"Keep going! You can do it!" There was only one girl sitting on the bleachers in front of the track at St. Kleio Academy, wearing the same white t-shirt and blue shorts combination as the rest of the girls who were playing volleyball on the other side. Her attention, however, was focused on the boys that were running around the track. As the only person watching them, she felt it was her duty to keep them motivated through their laps. "Go, Napoleon! Just a bit more, Hitler! Don't let Freud pass you up, Jung!" For the most part, the boys smiled at her while they were panting or, in the case of a boy with long blonde hair tied back with a black ribbon, shot her a sardonic grimace. When she saw one of the boys making it around the track again, she fell silent for a moment and turned her attention strictly toward him.

It was easy to pick him out of the crowd, and not just because he had lapped the others at least twice. He was taller than most of them, with extremely close-cropped black hair that extended in one small area on the left side of his face in a set of bangs that nearly touched his chin. A pair of fashionable, black framed glasses flashed slightly in the sun and obscured his almond-shaped brown eyes, which was a terrible shame in her opinion. It finally looked as if he was beginning to get tired, but she had kept herself from cheering like a sports fan so he wouldn't think she was fixated on him. Now, though, as he passed the frontmost runner again she couldn't help but call out to him.

"Awesome, Ikkyu! Just one more," she shouted, grinning. Her heart stopped for a moment when he turned toward her and grinned back good-naturedly, even going so far as to wave at her. Then he pushed his glasses up on his sweaty nose and continued to run. It could have been her imagination, but it looked like he was running a little faster. He had just crossed the finish line again when the coach blew the whistle and the boys stopped running. The one she had called Ikkyu doubled over with his hands on his knees and started panting, and the girl watched him intently while another boy with tousled sandy brown hair slapped him on the back.

"I hope you aren't getting yourself all worked up over here," said the blond boy, walking over to where she was sitting with the same irritable look on his face. "The only reason you're out here is to get some sunlight."

"I'm fine, Amadeus," she said with a sigh, picking up a small towel and tossing it to him so he could dry his face. "I was just giving you guys some encouragement."

"Don't give me that," he said, rolling his eyes. "The only reason you cheered for the rest of us was so he wouldn't know you were cheering for him." Before the girl could retort, a female coach came around the corner with her hands on her hips.

"Mary Shelley, you're supposed to be watching the other girls, not chit-chatting with the boys."

"Yes, ma'am." The girl stood up and shot a filthy look at the blonde boy that clearly said he had better not say anything to anyone else before she followed the coach, who was giving her a stern talking to as they rejoined the rest of the girls as they walked to the building. She didn't argue with the coach, simply nodded and looked properly contrite on her way to the shower. When she was finally released, she paused by the window for just a moment in the hopes she would see him again. A tall, dark-haired shape across the field suggested his movements but she couldn't tell for sure. With a sigh, she picked up a towel and went to the locker room to undress with his brief smile and wave to keep her company and remind her that for just a moment he'd paid attention to her.

It wasn't as if no one ever paid attention to Mary Shelley. As a student of St. Kleio Academy, she always had the eyes of the publishing world on her in the hopes she would turn out something spectacular. This wasn't as farfetched as it might have seemed to an outsider, as she wasn't simply a young lady with the same name as the author of The Modern Prometheus, but a clone of the very woman brought to life again.

Every student at St. Kleio was a clone of some historical figure, and the blonde boy that was waiting for Mary outside the locker room was no exception. Almost everyone in the school referred to him by his surname, but she was the only one who called Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart by the name his original had preferred more than two hundred years earlier.

"Don't give me that worried look," he said before she could speak. "Your dirty little secret is safe with me for another gym period." Mozart ran a hand through his long hair and let it settle around his shoulders. He was quite handsome and completely aware of the fact, but Mary regularly reminded him that she was the only one who could stand him for extended periods of time due to his nature. Mozart liked to refer to it as aloofness, but Mary knew it was a lordly disdain for anyone he deemed unworthy of his time. Unfortunately, this included almost every person that crossed his path.

"One of these days I'll just tell him myself," Mary mumbled, looking around to make sure Ikkyu wasn't around to hear. Mozart snorted in reply.

"Oh yes, of course you will. Surely this year will be the one." They walked together to the History classroom sniping at one another, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the students that were walking past them. Each and every one of them represented a clone of a famous person, the demise of whom was considered a great loss for the world. The purpose of the clones, as they had been told repeatedly throughout their short lives, was to one day step into the shoes of their originals and continue and further the works they had begun. For the moment, though, they were all teenagers in every other respect and Mary Shelley was desperately worried that Mozart was going to let it slip that she had a crush on the clone of Ikkyu Sojun, the eccentric Zen monk who would have been the Emperor of Japan under different circumstances.

