Disclaimer: I don't owner Jeepers Creepers, nor any of the original content which can be found within this fic, they all belong to Victor Salva. Nicole Alkins, Raven 'Robert/Rob' Alkins and Jamie Camacho all belong to the ever wonderful, glories and genius TheMortition so please checkout 'What Do You Want From Me?' first because it might clear up any plot holes you might find this story has for you!

A/N: Chapter 2! And the introduction of Robert 'Rob' Alkins is to be revealed, as well as his slightly odd reaction to Noelle. This is set on a Sunday, two days after her arrival in Prescott County, and she's nervously awaiting her first day of school, so she decides to go and check out the local diner (the one Derry and Trish went to in the first movie) in the hopes of making some new friends. There she meets teenage outcast and horror film addict Jamie Camacho who offers her some advice on how to deal with school and his own 'theories' on the truth behind Rob Alkins-the school's star baseball team runner. But are any of these half-baked ideas accurate or is Jamie truly suffering after spending eleven years caring for his depressed and unstable mother? Is there something more than what meets the eye about Rob or is it all just misunderstandings upon his behalf? Read and see.

Streams of light shot through my new bedroom's window, peaking through a crack in the fading white coloured curtains which I hadn't drawn as expertly as my Granny Kath could've. I'd dressed loosely for bed, wearing a simple white tank top and navy blue shorts, with my hair tied back into a tight plat, so it didn't tangle during the night. Gently slipping the band off the end of my hair, I did the timewasting process of unlinking each lock of hair from its intertwined pattern which threaded the locks of my hair neatly together. I'd kept the window open by a couple of cm's that night because of the stuffy, sweat inducing heat which had been radiating throughout my new room. Even with my new Mercedes-Benz S-Class, courtesy of my dad, it couldn't draw anything away from the burning heat which rolled over the fields of the Floridian countryside.

Thinking about it however, it suddenly made sense why people might see the appeal living out here, especially people with teenage kids. Prescott County appealed to them in the exact same way it'd appealed to my dad when he was trying to decide what sort of place would be good for me to go for some 'cooling down' period whilst my wrist, and trust in Kendell, healed. Places like this were full of god-fearing, law-abiding citizens, with little to no crime; sure, Prescott was a little different, but as long as you weren't living here during the twenty-three year period time leap, you were perfectly safe from whatever was out there, stalking the highways for victims. Part of me wondered if it was all just some elaborate hoax, a bunch of drunken college students had invented, roping in more and more people over the course of time, so it became one of the biggest stunts America had ever witnessed. But the other part of me, the nervous, proper part of me knew there was at least some truth behind it.

Looking back, I remembered how as we'd driven past the sign which announced we'd finally reached Prescott County, how I'd seen a load of white pieces of paper stuck around the borders of the sign, and it hit me. They were missing person's flyers; the sorts you see in places like New York and Seattle. They littered the edges of the sign and it finally hit me how many people had gone missing over the years. I simply shook my head at the thought, trying to push it to the back of my mind, but it'd unnerved me; knowing all those people had met some sort of brutal or even yet unknown, end in my new hometown. Part of me wanted to run over to my chest of draws, grab my cell phone and ring dad, begging him to take me home where I'd end up feeling safe and where no nasty, ugly, winged demon men could catch me and do god-knows-what to me. but I didn't want to leave the gran I barely knew alone again, and besides, I figured I should've known better when I got into the car that Kendell had lied about her alcohol intake; besides, like I mentioned, I wasn't even too sure any of my 'friends' were missing me. Maybe I could make some real ones here.

Sighing, I looked around my gran's former guest room and couldn't help but smile at the lavender painted walls and white bedspread with a deep indigo throw, which felt like it was made of silk but I wasn't too sure, tossed across the duvet cover. My gran had judged my taste in colours well. Several, spiralling glass decorative objects hung from pieces of string attached to nails embedded into the window frame, wavered slightly in the wind which was blowing gently through the open crack at the bottom of the window where I'd opened it. Most of the unpacking had been done last night luckily, with only a couple of boxes containing simple things such as bags and coats remaining; my clothing had been packed away into the large, oak chest of draws, and my ornaments I'd received as presents from Granny Kath sat along them in a small, neat row of carefully crafted pieces of art. My favourites were the dancing glass elephants, with little tutus glazed around their waists, the glass having been dyed a special pink colour for contrast. Looking so neat, prim and beautiful.

