My first fanfic:) I hope you enjoy. I own nothing.

Chapter 1
The Odds Thus Far

Years ago, I braved the rough water and breaking waves because I thought my father was drowning. I didn't know how to swim. I ran in wildly after him, arms flailing, my sunhat flying off in the process. It was not long before the water had me in its grip, throwing me around and upside-down. When the two firm hands of my father locked around my stomach, I had never felt safer in my life. My parents called me Kimbles the Brave.

Now, I was known as Kim. Three-lettered Kim. One-syllable Kim. It was so fitting to my personality and character now that it scared me. I stood in front of the mirror to see a plain looking face: my lips were too full, eyes too dull, eyebrows too dark in comparison with the controversy that was my hair. I had an older sister and although I would die to say it aloud, she scared the crap out of me. Not Sophie as a person but Sophie as a concept. How would I ever be able to live up to something that was praised so highly? To step away from the shadow of someone who received perfect grades and knew all the right people? The answer, to someone like me, was simple and obvious, really.

At school, I was someone who was just there. I blended in with my surroundings and much like the air that was breathed in and out, I was taken for granted.

Never the less, my friend Harriet and I were, once again, the first ones to arrive in Chemistry, our period one class. We talked about the summer and the year to come. She told me about her up and coming trip around the world and how absolutely gorgeous the European men would be. People continued to filter through the doorway. The volume of our voices had to be gradually increased in order to be heard above our classmates who took part in their own conversations and told their own stories.

The day passed uneventfully. Students were required to pick up precisely where we left off before our holiday break. I was only halfway through the day yet I knew that the math homework and numerous essays would keep me up quite late tonight.

My only comfort as I approached the end of the day was not, in fact, my return home. No, the favourite time of my day at school was sixth period English. I would have taken that English class over a years worth of holidays. This, surprisingly, had nothing to do with the actual subject. I would not be able to say what topic we were currently studying and to tell you the truth, it was one of my worst subjects.

I enjoyed sixth period for one reason only. His name was Jared Blaydon and he was a gift sent straight from the Gods. And he just so happened to be my crush. And he just so happened to be given a permanent seat next to me. He was probably more than just a crush. More than five years of hidden affection had to be counted for something. Those European men had nothing on him.

Since the beginning of the year I had perfected – down to the exact placement of my hair – the art of staring. I found that I had quite a knack for it. My peripheral vision was top notch and I was able to look at him completely out of the corners of my eyes without having to turn my head. In the art of staring one must, naturally, be discreet. Discretion was my downfall. I had lost count of how many times I had been called to pay attention, my eyes quickly averted down to the pages in front of me. I found that once Jared was in my line of vision, it was hard to look away. His head was covered with dark hair that, when in the right light, could almost pass for black. His face was angular, but with a softness that was hard to place. His eyes were a deep grey colour that I had never seen before. That was the biggest challenge of all, staring at his eyes. It required him looking in my general direction as I looked in his. This was not something that happened often so I generally contented myself with analysing the muscles that were strung through his forearm. I should have known what would follow as a result of the forearm-staring. Like a vector (an English technique shining through at last), my eyes travelled down the road of his arm to his fingers, drumming relentlessly on the table; whether in boredom or not, I would never know.

A bell in the background of my mind signalled the end of class and, thus, the end of another school day. I was brought back to my conscious mind only when Jared began to move his arms in order to stack his books, obscuring my perfect vision. With purpose, he made his way out the door, meeting his friend Paul on the way.

Once alone in the classroom, a sigh escaped me. I tried to ignore the obvious hope that laced the sound. Hope was not a particular feeling that I wanted to experience when I thought about Jared. I had agreed with myself, some time ago, that distant observation was safest for me in relation to him. I knew that once I started to imagine him as my prince – as nice as that would be – there would be no stopping the depression that would follow almost immediately after the inevitable rejection.

I was suited to the quiet, nobody life. This fact had been accepted and, for the time being, I could live with it.

Glancing at my watch and inwardly cursing myself at the precious time I had lost, I stacked my texts into my book bag, preparing myself for the tedious walk home.

Hope this wasn't too bad. Obviously this is the very beginning and it will get exciting - I just needed to set the scene. Please please please take 5 seconds to review this for me (they do wonders) and I'll update it sooner.

Love ss