I do not own anything.

The next morning, Bella sat at a station in the chemistry lab, across the table from Alice and next to Rosalie. The students were wearing neat white lab coats and busily setting up equipment as the chemistry teacher wrote equations on the blackboard.

Rosalie gave Bella a fake smile. Ever so casually, she said, "So, is seemed like you knew Edward Masen."

Bella glanced up briefly, but she was distracted by the teacher, who was solving the equation on the board. "Not really…I just asked him for directions," she said, even as she started checking the teacher's work on her scratch pad.

Rosalie raised the wattage of her smile just a bit. "Edward usually doesn't…interact…with new students."

"Why not?" Bella asked, not really listening. She looked at her equation. Hmmm. Her calculation was quite different from the teacher's. Should she say something? Maybe not. People didn't like it when you pointed out their mistakes…

"It's pretty much basketball 24/7 with him," Rosalie said with a little laugh.

Now Bella wasn't listening to Rosalie at all. She rechecked her own calculation and murmured, "Pi to the eleventh power."

She thought she had said it quietly, but apparently not quietly enough.

The chemistry teacher turned around. "Yes, Miss Swan?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Bella said, flustered. "I was just-"

Before she could finish her sentence, the teacher was standing by her chair, looking down at her notebook.

"Pi to the eleventh power?" the teacher said in surprise. "That's quite impossible." Then she whipped out a calculator and started punching in numbers. Across the table, Alice had her calculator out as well, and was watching the teacher, keystroke for keystroke.

There was a brief, stunned pause. Then the teacher said, "I stand corrected." She turned back to the blackboard to revise her work. Then she looked over her shoulder, smiled warmly at Bella, and added, "And welcome aboard."

Bella blushed as Alice stared at her, impressed.

Edward was strolling through the lobby on the way to his next class, when he caught sight of the musical audition sign-up sheet. His steps slowed. It was crazy, he knew it was crazy, but he couldn't seem to stop thinking about the musical. He stood still, almost hypnotized by the piece of paper. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice Rosalie's brother, Barrett, who was hanging out nearby with a couple of the Drama Club kids.

Barrett's eyes narrowed suspiciously. When Edward finally moved on, Barrett ran up to the sheet, just to make sure…

At that moment, Rosalie arrived. Barrett rushed up to her, breathless. "Edward Masen was looking at our audition list!" he reported.

Rosalie stiffened, all senses suddenly alert. "Again? He was hanging around with that new girl, and they were both looking at the list." She paused a moment to think. "There's something freaky about her," Rosalie decided. "Where did she say she was from?"

Minutes later, Rosalie and Barrett were in the school library, doing an Internet search on Bella. A number of newspaper articles immediately popped up on the screen.

"Whiz Kid Leads School to Scholastic Championship," read one headline.

"Sun High Marvel Aces Statewide Chemistry Competition," another headline said.

A photo of Bella showed her beaming into the camera and holding a number of awards.

As Rosalie printed out the article, Barrett said, "Whoa…an Einstein-ette. So why is she interested in our musical?"

"I'm not sure that she is," Rosalie said. "And we needn't concern ourselves with amateurs." She neatly folded the printouts and stood up. "But there's no harm in making certain that Bella is welcomed into school activities that are…appropriate…for her. After all, she loves pi."

And Barrett, who was always at least one step behind Rosalie, saw his sister's smile and knew that she had a plan.

Later that day, everyone who had been given detention had to serve their time.

Ms. Barfield, of course, held her detention on the stage of the school's theater. The detainees' punishment was painting scenery, mopping the stage, and binding scripts.

Rosalie satisfied her requirements by telling Barrett how to paint a prop – and watching as he did it. Jasper was trying to assemble a piece of scenery, but he was hopeless. All his agility and finesse on the basketball court translated to total clumsiness when he picked up a hammer. Edward and Bella were working on opposite sides of the stage, exchanging shy glances and trying to muster the courage to actually speak to each other.

Before either one of them could seize the moment, however, Alice entered the auditorium and made a beeline for Bella. Alice looked as if she had just won the lottery – and, considering that she was the Scholastic Club president, maybe she had.

She came to a halt in front of Bella and said, beaming, "The answer is yes!"