If there was one thing he shared with his original, it was definitely eccentricity. Everything from Ikkyu's hair to his taste in music was different from the rest of the students, and if they had been in a normal high school, he would have easily been the comedian of the group. Mary admired his easygoing nature, and the fact that he never seemed to worry about anything. She supposed this was a product of his Buddhist study but found it attractive all the same.

From her seat in the center of the room beside Mozart, she leaned her head in her hands and gazed at the back of his head while she listened to the professor drone on about economics. He yawned halfway through the lecture and she smiled, wishing she could be so direct about her feelings on the subject. One of the good things about being Mary Shelley was that she wasn't expected to be too concerned with certain subjects, such as economics and physics, so she was free to let her mind wander to more interesting topics.

Looking around the room brought more interesting sights. Queen Elizabeth Tudor was frowning and staring at the wipeboard as if by doing so she could make herself understand. Einstein was glaring at the miniature teddy bear on Adolf Hitler's desk. Hitler wasn't paying any attention, simply listening to the lecture while he tapped the bear on the head with his pencil absently. Carl Jung and Immanuel Kant were muttering to each other while Sigmund Freud shot them dirty looks and in the back corner Susan B. Anthony was dozing off.

Mary opened her notebook, where long lines of words had been scrawled in the handwriting reserved for her thoughts when she was in a hurry to get them down before she either forgot or the teacher noticed what she was up to. Scribbled in the margin was a pair of staffs and a bracket with notes cascading up and down the lines. She glared at Mozart, whose eyes darted away just a few seconds too late. Narrowing her eyes, Mary quietly tore out a piece of paper from her notebook.

You're an ass, Amadeus. I told you to stop writing in my things, she wrote, then folded it in half and slipped it onto his desk. Mozart took it, opened it and smirked, then wrote something back on it and tossed it casually onto her desk without bothering to fold it or hide what he was doing.

I thought you might like to take some time to study the music we're playing for a change. There's only so much of your John Stanley impersonation I can take.

Instead of writing something in reply, Mary crumpled up the paper and threw it at his head. Mozart leaned back in time for it to sail past him and it bounced off the back of Napoleon's head instead. The good-looking, sandy haired boy who had patted Ikkyu on the back turned to see where it had come from and grinned when he made eye contact with Mary, who was bright red.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed at him and pointed at Mozart. "It was his fault." Napoleon Bonaparte shook his head and handed the paper to Ikkyu, whispering something in his ear. Ikkyu in turn leaned back and handed the ball of paper to Mary. "Th-thank you," she said, so unnerved that she forgot to whisper.

"Mary Shelley, Ikkyu, Napoleon? Is there something the three of you would like to share with us?" The professor turned a sharp gaze on Mary, who shook her head and turned even redder.

"Her paper blew over here, I was just having him give it back," Napoleon said with a shrug. "Must be some kind of draft in here. You should check the windows." The professor didn't look convinced, but went back to the lecture without further questions. Mary gave Mozart the sort of look that clearly said she was going to throw something heavier at him when they were finished with class, and this time she wasn't going to miss. Mozart looked supremely unconcerned by this.

Once the bell rang and the students were starting to get up to go to their next classes, Mary lagged behind so she wouldn't have to walk past Napoleon and Ikkyu.

"Hey, that's pretty good," Ikkyu was saying to Hitler and turning the little bear over in his hand. "Your original was an artist, wasn't he?"

"Yes," Hitler said with a nod. He was a quiet boy, calm and reserved for the most part. The little contact Mary had with him had made him seem like he was fighting desperately to overcome the reputation of his original but the only way he had of doing so was by being pleasant. "Making little things like that is a hobby of mine. It isn't one of my better ones, though."

"Really? I think it's pretty good."

"You would certainly know," beamed Hitler. "Your original made dolls too, you know. They say it's a sign of a thoughtful spirit." He picked up his books and started out of the room, turning back to point at the bear. "You can keep it if you like."

"Uh, thanks?" Ikkyu smiled at Hitler until he was out of sight, then turned to Napoleon and Freud, the latter of whom was smirking. "What am I supposed to do with this?" Ikkyu frowned at the miniature teddy bear and held it up by one leg.

"I-I think it's cute," Mary said quietly. For a moment she thought he hadn't heard her but when he turned around in his chair to look at her she blushed, horrified that she had said something to him without realizing it.

"Here, you can have it then." With a grin, he tossed it to her and Mary caught it in both hands.

"Th-thank you!" Her face turned even redder as she looked down at it and Ikkyu shrugged cheerfully before picking up his bag and heading for the hall. When he was gone, she continued to sit in her chair staring down at the little bear in her hands.