Shaking my head slightly, so my hair could bounce out a little, I opened the top draw to rifle through my clothes. The clock which hung above my bed ticking quietly read 11:18 and I'd wanted known the journey would cause me to sleep in; besides, I wanted to get out today and explore town, or at least what remained of it, because I'd hoped to actually meet someone of my own age, or at least close to it, meaning I wouldn't have to spend all my time indoors surfing the internet or doing homework. Besides, I figured my gran wouldn't want me to come downstairs in a loose-fitting strappy top and a pair of shorts, it'd be incredibly awkward for the both of us, even with her being one of the kindest people I'd ever met. There are some things you don't want to see when it comes to family, and granddaughters in tank tops and shorts probably rank pretty high on that list as long as you're not counting situations involving nudity.

Heat was still lingering in the already stuffy, uncomfortable atmosphere, so I knew today would be another lightly coloured clothing day. Wearing something like navy, or even a deep purple, would've been incredibly stupid on my behalf and, seeing as I've never been good during the heat, probably would've ended up with me fainting. Fishing through my draws, picking up pieces of clothing, inspecting them and deciding that I didn't want to wear them took longer than usual that morning; looking through my clothing collection, most of my chosen pieces were unfortunately darker coloured, meaning they weren't ideal summer clothing. My previous home had never gotten too warm, so I'd never needed a load of floral dresses or pure white shorts; I'd only ever needed navy jeans and deep grey jumpers. Lightly coloured, good summer clothing had never seemed too important to me. Until now. Eventually I was forced to settle with a black pair of shorts, although not ideal they were my only relatively comfy pair of denim shorts; and a white tank-top, although this one had a much snugger fit than the one I chose for bed attire. A simple white belt threaded through the shorts and a dark green pair of heeled Mary-Jane's, with white socks reaching my kneecaps to finish off the cutesy look, I was ready.


I'd always been a safe driver, but my recent accident had made me even more cautious, despite the fact I hadn't been driving at the time of it. I practically ended up crawling round the corner at the end of the wooded lane which lead to my gran's house, nervously peering into the open, silent air, paranoid a random car was going to shoot round the bend and slam into my own. When I'd gotten up finally, I'd found that gran was still in bed and had simply written a simple note telling her I was heading out to the diner I'd seen on the side of a road about twenty minutes from her house, and had placed it on the table where I'd know she'd find it. I'd ended up scraping my hair out of my eyes with a velvet green hairband I'd found at the bottom of one of my boxes, one I hadn't used in years, but realised it went nicely with my shoes and, being a total perfectionist when it comes to my looks, decided to use it opposed to tying my hair back.

On the way out the door, I'd subconsciously picked up a jacket, a habit I'd grown into after years of being used to a frosty nip in the air. Even in the summer it would occasionally grow a little bit cooler than any other place I'd ever been to, so picking up a jacket when I was due to go out was a deep settled habit I'd ended up having after years of living in a cooler place. The jacket, to my surprise, was another gift from my Granny Kath, which had only arrived last Christmas so it still fit; it was pleasantly surprising to know she knew my jacket size and so I still fit it when I tried it on and decided to keep it on. Of course, sweat immediately began to form, but going to a diner in a pair of shorts and a strappy t-shirt often radiated bad signals to others, who end up believing I'm up for being hit on. Of course this wasn't personal knowledge, but Annette knew all too well what it was like, and I often ended up listening to her advice.

The jacket was dark green, a sort of murky colour, like the colour of swamp water and made out of leather, making it increase the amount of perspiration levels which formed on my upper body, especially my back. Beads of sweat had already begun to form on my skin, making my back itchy and leaning into the leather of the seat became very uncomfortable, but I knew I'd rather wear a heavy leather jacket opposed to having some perverted drunk try to feel me up. The jacket had zips at the ends of the sleeves which, when pulled back, exposed up to the highest point of my wrist; not very practical, but fashionable I guess. The main bit of decoration on the jacket was a large, golden eagle which had been stitched on with matching golden thread. All in all, it made me look partially badass, but my personality would immediately let me down. I silently thanked my gran in my head, loving her even more for buying me such lovely clothes and opening her home up to me.

