Disclaimer: Any recognizable character does not belong to me. I am merely borrowing them for my own amusement. This story is compliant up through Eclipse, though does not follow the storyline of Breaking Dawn, as that had not been my cup of tea. As I was unable to locate an exact timeline for the wolves, I've made my own. This means that the characters ages may not exactly mesh with the true timeline of Twilight. I've only made a few tweaks, honestly. :-)

One track mind, one track heart
If I fail, I'll fall apart
Maybe it is all a test
Cause I feel like I'm the worst
So I always act like I'm the best

-Marina & the Diamonds 'Oh No"

I should have gone with a nice pair of slacks.

That's the only thing I can think about as I study my reflection in the glass door. It's an hour before my first day as a grown up begins, and I've been standing there for 15 minutes regretting my outfit. Which was quite a shame, as it was one of my favorites and I had been so confident when I picked it out last night. All I had wanted was something that made me look mature, but something that was hip so it made the students feel as though they could relate to me. I was going to be the Michael Scott of teachers and my students were going to fear how much they loved me.

A faint smile crossed my lips, and I finally pull my gaze from my tasteful knee length skirt, to stare at the pale face looking back at me. I almost didn't recognize the girl there; my blonde hair was normally loose around my shoulders in waves, though now it was pulled into a surprisingly neat bun and my green eyes were wide with something that would probably be close to fear. I had less than an hour to pull myself together, and there was no time to go home and change. Did it look like I was trying too hard? My gaze drifted down my outfit once more, taking in the green cardigan that covered a simple white blouse, paired with the wide white and navy striped skirt that's causing me so much grief.

A heavy sigh falls from my lips and I decide I'm putting too much pressure on my incredibly cute outfit. After all, it's not the outfit that's causing all of this anxiety; it's what lies ahead. I pull my tote bag higher up on my shoulder, before reaching out to finally open the door. I make my way down the silent hall, taking comfort in the click of my heels against the tile. As the door was unlocked, I know that I'm not the first to arrive, but I note I didn't see anyone as I finally step into my classroom. Turning on the lights, I smile faintly at the tacky posters I pinned on the walls only days before.

Two and a half months ago I had graduated from the University of Washington, dreaming of all the job offers that would be knocking down my door. I still remember the indulgent smile my grandpa had given me when I told him I would have my pick of jobs. My optimistic outlook had taken a turn for the worst after only a month of submitting my resume everywhere. It was disheartening that I had been unable to find a job in my chosen profession. Shouldn't there be a ton of wonderful job openings for the bright minds like me that wanted to enrich the youth of America?

Banpa, an affectionate name I had given my grandpa when I was two, had told me that good things came to those that waited, and that I needed just a little patience. I wanted to call bull shit, but he ended up being right. Two days after his pep talk, I had received a call from my college roommate, turned best friend, urging me to apply for a position that came open at the local high school where she grew up.

Kim had lucked out when she graduated, as one of the first grade teachers from her hometown had retired and the principal had practically saved the job for her. I could admit, even to Kim, that I was slightly envious of the way her life was falling into place. On top of an ideal job, she had an ideal boyfriend that seemed hopelessly devoted to her. Kim had laughed me off at the time of my confession, stating that her life would be perfect only if I lived a little closer. Kim must have had the best karma ever then, because I was offered the job and thus began my look for a place to live in the small town of La Push.

Thankfully, Kim was graciously allowing me to stay with her while I was finding my feet, though I suspected Jared wasn't as thrilled at having a house guest. Since moving in two weeks ago, the first thing Jared would ask every time he saw me was if I was moving out yet. Of course, it was all in good humor, though I suspected at times Jared was being serious in wanting Kim all to himself. Admittedly, I desired to be out of their hair as much as Jared wanted me out. On top of them being nauseatingly sweet, I wanted a place to call my own, especially so I could be reunited with my furry love.

Setting my tote on the edge of my desk, I began digging around to locate the cheap picture frame Kim had given me that morning as a token of good luck. When we first met, I had been setting up a picture of my cat Hamlet in our dorm room. We had stared at each other awkwardly, before I began randomly sprouting out cat facts. My anxiety must have been obvious, as Kim had taken pity on me and changed the subject. After our friendship grew, she dubbed me the crazy cat lady. She was pretty proud this morning when she handed me the picture frame with Hamlet staring up at me. Kim had laughed at me when I said I had the perfect spot on my desk for this picture, which was exactly where I set it while smiling like a goon. I was so busy looking like the crazy cat lady I feared I would become, that I didn't notice the person at my door until they cleared their throat.

