the books from my arms and holds them himself.

"I find that hard to believe." He chuckles. "You're very pretty." I blushed, my cheeks were probably a blotchy red.

"Thanks." I mumble. "Can I have my books please?"

"Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I did that?" He grins, still not giving me my books back.

I sigh. "Please?" I pout. "You can't walk me to your class, I'll just make you late."

He pauses. "Who's your first period teacher?"

"I have history with Adams." I say, satisfied. We stop by a locker-his locker- and I wait for him to get his books.

"Cool. My class is just down the hall from hers." He says simply and I huff, blowing a stray piece of hair from my face. I cross my arms, and the handsome stranger with the blue eyes looks down at me and starts laughing. "You're cute when you get angry." I don't dignify this with a response. We reach my class, and I hold my arms out, waiting for him to place my books back in my arms. But he doesn't. He insists on walking me TO my seat. Satisfied with himself, he puts my books down and ruffles my hair. I just roll my eyes and take my seat.

"Can I have a name to thank?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Ian. Ian O'Shea." He grins, holding his hand out. "And you are...?"

"Wanda. Wanda Stryder." I smile a little, and shake his hand. "Thank you Ian."

"My pleasure." He nods, and leaves the classroom.

A/N Yay! We see a bit of O'Wanda already. (I told you, I totally SHIP them together.) Whatcha think? :)