We hadn't spoken much over dinner, but I could tell she was pleased to have someone living with her now that my dad, aunt and uncle were off living their own lives in other parts of the state, or with my aunt, other continents of the world. All I gathered was that she was incredibly content in Prescott County, and was even more content now that I'd come out here to join her in her pretty, white wooden house, to keep her compassionate, friendly self company. I knew she had several friends in the main town area and had learned how to drive when she was fifty so she could visit them; she'd informed me there were several practical stores, a book shop, a couple of cafes, and some other things but clothes shopping had to be done in Winslow, the nearest largely populated town near Prescott County, which was a forty-five minute drive away from our house. It wasn't going to matter to me much though anyways; I had a large selection of fitting clothes and figured I'd only need to go there for a prom dress. Ouch. Now that was two scary thoughts in one: prom and dating.

Or it would've been if I hadn't have seen yet more missing persons signs littering the wooden fences borderlining an old farm which aligned the highway. I think dad once mentioned he knew the owner there, Jack Taggert, whose younger son had died during the 1980's and he'd died at some point during the 90's, with his older son Jack Jr. taking over the farm after his death. Part of me theorised whether his younger son, Billy I think my dad had called him, was a victim of the all too well-known winged bat creature which apparently stalked the area but I tried to push that thought to the back of my mind. Winged, flesh-eating bat creatures weren't real and they never could be. Why? Because evolution had proved such ridiculous theories incorrect; there were no such things as immortal, winged bat men, or even still, winged demons. It was all totally fictitious, I told myself for the eighth time that day.

Stepping on the gas pedal a little harder to increase my speed; and get past the cornfield a little faster, seriously those places always really creeped me out, I turned on the radio, probably as a form of distracting myself from my somewhat wilder imagination now that I was alone in the backward county without my dad in the car to comfort me about my winged, bat man fears. To my disappointment, the radio stations were all typical backwards style shows. There was a country music station which really wasn't to my taste by any standards; a conspiracy theory channel which rambled on about how the government was genetically creating werewolves which even I found hard to believe; one news station which only blared out the same depressing information about more disappearance's; and the rest were pretty much those three on repeat. All the music channels weren't my style, the other shows topics either baffled or frightened me, and the news was just depressing. The only other form of channel I found was just unfathomably bizarre hissing, static noises and I figured it wasn't connecting so I shut it off. I cursed myself mentally for leaving all of my CDs and the odd cassette I owned back in my room, and for being so naïve to think I'd actually enjoy any of the news stations found in this neck of the woods.

Letting my imagination run wild was never an intelligent decision after discovering a giant, winged bat creature was stalking this neck of the woods, and all I could now think about was school. Some nagging idea at the back of my head told me everyone in my classes would automatically know who I was, and I figured that might be true; for some reason small towns always made that amazing ability of literally knowing who you were two seconds after arriving, look easy as pie. Judging by the odd bulletin board which flew past as I drove down the lane, I could figure out that my new school's baseball team mascot was a crow named Corny. Even by my standards, that seemed a little cheap, but based off what I'd heard from my uncle Stefan, who was a member of the baseball team, they never really played many games apart from the odd few against Prescott County's surrounding little towns like Walsh Falls, Colbat Cove and Miscousin who all also had baseball teams. I figured building a baseball field was possibly cheaper for the towns of backwood Florida, than building a football one so I figured it actually made sense. Luckily he told me Gym wasn't compulsory by the time of Junior year, so I wasn't going to be forced to, embarrassingly I might add, end up hitting every poor person in my path with a hockey stick.

