Tidbit/Sneak Peak: There was something about that stare that I didn't like, that I had seen before in many places—even in my own eyes. It was the blood lust, the hunger for the kill. I stepped back in horror. "No!"

A/N: Hey, guys! Did ya miss me? *is buried under mountain of rotten vegetables*

Okay, okay. I can't apologize enough. I've been gone for just about... Honking tulips! Has it really been EIGHT MONTHS? Wow... you guys have all the reason in the world to sic those virtual armies after me. And that trying out new genres thing? Needed a break from it, actually. So, I give you this!

I know, I know. It's not an update to any of my other stories, but let's just say writer's block is nefarious foe and leave it at that. As soon as I vanquish the horrible villain, I'll give you the update you all deserve. In other news, this plot-bunny has been stuck in my head for who-knows-how-long. It wanted to come out and play. ;)

Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight; we've been over this. Stop making me repeat it!

Merlin High School
Chapter 1

I stared at the sky above me and frowned. Far in the distance, maybe a mile or two, the clouds had broken over to reveal small patches of sunlight. It wasn't close enough so that my skin would sparkle like a diamond and reveal me for what I was; but it made me uncomfortable as my skin adopted a light glow.

I suddenly wished Alice was with me, to assure me—much like she had done in the morning before I stepped out of the house—that the sun wouldn't reach over to the school (or as I dubbed it, my prison).

I sighed and checked my wrist watch. A little past seven in the morning and I was already regretting my decision to go solo to the new school. It wasn't so much that I didn't want my family with me—more accurately, Edward by my side—but I had decided that I wanted to spend a few weeks at a new location without the constant supervision of my beloved family.

It had seemed like a good idea when it occurred to me, though most of the members of the family didn't seem to think so. They had argued with me constantly for two weeks until they admitted that I was even more stubborn than Edward. And he was entirely different problem.

I loved Edward to the end of time—there was no doubt about that—and I hated leaving him behind in my little soul-searching travelings. However, I needed to test myself, to see whether I could survive a month or two without his presence.

I wasn't delusional, though. For our sanity, I would visit him every week—and maybe the family, if we weren't too occupied with ourselves. But that was where I drew the line on compromise.

I was the youngest vampire in our little brood, so by default, the most vicious. I absolutely needed to see whether I would be able to live with humans without blowing it; and it was better if only I went on this journey, so I wouldn't uproot the entire family with my mistake.

And it was after weeks of preparation and many alterations to our original story, that I sat in my car now, in the parking lot of this new school and regretting more than ever that I didn't have Edward by my side.

I blinked and turned off the ignition of the vehicle, casting a wayward glance at the sky as I stepped out.

Immediately, all the eyes of the student body seemed to turn toward me. I looked down and set my jaw, gritting my teeth as I made my way to administration office to get my schedule. It was harder than I'd thought to try and ignore the stinging in my throat.

There was a plump women sitting at the other end of the counter once I entered the tiny building, who readily introduced herself as Miss Anthony. I smiled at her, careful not to show my teeth, and asked her for my schedule and any other documents she might need to give me.

She gave me a warm first impression, reminding me of Esme's motherly manner, and didn't ask any questions, for which I was grateful. I knew I wouldn't be as lucky in my other encounters with the students, but I reluctantly stepped out of the office.

There were many people, both girls and boys, who were gathered in clumps and whispering to each other when I exited. I smothered the urge to roll my eyes at the gossip that was being traded back and forth among the teenagers. It was times like these where I wished my hearing wasn't as sensitive as it was.

I walked away from the annoying stares of my pupils, regretting once more that I didn't have my family with me and wishing time would move faster.

Of course, it didn't and I spent much of the morning sitting on a bench whilst I pretended to memorize my schedule. Many humans had almost attempted to talk to me but they ducked out—thank heavens—when they were only a few feet away.

Mercifully, the bell rung soon enough, summoning everyone indoors for classes. I begrudgingly approached the English building.

