AN: HI! So this is Chapter two, I really hope you enjoyed Chapter one. Anyways, get ready to meet Rose and some other people and most importantly, get ready to see things the Christian Ozera way :D

Chapter 2.

All Characters belong to Richelle Mead; I own nothing except my imagination

As I lay on my bed staring at the white plaster ceiling, I couldn't help but contemplate the most interesting Slavic Art class I'd had in ages. Of course the art wasn't the thing that had intrigued my mind. No, what had truly peaked my interest had been the blond creature sitting next to me. For some reason I couldn't erase Vasilisa Dragomir from my mind. Perhaps I was just a slave of my curiosity as every other student here, but as hard as I tried I couldn't erase the image of jade green eyes studying me. This was insufferable. I wasn't used to thinking of other people, never mind girls. I had long ago accepted the fact that I was an Ozera, to be clearer I was Christian Ozera, the weird kid whose parents had turned Strigoi. The taint of the dark act my parents committed still lingered around my name and people tended to avoid me at all costs. So let's just put it this way, I didn't exactly have people lining up to be my lab partner. Still the Dragomir princess had talked to me, which was surprising considering that she was a major royal. Like, she was the royal of all royals, if we didn't count the queen herself. She was the single heir to her bloodline and thus very well known. I wasn't exactly sure what she was doing talking to me let alone apologizing to me. Then again I wasn't sure about her at all. To be fair, everything I knew about her was just hear say. I'd never actually talked to her face to face before, so maybe she wasn't a total bitch. I mean, I sure knew things people said about me didn't have the faintest truth in them so maybe the things people said about her weren't true. Well, there was only one way to find out. She did say we would talk later, right?

Oh God, I needed to stop thinking about this. This was ridiculous. I felt like I was stuck in some bad teen movie. I was the depressed emo kid desperately trying to get the Queen Bee to notice me. How…sad. This was the exact thing that every cell in my body generally went against. I generally tried so hard to go against socializing with people, that even thinking about the prospect of having to try and make an effort made me sigh audibly.

I pushed my, oh so charming thoughts out of my head and grabbed my copy of The Catcher in the Rye from my bedside table and opened the book. Reading was my way of escaping the grim reality, although it was hardly fair to say that anything about Vasilisa Dragomir was grim. The book was so worn out that I had no trouble finding the spot I had reached the last time I read it. It was an odd thing; I'd never actually finished the book. I'd read the beginning and the middle numerous times, as lame as it was I could probably recite the entire book by memory, but I always stopped reading as the last twenty pages neared. Call me ridiculous, but something about endings seemed so daunting to me. Perhaps I just wasn't ready to face the end of Holden Caulfield.

The next morning, or night, I woke up to my alarm clock making an ungodly sound. I slapped the blasted thing and it piped down. I opened my eyes reluctantly and blinked a couple times. I switched the lights on and adjusted my eyes to the sudden brightness. I slowly stretched my limbs and crawled out of bed. Somewhat robotically I moved to my washroom and took a look in the mirror.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. I traced my index finger along my pale cheek. I had apparently fallen asleep on my book and now I had a red mark on my face to show for it. It actually happened to me often enough to make me wish I owned some make-up powder. There, I said it.

I ran a hand through my dark hair and decided I should probably take a shower, both to wake me up and to make me seem half presentable.

I stepped under the hot water and closed my eyes. I knew I had about half an hour to go before breakfast started and I was expected to show up. Even though I wasn't exactly hot stuff among the royals, I had some friends among the not so stuck up Moroi. I just stood under the water for a while; letting the hot liquid relax all my muscles and bring me to peace with the fact that I had to leave soon. Eventually I washed up and turned the water off. Stepping out of the shower onto the cold paneled floor should be illegal. It was one of the most unholy sensations I could think of. After wrapping a towel around me I quickly scurried to my room and picked out some clothes. I opted for a plain black dress shirt and some jeans, call it typical me, I call it decent.

By the time I walked into the cafeteria it was mostly full. There was a considerable amount of excitement in the air. I could hear some of the Dhampirs talking about something excitedly making exaggerated gestures with their hands and then dissolving into silent laughter. I just kept walking until I reached my table. My friends, god that sounded weird, but yes my friends were already occupying the seats along the table.