Part of my mind drifted back to the infamous Robert 'Rob' Alkins, daughter of the 'Town Witch', and regular mysterious guy who enjoyed keeping himself to himself. I wondered if he actually had any friends at Prescott County High, or whether he kept himself totally alone. If he was a member of any athletic teams or intellectual clubs; dad had informed me the school also offered clubs in the forms of a swim team, a cheerleading squad, and two music clubs, a chess team and a debate team. Naturally I figured all the games were played against Walsh Falls, Colbat Cove and Miscousin high schools but I guessed it must be nice knowing your opponents pretty well. Mixes the game up a little. Apparently the baseball team had gone to other places such as Texas and Louisiana a couple of times but they were mainly playing against the usual trio of opponents, despite actually winning all their games against other state baseball teams.

Baseball was a refreshing change to the usual football squads most of the schools I knew of having, because I wondered if maybe baseball players were less hot-headed, arrogant and brash than footballers. I'd always found the art of baseball a little bit more graceful than football with all its practical fights with several boys or men fighting over a ball. In my opinion, English football seemed a lot safer. For some reason simply hitting a ball as far as you can, then running whilst other people ran to catch the ball and throw it down on a diamond so you could be declared 'out' seemed a lot safer than most other sports which mainly compose of smashing into each other. That must be why all the superstitious and incredibly paranoid parents here approved of baseball being the school's main sporting team. With that said, I was the sporting genius who could make volleyball seem dangerous, by accidentally smashing the ball into all my teammate's heads and shoulders when I hit it.

Being caught up in my past life of accidentally attacking people with rubber sports balls almost made me completely miss the small diner situated off to the left of the main highway. Like the creepy old church, the building looked older than most of the houses, although nowhere near as ancient as that creepy demonic dwelling place. The words 'DINER' were lit up in bright, red, almost neon writing which was situated above the old place which looked straight up fifties; it seemed to be constructed of corrugated metal, with deep ridges aligning the outer sides, and the formerly probable shining grey coloured metal was now rusting and faded. Pulling my car into one of the surprisingly few parking spaces, I excited the car and looked around. Then it hit me-the cars were all making small, simplistic pit stops along the highway, like most people often do when they're taking a long trip and have neglected pre-packing food pre-setting off for the journey. My jacket was practically sticking to my skin now, but I'd rather be safe and not perved on, than cool yet harassed so I kept it tightly wrapped around my upper body area.

Pushing the door open as quietly as I could, I was relieved that I didn't get immediate stares from everyone inside the building. Most of them were too caught up in their own conversations and/or eating their meals to pay some random seventeen year old attention when she entered the establishment. The only people who did stare were the waitresses' dresses in their turquoise uniforms, and the busboys in their entirely black getup. I figured the busboy job title was new because most the teenage boy's mulling around's uniforms seemed pretty makeshift-as long as you had a black sleeved t-shirt, black jeans, and a good pair of trainers, along with good manners, eligible writing and a competent memory, you got a job it seemed. Some of them were even smoking whilst delivering the food to the tables, so I figured it was pretty easy to get a job, even for someone as stupid as me. But another voice decided to bring me out of my thoughts.

"Hey new girl!" An over excited, thickly southern accent called and I jumped, almost falling over due to the heels making it hard to jump without stumbling slightly. Did I mention I've not got exactly the best balance, and often end up falling over when someone makes me jump? Call me klutzy, I guess? Well, I think that was just a prime example. Before I could question who'd called my name, a boy, about my age jumped over the counter with all the grace of a cat prowling along a fence. Like me, his skin was pale, which stood out amongst all the tanned teens and sunburned adults who littered the room, at least all of those who were locals to the area. And I could tell he was local because he was wearing one of the now familiarized makeshift busboy outfits like the other four male teenagers circulating the room. All four of them had cast at least three glances my way so far.

The boy in front of me's skin was so pale it was almost luminous, making me look positively rosy in comparison, and the more I looked at it, the more worried about him I became. He looked positively ill, he was so pale. Luckily the animated sparkle in his soft brown eyes the colour of fudge made me feel a little more comfortable in his company, and less worried about his health levels. His hair, which was a dark brown with a tinge of red to it, kind of like the fur of a seal, hung around straight and neatly brushed, sweeping just over his shoulder, having been tied back with a solid black hair bobble which stood out against the reddish-tinged brown of his hair. I figured it was for health regulations, so his hair didn't accidentally end up in someone's cheeseburger. His skin was riddled with some of the most amazing tattoos I'd ever seen; there was a large, spiralling combination of colours shaped like the pattern you see inside a kaleidoscope tattooed onto the side of his neck, with several dragons, unicorns and griffin's dancing up and down his arms. They were so spectacular I couldn't help but stare. "Nice, eh, Noelle Manning?" He grinned and I jumped, immediately staring up at him, my eyes widening as I looked up.

