For some reason, no matter how many years you span, a school will always feel the same. 923 years and as I entered Forks College Campus it all came flooding back. The sound of adolescents reminiscing on a summer of rebellion; of sex, drugs and rock and roll, the smell of fresh paint from holiday refurbishments and the chattering of teeth and knocking of knees coming from the huddle of first year college students sticking close to each other like lost sheep. OK, so you didn't get all this in 1932 but the premise is still the same and in some distorted way it is all familiar. I still can't believe it has been a whole century since I last entered any educational establishment as a teacher, looking good on it I think.

As I walked in, the woman at the front desk made me fell slightly under-dressed. Sat there in a low cut silk shirt and just above knee length cotton skirt; the words mutton automatically jump to mind, but who am I to judge and what is it they say these days. If you got it.

"Hello dear, can you not find your class? Horrible on your first day isn't it," ah, the joys of being stuck at 18 albeit looking about 23, I always did look old for my age, for eternity. This poor woman would certainly not be the last to mistake me for a student, but on this particular occasion she had the prestigious honor of being the first.

"Oh, no, I m sorry maybe I should introduce myself you see I am here to see Mr Greene; My name is Vivienne Reynolds , I am your new English professor."

I should tell you now that over the years I have become a collector of shocked looks. Oh, and what do you know there's one right now.

"Miss Reynolds I am sorry, It s just well.. You you look so, young," and there's the stutter. Humans are so predictable.

"Believe me Mrs... Mather it is not a problem, it is certainly not something I haven't heard before," and judging by some of the looks and emotions that were being thrown at me from more than one male member of Forks college populace, this was an explanation I was going to be highly rehearsed in by the end of the day. "It's a peril of graduating early I'm afraid. To be honest with you I hate the whole child genius thing, so between you and me let's keep it on the DL if you know what I mean?" I finished with a slight giggle, well delivered, not rusty at all; Mrs Mather seemed to buy my decades old excuse as she answered me with a similar chuckle.

"No worries dear, and please call me Maria," a small shiver ran down my spine at that name, one that I was all too familiar with, "Mrs Mather just sounds so formal." she said halting at a door on which the name Principal H. Greene was printed . "Harold, Miss Reynolds is here to see you; you can go in know deary." She informed throwing me one last good luck smile before heading back to her desk.

Recently I have come to notice really trivial things, for example, as she was walking away I had an epiphany: all secretaries always seem really tall. It was then that it came to me heels aren't going to hurt answering phones all day. Definitely one for the prospective jobs list.

Harold Greene was the sort of man that everyone would want as a grandfather, thinking on it know that probably sounds strange coming from someone 923 years old , but it was true. My immediate response was that he reminded me of Earl Hamner Jr, the narrator for the Waltons, just with less hair.

"Mr Greene it's so lovely to see you again."

"Likewise, Miss Reynolds Likewise. I must admit that I was unsure whether this would work, with you being so young; what 23 isn't it?" 18, 23, 923 it's all the same in the end. "But your credentials are incredible and you aced the interview so how could we possibly say no. Now, I believe you have been given a map of the school, yes good, and your first lecture is with the new students so that should be an easy start for you. I hate to cut our meeting short but first day of the new semester you know how it is." OK, maybe I embellished with grandfather; you can't blame a girl for first impressions now can you.

Before I knew it I was out the door a handful of papers in my arms trying to navigate using a map that could have been in Japanese for all the help it was giving me. Left, right, up, down I didn't know where I was coming from. Just as I figured out that the little red dot in the center was where I was, all the papers including the map fell from my hands as someone unceremoniously collided with my back, maybe they were trying to save me from the useless map of eternal lostness but even then I imagine there were probably other ways of going about things that didn't result with me on the floor.

"Oh, my apologies Miss is should have been looking where..."

Our eyes meet and confusion and panic filled me to the core. Not many people you saw around these day had pale skin that looked like it had been carved straight from marble and perfect Topaz eyes. If that hadn't cued me to this young man being more than he seemed, his use of the words "My apologies Miss..." would have. You don t hear manners like that these days.

I was not alone in Forks; but the most important question was;

Was he?

Xxx

Authors note

I've been considering putting this up for a while so seen as i am struggling with writer's block on my Tribe and Coven story i thought i would give my regular readers something to be going on with.

you all know how this works by now :) i only do this for the fun of it Stephenie is the real genius i only own Vivi and her story. Please R+R thanks guysxxxx