"Good morning," Sarah, a Moroi with honey colored hair and elfin stature said. "You look terrible," She decided to add and shot me an over sweet smile.

"You look like shit too," I said and sat down opposite of her. She playfully kicked my shin and grinned at me.

Mark, the ridiculously friendly and curly haired friend of ours decided to join the conversation and put down his physics book. "I heard you went to Slavic Art yesterday." He raised his chin and gave me a curious look. "Were you in a masochistic mood?"

"I must have been. Mrs. Reed gave me an assignment to do. If I don't do it I won't pass the class."

Sarah pushed a plate full of fresh fruit towards me and I gladly took it. The thing about getting up late was that you'd have to wait in line for breakfast. Luckily Sarah was a creature of unnatural habits; she got up way too early in my opinion and always got Mark and me breakfast. Most people would say that she is just kind, but I prefer to think that she is extremely cunning. I mean, imagine if one morning she decided to sleep in and didn't get us breakfast…we'd be completely screwed. It was only fair to say that Mark and I had grown to rely on Sarah; luckily enough she seemed to be glad to be needed.

"So what's the assignment on?" Sarah asked, eating a spoonful of porridge.

Mark gave her a disgusted look. "I can't believe you eat that stuff…It looks like grey mud."

"Hey, it beats your Lucky Charms any day," Sarah snapped and licked her spoon. Mark just rolled her eyes.

"I don't know what it's about yet," I said.

"Huh? What's what about?" Sarah asked me, raising her eyes to meet mine.

"My assignment, you just asked me about it," I said, feeling utterly ignored. I was used to it though, Sarah was very easily distracted. Mostly it was hilarious, but today I could've actually used some advice.

"Oh yeah, but that was before Mark insulted my choice of breakfast," She said with a defensive look on her face.

"Well, yes, God forbid someone call your porridge grey mud." I sighed and impaled a piece of pineapple with my fork.

"You tell him Ozera," Sarah said with a glint of success shining in her hazel eyes.

"So what is your assignment on?" Mark asked, now actually putting his physics book in his backpack.

"As I said, I don't know yet. Mrs. Reed gave me up until tomorrow to come up with an acceptable subject."

"That's not too bad," Sarah said and put her spoon down. "How about you pick some artist and just like do a portfolio or something."

"Yeah, I guess I could," I said and tapped my finger against the table.

"I could help you," she said with a friendly smile plastered across her round face.

"Yeah, about that, I think I already have all the help I need," I said.

This seemed to interest Mark. "Who dares to socialize with Christian Ozera?"

"Well…this is gonna sound weird but…"

"Spit it out!" Sarah demanded, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Vasilisa Dragomir," I said. As soon as the name exited my lips I had two baffled Moroi staring at me.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's creepy," I said. "But she seems to be good at it so I might as well accept the help. God knows I need it."

"Vasilisa?" Sarah asked.

"Dragomir?" Mark continued.

"Yes," I answered.

"But she's…" Sarah began.

"Royal, with a capital R," Mark agreed.

"I'm royal too," I defended.

"Well…yeah, but you're not like the rest of them," Mark said.

"And she definitely is," Sarah said and crinkled her nose. "I mean can you believe her? She ran away from St. Vladimir's with that Dhampir girl. She must be out of her fucking mind."

"Well, I'm giving her the benefit of doubt," I said to quiet them down.

Instead Mark sighed audibly. "I don't mean this in a bad way, but I don't think it matters weather you give her the benefit of doubt, because I know that they won't give you the benefit of doubt. They haven't so far."

"She offered me her help. What do you want me to do? Tell her to fuck off?" I was getting agitated. I knew I shouldn't have brought up the matter with them.

"Well it's better to do it before she gets the chance to do it to you," Sarah stated.

"You're being a bit cynical aren't you?" I asked.

"Says Christian Ozera." Sarah challenged me with her eyes. "You know I'm only looking out for you Ozera, even if she for some reason wasn't a complete asshole, the rest of them still are."

"She speaks the truth," Mark said and the two dissolved into laughter again. I guess it was some sort of inside joke. I munched on my fruit and stared blankly at the bright orange wall, that didn't suit the décor of the school at all, situated at the back of the cafeteria. Well, this was just a wonderfully pleasant morning…not.