"How do you know my name…"

"Small town!" He interrupted cheerfully. "And besides! You're the daughter of now deputy sheriff of the city of Oswell's, Lee Manning! Of course we were pre-informed of you!" He held his hand out and I stared at it dumbly, but managed to take it in time before he believed I was mentally challenged or something along those lines. "I'm James Camacho, but most people call me Jamie, even those who supposedly hate me!" He laughed at that and I felt my eyes widen at his light hearted nature. "I work here, live with my depressed, wretched mom in a caravan about four miles away from this diner and love horror more than your parents love you! Sorry, I'm forgetting myself!" He shook my hand again, harsher and faster this time, grinning like a lunatic. "Welcome to Prescott County, Florida!" He flew his hands above his head all theatrical style and several people stared at that. "Should've been more subtle I think…" He snickered and I stared at him bemused.

"Does everyone here know my name and who my dad was? Or is it just you?" I asked him cautiously, although I practically predicted his answer before he even spoke it.

"Pretty much everyone." He nodded. "Believe me, in small towns like this, nothing gets passed no-one, and everyone knows everything about everyone!" It seemed odd that he sounded so cheerful and optimistic, with his illuminated pale skin, maple brown hair draping across his shoulder, and the sparkling glimmer in his eyes. Especially with an apparent 'depressed, wretched mother', living in a most likely small, slightly cramped trailer, and being totally obsessed with the gory, gruesome, violent world of horror movies. People like him always bemuse people like me, and strike up that typical, bitter cord of envy within us; we wish to be like them-all sunny smiles, constant optimism, and laughing joyfully, happy about even the worst of things you could imagine. "Probably got a few questions of your own, right?" He questioned me and I simply nodded.

"Um…Yeah…Is there any advice you could give me about um…Starting school here?" The constant pausing and mumbling made the sentence painfully longer than it needed to be but he didn't smile cruelly or role his eyes like most people would and stared blankly at me for a couple of seconds before finding an appropriate response.

"Good question!" He grinned, that strong, happy quality hidden within his voice returning with such a smooth, sophisticated ease I immediately envied him a little more, although I knew that was childishly mean and incredibly unfair. "I'd say…" Another pause followed. "Stay away from the cheerleaders, the entire fucking swim team-they're the most arrogant bastards you could ever imagine in your worst school themed nightmare; and the baseball teams captain, although the rest of the team are nice enough, and of course, there is our very own star fielder-Robert, aka Rob, Alkins." I froze and felt my eyes widen in a comical, almost cartoonish fashion. "I'm guessing you've heard about mommy-fearest then, the practically famous Nicole Alkins?"

I nodded. "My mom, Whitney Manning, then Whitney Peck, was sort of friends with her when she first came her in the 1980's, or so my dad says. Do you know anything about her?" I asked him, my curiosity instantly peaking.

To my disappointment he shook his head. "Sorry, Noelle, I haven't got much on the illusive Nicole Alkins. I once took a trip down to her shop, Earth Child Emporium, on White Street but the second I walked in, she gave me this really evil stare and I ended up rushing out about two seconds later. I guess even the town horror nut pissess her off!" I must've given him a confused or bemused look because he chuckled before answering. "Basically, Nicole isn't a big fan of anyone, bar her son and your grandma-no offence." Jamie added quickly but continued speaking. "It's nothing personal, she's just cautious after all those rumours and assumptions which came about after she reappeared in town with Rob, then a baby..."

"Um...Not to seem incredibly brash!" I muttered quickly after interrupting him so suddenly, with a new array of questions already swimming inside my mind. "But, could you possibly tell me a little more about her son, Robert?" I asked the last part quickly, trying to make it seem offhand and not like I'd been wondering it for quite some time, instead of running it over and over inside my head.