The classroom was how I had expected, not anything different from my human days. I went to Mr. Stanford, the teacher, and asked him to sign the note Miss Anthony had given me.

His eyes raked over my body before he gingerly took the piece of paper from my hand, making a great effort to brush his fingers against mine.

I could feel my eyes harden and my temper boil. Pervert.

I forced myself to calm down, though, and when Mr. Stanford turned back to me with the signed slip, I was in control over my actions.

But it seemed I had been destined to hate this sleazeball.

"Miss Swan," he said, his eyes once again traveling down my body. "Why don't you introduce yourself to the class? Tell us something interesting."

I didn't like how he was talking to me—like if I was some on-the-corner prostitute, easy for the taking—but it was his words that made me want to punch him in the face and feel satisfied that I could break a few bones. "I don't think that's a very good idea," I protested.

He didn't even seem to hear me. "Class," he called, gesturing for the room to quiet down. "I'm sure you've noticed that we have a new student, Miss Isabella Swan. Why don't you tell us something about yourself?"

I gritted my teeth, barely managing to take control of my rage. "Bella," I corrected, struggling to make my tone seem shy, like any other human in my position would be. "Please call me Bella, not Isabella."

Mister Stanford smiled, showing crooked, almost-yellow teeth. "Bella, then." He motioned for me to continue talking.

I resisted the urge to sigh and turned to the front of the room, staring at the back wall so I wouldn't see the wide eyes of my peers. "My name is Isabella Marie Swan, but I prefer to be called Bella," I stated, trying hard not too sound like a bored, overused recorder; I'd repeated the same back-story enough times for it to become a hassle. "I was born and raised in Alaska, but my parents died when I was a baby. I moved from foster home to foster home until Eleazar adopted me when I was ten. He works in stock exchange so we moved here because we wanted a change of scenery."

My eyes flickered to the students and I almost smiled. Almost. They sat there, wide-eyed and mouths agape, stunned that I could be so collected after telling such a morbid story.

I looked at Mr. Stanford. "Can I take a seat now?"

"What? Oh, sure!" he stuttered, shaking himself slightly. "If a seat is open, you're welcome to it."

I nodded and walked to the back of the room, taking a seat as far away as I could from the teacher. I could tell that I wasn't going to like this class, and the students of Merlin High School only seemed to be willing to help the case along.

It was a long forty-five minutes before the bell rang, sparing me another second of having to listen to Mr. Stanford critique Old English classics and giving me suggestive looks.

I was almost out the door when a boy called for my attention.

"It's Bella, right?" the mystery boy asked.

I turned to him, annoyed, but quickly smoothed my face to a mask of nonchalance. I looked him over and was strangely surprised that he was relatively handsome, almost like a movie star; he had blond hair and blue eyes, with proportioned features and clear skin. But looks hardly mattered to me, not when I had the perfect husband waiting for me an hour's drive away.

"Yeah," I said, letting my tone return to boredom. "It's Bella. Who's asking?"

"Name's Nate, Nate Turner. And I was wondering whether I could walk you to your next class." He smiled at me then, wrinkling his brow as it quirked up.

"Sorry," I shrugged. "I can manage on my own to find my next class, thanks." I turned on my heel, smiling at his baffled protest and the manic hissing of some girls who had heard my rejection.

I bit my lip to retain my peal of laughter as I made my way to Calculus. Maybe the school would entertain me enough for the next few weeks, so that at least I wouldn't grow bored; I might even make an effort to make a friend, though it would have to be someone different from the gossips I had heard so far.

I thought about that prospect for the rest of the morning, until we were released to lunch. After some thinking, I quickly ignored the lunch crowd and made my way to the library I had spotted when I first came on campus.

It was warm inside the building, though it hardly made a difference to me, and a kind-looking woman sat at the check-out desk. She hardly looked up when I passed her, and I could tell that I was going to like her. If only she could be my friend.

