Disclaimer: I don't own Hush, Hush! I make no money off of this fanfic. If I did, I would skip school in order to write.

AN: It's been a while since I've updated. I've been short on time considering all the work I get from school and extracurricular things. Better late than never though, right? (I'm actually procrastinating on homework by writing this, but shhh! It's a secret.) Anyway, thanks for all the reviews. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside…but am I supposed to be responding to each individual one? Is that correct etiquette? I really have no idea, so help a girl out?

Try and stop me
Try and save me
I want to fall
Try and crush me
Take me, seize me
I want to fall
I want to fall…

30 Seconds to Mars

"The mind is its own place, and in itself / Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n." - Paradise Lost

Chapter Three: Battle of One

"Of course," Coach said to me, slightly dazed, as I gave him my lab report on the photosynthesis lab. It was a half-assed paper, barely three pages in length. Double-spaced. In my few weeks of school, I had learned that "double-spaced" was a teacher's favorite word, and although I would rather write an essay double-spaced than single-spaced, frankly, I was sick of being in school.

Every passing day only tempted me more and more. I would kill Nora in the middle of class if I could– just to end the torture of school– but, unfortunately, I prefered to remain inconspicuous. Well, that, and once I became human, I'd get thrown in jail before I could blink. I needed to get close to her, close enough to gain her trust, lure her into a dark alley and kill her without anyone knowing.

And thus, I was feeling rather proud of myself for coming up with the perfect plan. We were starting a new section today on "Human Reproduction (Sex)." The ever-so eloquent manner in which the topic was displayed on the chalkboard almost caused me to chuckle. Almost. Above the pink writing were Barbie and Ken, naked, except for a few choice spots covered by leaves.

It reminded me of Adam and Eve, innocent and unaware of the temptation hidden, until it was too late to turn back. Except Adam and Eve were completely naked. But this was public school, and one could only allow so much to occur.

The bell rang and a few stragglers shuffled in, barely glancing at the board. Most of the male population did double takes and rushed to their seats to being what they thought would be a riveting class. But I wasn't paying attention to the naïve boys. I was looking at the even more naïve girl that had just begun to walk to her seat with her friend. Nora and her friend Vee, were talking about the chalkboard, no doubt.

Coach sauntered over to the front of the room, fiddling with the whistle around his neck. When he finally blew into it, the screeching noise made a few people flinch.

"Seats, team!" he yelled out as if this were the basketball court. He head was full of air, which I thought suited him fine. He actually reminded me of a basketball. In fact, his face even had an orange tinge to it. He had his gruff voice at his disposal today.

"It may not have occurred to you kids that sex is more than a fifteen-minute trip to the backseat of a car" he started off. I glanced at my partner, Andrew, or something or other, the boy who had been sitting next to me the past few weeks. He was making fun of coach with his friends sitting behind us. "It's science. And what is science?"

I could have rolled my eyes at Coach. He was all wrong. Photosynthesis was science. Osmosis was science. Fermentation was science. But sex was not science.

It was more of a pastime.

Some kids sitting behind me called out "Boring!" and "The only class I'm failing." I wasn't surprised that no one else was taking this seriously. Scratch that. There was one girl who was. She was probably one of the most serious gingers I have ever met. But then again, I never really met any redheads in semi-serious circumstances. Not in a while at least.

I watched Nora fidget when Coach called on her for an answer. "The study of something?" Her meek voice questioned. In my few weeks sitting behind her in class, I never heard her raise her voice in anger or annoyance. She always held such equanimity, focused on her studies like the innocuous young girl she was.

I saw her miniscule jump as Coach jabbed a finger on the table and demanded "What else?"

"Knowledge gained through experimentation and observation." Ok, now she was just quoting the damn textbook. She really did take college that seriously. No parties, no boyfriends, nothing. Coach still had all of his attention focused on her and judging by the way her cheeks started to grow pink, she had heard the few snickers that were making their way across the room.