I knew I should have gotten something else to eat besides the food, but I had been in such a hurry to get rid of Sarah and Mark and their 'Let's not give anyone the benefit of doubt' way of life. Why couldn't they see that I was actually trying to be polite and considerate?

I was seated in my math class. I rather liked math. It was simple and there was a formula for everything. I would have rather done two million math exercises than a simple essay on Slavic Art. Luckily the class drifted by fast enough and I was free to make my way to my next class. What a joy.

As I stepped into the English class something strange caught my eye. Mason Ashford, a Dhampir with red hair and an irritatingly cheery outlook to life was sitting in my place. Next to him sat another Dhampir, a girl I faintly seemed to remember. I squinted my eyes and frowned. I walked right up to them at the back of the class and put on my politest smile. "Excuse me, but I think you're sitting in my seat," I said.

The girl whipped her head around and exposed a slightly amused face framed with long dark wavy hair. "Your seat?" She asked and looked around a bit.

"Yes," I answered simply.

"Well, I don't see your name on it," she said, a wide content smile spreading across her face.

"Ouch, Rose, give the poor guy some slack," Ashford chimed next to her. This only made the Dhampir girl, apparently named Rose, and Mason to laugh out loud.

It was hard to interrupt their laughter. Something about it was rather infectious, still annoying though. "Then perhaps you haven't looked close enough," I said raising my voice.

They stopped laughing. Rose gave me a questioning look, but I just pointed at the left corner of the desk in front of her. She crinkled her dark eyes and moved closer to the edge of the table. "Christian…Ozera," she said, drawing the name out and then looking at me with eyes full of disbelief. "Dude, you actually wrote your name on the table? That is seriously creepy and possessive."

"Luckily I don't care about your opinion, now would you be so kind to move yourself out of my seat. You too Ashford." I didn't bother crossing my arms as an act of defiance.

Unfortunately Rose seemed to be more defiant than I had pegged her to be. "You know writing your name on things doesn't actually make them yours, right?"

"You know you're insufferable, right?" I asked, not bothering to answer her question.

"Mason," Rose sighed with a sweet voice. "This guy just doesn't get it, does he?"

Mason didn't say anything, he just looked me in the eyes and I could see his defiance wavering a bit. He didn't really care about the seat enough to have a full blown argument over it with me. He was a Dhampir and could most likely, scratch that, he would absolutely destroy me in a physical fight, but luckily I had more to me than just charm and good looks. I could manipulate the element of fire. And Mason knew that. I don't think he thought I would actually try to set him on fire or anything, and let's just go with that assumption because it comforts me, but I think he thought I was a bit out of it, you know a whacko. Perhaps that's why he didn't seem so eager to agitate me too much. Also I was not the best judge of personalities, but for some reason I didn't see Mason Ashford as the taunting type, he was straight forward and kind.

"Maybe we should retreat Hathaway," Mason suggested.

"I," Rose gasped, "Well I never would have thought you'd be such a wimp Mase. Can't even handle a snobby Moroi who thinks he owns this desk." She slapped her hand down on the hard surface of the desk to make her point.

"You know nothing about me," I snapped, raising my voice just a bit too much to stay under the radar. People started to look at us shooting curious glances towards the back of the class.

"I know plenty and let me say that I'm not impressed," she said and crossed her arms. "I know you're a certified lunatic, I heard you tried to set someone on fire."

"Well…" Mason started. "I'm gonna change seats so, Rose you can come with me or stay here."
I watched as Mason got up and made his way to the table on the other side of the room. I expected the girl to do the same, but she just sat there with that unnerving smile taking over her features.

"Well, it looks like you and I, Mr. Ozera, are going to enjoy each other's company for the class." She smiled at me, but the smile wasn't completely friendly. It was more of a taunting smirk to be honest. I didn't care though, I had gotten what I'd wanted; a desk at the back of the room. The rest was just unfortunate luck. I sat down and tried to ignore the girl fiercely tapping the leg of the table with her shoes.