I moved to the bookshelves and mindlessly fingered the backs of the novels. I'd read most of the material in the classics section, so I moved on to the young adult fiction, knowing some writer or other always had some clever idea that would distract me for a few moments.

I took an adventure novel by an up-and-coming author and fluidly sat down, away from the glass windows where eyes would surely see me. I was a few minutes into the book when the door to the library opened, revealing a young, pretty girl dressed in black.

"Hi, Miss Sandra," she said, walking over to the aging librarian. "How's the fort holding up?"

From the spot where I was sitting, still obscured from their line of sight, I saw Miss Sandra's face light up at the sight of this girl.

"Oh, Mandy," she said, patting her hand. "Everything's still quiet, though the new girl came and lost herself in some books in the back."

"New girl?" Mandy questioned, astonished at this revelation.

I stood up and headed into the front, not giving Miss Sandra a chance to reply to Mandy before I stepped into their line of sight.

I saw Mandy's eyes widen slightly at my appearance, but I was used to that internal reaction by now. Her hand fell to her side and she instinctively took a step back.

Miss Sandra's reaction couldn't have been any more different. She smiled at me, her eyes squinted slightly as I took notice that her eyes were probably failing her. "Find everything you need, dear?" she asked, taking me by surprise; I hadn't expected them to try to communicate with me.

"Yeah," I replied, "I did." I motioned to the book in my hand. "I was hoping I could check this book out, but I'm not sure how the system works here." I stepped forward, handing Miss Sandra the book.

She examined the text for a while before she smiled in my general direction and starting typing away at her computer.

I couldn't help smile but as I watched her, a hazy memory of watching my own mother do the same thing flashing before my eyes. I quickly smothered that memory, knowing it would bring unwelcome feelings as I thought of my mother sitting in a nursing home right at that very moment.

I internally sighed and made myself focus once more on Mandy. She was staring at her shoes, as if they were of great interest. I smiled as I thought that Alice would find a million and one things that were interesting about those shoes, but quickly extended my hand out to her, so as not to seem rude.

"Hi," I said, catching the girl's attention as I waited for her to take my hand. "I'm Bella, Bella Swan. And I'm new here."

Mandy warily took my hand, grasping it for a second or two before dropping it. "I'm Mandy Manson, and I'm not so new here."

I laughed lightly, ignoring the light burn in my throat that seemed to be intently focused on her pulsating neck. "I gathered as much."

Miss Sandra took that moment to finish typing on her computer. "Here you are, dear," she said, returning the book to me and giving me a sheet of paper with library information. "I just need you to give me your student information and have your parent or legal guardian sign this form."

"Thanks," I mumbled. "Can I stay here for my lunch hour?"

Both Mandy and Miss Sandra blinked in shock, as if they expected me to bolt out the door as soon as the chance arose.

"Sure," Miss Sandra finally answered, gesturing to one of the many tables in the room. "Sit wherever you like."

I beamed at them and walked over to a random table, sitting gingerly as I eavesdropped on the women's conversation.

"I think I'm going to like her," Miss Sandra whispered to Mandy, not knowing that I would be able to hear every word she spoke.

"Me, too," Mandy whispered back. "She seems different than all the other girls in school."

"You two should try to be friends."

"Aw, come on. You know I don't do any good with people that aren't over thirty."

I smiled, wondering how Mandy would react if I told her I was slightly over forty years old. The result would be more than comical but also highly dangerous, so I decided to keep that little tidbit to myself.

"Now, Mandy, you now I love you like a daughter, but I want you to have some friends you can hang out with. And that doesn't include you attending a book club with a bunch of old hags."

"You're not that old."

"Yes, I am. And I want you to at least make an effort to be nice to this girl. She's new here, show her around, take her places."

I heard Mandy sigh as I turned the page to my book, even though I hadn't read a word.

"Bella seems like the type to want to hang out with Ashley and Crystal, not me. Just look at her!"

I didn't know whether to be greatly offended or flattered by her words. I guess it depended on who Ashley and Crystal were, but, with my luck, it would probably be one of the many shallow socialites I had learned to despise in the few hours I'd had to endure my morning classes.