"Huh?" Bella was lost.

"Our Scholastic Decathlon team has its first competition next week, and there's certainly a chair open for you," Alice said excitedly. She reached into her purse and pulled out a sheaf of newspaper articles about Bella's academic achievements.

Bella was stunned. "Where did those come from?"

"Didn't you slip them in my locker?" Now Alice was confused.

"Of course not." Bella was more than confused, she was upset. She had wanted to pass for average, well, as close to average as she could. Now that plan was destroyed.

Rosalie stood to one side, pretending not to listen even as she listened as hard as she could.

Alice quickly regrouped. "Well, we'd love to have you on the team. We meet almost every day after school." Then she had a quick flash of how much better their team would be if Bella joined, and added, "Please?"

"I need to catch up on the curriculum here before I think about joining any clubs…" Bella started hesitantly.

Rosalie whipped around. If there was any time to join this conversation, she thought, it was now. "But what a perfect way to get caught up, meeting with the smartest kids in the school. What a generous offer, Alice!"

Bella looked from one girl to the other, feeling trapped. She was saved by Ms. Barfield, who walked onto the stage from the wings and said, "So many new faces in here today." She stared at them meaningfully. "I hope it doesn't become a habit, though the Drama Club can always use an extra hand. Now, as we work, let's probe the mounting evils of cell phones. My first thought on the subject is-"

Jasper could recognize the beginning of a boring, long-winded lecture when he heard one. He quickly tried to hide inside a fake tree. No luck. He could still hear Ms. Barfield, droning on…

As Ms. Barfield listed all the problems with cell phones, the basketball team was taking the court for after-school practice. Coach Masen entered and blew his whistle for practice to start.

"Okay, let's get rolling. Two weeks to the big-"

Then he paused and looked around. Something was wrong, he though. Something was missing. Someone was missing…

"Where are Edward and Jasper?"

"Perhaps the most heinous example of cell phone abuse is ringing in the theater," Ms. Barfield was saying. "What temerity! For the theater is a temple of art, a precious cornucopia of creative energy…"

Only Barrett and Rosalie were still listening. They nodded soberly in agreement.

Jasper was now asleep inside the fake tree. He was even snoring.

Just as everyone thought they might faint from boredom, Coach Masen ran into the auditorium, the light of battle shining in his eyes.

"Where's my team, Barfield?!" he yelled. "And what they hell are they doing here!?"

Ms. Barfield pulled herself to her full height and said icily, "It's called crime and punishment…Coach Masen." She swept her arm toward the stage and added, "And proximity to the arts is cleansing for the soul."

Unfortunately, Jasper chose that moment to suddenly wake up and fall out of his fake tree.

Coach Masen held his temper and said to Ms. Barfield, as quietly as he could, "May we have a word?" He pointed to Edward and Jasper and snapped, "You two, into the gym. Right now."

Edward and Jasper jumped up, overjoyed at their sudden release from prison. As they dashed for the door, Edward reached into the bucket and grabbed his cell phone.

And then they were gone. Bella had watched them the whole way.

Principal Green sat behind his desk, looking with resignation at the school's basketball coach and drama teacher. The coach was angry. The drama teacher was defiant. And Principal Green was starting to get that familiar feeling of heartburn…

"If they have to paint sets for detention, they can do it tonight, not during my practice," the coach said.

Ms. Barfield appealed to the principal's sense of fair play. "If these were theater performers instead of athletes, would you seek special treatment?"

"Barfield, we are days away from the biggest game of the year," Coach Masen said, exasperated.

"And we are in the midst of auditions for our winter musical, as well," the drama teacher shot back. "This school is about more than young men in baggy shorts flinging balls for touchdowns."

"Baskets," the coach said through gritted teeth. "They shoot baskets."

Principal Green sighed wearily. "Listen guys, you've been having this argument since…let me think…" He raised his voice. "…since the day you both started teaching here!" In a more reasonable tone, he added, "We are one school, one student body, one faculty. Can we not agree on that?"

The coach and drama teacher stared at him in disbelief. Clearly, they weren't going to agree on anything. The principal shook his head and picked up a minibasketball from his desk. He tossed it toward the small basketball hoop on his wall and asked, "How's the team looking, anyway? Edward got them whipped into shape?"

