Chapter summary: Okay, I have a question. Why do people voluntarily put themselves on my list? Here's a hint and a half: you don't want to die agonizingly by my hands? Well, then, leave me and Bella the fuck alone!

Samantha stood in front of me, assuming a casual, co-conspiratorial air.

'So,' she said, as people of this era do, not introducing herself by name, instantly and arrogantly assuming a camaraderie that didn't exist.

I looked at this interloper, communicating with my look that anywhere else in the world was a much safer place for her to at this moment.

She didn't get it, the blockhead. Or what term did they use these days to describe such people?

'So,' Samantha said easily, 'that's your roommate, right? She looks, ahem,' she cleared her throat, 'a little young to be in college. It must be really hard for you — huh? — having to baby sit and everything, right? Does she like cry for her mommy every night or something? "Oh, Rose, Oh, Rose, boo-hoo!"'

Samantha chuckled easily.

'Just kidding,' she said, not meaning these words, just as nobody in the world ever means these words when they say them.

I hated this girl in front of me.

I hated her.

Partly because of the easy way which she assumed so much and so much of it wrongly, but mostly because her sweet, feminine voice was distracting me from the details of what Professor Dietrich was outlining for Bella to do. It sounded like she was slavering over Bella to start her Ph.D. thesis now over which Professor Dietrich herself would guide and preside — oh, the presumption of that woman ... guiding my Bella? — or do a bonus project for additional college credits or something. All the while trying to wheedle out the source of Bella's mastery over the material.

'So, um, ...' Samantha said into my intense listening of the classroom beyond the closed door, 'roomie gotta a bf ...' Here Samantha paused significantly and wiggled her eyebrows, '... or somethin'-somethin'?'

I glared at Samantha, refusing to understand the patois children these days used to obfuscate real communication.

'What?' I asked coldly. If Samantha and I had been outside, standing by the banks of the Connecticut River, my voice would have frozen the river solid.

Predictably this hint went right over Samantha's head, being so wrapped up in her own world. People never listen: they never have and they never will.

Except Bella, and look where that got her? So entirely outside the world of humanity that she was now caught up in this fantastic sur-reality where she's a hair's breath away from death, every day, whether she's aware of it (sometimes she knows) or not.

If you are of Samantha's blissful self-absorbed ignorance, like, and this pains me to admit this, I was when I was alive and human, I'll be plain with you: this is not a good thing.

'Oh, c'mon!' continued the blissfully self-absorbed and unaware human, 'You know! Like, I could like, you know she seems always to be studying in her room or whatever, I could like, give her a break from all those boring books and stuff, let her experience some real life, you know?' Samantha paused significantly, then added: 'Just her and me for some extra-extracurricular activities, you know?'

Now I understood Samantha's intent. I cannot say my understanding brought me any pleasure, or patience for that matter.

I didn't know my tone could get colder, so it didn't. I very calmly and clearly stated for Miss Blockhead of the hennaed hair, 'She's not your type.'

'What?' Samantha looked confused. 'She's breathing, right? And it looks like ... you know, that, well, she may be book-smart and stuff, but, you know, ...' Here Samantha cleared her throat again, 'but she could use some ... education in more areas in her life besides school, you know?'

I actually smiled at this bold girl in front of me. I began to admire her tenacity.

'And you're the one to provide this educational experience for her?' I asked derisively.

''Course! I'm the expert when it comes to experience,' Samantha crowed, then paused and smiled, 'or experiences, as the cases may be!' and the added helpfully: 'Lotsa 'em!'

Samantha bounced a bit on her heels.

I rolled my eyes, there was something uncomfortably likable about the irrepressible youthful zest of this human.

I suppose I'd save her own Rosalie-evisceration for her for a bit later, then.

'I'll pass on your ...' I felt my eyebrows draw together as I thought of an appropriate word for the occasion, 'offer to her.'

'Great!' Samantha enthused, but then stopped short. 'Hey, she's not jailbait, is she? Sixteen'll get you twenty, ya know! I mean if she's even that. Like, what? She's not twelve, is she?'