"I can't say much for your taste," Mozart said over her shoulder and she looked up to find him shaking his head at her. "In toys or in clones."

"Shut up, Amadeus." Mary looked at the door where Ikkyu and his friends had just departed and sighed softly, then looked back down at the bear. "I happen to think he's nice. He could have just told Hitler he didn't want it, but he didn't want to hurt his feelings."

"He's an idiot."

"You say that about everyone who isn't you," said Mary waspishly.

"Come along, Mary," Mozart said, refusing to dignify this with a reply. "I need you in the conservatory to help me with my composition."

"Why me?" She finally looked up from the bear. "Why is it always me?"

"Because you're the only one around here who doesn't cry when I tell them they'd be better off slapping at the keys with a pair of rubber gloves." He waited patiently for her to get up from her chair and put her books in her bag, rolling his eyes when she gently tucked the bear into it.

"That's only because I know it's the way you express your affection toward me." Mary yawned and walked with him out of the room into the hallway. Students were walking in groups together and Mozart saw her eyes scanning them until she saw the little group of students that Ikkyu hung around with walking together further up. Her cheeks turned red again and Mozart gave her a smirk.

"Shall I get his attention? Perhaps ask if he'll make a little doll for you?"

"No!" She looked at him, panicked. "Let's just get to the conservatory. The last thing I need is to make an idiot of myself in front of him."

"Again."

"Shut up, Amadeus." They turned down the hallway, moving in the opposite direction from the group that included Napoleon, Ikkyu and Shiro Kamiya, the only non-clone at the school, who was the son of the school's head researcher. "Why do you always have to be so-"

"-realistic?" He inclined his head slightly at her and she sighed. "If you didn't want to be reminded of it, you shouldn't have told me about it in the first place."

"If I had anyone else to talk to, I would."

"Other people are overrated," Mozart said, flipping his hair. "If you weren't so concerned with what a certain 'other person' thought, it wouldn't have been so embarrassing." Mary considered arguing with him but changed her mind at the last second, thinking that the incident in question would have been embarrassing even if she didn't spend a third of her day dreaming about him.

Late, late, late, Mary thought as she hurried down the hall toward her class. I can't believe I overslept, that never happens! She supposed it was a side effect of her medication, as she would later when she replayed the embarrassment over in her head. At the time, though, all she knew was that she felt a sudden wave of dizziness overcome her while she was walking down the stairs. When she reached for the bannister to steady herself, her hand slipped on a patch of water that had dripped down from the ceiling and she was tumbling headfirst down the stairs.

Thankfully, it was a short flight and she broke her fall with her forearms, landing in a heap at the bottom with her books around her. Ow, she thought, pushing herself back into a half-sitting position and rubbing her arm. Ugh. Forget History, I'm going straight to Dr. Kamiya and asking him to change this medication.

"You okay?" A hand appeared in her line of sight and Mary closed her eyes. She recognized the voice immediately and wished she could sink into the floor.

"I'm all right," she said, forcing herself to look up at Ikkyu. He was looking down at her with concern, and she took his hand nervously. It was warm and surprisingly soft and she let him help her up slowly so she could hold it longer. "Thank you."

"No problem. It looked like you fell kind of hard. Do you need me to get Dr. Kamiya?"

"I'm going to see him," Mary replied, letting go of his hand with reluctance. "Thank you, though." She leaned down to pick up her books and heard him cough.

"Um," he said, and she glanced back at him over her shoulder. Ikkyu's face was bright red and when she made eye contact with him, he suddenly turned his eyes to the ceiling. "Uh, you should-you should probably-"

"Huh?"

"Y-your skirt," Ikkyu stammered. "It's, uh, I mean-" Still not looking at her, he pointed at her uniform. Curiously, Mary looked at her rear to discover with horror that her skirt was flipped upward, exposing the striped green panties she had decided to wear that day. She shoved it down with a gasp, her face turning redder than his, and squatted down to pick up the rest of her books.

"I'm sorry!" Mary scooped up her things and backed down the hall as if he could see through her skirt. "Oh God, I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay," he said, still focused on the ceiling. "I mean, uh, it happens, right?" Mortified, Mary hurried down the hallway, not even stopping when he called after her. "I'll tell the professor you went to see Dr. Kamiya, okay Melanie?"

Horrified by the fact that she had flashed him and stung by the fact that he hadn't even known her name, Mary fought back tears as she ran. Her chest was burning, but she didn't care. Maybe I'll have a heart attack.

