A/N: Alright, like I said in the original, I'm really messing with history here so I'm sorry. Anyway to all those who are reading this after reading the original first chapter, I hope you like this better. If you don't, just tell me and I'll consider changing it back. Just so you know, this won't change where the story was going originally…o you didn't get to see where the story was going did you? Well anyway I hope you enjoy, I'm just about to make revisions on Chapter two so I post it! Happy reading!

CoffeeGirl13

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the characters I made up…James Cameron owns all that is in the movie and as far as historical people go…well…I guess God owns themI have never wanted to be Cameron more than at this moment…and trust me, that is saying a lot…

For Those in Peril on the Sea

Chapter 1: Class Assignment

Butterflies filled Emily Jamison's stomach so full that she feared at any moment it might burst. Her nerves were getting the best of her, tying her tongue before she even began to talk. Public speaking was not her thing. Everyone else had to do the same as she would but she doubted any of them had been as nervous. She was practically shaking. Normally it was her policy to go first, get the ordeal out of the way and all that, but today was different. She had discussed it with Ms. O'Kelly and her teacher had agreed that the best placement for her would be last. After listening to what Emily was about to tell the class, she had rescheduled her lesson plans for as long as it took. It was a lengthy essay.

The assignment had been a personal narrative. All students were supposed to find a relative who interested them and proceed to ask that individual questions about their life. What Emily had learned changed her and she thought everyone else deserved to hear it too.

Finally, Renée McQueen concluded her report and took a seat. She was the last of them.

"Emily," her teacher called to the back row. The high school student looked up, "Are you ready?"

"I think so," she told her instructor in an already shaky voice.

"Do you have your visuals with you?" The green-eyed, brunette girl nodded. "Now class, Emily's memoir is a little different than most. It'll take us a few days to get through."

"You have got to be kidding me?" a blonde boy in the front scoffed.

"Even you might enjoy this, Will," the young teacher moved her slim figure out from behind the podium, allowing Emily to take her place.

"Do you want me to, um, show my visuals first and then explain or…?" the shy young girl trailed off.

"That'll work."

"Ok," she said taking a deep and shaky breath, "um, first I have a portrait of my great-great-grandmother, Ellen Whitehouse." Slender fingers unrolled a thick scroll of yellowed canvas to reveal a girl, no older than twenty, looking at what was, presumably, the artist, with a neutral expression on her face. Chocolate tresses were intricately weaved to the top of her head loosely, letting wavy locks frame the rest of her face. Their color contrasted with fashionably pale skin but matched the rich shade of her eyes and she wore a white and lacy dress that was obviously of the higher class. The only real color in the entire picture was the small bouquet of flowers pinned among the shining curls of her hair. Ellen's plump lips, small nose and high cheekbones made her look extraordinarily like Emily. There was no doubting the relation. Emily rolled the portrait back up carefully, after everyone had gotten a good look, and began to move along.

"Uh, before I can, um, show the next picture I kind of need to explain it," If she didn't grow accustomed to the staring eyes of her classmates soon she'd have to live with this electricity in her stomach for quite some time. "Has any one ever read, um, Titanic, by Brock Lovett and Rose Calvert or watched the movie?" The entire class raised their hand, though many male eyes were rolled. "Well, then you know that it's a, a true story?" They nodded.

"I hate it," Will spoke up. "So frickin' cheesy." Emily chose to ignore him

"And every one probably remembers Jack and how he's an artist. Well my grandma Ellen was actually on the Titanic and when Brock Lovett was going through Jack's sketches after Rose's death he found," she reached for the podium and picked up a sheet of copy paper, "this." When she turned it toward the class they were greeted with the now familiar, if not a bit sketchy, face of Ellen Whitehouse. No, she was different here. The corners of her lips were turned up slightly, not quite in a smile just a look of contentment, and her hair was now down and blowing in the wind as she looked out toward open ocean. Actually the sea wasn't visible in the portrait but, since Ellen was leaned over the railing a little, her eyes' resting place was to be assumed. And then there was her hat. Thick, black cloth with a small plastic bill and insignia patch

"What's the sign on her hat mean?" asked Libby, a pretty, brunette girl in the middle of the room.

"The hat was actually given out to White Star Line officers with their uniform."

She was slowly loosing the attention of most of the class. Most of her peers couldn't care less about what Emily said especially when it was related to history. Anything before what they were experiencing now was a time they had never seen and would never truly care for.

"I, um," she continued through the low roar of the classroom, "interviewed my great-great-aunt, who was Ellen's daughter." Their talking hadn't stopped yet. Salty teardrops filtered into her eyes, just resting on her bottom lid. As she thought back to her aunt, how she'd told the story with such emotion, she tried to feel the same, to see this story as more than just an assignment but as a life. No, not just a life, but many lives. Slowly her embarrassment dissipated and was replaced by anger. How dare they be so disrespectful of her, of her grandmother? The idea boiled at the bottom of her stomach until she could not contain herself any longer.

"Hey!" she yelled letting all her emotion flow through open lips. The students stared, dumbfounded, back at her, "Now listen up. I have a story to tell and you will listen to it," she breathed deeply, letting her voice return to its regular soft tone. "As I was saying, I interviewed my great-great-aunt Florence who was Ellen's daughter. Ellen used to tell her this story so many that she has the entire thing memorized almost word-for-word. It was too long for me to write down, so I brought the tape that I recorded her on," Emily slowly slid the device in question into the appropriate slot on her teacher's CD player. With the press of a button, the speakers crackled to life and the old and whispery voice of Florence sputtered into the silence of the classroom.

"Ellen Whitehouse knew everything there was to know about ships…"

Well review and tell me what you think. Don't hold back…no flames though please! Be watching out for Chapter 2…