I sighed.

'So!' There was just no stopping this human. 'I gotta a free period coming up now, and it looks like roomie's gonna be busy for some time in there with Prof. TightAss. So, ya wanna do some study time, ya know? Like, go to the library and ... study? There's some ... books back at the stacks I was interested in looking at.'

The stacks. The infamous library stacks. Oh, the histories recorded back there with amorous couples engaging in their exploits! It was impossible for me to read at all in the library, because all hours, day and night, the silent — for humans — gropings and sighings and sometimes even more than that going on there, and then the frantic scrambling and hiding as the librarian did the patrol back there on the hour every hour.

There seemed to be a tacit agreement between the library staff and the members of the student body that just had to do additional research, 'looking up' obscure references in books disintegrating back in the stacks: we have to do our patrols and we'll do then right on the hour and you don't get caught, getting both you and us in trouble and causing no end of paperwork to file.

They should just put up booths with red neon signage — "Occupied" — and be done with it.

But I just couldn't believe it. Samantha was now propositioning me, right on the heels of her trying to get at my Bella!

I narrowed my eyes at this girl. Maybe her evisceration couldn't wait, after all.

But then I had another thought. I could tell her to piss off, but sometimes being forceful only brought forth a forceful response, and there were only so many bodies I could hide (and I was very good at hiding bodies, after all, I had to help Emmett cover up the evidence of his mistakes) before the hue and cry was raised, and in Dartmouth, a sleepy college town? All it would take would be one for pandemonium to reign supreme, right along with administrative and media attention.

Nothing like a sensational title like 'Panthery Girl Gone Missing!' to sell newspaper.

I reevaluated my strategy and my natural impulse just to blow this girl out of the water. Perhaps a bit of subtlty and not misdirection but redirection would be the better course here with this girl.

'Actually,' I said cautiously, and Samantha brightened right up, 'checking me out' and liking very much what she saw, but my follow-up surprised her, 'I understand that Chris girl was going to the library to study now.'

'So?' Samantha asked, disappointed. 'She's not interested. I already checked.'

Yes, Samantha did, but she mistook Chris' deflection as disinterest, not shock at the up-front proposition from the asker and the extreme shyness of the hearer. Chris was also, I was given to understand, inexperienced.

Vampire hearing is very, very helpful for monitoring intents.

'You may wish to check again,' I said easily, now warming to this game, 'Chris has since heard some stories about this "Samantha the Pantha" and the blushes she blushed as she was told them?'

'Really?' Samantha's interest suddenly reignited.

'Yes, rea-...' I began, but Samantha was already in motion.

'Srygottarun!' Samantha voice seemed to red-shift as she sped away.

'Samantha!' I barked.

'WHAT!' Samantha halted and turned back to me, annoyed. The panther didn't like being stopped in her hunt, it appeared.

I shook my head at her single-mindedness of purpose. 'This would be Chris' first time.'

'Honey,' Samantha called back pompously, 'until they've had me, it's every girl's first time!'

'No, Samantha, this really is Chris' first time, boy or girl.'

That gave Samantha pause.

'Oh!' she said surprised. 'Oh, her real first time! Well, then,' she continued thoughtfully, 'hm, gotta play this one right. Yeah. Warm her up to me. Be cool, yeah, take it easy on her, yeah! Be, like, yeah, kinda sweet and stuff. Yeah, don't rush it, yeah, and ...'

Her voice trailed off as she headed off toward the library.

That ought to keep Samantha off our backs! I thought with a smug, self-satisfied air.

Until I heard panting from a panther charging at me full tilt.

Samantha stopped in front of me, breathing heavily.

'Did she ...' Samantha panted a few times, trying to catch her breath. 'Did she say or mention anything about if she had any experience at all yet, even from herself, since you know so much of everything, there, Miss Captain-of-the-cheerleading-squad?'

I didn't bother to correct Samantha on my non-existent extracurricular activities.