Half way through the class I was completely absorbed in the assignment at hand. We had to analyze a news article and turn it into a fictional story. Mine was about some old supermarket in downtown Chicago. I guess it wasn't the most invigorating article, but as I let my imagination free I found myself writing about talking candy bars. Just as I was getting to the best part of the story –the Kit Kats deciding to attack the Hershey's bars- the girl next to me started chewing on her pencil. I tried to ignore it and just continue on the candy bar massacre, but the sound of pencil being gnawed at distracted me from the upcoming sweets revolution at a supermarket in downtown Chicago.

"Could you please stop that," I said, not trying to be polite anymore.

"Stop what?" She asked me, seeming honestly confused.

"Chewing on your pencil like some kind of animal," I answered.

The Dhampir simply crinkled her straight nose and rolled her dark eyes. "Luckily I don't care about your opinion," she said and plastered her trademark smile across her full lips.

"Creative, using my own words against me," I said trying out a smile of my own, since arguing with her didn't seem to get me anywhere.

"Well, I do pride myself on coming up with good comebacks," she said and put the pencil down.

"It's not really your comeback if you've just copied it from someone else," I remarked.

"Well next time I use it I'll be sure to use quotation marks," she said and picked up her pencil again. My eyes shifted to her empty sheet of paper. She caught me looking and rolled her eyes again. I was beginning to think that maybe it was a defensive habit of hers.

"Almost an hour up and I've got nothing," she said, the sarcasm and the edge to her voice that I'd come to expect from her were gone for a moment. "I'm not really good at this writing thing. I mean, what am I supposed to write about a supermarket in Chicago?"

"You got the same article as me?" I asked.

"If yours is about a supermarket called Maximart in Chicago owned by a Chinese dude then yes, it's the same article." She dropped her pencil again. I don't know if it was a Dhampir thing or something, but she didn't seem able to stay still for very long.

"What did you write about?" she asked me, leaning in to look at my paper. I instantly turned rigid. I wasn't used to closeness. She was apparently not aware of the concept of private space. She was now completely leaning to my side of the table, taking up most of the space. She held my story in her calloused, but yet manicured fingers and seemed completely drowned in the words. I watched her face; she had a very expression full face. Her eyebrows creased when she couldn't decipher my handwriting and the corners of her lips turned upwards as a Kit-Kat severed a Hershey's bar with a plastic fork.

"This is pretty good," She said as she finished reading it. She placed the paper back on the desk and leaned back on her chair. "If you want my opinion, I'd say that the Kit-Kats are bound to win."

"Why the Kit-Kats?" I asked, curious to find out what her logic was or if there actually was logic to her assumption.

"Well, they've got the cookie in the middle to toughen them. They're pretty hard core," she said, letting out a little laugh.

"If you say so," I sighed not really knowing what to feel. This girl was pretty damn defensive, but could relax in the blink of an eye. What was I supposed to think of her?

"I do, believe me. I'm a Dhampir, I know this stuff." She said it with such confidence that I actually believed her even though I didn't even know who she was.

"So your name is Rose?"

"Yeah, Rose Hathaway," she said, "and you're Christian Ozera?"

"The one and only," I said looking at her. She was studying me with her eyes, picked up her pencil and bit it. I tried not to sigh out loud.

"You know, I'm trying to figure you out," She said.

"Well I'm like an open book so it shouldn't be that hard," I said.

"I assume you know about the stuff they say about you," she stated.

I ignored her assumption. "What? That I'm Godly and handsome?"

"That's not exactly what I've been hearing," she said, although I could see her hold back a smile. "Seriously though, is it true?"

"Is what true?" I said, feeling my defensive walls begin to form around me.

"Well, I can tell you're not…Strigoi, but…" She left the sentence hanging in the air. It was like she suddenly realized that what she was asking was absolutely unacceptable. "I'm sorry, you don't have to say anything," she said quietly.

The bell rang and I gathered my things as quickly as I could. "Damn sure I don't," I snapped at her as I walked past her to the corridor.

AN: Sooo...? Tell me what you think? As always, reviews make me as happy as writing about Kit-Kats and Hersheys makes Christian happy...It basically means I'd be really, really, really happy to get a reaview! Also I'd like to thank my amazing Beta- Chipmunkgirl101, because she puts up with my comma addiction and me constantly asking for my chapter. So thank you.

LOVE ALWAYS, ALEXANDRA