A/N: Hey everyone! I'm currently working on the last chapter of Light Years Away, so I decided to go ahead and get started on my new story. I've had this idea in my head for awhile, and I hoping it's got a somewhat unique storyline. It's LP of course, but it is AU. Reviews are pretty much my favorite thing ever, so I'd love to know what you think of this idea. Enjoy!

Someone Else's Life

Chapter One: World Spins Madly On

Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you'd gone
and let the world spin madly on

The Weepies

The night before Peyton Sawyer was supposed to start school at Tree Hill High School, she couldn't fall asleep until 2:27 a.m.; even then, she promptly woke up at 3:42, drenched in cold sweat and shaking, woken from the same nightmare she'd had for the past five days.

She knew what everyone had told her. Her father, the police, all of them; it hadn't been her fault. They were speeding, they'd run a red light, and the girl wasn't even wearing a seatbelt.

Still, the fact remained that it was Peyton's car that had plowed into the passenger side, her car that caused the impact.

The original plan had been for her to start school the day after the accident, but her father had shot down that idea, insisting that she wait until the following week, give her time to 'recover'.

She saw through this, however. He didn't want her to have to be there the days after, didn't want her to have to see the informal memorial service, watch the fresh grief of the student body.

Peyton shuddered. She'd been relieved, but now it was inevitable; she had to go the school. The same school where the dead girl had gone, the same school where the red-headed girl, the driver of the other car, still went.

They were the first kids her own age she'd seen since moving to Tree Hill, and one of them had been dead (on impact, all the articles said, the impact of Peyton's car) and the other hysterically screaming at her.

She had been reading the articles about the accident and the tributes to the dead girl; there had been a lot of them. It seemed as though she was perfect. Head cheerleader, student body president, prom queen. Remembered as a popular, kind, beautiful girl. A girl with a future.

And now Peyton had to start a new high school as the girl who had indirectly killed Brooke Davis.

LPLPLPLPLP

Lucas Scott hated the stares. They followed him down the hallway to his locker. He hated the hushed silence that seemed to occur as soon as he appeared.

He hated their voices; oozing with sympathy. He hated the way every person who spoke to him seemed to unconsciously tilt their heads to the side, their expressions etched with pity. He hated the way everyone said 'How are you?' the exact same way, the inflection on the 'are' so as to sound concerned.

Mostly, though, he hated the stares. When people knew he was looking, the stares were all about sympathy, but at other times, there was a wariness there, and expectation. As though everyone expected him to behave a certain way. To break down crying, maybe, or go crazy and start punching lockers.

He had a headache. He had only missed one day of school, the day directly After, but then he hadn't been able to stand the suffocation of his house, the watchful eye of his mother, the constant calls from Haley or Nathan. They all wanted him to talk about it.

Still, school was hardly better. The routine had been the same for the past three days; stares, tentative questions. Apart from that, people were stand-offish.

He felt suffocated, exposed, and, often, inexplicably panicked. He felt as though he'd been unexpectedly cast in a role, the Grieving Boyfriend, and wasn't sure how he was supposed to play it. People were watching, waiting for a performance, but he couldn't for the life of him find the proper script.

The school had had a memorial service, and there had been the actual funeral. Now, there was nothing else, no more events connected with The Accident, which seemed absurd. What now? Real life began again?

How the hell did that work?

LPLPLPLPLP

Peyton's heart was beating so hard and loud that she would not have been surprised to find out that the other students could hear it.

She moved through the halls as a quick pace, desperately trying not to catch anyone's eye. Her father had tried to tell her that no one would know her connection to the accident ("Not that you did anything wrong", he'd been quick to assure her). Her name had never been mentioned in the articles.

She knew, however, that the red-headed girl, Brooke Davis' best friend, the driver of the other car…she would know.

She dropped her books off, and then went to check into the front office as she'd been told.

Nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other as the receptionist looked her up on the computer, Peyton wondered if she'd imagined the look the woman had given her, the slight coldness of her stare.