Well, I actually did have extracurricular activities, some by the campus administrative staff would approve of, such as tutoring (a) freshman, and others ... well, others that weren't any of their business at all to approve or not.

'No,' I said simply.

'"No" as in "no she didn't mention," or "no" as in "no she doesn't masturbate"?' Samantha asked for clarification in that very direct way of speaking that's hers.

Samantha is quick when something's of interest to her.

'Samantha ...' I said chidingly. Talking about other's sexual activities? Have the people of this decade no shame?

'Aw, c'mon, tell me!' Samantha pleaded.

I relented, ... a little bit. I was enjoying teasing this easy target a bit, but I also had to get her and her distracting voice away from the source of sounds that really interested me.

'So what do you think the answer is about a girl who blushes so tellingly and says, "um, I think I'll do 'Dare' instead" at the mention of "So when did you start doing it?" in a game of Truth or Dare at her new sorority?'

Samantha's eyes shone. 'You mean,' she gasped, 'she could be a real cherry? Do those even exist in college now? I mean, like, she could be somebody I could, you know, teach, and train, and mold, and cuddle with, and ... wow!'

Samantha headed out, more slowly, planning and scheming how to get this 'certified fresh' girl, as she called Chris, all for her very own to take and to make that girl her very own.

Samantha, 'the panther,' indeed!

The door to the classroom opened with a bang.

Bella came out, as white as me.

'... And I'll expect your answer by the end of our next class, Miss Swan!' came Professor Dietrich's authoritative bark before she turned back to her notes for her upcoming class.

'I think I'm gonna be sick,' Bella gasped out to me quietly and desperately before her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed onto the ground, out cold.

I looked at the sack of potatoes on the hallway floor in front of me that was just a moment ago Bella Swan, the Great Challenger of Professor Dietrich's Self-Satisfaction, and I looked over at Professor Dietrich back in the classroom, totally oblivious, buried in her work, and I was torn: do I shred this woman now?

I sighed, and I added Professor Dietrich to my list — you know: 'The List'? — choosing instead to get Bella out of there before anybody other than me noticed and dialed 911.

I did not need Charlie nor the Cullens moving out here to watch over Bella and her oh-so-frail health.

Chaperones just so cramp my style.

Authoress note:

Okay, I'm ... well, there's been some back and forth with this story, with ffn taking it down and putting it back up at least five times that I could count on Sunday, and I have no idea why this has been happening, because although this story is rated 'M,' there's nothing here (yet) that I think is objectionable enough to warrant it, or me, being banned. So I've sent ffn an email each time this story has been removed by them, and each time I've sent an email, it's been put back up. On top of that, I'm ... well, I'm just not in the mood. Or, more accurately, I'm rather very moody right now, and most of those moods are 'irritated' or 'snippy' (hint: note the third to last word in the chapter proper) ... girls, IYKWIM, and boys, just leave it alone, please. But I've been (trying to be) civil with ffn — honest! — and it appears for the last day the story's been up, so I'm sorry for any inconvenience you've suffered, my dear readers, when you've tried to access a story that's been made unavailable, and I thank you for your patience during this rather confusing roller coaster ride for me and this story.

My little voice: 'Paranoid much, 'phfina?'

Me, to my little voice: 'Oh, please just shut the fuck up!'

Yes, I'm toppy, even to my little voice. And, sigh, yes, I have conversations with the little voice inside my head. Lots of conversations. Problems with that?

I'm sorry. I did say I'm rather on edge. I promise, promise-promise-promise, to be nice and generous with my cookies to my dear reviewers, as I try always to be, okay?

Um ... yeah. So there's that. But I think, well, anyway, for the past day I think the story's been up the whole time, so I think we're back in the clear, but if you are unable to access this story, you can always ask ffn what the deal is, because although I've taken down profile entries that I chicken out of sharing, I've yet to take down a story, and I have no plans to take down this one.

FYI and kisses for all of you, my lovely and beloved readers (which, if you didn't know, applies to all of you and to you — yes, you personally! — reading this a/n).