Jamie Camacho's face broke into a grin and he looked incredibly mischievous, as if he knew he could get an interesting outcome from this situation. "Sounds fair enough, but I'll only answer you if you explain what that little cast on your wrist symbolises?"

"Car accident." I said quickly and one of those maple coloured eyebrows raised itself slightly amidst his cheerful, elfin features which constantly conveyed a constant sense of happiness and intelligent glee about them. "I wasn't driving, my best friend, Kendell was. We'd been at a birthday party and she always was good at hiding at how much she'd drank…" I trailed off before regaining the ability to talk again. "Basically, she tried to skip a red light, a truck hit her car, and during the chaos I broke my wrist, as well as my leg. But as you can tell, the leg's healed, with the wrist not far behind it. Good job, I'm left handed eh?" That comment made him laugh and he leaned back against the counter which stood, obviously unmoving behind him, an elfin grin shining out from his cleverly composed face. The rest of the diner were ignoring us, and I guess I liked it that way, because I'd rather be the bland furniture piece than the shiny toy everyone wants to manhandle and fuck around with for their own boredom and lack of things to do. "So that's a shortened version of how I broke my wrist. It was actually what made my dad move me out here to live with my gran."

"I'm guessing he isn't a big fan of your best friend, right?" He raised his eyebrow all over again and grinned, knowing he'd read me write.

"He's never been a fan of my friends, but I guess I agree. They were all a little too wild for a boring, rule-obeying girl like myself. I've always got good grades, handed in my projects on time, and haven't had one detention in all my schooling years. Kendell had at least three a week. We were very much divided in more ways than just appearance. Dad wanted me to make better, less wild friends and live somewhere that Kendell's somewhat troublesome attitude couldn't affect me I guess. So he chose his very own hometown."

"Fair explanation," Jamie nodded, "And I guess I can even understand your dad's reasons." I nodded at that. "Besides, I'd much rather be friends with a law-abiding, homework doing, detention-never-receiving type like you than your Kendell best friend forever. I get to look like a total badass!" I smiled myself at that remark. "But more importantly, you won't do stupid things that will make my neurotic mom worry anymore." The look on my face made him enter yet another detour away from the main subject. "My mom was born with a high chance of depression, because both her mom, her granddad and ever her great-grandmother all had it, as well as two of her siblings, meaning she was high in the stakes of getting it. She had postpartum depression after having me, and it would've gone away in about six years but…When I was six my dad died in a car crash and she immediately spiralled back down again, and hasn't been the same since." His facial expression was slightly sad and wistful for the stories telling time, but it immediately returned to his smiling mask a couple of seconds after finishing, although his eyes were faded slightly, having lost their sparkle. "She wrapped herself up in blankets, sitting in bed all day, whilst I wrapped myself up with horror films. Originally the classics-Dracula, The Wolf Man, Frankenstein, but eventually I got into the more conventional stuff like Halloween, Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street. You into horror?" He asked optimistically, grinning with hope, and I had to disappoint him.

"Not really…" I shook my head. "Dad didn't ever let me watch it and when I did see it in secret at friends sleepovers or whatever, the blood made me feel really sick, even though it was fake. And then I'd always get massive nightmares and have to fake needing the loo at night whenever they woke me up so I wouldn't get teased." I shrugged. "I don't have a problem with others liking them," I interrupted myself, stuttering quickly. "But they're really not my thing…"

"No problem!" Jamie grinned like an extremely happy bunny and patted the top of my head, making me stare up at him, something I found a little strange. He was 5'9", two inches taller than my 5'7", and having the sensation of someone patting my head was a little strange for me, being taller than most of my female friends, and male ones too. "Besides, I'd be happy to show you around school tomorrow," he offered hopefully and I figured he was someone mainly bullied, which he confirmed. "Seeing as half the kids here think liking horror makes you a Satanist, I figured I might need a friend in some form and…Well, to be honest, I was kind of excited when I heard you were emigrating her. I figured I'd finally meet someone who didn't judge me for living in less than ideal circumstances-courteously of mom being too sick to work, liking horror-equalling devil worshipper, and of course-being gay."

