DICLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ONCE UPON A TIME

Nicole McCauley was the daughter of Richard McCauley, one of the wealthiest people in Storybrooke. She had dark red hair, green eyes, along with a model-like figure, which her high society life based as their requirements.

She lived in Nottingham Heights, a section of Storybrooke designed for their "high society figures". She attended Nottingham Secondary School along with the other members of "The Heights". They were completely sectioned off from the rest of Storybrooke, and almost considered make the Heights its own town.

Nicole did not like the separation of richer and the poorer, and believed that everyone should live together. As her 17th birthday drew closer, she started to ask her father more about going to Storybrooke and living with her Aunt for her senior year. The Heights had grown old to her, and she wasn't happy there anymore.

After her 17th birthday, Nicole's father granted her the wish of living in Storybrooke with her Aunt, on one condition, that she babysat her cousin, Henry.

Chapter 1

It wasn't the nicest day when I pulled my light blue Porsche out of the elongated driveway of my father's massive mansion. My father had already left for work early that morning, and left me a note telling me that while I'm in Storybrooke I should be careful, and he would expect to see me back here in a few days.

I laughed.

It wasn't just my father that didn't want me leaving the Heights; it was my friends and neighbours as well. Before I left school, my friends called me Siddartha, and told me that after I experienced the Four Sights, I would be back. And my neighbours told me stories of their relatives that lived in Storybrooke, and how it doesn't compare to how great this place is.

They clearly didn't see what I saw.

Everyone here was so stuck up and snobby, and frankly, I was getting tired of it. I wanted to live in a place that wasn't run by Cell Phones and Laptops, where neighbours walked over to the house to ask you a question, not call you when your less than 20 metres away from each other. I wanted to be able to get a part-time job, go to public school, and have all the experiences that a normal teenager does. And Aunt G was going to help me do that.

And so, I pulled out of Lancing Avenue on that dark November morning, with the trunk, and passenger seat of my car packed with my personal items. I just hoped that Aunt G had enough room in that small Storybrooke house of hers for everything.

The ride didn't take forever. Storybrooke was closer than I thought it was. My Porsche sped down the hill that spilt Storybrooke and the Heights, and next thing I knew, I found myself in Storybrooke.

The neighbours were right, it was gloomy and dark here, yet, as I drove down the road on my way to Aunt G's house, I could see that the people looked happier, that even though the weather sucked, the brightness of the people made the town that much better.

I smiled as I drove down the road. People were staring and I loved when people stared. My Porsche was sparkling, and was a definite head turned, not to mention the person in the Porsche.

As I drove down Aunt G's road and turned into her driveway, I could see that her house was bigger than all the rest. Perks of being the mayor. I got out of my car, and grabbed a few of my bags, hoping that someone else would come and take the rest inside. I knocked on Aunt G's door, waiting for her to answer.

"Nikki, your here," she smiled pleasantly as she opened the door.

I found myself smiling as well, "It's great to see you again Aunt G." I put my bags down on the doorstep to give her a hug.

"You do realize my name doesn't start with a G, right?" She laughed. I laughed too. When I was younger, I just called her Gina, because it was simpler and easier. I guess it stuck.

I rolled my eyes, "Regina just doesn't flow with me."

She shook her head laughing and picked up one of my bags, "Since when do you travel so light?" I moved out of the way so she could see how packed my Porsche was. She rose and eyebrow, "I stand corrected. It looks like we're going to have to call for back up. Henry?"

As soon as she called him, he came bounding down the stairs. He was taller than he had been the last time they came to visit. As soon as I saw him, I couldn't help but smile.

Aunt G placed her hand on his shoulder, "Henry, go help you cousin with her bags."

He smiled and nodded, then followed me outside. I looked over at him, "How's it going little cous?"

He shrugged, "A lot of things have changed since I last saw you Nikki."

I looked at him a little confused because normally answered to the question included "Good" or "It could be better". Something was up with Henry, and I was about to make it my goal to make sure that I found out what it was.

"Well," I said as I opened up the back of my Porsche to reveal all my other bags, "I guess you're going to have to show me all these new changes."

He subtly nodded. I knew that Henry had never been a man of many words, but I thought maybe he had grown out of it. Turns out I was wrong.

Henry led me upstairs to the guest bedroom, which had now become my room. He places what he was carrying of mine down on the floor, "Do you want to know something cool?"

I smiled and placed by bags down on the floor as well, "Sure."

"Okay," Henry crawled onto my bed, and signalled me with his finger to come closer. I sat on the bed beside him, and leaned in closer to him, "Everyone in Storybrooke is a fairytale character, but they don't know it because there under the Evil Queen's curse."

I tried to hold in my laughter; I didn't want to break the kid's spirit. He did have a big imagination and always had. Instead of laughing, I asked him, "Who's the Evil Queen?"

He put his finger on lips, "Shh, you need to be quiet so she won't hear you."

"Henry that's not nice," He pressed his finger against lips harder and made a louder shhing sound. I began to whisper, "You shouldn't think your Mom is the Evil Queen from some story book."

He didn't bother whispering, "She is the Evil Queen. You're just like the rest of them." Henry got off my bed and started to storm to the door.

"Wait, Henry, wait," I had also got of my bed, chasing him to the door, "If everyone in Storybrooke is a character, then who am I?"

Henry shook his head, "I don't know. I haven't figured that out yet." He walked out of my room and into his.

I turned back around and sat back down on my bed. What was it with Henry? He seemed much more secretive then last time we visited each other. I bit my bottom lip trying to think where this insane fairytale idea came from. Well the town was called Storybrooke for starters, and Aunt G was the mayor, like the Evil Queen was the ruler.

What was I saying? There was no way that everyone here was a character from some book. It was just a figure of Henry's imagination.

If it was just a figure of his imagination, why did that thought ponder me for the rest of the night?