"If you aren't going to pay attention to what you're doing, you might as well go to your dorm and write," Mozart scolded for the tenth time, and Mary slammed her hands down on the piano keys with a groan of frustration.

"Then play it yourself!" She shoved the piano bench back and stood up. "My original was a writer, not a musician."

"Your original played piano in her spare time. She said it helped her imagination." Ignoring her arms folded across her chest, Mozart sat down on the bench. After a moment, he put his fingers on the keys and began to play. The music soothed Mary in a way she hadn't thought was possible, and for a moment she was able to forget about the embarrassment in the past. Mozart's music had always been able to calm her, and she knew it was likely because it reminded her of the comfort of being in one place with one person who accepted her for who she was and not who she was expected to become. "Come along, Mary," he said again. "I need you to help me play my original's sonata for four hands again. There's no other way for me to get the feeling right."

"Why are you trying to write this thing, anyway?" With a sigh, Mary sat beside him and put her head on his shoulder. Mozart scowled at her and tugged his long blonde hair out from under her cheek. "You should just write something normally and stop tormenting me."

"Because I think my original missed a wonderful opportunity in not writing this in D-Major but I can't play it on my own." He continued to move his fingers absently on the keyboard and she tucked her arm through his, careful not to make him miss a note. "You're thinking about it again," he said with a sigh. "You really should stop dwelling."

"You're the one who brought it up," muttered Mary.

"Just think about the fact that he gave you that silly little stuffed thing and help me play." Finally, he took his hands from the keys and looked at Mary with a tiny smile. He put a hand on her head lightly, as if she was a small child. "If you're really so intent on him, you should simply speak to him about it. He's very...cheerful."

"It's a nice change," Mary said, putting her hands on the keys. Mozart paused and let her get ready. "All my other friends take life too seriously."

"You don't need any other friends," Mozart said, "And perhaps it wouldn't hurt you to take life a bit more seriously." He looked over at her, then nodded at the sheet music on its stand. "Now, let's begin again."

She'd played it so many times that she didn't need to pay attention to the music. She knew that he would complain that she wasn't taking it seriously but didn't care. Mary was too busy thinking about Ikkyu and the way he'd smiled at her when he tossed her the bear. She knew it didn't mean anything, that he probably still didn't remember her name, but it meant the world to her. He could have easily tossed it to Marie Curie, or Florence Nightingale, or Elizabeth, but he gave it to her because she had said it was cute. The memory of his hand on hers made her smile and she wandered off into her favorite daydream of walking down the hall with him, her arm through his. In it he was grinning, proud to let everyone see she was his girlfriend.

Girlfriend, she thought, blushing. I don't think they'd even allow that sort of thing here. But Himiko and Rasputin...

"Let's go on to the Andante," Mozart said, breaking into her thoughts. "And could you please try to keep your mind off the eccentric monk for a moment?"

"Shut up, Amadeus."

They continued to play for another half an hour, then Mary sat on the couch and wrote while Mozart made notes and scribbled on his sheet music, pausing every now and again to play a few bars. When dinner came around, they went to eat together as usual, a pair of crisp sky-blue uniforms in a sea of casual clothes. Most students changed into more comfortable clothes after class but neither Mary nor Mozart had gone back to their dorm.

The majority of girls walked toward the dorms in pairs and groups but Mary hung back on her own. They were all laughing and talking, joking about this and that, and none of them had a glance to spare for her. She looked over her shoulder at the boys' dorm across the lawn, wondering which room was his for a moment before she went inside and disappeared into her room.

After a hot shower, Mary sat cross-legged on her bed in her pajamas with her long hair piled on top of her head and her computer balanced on her lap. Her tendency to sit in this fashion meant that she usually favored pants over skirts, and her nightwear was no exception; tonight's choice was a pair of capri pants and a thin t-shirt.

She fell back against her pillows and her computer slid sideways off her lap and into the comforter with a rustle. The little bear that had traveled from Hitler's hands to Ikkyu's and finally to hers was sitting on the desk and she picked it up with a smile.

He waved at me, she thought, a warm feeling racing through her veins. He smiled and waved at me, then he gave me this even though I hit his friend with a piece of paper. Mary put the bear to her face and inhaled, as if she was going to be able to smell the brief contact Ikkyu had with it. She wasn't sure it was worth getting up in the morning, since there was no way the day could be any better than the one she had just lived.

Mary stood up to put aside her computer and was struck by a sudden dizziness that forced her back into a sitting position. She tried to look up and the world seemed to slide sideways, which meant that she was listing to one side, so she lay back on her bed and closed her eyes. Her fingers brushed against the bear and she curled them around it and squeezed tightly.

Better take my medication and get some sleep, she thought. I'll feel better when I wake up.