O.K, I have two goals this week. And one of them is to finally sort this fic out. I want to finish it, as well as rewrite the chapters so that they look at least semi-human. The amount of typos is infuriating - even AFTER I "revised" it.

Unrequited

Prologue

"Come out, Miss De Silva, its no use hiding. Anyway, we won't hurt you." There was a cackle. "Much."

Juliet gripped the curtains in front of her, so hard that her knuckles turned white. Something she didn't recognise was writhing through her - possibly fear, or excitement - adventures thrilled her to the bone.

"Come on, Little Missy. Did you really think we wouldn't find you?"

She couldn't help it. Her breathing was getting louder. She was sure to be found.

Why her? This question always seemed to pester her. If Father D was right - that God really was responsible for her 'gift', then he would have a lot of answering to do once they found her.

A shiver trilled all the way up Juliet's spine. They were going to find her. It was own fault, really. For being a weak mediator. She should have followed her Mom's advice - kicked a little ass. But no, she had to be Daddy's girl.

Surely there were worse mediators to be killed this year. Surely she wasn't the truly weakest mediator. The council had got it wrong. That was it, and the council were looking for her to tell her that she would no longer have to hide. The stupid overflow rule. Why did there have to be a limited amount of mediators anyway? It was so lame. Everyone knew that mediators could always need a bit of help.

"It's not fair, I know, but if we get this done soon, it will all be over."

Juliet whimpered, her blood running cold. She didn't want to die, life was only just beginning. She'd started high school, the best years of her life. Supposedly.

"Ah."

The curtain was pulled out of her grasp, and Juliet shrank against the window. Her big green eyes locked fearfully on the man before her.

"Hey there," he said, the false smile he had plastered on his face not completely reaching his cool blue eyes. "I'm Paul; I work for the Mediator Council, established 2010. I think you know what's coming next."

Juliet pushed her thick black hair behind her ears and nodded. Paul drew something from his pocket.

"Nombre de Dios!" Juliet whispered.

"Hold still," said Paul.

Bang.

"Well," he said, into his mouthpiece. "She's dead."

He turned to the frail body leaning against the window.

"Tough luck, kid," he said. He walked away. "Job done, I guess. Until the next one's born."

Chapter One

"I suppose you were listening, Mr Slater?"

The sound of Sister Margaret's high-pitched squawk brought me back to earth, and I picked up my pen, trying to look like I'd been concentrating. However, her resolved expression told me there was no use trying. I shook my head, dropping the pen again.

"Of course he wasn't," said Chanel Prescott, who leaned forward and draped her arms around my neck, before kissing my cheek. "Come on, Sister. He's Romeo Slater. He doesn't need to listen."

The rest of the class tittered, before turning back to their discussions about Winter Break.

Sister Margaret looked sceptical. "I suppose being our school's star player does have its benefits." She sighed. "I'll dismiss your distractions for today – but there's a goal you'll be scoring tonight with my name on it. Class dismissed."

There was no bell system at Junipero Serra – the classes were just dismissed on the hour, and novices in the breezeway ensured that we moved swiftly and silently to our next class. Chanel, however, had other ideas, who sidled up to me the minute I got out of the classroom and slipped her hand in mine.

"What's up?" she asked. "You've been in your own world all morning." I ran my free hand through my hair, yawning.

"I'm O.K," I said. "Just tired."

Chanel dropped my hand to fluff her hair, with an irritated expression on her face. "Well you'd better wake up. Coach will flip if you screw up this afternoon's game." I remained silent, knowing as well as she did that the school's undefeated record this season depended on me.

We passed a team of guys in white, examining a blood-splattered area behind the curtains next to the award cabinet. "Are they forensics?" I asked, scrutinizing. Chanel tossed a semi-concerned look in their direction before pulling a face.

"God," she said. "You'd think they'd clean that up already. I mean, some geek committed suicide – that's more than obvious. Why bother investigating?" She rubbed some gloss into her lips.

"I heard that she got murdered for a failing grade," interrupted Verity Mancuso, Chanel's best friend. Chanel looked scathingly at her before raising an eyebrow at me.

"You'll believe anything, stupid," she snapped, examining the contents of her bag before pulling out a huge hair brush to attend to her thick, honey-coloured curls as we walked. Verity looked slightly hurt at her friend's remark, before greeting me.

"Hey, Roms. Reading for the big game tomorrow?"

"Yeah." I sighed heavily. Chanel suddenly gasped and stopped dramatically, throwing out her arms so that we stopped to. "What?" I asked, in surprise.

"How could she kill herself right there?" she whispered, shaking her head. I frowned, suspicious of her uncharacteristic – and just a little belated – concern. "I mean, right next to our cheerleading championship trophy. What if she had gotten blood all over it?" I hung my head, knowing that I should have guessed Chanel wouldn't have been capable of something deeper than what shade of lip-gloss would match her Prom dress in three years time.

"Hm." I made a non-committal noise.

"Miss Prescott, Miss Mancuso. Mr Slater. I suggest to all of you that you move along to class." Before us stood the white-haired – and ever-so-slightly bearded – Sister Ernestine, who frowned at us all disapprovingly.

"Yes, Sister Ernestine," we chanted mindlessly.

"God," said Verity, once we were out of earshot. "I cannot believe that broad is still here. I mean, she was here with our parents. At least Father D. gave up the ghost years ago."

"I hear he still hangs with the De Silvas," replied Chanel. "You know, Mrs. De Silva spent all her time in the principal's office while she was in school – my Mom told me. They're probably part of some secret cult or something."

Verity snorted. "Probably," she agreed. "What do you think, Roms?"

"Er…" I began slowly. "I think I gotta get to Math."

Which I promptly did so, glad for an excuse to leave.

"Ro-me-o! Ro-me-o!"

Chanel and Verity joined the other cheerleaders and waved their pom-poms excitedly. Chanel slid me a seductive smile before I received a pass from Mark Ackerman. We were level in our game against RLS, and my brow was thick with sweat. My feet ached as I pounded up the pitch, kicking the soccer ball harder.

"Come on," urged Mark. "Shoot!"

I did, and the ball flew straight past the keeper to the back of the net. The whistle sounded, Chanel and Verity shrieking with it.

"Oh my God!" squealed Chanel, running on to the pitch and leaping into my arms. "We won! We won!" She thrust her lips onto mine before I had chance to answer.

The team crowded us, patting my back, muttering "Nice job, man," or "Play like that next time, and we'll win the state championships!" – but I wasn't really listening. I had pulled Chanel from me, and was recovering my breath.

"I think I'll take a shower," I said eventually, and Chanel watched me go, disappointed.

I turned on the shower, the drops of water hitting the tiled floor loudly. I peeled off my sodden brown uniform and added it to the sodden brown pile on the damp floor. I let the hot water run down my chest, relishing the heat that was caressing my scalp. Chanel, the game, homework – the amount of stress that was piled onto me at the moment was impossible. It was a miracle that I managed to drag myself out of bed and to school in the mornings.

I grabbed a towel and rubbed my face. I wrapped it around my waist and walked into the locker room, shaking my wet head.

I closed my eyes, roaring in anguish, before opening my eyes with a huge sigh.

That's when I first saw her, her big green eyes staring straight back at me.