Ms. Barfield could only roll her eyes.

Having won his latest skirmish with Ms. Barfield, Coach Masen returned to the gym. He paced in front of his team and reminded them of the sad truth they all knew. "The La Push High Wolves have knocked us out of the playoffs three years running. Now we're one game away from taking that championship right back from them."

He stopped to look directly at each player in turn. "It's time to make our stand. The team is you, and you are the team. And the team doesn't exist unless each and every one of you is fully focused on our goal."

He focused on Edward and Jasper, and adding meaningfully, "Am I clear?"

They nodded, as the whole team erupted into their cheer. "Spartans! Getcha head in the game!"

Coach Masen nodded, satisfied. They were pumped up. They were ready. And they were going to win!

Ms. Barfield's detention was over, and Alice and Bella were finally free. As they walked across the courtyard together, Alice said, "We've never made it out of the first round of the Scholastic Decathlon. You could be our answered prayer."

Bella smiled. She was flattered, but she didn't budge. "I'm going to focus on my studies this semester and help my mom get the new house organized. Maybe next year."

"But-" Alice began.

Bella searched her mind for some way to change the subject, and immediately thought of a topic she was most curious about. "What do you know about Edward Masen?"

"Edward?" Alice raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I wouldn't consider myself an expert on that particular subspecies." Six cheerleaders were approaching them, walking in a pack, as usual. Alice's eyes sparkled with mischief as she added, "However, unless you speak cheerleader, as in-" She put on an enthusiastic, cheerleader voice and said breathlessly, "Isn't Edward Masen just the hottie superbomb?"

On cue, the cheerleaders nodded and squealed enthusiastically.

"See what I mean?" Alice said to Bella.

Bella laughed. "I guess I wouldn't know how to speak cheerleader."

Alice nodded, happy to have made her point. "Which is why we exist in an alternative universe to Eddie-the-basketball-junkie."

Bella nodded. She knew that Alice was right. In every high school, there were the brainiacs, the jocks, the band kids, the cheerleaders, the slackers…And every group was its own clique. No one ever moved from one clique to another. No one.

Still…

"Have you tried to get to know him?" she asked.

Alice just laughed. "Watch how it works in the cafeteria tomorrow when you have lunch with us. Unless you'd rather sit with the cheerleaders and discuss the importance of firm nail beds."

"My nail beds are history," Bella said, smiling as she held up her hands to illustrate her point.

Alice laughed and held up her hands in turn. Her nails looked just as bad as Bella's. "Sister!" she cried, and they slapped hands in brainiac solidarity.

It was almost dark, but Edward was still in his backyard, shooting hoops. His father watched approvingly; his boy had moves, he thought. Good moves. Great moves, in fact.

He had to make sure Edward didn't lose focus. Not now.

"I still don't understand this detention thing," he said.

"It was my mess-up," Edward answered quickly, hoping this wouldn't turn into a big discussion. "Sorry, Dad."

"Barfield will grab any opportunity to bust my chops, and yours, too," his father reminded him.

Edward nodded, but his mind was on other things. After a moment, he asked hesitantly, "Dad, did you ever think about trying something new but were afraid of what your friends might think?"

"You mean working on going left?" his dad asked. "You're doing fine."

Edward sighed but tried again. "I meant – what if you try something really new and it's a disaster and all your friends laugh at you?"

"Then maybe they're not your friends," his father said. "That was my whole point about 'team' today. You guys have to look out for each other. And you're their leader."

"Yeah, but-" Edward was getting frustrated. He was really confused here, what with Bella and the musical and the way he had felt singing with her, and all his dad could think about was the basketball game.

"There are going to be college scouts at our game next week, Edward," his father said, as if Edward needed reminding. "Do you know what a scholarship is worth these days?"

"A lot?" Edward said. He didn't need to ask. He knew that a basketball scholarship could pay for four years of college. It would really help his parents financially. And it would help set him up for the future.

His father nodded. "Focus, Edward."

And Edward nodded in agreement. That's what he had to do. Focus. Concentrate on basketball. Don't think about anything else – not even singing.

Especially not singing.