Chapter One: Welcome to Storybrooke, Dearie!

The late bell had just rung at Storybrooke High when Emma Swan rolled into the parking lot in her old yellow bug, her foster mother in the passenger seat. Another first day at another new school, she thought exhaustedly to herself. This had been her third move this year alone; the system had been bouncing her around from one family to another like a hot potato. She couldn't wait to turn eighteen and be off on her own; no more parents that weren't really her parents; no more step-siblings to annoy and mock her; no more having to eat by herself in the kitchen on Thanksgiving while her foster family and their relatives ate a grand meal in the dining hall; no more feeling as if she didn't matter as much as everyone else. Emma's hand tightened angrily on the door handle as she thought about all this, unbeknownst to Penny, her 'mother', who cheerfully climbed out of the car she had graciously bought her new daughter when she arrived. At least some guardians weren't all bad. But Emma was almost positive that having a real family felt a lot different than fourteen miles to the gallon. The two walked together in synch, through the front doors of the massive school building and made their way to see the principal before Emma began classes.

A thin, wiry man, with a slightly contorted face sat poised behind a large wood desk. Miss Lacey French, the secretary, had shown Emma and Penny to his office.

"Hello," Penny smiled brightly. "You must be Principal Gold. I'm Mrs. Longworth, and this-"

"And you must be Miss Emma Swan," he interrupted. "I'm pleased to make both of your acquaintances." He stuck out his hand politely for both women to shake, but there was something Emma didn't quite trust in Principal Gold's voice. Penny, however, seemed unperturbed and went along chatting with the subtly shady figure at a nice friendly clip.

"Here's your schedule, Ms. Swan. I'm sure you'll find our students here most accommodating, " Principal Gold smiled insincerely. "Now," he said glancing at both Emma and Penny, "considering her... history, I have to ask" he cleared his throat. "How long will Ms. Swan be attending Storybrooke?"

"Well," Penny began sheepishly, self conscious of Emma's inability to stay in one place," if all goes according to plan, Mr. Gold, Emma will graduate from Storybrooke."

"Excellent!" Gold was holding a cream-colored file, no doubt containing some of Emma Swan's best-kept secrets. The mere presence of it make Emma stiffen, and she was relieved as he tucked it away in a file cabinet.

"I shouldn't keep either of you any longer," Gold straightened. "Ms. Swan is in good hands. Have a wonderful day Mrs. Longworth." The two adults shook hands, and Penny briskly exited the room, already late for work. Emma, however, stayed behind, knowing that her meeting with the Principal wasn't quite over with yet.

"Is there anything else, Principal Gold?" Emma asked, disgruntled and annoyed.

"You walk a very dangerous line, Ms. Swan," he observed unsympathetically. "And fighting with me isn't going to help. Need I remind you of your stay in Florida?"

Emma whipped her head around, trying to mask her shock with a hostile glare. No one is supposed to know anything about that; It isn't even on record.

"How did you -"

"It doesn't matter how I know. All that matters is that I do." He left his words hanging in the air , Emma speechless for a moment.

"That is none of your business," she quavered, her hands trembling. She'd been able to ignore what had happened. She let it fester in her heart without acknowledgement. She let it burn. But now all that numbness was going away, and the pain was bearing down on her.

"Now, Emma - can I call you Emma?" Gold didn't wait for a response. "Emma, I'm a man of business, and I have a business proposition for you, a deal, if you will. I don't tell anyone about your little... slip-ups, shall we say, and you make sure that those don't repeat themselves here, understood?"

Emma didn't speak.

"Well, what is it then? Deal or not?" he prompted.

"Do I have a choice?" Emma asked rhetorically.

Gold smiled slyly, as if he were a cat who'd just eaten the canary. "I was hoping you would say that."

Emma rolled her eyes. Great. A psycho is in charge of me for eight hours, five days out of the week, she thought bitterly to herself, slightly amused with the idea of Gold with a bloody chainsaw.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Emma shrugged, trying to hide her heartache. "Those are mistakes I am never reliving."

"I'm glad we're on the same page, Emma. You'll have no trouble fulfilling your end of the bargain then."

"And what about you," Emma said, Gold raising his eyebrows. "Can I trust you to hold up your end in our deal?"

"From my very limited experience with you, limited to this conversation, actually, I've been able to tell that you aren't the type to trust anyone, let alone me." He walked around to the front of his desk, limping with a cane. "But let me be clear," he hissed. "I never break a deal."

And from that Emma knew it was time to leaving. She slid on her red leather jacket and hoisted her backpack over her shoulder. She was halfway out the door when Gold called after her: "Welcome to Storybrooke, dearie!" She could have sworn she heard him cackle.

Emma shivered. She walked down the empty hallway, trying to forget about her daunting conversation with Principal Gold. Stopping in front of her new locker, she looked at her schedule for the first time. English - Room 407. Realizing she had no idea where that was, she backtracked to the front office, where she had met Ms. French. The friendly secretary was there, smiling in her pastel yellow dress and white sweater, marking something a calendar.

Emma cleared her throat.

"Hello there!" Ms. French greeted warmly in her thick English accent. "What can I do for you, Miss. Swan?"

Emma looked down at the tile floor, embarrassed; she always felt so needy on these first few days. "I was wondering where I could find Mr. Booth's room for English," she said, trying not to stammer and struggling to look Ms. French in the eye.

Somehow, Ms. French's huge smile got even bigger as she heard Mr. Booth's name. "AP English," she nodded, still grinning from ear to ear. "Impressive. And you're so lucky - all of Mr. Booth's students absolutely love him." She smiled knowingly for another moment, and gave her directions on how to navigate the maze of a campus that was Storybrooke. As she walked away, Emma couldn't help but notice the heart drawn around February 12.

Emma found the classroom after a few wrong turns, and hesitantly knocked on the door. All eyes turned to her as she entered the room, but she didn't care. She was jaded in the art looking confident when she really felt about two inches tall.

"Ah!" exclaimed a man around his mid-thirties, undoubtedly the teacher. "You must be Miss Swan, the transfer from Tallahassee. I'm Mr. August Booth, head of the English department here at Storybrooke High." Emma inhaled sharply, awkward attention still on her. She hated thinking about her stay in Florida. "Class," Mr. Booth projected eloquently, "meet Emma. She is the newest member of our school. I know you will all make her feel welcome." Emma tried not to let her impatience show; after all, she had listened to this introductory speech too many times to count.

"Miss Swan," Mr. Booth said, redirecting his focus to his newest pupil, "why don't you take a seat next to Miss Blanchard in the front over there?" He pointed to a pale young girl with short black hair, emerald green eyes, and a kind face. Emma obeyed, taking the only vacant seat in the room, and tried to concentrate on the lesson being taught on the board.

While Mr. Booth was writing the homework assignment on the board, the girl he had directed Emma toward took the opportunity to introduce herself:

"Hey," she whispered softly, gently tapping a bored Emma, "I'm Mary Margaret." She smiled radiantly.

"Nice to meet you, Mary Margaret. I'm Emma."