Light, Bright and Sparkling

One: Eyes Meet

Disclaimer: Jane Austen owns the beloved characters, the magic, and space on my bookshelf.

He had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. They shone, dark and molten and yearning, set perfectly in an irresistible face. My heart was melting, melting, a drippy marshmallow over an open flame. The thought of how ridiculous the comparison was flew across my mind, but I dismissed it quickly, attributing it to my giddiness. I sat there, unable to unfreeze my muscles from smiling, because he was right smiling back. I was normally not the impulsive type, but I had to have him. There was an undeniable connection, a thread of mutual recognition and realization.

"Lizzie?"

"He's the one, Jane," I breathed. As soon as the words left my mouth, I simultaneously snorted and giggled at how cheesy I sounded.

I reached down into the cage containing half a dozen energetic puppies and drew him out. He squirmed, warm and gloriously furry between my hands. I pulled him near to my face, he reached out with a small pink tongue, a thin slip of soft sandpaper sliding over the tip of my nose. Cooing noises escaped my throat uncontrollably after that moment. I couldn't thank the Lucases, our wonderfully friendly neighbors, enough for giving away one from their newly acquired litter of puppies—all blessedly healthy, dutifully vaccinated, and disgustingly adorable. It was only after receiving rejection after rejection for compensation from the Lucases that Jane and I, along with the newest addition to our family, stepped outside.

"What are you going to name him?" she asked as we walked down the front steps of their house.

"Fitz," I answered without thinking. I had already decided upon this matter before even seeing him.

"Fitz?"

"After F. Scott Fitzgerald. Duh." I grinned and rolled her eyes dramatically at Jane, who could only laugh. A cold gust blew against our faces, whipping our hair back and flapping the edges of our coats, and I wrapped the ends of my blueberry scarf snugly around Fitz before cuddling him close to my body. This was the best Christmas break ever.

"That was the worst Christmas break ever."

Jane shot me a look before opening her mouth to counter my complaint with what was sure to be a Jane-ism. Jane-isms were her comebacks, her pointing out of the silver lining, her "look on the bright side" encouragements. If she were really feeling emphatic, she might toss in a maternal sigh. Above all, Jane-isms were sincere, straight from the heart of the source herself.

That was how we functioned, Jane and I—I complained, she Janed. It was odd to think of her as my twin sometimes; we were so different. Even to a complete stranger, our not-so-identical appearances were apparent. Jane was fairest of the fair, with honey-blonde hair and skin that burned before you could say "lobster" in the summer sun. There was a time in my life (eighth grade, to be precise) when I was insanely jealous of Jane's looks, but I quickly realized that it was not the blonde hair and blue eyes that set her apart from me. No, the biggest differences between Jane and me lay not on the outside, but within, as trite as it all sounded. Of all the people I had ever met, Jane still held the title of kindest, pleasantest, "goodest," if you would—in the sense that she possessed the most goodness I'd ever seen in one individual. I realized at a young age that my twin was pretty much an angel. I, on the other hand, admittedly had quite a short temper and a tendency to complain. Luckily, I always had Jane at my side to counteract any negative energy I'd put out into the cosmos.

In that moment, however, I found myself covering for my complaint. "Okay, that's not what I meant. It wasn't the worst. But it was definitely the shortest. It's just so early," I moaned, dragging the words from my mouth. My forehead banged forward into the dark green lockers. "You know I'm grouchy when it's early."

"Lizzie, it's already lunchtime!" Jane's bright laugh rang from my right. "Oh, come on. I am starving!" It was times like these that I wondered how many genes I shared with this endlessly cheerful girl, who didn't believe morning classes were a crime against the youth of America. My shoulders were suddenly yanked back with surprising force, and I was steered away from the lockers. We wound through the hallways and down stairwells clogged with students pressing against each other, eager to get to lunch. Loud conversations filled the air, echoing off of other voices and the pastel plastered walls, freshly painted after school had let out last semester.

"Anyway, how was your morning?" she asked.

"Not bad, I guess. I fell asleep in English." The memory of Mrs. Cates droning on and on about something floated through my mind. I hadn't bothered to pay attention to her. No matter, really, because I would see her again in the afternoon, when she would probably laugh at my snooze in her earlier class. She was a pretty terrible British literature teacher, but I knew in my journalism period she was going to be the hilarious, upbeat advisor of our student-run newspaper, the Ledger.

"Already? It's the first day back!"

"Exactly," I agreed. "How was your morning?"

"Oh, it was great! Mr. Moretti is such a good calculus teacher. I actually understood what was going on."

"That's a first," I teased. Jane elbowed me lightly. She was anything but a dumb blonde—in fact, she was much more studious than me—but I always found delight in giving her grief about her beauty and brains.