Stop, she scolded herself. You're being paranoid.

The first bell had rung by the time she left the office to head to her first class, English. The room wasn't hard to find, as it was fairly close to senior corridor.

As she walked, she noticed what had to have been Brooke Davis' old locker. It was open, and the floor around it was littered with flowers, miniature candles, and a small set of pom-poms.

Peyton moved closer, unable to help herself. The locker was completely covered with photos of Brooke, as well as several large pieces of paper students had scribbled messages on.

Peyton's eyes moved over the photos, feeling slightly nauseous. She suddenly didn't want to be there, in her town and her school. It didn't feel right.

Finally, she tore herself away and hurried down the hallway again.

She opened the door to the classroom, causing every pair of eyes to shift forward to stare at her. Peyton kept her eyes away from the students, and smiled cautiously at the teacher. "Hi, um…I'm Peyton. Sawyer. I'm supposed to be in this class."

The woman cut her off. "Alright, have a seat."

Peyton headed for an open desk in the middle of the third row, but before she could even put her books down, the girl in the desk next to the empty one, who was wearing a jacket that said "Ravens Cheerleading", said harshly, "Not there."

Peyton froze, confused. The students in the classroom were all shooting her identical warning looks. She turned, instinctively to look at the teacher; there were no other open desks.

The woman, Mrs. Kline, she thought, was regarding her with a somber expression. She pointed a desk that had been pushed to a back corner of the classroom. "You can move that desk forward to the last row."

With sudden clarity, Peyton realized what had happened. Of course she would've been assigned the same English class Broke Davis had been in. And of course she would try to sit in her old seat.

Face burning, Peyton walked to the back of the classroom and dragged the desk forward a little. It was an immense to sit down, away from what she couldn't help but perceive as hostile scrutiny.

She definitely wasn't imagining the somber mood of the English class. No one seemed keen to participate in the discussion of Frankenstein, and even the teacher's efforts seemed only half-hearted.

LPLPLPLPLPLP

Haley and Nathan found him after first period.

They walked up to him at his locker, haley resting her hand lightly on his back and giving him that tiny, sad smile she'd been using for the past few days. "Hey, buddy." Lucas couldn't help but wonder about her quiet tone; it was as though she was visiting him bedside at a hospital. "How ya doin'?"

He shrugged noncommittally, as though this was just a normal everyday politeness. "Okay."

"Sure?" Nathan asked. "We're worried about you, man."

Lucas' throat tightened. His brother and sister-in-law had been trying really hard to be there for him since The Accident. He didn't want to shut them out; but their sympathy and scrutiny made him just as uncomfortable as anyone else's.

"I'll be alright," he said, addressing the inside of his locker more than either of them.

Nathan and Haley exchanged worried glances. Then Haley said hesitantly, "Luke, I saw Rachel yesterday."

He stopped fiddling with his books, but still didn't turn around, "Why?"

"The whole squad went to see her. She's…she's really beating herself up about what happened."

Lucas' eyes hardened suddenly. "Good."

LPLPLPLPLPLP

Peyton got through the next two classes with no incidents. Between classes, she scanned the halls nervously for the red headed girl, but she never saw her.

She ate lunch alone, outside at one of the tables. The effects of the death were still apparent throughout the school; hallway conversations seemed quieter, and no one had attempted to talk to Peyton aside from the girl who'd told her not to sit in Brooke's old seat.

She didn't mind. It was, overall, better than she could have hoped for.

She was halfway through her sandwich and listening to her iPod when she saw him.

He was sitting several tables away, with another guy and a girl. He was extremely good-looking, tall and blonde with blue eyes she could see vividly even from the distance. But it wasn't just his good looks; it was though she felt instantly drawn to him; there was something about the sight of him made her heart seize up, sent the air whooshing from her lungs.

Peyton couldn't help but stare. He didn't seem to be talking much, and sometimes didn't even appear to be listening to what his friends were saying.