Whirling around on my heel, I gripped the edge of my desk, my heart beating a mile a minute when the principal walked in, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Janice Oday was a small woman, probably only standing in at five feet if you included the salt and pepper bun that was piled on top of her head. Despite her small stature, she had an extremely intimidating presence. It was a shaky breath that I took as she eyed the picture frame. The smile I gave was probably bordering on the edge of sheepishness, and I suddenly felt inclined to offer an explanation. "It's a…joke," I offered lamely, though I didn't bother to move it from the spot I had placed it.

Thankfully, this only seemed to amuse Janice, and she didn't offer any comment on it. Instead she seemed to study the room for a moment, before turning her gaze back to me. It was slightly unnerving standing there unsure of how I was supposed to act. I felt the panic rising, feeling as though Janice was inspecting me. Was she regretting the choice she made? Oh God, I bet she was. She was probably just deciding how to tell me that I was fired, that they would go without an extra history teacher this year, that two were enough. What was I going to tell Banpa? What was I going to tell Kim? How was I going to tell Ham—

"How are you feeling?"

Janice's voice tore me from my thoughts and I stared at her in surprise. Her smile seemed to grow, and I began to relax. "Honestly? A little anxious. But excited, really excited," I offered, before giving her a tentative smile. My answer seemed to be sufficient as Janice nodded.

"Anxiety is perfectly normal for your first day on the job. I'd be concerned if you weren't feeling nervous. It's those who prepare the best for the situations they are about to embark on that causes some forms of anxiety. Now, if you need anything, any of the teachers will be happy to assist you and of course, my door is always open. Class doesn't start for another 45 minutes, and most students won't arrive to the building for another 15," Janice paused here, as if waiting for me to say something, though my mind was blank and I couldn't think of an appropriate response. "Good luck, Hannah," she offered, before heading toward the door.

The rest of my morning went by in a whirlwind. Against my better judgment, I began each of my classes with one of those tacky getting to know each other games. All of my students seemed familiar with each other, which made sense, as in a school this small, they probably pretty much knew everyone. On top of my lame introduction to the students, the students weren't entirely sure what to expect from me. Upon learning I was a first year teacher I could already tell that some of them were thinking of ways they could test my limits.

I was thrilled by the time my lunch rolled around. While the morning hadn't been completely awful, it was still exhausting trying to win them over. My hopes of being the awesome teacher everyone loved seemed to be billowing up in smoke in front of my face. Grabbing my cell and an apple, I made my way outside to get a breath of fresh air and call Banpa.

The light mist in the air didn't bother me at all as I made my way toward a bench that offered some shelter. Sitting down, I took a deep breath, before dialing my grandpa.

"Hey kiddo," my grandpa's deep voice came through my earpiece, and I felt myself instantly calm down.

"Hi Banpa. What are you up to?" I questioned, frowning as I heard some clinking in the background.

"Well, I've been attempting to find a place to put the latest creation your mother sent me. Apparently trash sculptures are all the rage on the East coast, and she thinks she needs to bring some culture to the west coast." I could hear the frown in his voice and I didn't' bother to fight back the smile that was forming on my lips.

My mother was something of a free spirit and through the course of my childhood, had always been off taking adventures. My upbringing had fallen on to my grandpa's lap, and as far as I knew, he'd taken the duty on without complaint. My mother had never settled into one place until about a year ago, when she found her way into the art scene in New York. As far as I could tell, she wasn't a Picasso, but her pieces seemed to be taking off. My grandpa had never been a big supporter of her lifestyle, though now that she seemed a little more settled, he was more inclined to be a bit more supportive. Which meant that he was displaying a few of the pieces she had sent him.

"You could stick it in the living room," I offered, already anticipating the answer Banpa would give. He didn't disappoint, grunting at the thought. We both knew my grandma, had she been alive, would have never gone for that. Displaying trash in her living room? Not going to happen. "You can put it in my room, Banpa. That way it's out but not in the way," I offered. His silence meant he was considering it and I earned another grunt, though this time this one seemed to be his approval at my suggestion.

A comfortable silence fell between us, which wasn't terribly unusual, as my grandpa was a man of few words. I was trying to think of a way I could bring up the disaster that was my first morning without sounding as though I was coming off as whining. Banpa didn't believe in whining and often told me that nothing good ever came of it. I was chewing on my bottom lip, contemplating the best way to bring it up, when I heard him clear his throat.

"Out with it, kiddo, I can hear you thinking from here."