We turned a corner and reached the cafeteria doors, propped open by the rush of students going inside. Lunchtime at Meryton Academy was never a dull affair, Monday morning or not. The spacious, open cafeteria was where the concentration demanded by rigorous courses collided with the boredom and excessive energy teenagers inherently exuded. This could only amount to one thing, of course: gossip. And the first day back from winter break was sure to be an opportunity to discuss who was now together, who was now split, and what exactly went down at that one New Year's Eve party. The volume and energy level on a whole was magnified, and my body immediately began to feel more and more awake. We made our way slowly to our usual spot through the throngs of other juniors, saying hi and giving smiles and hugs to the friends we'd missed during the holidays. Jane and I had just settled down with Mary and Luke and were asking about Luke's vacation to Greece when Lydia, our dear baby freshman sister and quite the little gossipmonger, scrambled over. She was bursting at the seams in her chatty excitement.

"Did you hear about the new kids yet?" she bubbled, sliding into an open seat. She didn't wait for a response before barreling on, "They're over there, right behind you, Lizzie, the redhead and his sister, Charlie and Caroline Bingley. You know what's funny? They're twins, too! No, don't look, Lizzie!" I rolled my eyes at my little sister and caught Luke's chortle at Lydia's behavior. "And do you see that tall one next to them? The really good-looking one? That is Will Darcy." Lydia's smirk stretched across her freckled face. I saw Jane's gaze shift, and Mary twisted her neck surreptitiously to catch a glimpse. I shook my head lightly at Lydia's endless chase after boys, although, to be honest, I did want to see for myself this "really good-looking one." There seemed to be a fair shortage of them at our small private school. I decided against twisting all the way around in my chair to ogle, and instead took another bite of my turkey, tomato, and melted cheese sandwich.

"Oh, wait, I know him," said Jane. "He was the new kid in my history class."

"Who, Will Darcy?" Lydia could not keep the envy out of her voice and wide eyes.

"No, Charlie. He's a really nice guy." Jane had a funny little smile on her face.

"Pretty cute too, huh, Jane?" Luke nudged her, and she blushed because she's an innocent little angel like that, Jane is.

"Nothing compared to Will, though." Lydia was still staring.

"Well, go over there and introduce yourself." I was only half-joking, and a small burst of excited laughter escaped all of our throats as she stood in acceptance of my casual challenge. As our gazes followed her, I took the opportunity to shift in my chair and finally get my first glimpse of these new students. They were easy to spot, sitting at a table not far from us, two heads with hair that shone the same bright, coppery-red. Charlie was talking amiably to a senior, but next to him, his sister looked furiously miserable as she picked at her salad. At the end of the table sat who I presumed to be Will. I was genuinely taken aback upon first glance, not because of his looks—which were admittedly striking in a dark sort of way—but because of his air. His face radiated a solemnity rarely seen in teenagers. His mouth was twisted in a half-frown as he ate. I suddenly wondered why they had moved here. Judging from the looks on Will and Caroline's faces, they definitely weren't pleased about the change.

Lydia reached their table, sauntering around and behind Will and Caroline with a sunshine smile. She introduced herself and began her bubbly chitchatting, but after a few moments it became clear that the only person she could engage in conversation was Charlie. He grinned and laughed to almost a ridiculous degree as they talked. Caroline occasionally humored her with a couple sentences here and there when Lydia addressed her, but on the whole she seemed to regard Lydia as an annoyance (which, admittedly, she could be sometimes). As for Will the Tall, Dark, and Handsome, he had briefly made eye contact when she first arrived, but spoke only a few words before turning his attention back to his meal. No matter how many times Lydia addressed him, he seemed determined to ignore her. I studied his manner with a strange curiosity before I blinked and realized that he was looking straight back at me. There was an almost angry expression in his eyes that sparked both confusion and my own anger. How long had I been staring at him? Heat flared on my face. Not knowing what to do, I quirked a smile, more reactionary than anything else. He instantly looked back down. It seemed to me that this "really good-looking one" was quite the antisocial. I turned back to the table.

"Not handsome enough for your ogling?" Luke asked, quirking a brow.

"I especially love his smile." I replied, suddenly thinking of Pocahontas's reaction to Kocoum in the old Disney movie. I laughed at myself, and Luke threw me an odd look, which I ignored. "Anyway, tell me more about Greece! Did you meet any girls or not?"

A/N: Hello, everyone! Seems like in every author's note, I feel this need to apologize. I'm reposting "Light, Bright and Sparkling," because I felt that I could have taken more time to flesh out the individual chapters. I know most of this chapter was a repeat, so apologies for that, too. The good news is that the next couple of chapters will be up soon!

I do realize that this modernized-to-high-school-P&P plot has been rehashed til it can't be rehashed no more, and I fully acknowledge that this storyline is not original by any means. It is an exercise to get me to write again (regularly!), and hopefully a chance for me to develop character and descriptive writing. Your feedback will be enormously appreciated. Thank you for reading!

Cheers,
mische