After awhile, Peyton had a sudden moment of self-awareness; realizing how creepy the staring probably was, she quickly averted her gaze.

Still, thoughts of Brooke Davis seemed to leave her, for the first time all day; actually, if she was being honest, the first time since it had happened.

That was, until she got into her fourth period history class to see the same girl from earlier, who instantly glared at her, along with several others who seemed like they could be cheerleaders.

Before Peyton had even taken a seat, the girl pointed at an empty chair in front of hers. "Don't even try."

Flustered, Peyton hurried once again to the back row, taking a corner seat. She pulled out a piece of paper and began doodling, just to have something else to do.

She didn't look up again until she heard the teacher begin talking. She was startled to notice the blonde guy she'd been staring at during lunch was in this class. He was in the front row, next to the empty desk, so all she could see was his back.

Peyton barely heard a word of the teachers lecture, and when the bell rang she waited until he was out of the classroom before standing to go.

LPLPLPLPLP

One more period of the day. Every day he'd been back, Lucas had found himself immensely relieved by the end of the day. Seven hours of the stares and the whispers began to really rattle him after about five.

He closed his locker and turned around, and suddenly he saw her.

She was watching him, but not in the way everyone else did; there was no wariness or pity in her green eyes, but something else; something he couldn't decipher, but whatever it was it made it impossible to look away. His heart skittered, his lungs closed up; he had numbed himself for five days, and suddenly, something about this girl, this beautiful girl with unruly blonde curls and piercing green eyes, was making him feel again.

So, he smiled.

LPLPLPLPLP

Peyton had no idea where her next class was. She was standing in the hallway by her locker, feeling like an idiot as she stared at the small printout of the school she'd been given. Then, she noticed him. His locker was across the hall from hers, and once again, she found herself unable to resist watching.

Then, he turned around, and their eyes met. Her first instinct was to look away, completely humiliated, and take off. But something about his gaze made this impossible. There was an amazingly long moment of eye contact, in which the rest of the students seemed to melt away.

Then, he smiled. It was a small smile, tentative but sweet. And because he was the first person all day to show any sign of friendliness, Peyton found herself walking across the hall to him.

Ignoring the heat rising to her cheeks, Peyton smiled awkwardly. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Um…I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for Mr. Serrat's class. I'm, um, new." She added the last bit needlessly.

He smiled easily. "I can show you, if you want. It's on my way."

She smiled back. "Thanks."

"I'm Lucas Scott."

"Peyton Sawyer."

"Nice to meet you." He nodded to the left, and they began moving down the hall. "So where'd you move from?"

"St. Flora."

"Oh, cool. What do you think of Tree Hill High so far?" Lucas barely cared about the looks they were getting now. He was just grateful to talk about something else, anything else, and to someone who didn't treat him like a dying patient.

Peyton hesitated. "Um, it's alright. I think it's kind of a…weird time to start."

He looked momentarily confused, then a dark cloud seemed to pass over his face. "Oh. So you heard about the, uh, accident."

Peyton nodded uncomfortably. "Yeah…"

Lucas shook it off, forcing a lighter tone, "People are usually more friendly. It'll pick up." He smiled down at her, and she returned it shyly.

He stopped walking abruptly, indicating the door they were standing next to. "Mr. Serrat's classroom."

Peyton couldn't help but feel a small stab of disappointment. "Thanks a lot, Lucas."

He smiled endearingly. "No problem. It was nice to meet you, Peyton." He started to walk off. "I'll be seein' ya."

She watched him, a pleasant kind of warmth spreading inside of her body. "Hope so."

She turned and walked into her classroom, but was barely inside the door when someone grabbed her shoulder and jerked her around.

Peyton found herself staring at two of the cheerleaders from her earlier classes, one blonde and one brunette. Both were glaring at her.

The brunette, the same girl who had snapped at her about sitting in Brooke's seat, snapped, "Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?"

"Lucas Scott and Brooke Davis had been dating since tenth grade. So don't even think about it. Or you'll wish you hadn't."