Miss Sandra responded lightly, almost as if she was taking a grandmotherly role for Mandy. "I am looking at her, and she seems like the type of girl who hates all the attention she gets, much like you. She's reading in a library when she could be out socializing with everybody in lunch— what does that tell you?"

"Fine," Mandy capitulated. "I'll go talk to her." I heard her footsteps as she walked across the carpeted floor and stopped at my table.

I looked up at her, feigning surprise down to the tee. "Can I help you?"

Her feet shuffled on the carpet and her mouth moved slightly for a few seconds before words started coming out. "How's your first day been?"

I smiled sideways, putting my book down. "Mostly boring. No one to talk to, bad teachers."

Her nervous shuffling stopped as her eyebrows scrunched together. "I doubt you've had no one to talk to. You seem like a social hub."

I shrugged, smiling: "I might seem like that to someone who doesn't know me, but I like having a conversation. Not a gossip fest."

Her head cocked to the side as she sat down in the chair in front on mine. "So you've noticed—most of the girls around here aren't the intellectual types."

"I'll say," I chuckled. "Though you don't seem to be like that. Speaking of which, if you don't mind my asking, why are you, of all people, here—spending your time in the library?"

She smiled. "I could ask you the same thing ..." Mandy trailed off, her eyes suddenly confused. "Wait. What do you mean me, 'of all people?'"

I looked down, sincerely ashamed to have stereotyped her. "It's just... uh, that you, also, seem like a social hub." I tried to smile, looking back up at Mandy through my eyelashes.

Surprisingly, my words seemed to have struck a raw wound.

Her eyes lost their glitter and her mouth seemed numb as she tried to smile back at me. "Well, I'm not," she murmured, sadness leaking into her tone. She stood up, closing her arms around herself in a very familiar way. "I got to go."

I watched her leave, biting my lip as I wondered what I had said that so upset her; and why her posture and the way she was suddenly holding herself, reminded me of a painful human memory. With a start, I realized she resembled myself in the dark days when Edward wasn't around, when I'd thought he didn't want me. The ghost of the hurt, more for Mandy than for myself, echoed in my chest.

Though I had no idea what could have caused her to act like she had, I felt like a rotten person to have pained her.

I sighed, grabbing my forgotten book to stuff it in my bag. Great. I had just practically insulted the only potential candidate of "friend material" and let her walk away. I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling, standing up. My bad luck might have gotten better after my immortality, but it was impossible to completely defeat the enigma that had defined so much of my mortal life.

I waved halfheartedly at Miss Sandra as I made my way outside of the warm building, my mind running in circles. Unless I could meet another person like Mandy—who, strangely enough, reminded me slightly of Angela—I was going to spend the next few months at Merlin High in complete isolation. The thought didn't sound at all appealing.

I pursed my lips, sighing again. I doubted there was a way I could make it up to the girl. Not only had I just met her and knew a grandiose amount of nothing about her, I strongly doubted the generations since my being a teenager had changed so much that a stranger could randomly give another stranger a gift. The technology had certainly advanced, but mannerisms had stayed fairly similar. No, there had to be something else I could do.

As I continued to contemplate, the bell of the school rang, signaling the end of my lunch break. I shook my head and glanced at my watch. Four and a half hours into the school year and melodramatic problems already seemed to stick to me like a bad adhesive.

Abruptly, I remembered why I was so glad to leave high school behind almost twenty-five years before. Way too much drama.

And then, quite suddenly, my mind went blank as my attention snapped towards a scent in the air. I froze, my eyes immediately zeroing in a sixteen-year-old unlucky enough to have scraped himself against the cement fixtures on the entrance of a building—scraped himself hard enough to draw sweet blood.

My mouth flooded with venom and my throat constricted, banishing all my reasonable thought. In that moment, my teenage facade broke away, and I was a vampire hunting my prey.

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