"You're gay?" I asked him, slightly surprised of this. He hadn't given off any signs regarding sexuality, and part of me had actually believed him to be asexual for the past twenty minutes of our conversation. "Sorry…I didn't guess…"

"Most people don't guess," he laughed and jumped up slightly so he was sitting on the countertop, hair flopping slightly in front of his eyes so he had to shake his head. "But I am. And it means I'm every parent here's worst nightmare-one of those homosexuals," he whispered the last word like it was incredibly taboo before bursting into laughter. "I'm not kidding, people are actually like that, but, my sexuality isn't what you wanted to know!" He tapped the side of his nose knowingly, the sparkle returning to his eyes quicker than a stream of light hitting a windowpane. "We're here to discuss the always illusive, yet incredibly gorgeous, not to mention gifted sportsman, Rob Alkins." He gestured to the barstool next to him and I sat down on it after thanking him. "Well, to be honest, I think…" But something stopped him, and that something was the sound of the door's automatic jingling noise triggered whenever it was opened. A series of chimes and bells had been woven into one of the loose nails, alerting you whenever it was opened and I turned round in my seat.

Everything about me seemed to just freeze; my blood stopped being pumped round my body via the heart, my lungs quit producing oxygen, and my brain just melted itself down. This had to be Robert Alkins. And he was a lot more attractive than I'd originally imagined him to turn out to be; I'd always figured witches children would look somewhat odd, but he was actually one of the normalest boys I'd seen in quite some while-if you didn't count his superior attractiveness or the strange cloud of malevolence which seemed to seep into the building the second he walked in. all the staff members, and locals, looked up, before all quickly turning their heads away; with the only exceptions being myself and Jamie. Several tourists stared, especially the young female ones, but they looked away after sensing the almost creepy aura which lingered around him. I'd never met someone so young who seemed so frightening or dangerous and never figured I would've, till then.

His skin was chalky, even paler than my own and surprisingly Jamie's, seemingly practically sheet white against all the darkness of his other features. White as paper or swans or…Onion skin I figured at the time. His face was strong and almost sculpted, as if someone had been incredibly careful whilst creating him-maybe God, if he did exist, decided some of us should be attractively gifted much more than other more unfortunate people. It was all angular and sharp, as if nothing about him could be soft or delicate; the slight point at the end of his long, sleek nose, the almond shape of his eyes, his strong, pointed, jawline, the slight point at the end of his chin like that of his nose, and the prominently angular shape of his cheekbones. His lips were thin, curved into a slightly unimpressed sneer, something which diminished his attractiveness slightly, although it seemed as if only I could see that because when I looked back at Jamie, his eyes had clouded over dreamily. His hair was such a deep shade of brown I thought it was black until the light bounced off it and the chocolate colouring shone vibrantly through, and cut neatly, with a fringe and being shorter at the back, matching the creamy brown of his eyes, which were like chocolates. His entire darkly coloured getup made him look incredibly chalkier than normal, with the only exception being his burning crimson shirt which had sloppily cut sleeves. The darkness of his black jeans, black converses and black leather, fingerless gloves was blinding against his pale skin and I swallowed thickly.

"Beautiful, right?" Jamie whispered in my ear and again I jumped at how close he'd suddenly got, although this time it was incredibly embarrassing because I managed to fall off my stool and land on the floor with an echoing thud; people automatically stared and I felt all my blood swill inside my cheeks, turning them a mottled red to match my ears, but I couldn't take my eyes off him. He was sniffing the air, his nostrils flared, but the ever embarrassing consequences of my clumsy nature made him turn to face me and his eyes widened, dilating slightly. He looked at me, his face a mixture of amazement and horror, before slowly backing away towards the door and exciting smoothly, jumping onto his… White 66 Harley Davidson. I froze on the inside.

"What was that?" Jamie giggled, staring down at me from my oh-so not embarrassing position of sitting on the floor, my eyes fixed on the door. "Why did he look at you like that?" He held out his hand and helped my haul myself off the floor. "Don't you want to know my theory about him?" He asked hurriedly and I nodded, although my mind was elsewhere. I'd just possibly angered the son of Prescott County's witch and tomorrow I had the task of facing him at school. Real smooth move there genius!