"I don't think my students are going to like me. I mean, I don't think I'm what they expected. All of the teachers here have been here at least five years, and on top of that, have some sort of family tie to La Push. I feel like the ultimate outsider and…" I trailed off, not realizing there was more to my predicament than I originally believed. I did feel like an outsider in this small, tight knit community. It might have also made me homesick for mine. I grew in Bremerton, which was just outside of Seattle. While Bremerton wasn't quite as tiny as La Push, it still had the feel of a small community. I hadn't realized how different it was leaving home for school versus leaving home for work.

"It will work out, Hannah," my grandpa offered, and I seemed to have his full attention at this point. There was no longer any rustling movements in the background, and I could picture him sitting in his favorite armchair, his old house phone pressed against his ear as he looked at something no one else could quite see. It was then that I realized I missed him most of all. "I'm sure that after a week with each other, you and the students will be getting along alright. It's an adjustment period for you both. And once you find a house and get more settled in your personal life, you'll feel better, I'm sure of it."

Just listening to him talk made me feel better and my homesickness subsided slightly. "Thanks Banpa." The rest of our conversation doesn't consist of much, as Banpa seemed to fill his talking quota with the pep talk he'd given me, though I couldn't bring myself to care. He did ask whether or not I made any progress on my search for a place to live. I had considered renting, but as my contract with the school was for three years, with the great possibility of becoming something more permanent, Banpa had pushed me to look into buying a home. Twenty minutes before I'm due back, I bid him goodbye, and turn my attention toward my apple.

Five minutes later, my apple is completely gone and I slowly start to make my way back into the building. After making a quick stop at the bathroom to make sure my hair isn't too out of place, I head back to my classroom. A few students are out and about and offer me tentative smiles, which I return. I know class hasn't let out yet, so I assume they are probably the ones finishing up their lunch outside the cafeteria. As I make my way down the hall, I note that there are two boys loitering outside my classroom door. While the word 'boy' seemed to adequately describe the smaller one, it definitely did not apply to the other one that was at the very least a foot taller than him. From here I could tell he's all broad shoulders and defined lines and I decide there's no way he's a student. He has to be some sort of bodyguard for the kid, because he looks too old to be gracing these high school halls with his gorgeous presence. I vanish this thought as I draw closer, attempting to pick up on the conversation they seem to be having.

Neither of them seem to be paying attention to my approach, so I'm not very surprised to hear them talked candidly about me. "I heard she's smoking," the smaller boy was saying, as he peered through the window. I immediately flush at the statement, though I obviously don't take anything to heart. The lights are off, so why he thinks I'm in there is beyond me.

"Yeah, but supposedly she's lame," the larger boy counters, and I take offense. Was I really that bad? He's lounging against the wall next to the door, and seems completely disinterested in the conversation going on.

"Pfft, who the hell cares as long as she's nice to look at?"

"Totally agreed," I interject, my hands placed on my hips as I do my best to look stern. It really is a testament to my willpower that I don't burst out in laughter at the comical scene that unfolds before me. The smaller boy has gone completely pale, and he's pressed himself against the door, as if attempting to blend in. In his haste to blend, his backpack has fallen to the floor, spilling the contents every which way.

It's then that I turn my gaze to the larger one, and I note that he seems to be frozen. In the moment my eyes make contact with his, I watch as his mouth goes slack and his dark brown eyes cloud over with what I would call confusion. I tear my gaze away from him, instead focusing on the smaller one that is now on the ground, scrambling to get his things together.

"Seth," he hisses, though in my quick glance to the boy I'm assuming is Seth, I note he's still standing frozen, his eyes glued to me, and does not seem to be paying his friend any mind. When I look back at the other boy, I can see he's back to his regular color, though he's blushing. After grabbing the last of his renegade items, he's on his feet. "Erm…Miss Courtney, right?" he begins. I raise an eyebrow as my response, and the boy stumbles over himself. "I'm very sorry, if…if you've heard anything that…offends you. My name is, uh, Tim, and I have this class next and we were just waiting, for uh, class to start. Right, Seth?" Tiny Tim elbows Seth in the side, though Seth still doesn't take his eyes off of me. From the wince I see from Tim, I also assume the nudge hurt him more than it did Seth.

As if Tim had been praying for a saving grace, the bell rings, and he bolts inside the classroom, while doors open along the hallway and students begin spilling out. "Seth?" I try, noting the boy still seems transfixed. I think my voice startles him. A large smile dances across his face, willing me to smile back, but before I can register anything, Seth seems to have gone pale and his smile disappears.

"Well. Shit."

I'm startled by what Seth says, and even more unnerved when he turns around and runs in the opposite direction vanishing in seconds.

Well. Shit indeed, Seth, shit indeed.

Authors note: This is just a side note to state that I don't condone any kind of student/teacher relationship. I just thought this would make for an interesting plot. Please review with comments or suggestions!