"In your own words," Coach demanded like he was expecting her to drop and give him fifty pushups. I took a closer look at Nora's stick thin arms. I doubted she could even do one.

She was fragile. All humans were. Their lives were so evanescent. One false step and they could be gone from earth forever. They were glass. Easy to see through and breakable.

Nora didn't realize that. Considering what I had planned for her, she desperately needed to. But she was still just sitting in a boring biology class, working herself to the max.

I wondered briefly about what she learned in English class. It was completely irrelevant to the topic at hand (i.e. sex, or science, or whatever insignificant topic was being discussed), but it might do that unsuspecting girl some good to get her hands on some cavalier poetry before I got my hands on her. Living by the philosophy of carpe diem would be difficult to do when you're dead.

I looked up in order to study my prey, and I heard Coach repeating Nora's words. "Science is an investigation. Science requires us to transform into spies." He continued, "Good sleuthing takes practice."

For a split-second, my mind wandered to not so long ago England, where tooth hound was rampant. I shook the image out of my head, and focused on Coach. I ignored the lewd remarks that sprung from the back, instead willing him to commence with my plan already.

"Nora, you've been sitting beside Vee since the beginning of the year." Nora nodded her head, but anxiety rolled off her body in waves. "Both of you are on the school eZine together." She nodded again. "I bet you know quite a bit about each other."

I took a deep, unnecessary breath. Leave it to Coach. Give him an idea, and he'll execute it in the longest way possible. I waited while his eyes drilled into each and one of his students- excluding me. None of my teachers noticed me, and I preferred it that way.

He continued with his dramatic spiel, "In fact, I'll bet each of you knows the person sitting beside you well enough. You picked the seats you did for a reason, right?" I glanced at the boy next to me. Aaron, or something along those lines, looked back at me. I would bet a million bucks that he was thinking the same thing as I was: heck no. I was saddled with my partner, and although he's not a complete bore, sitting with him was no walk in the park.

I knew more about the girl sitting at the table in front of me than I knew about the boy next to me, albeit, the information on the girl was gained by pulling a decent Sherlock Holmes. I was a wonderful sleuth. It must have made me a great scientist, I laughed quietly to myself.

I was no boring scientist. My hair wasn't gelled back, nor was I wearing dorky scientific glasses and a lab coat. My scruffy black hair and dark, formfitting clothing evidently made me a poor choice for geeky scientist of the year. My low average in the class wasn't much assistance either. I was more of a mad scientist, but unreasonable better looking. If I was a mad scientist, I would need a master experiment. I became a little preoccupied with the idea, half listening to Coach, half thinking about my newfound identity as a mad scientist. It was a positively inane notion, but it had infested itself in my mind.

I glanced up for a brief moment in the ocean of time, just in time to catch Coach and Vee having an intense match. Coach was smiling– almost smirking, to be precise– at his cleverness. He was asserting his authority again. "I can pull this stuff clear up to the last day of the semester." It was definitely a smirk. "And if you fail my class, you'll be right back here next year, where I'll be pulling this kind of stuff all over again."

If looks could kill, Vee would have murdered Coach thrice. She was shooting fiery white lightning bolts out of her eyes. If she was alive during prehistoric times, that scowl would have been the cause of the dinosaurs' extinction. But Coach just whistled to himself, enjoying wielding power.

And then there was Nora. Just sitting there like always.

It angered me. A perfectly good human life, being wasted on school. On Nora Grey. And here I was pining away for humanity for at least the past who-knows-how-long. Here I was, about to commit murder, gruesome, gruesome murder. It wasn't like I was enjoying it. It was a last ditch option for me. And then she was just wasting a precious life, a life that I was willing to take from her without warning.

My emotions took a sudden turn for the worse, and my mind worked furiously. I vacillated between anger and pity. Did she deserve a warning? Did she deserve some time to actually live? Or would it be best to take her life in misery?

I thought back to my fall. I had no warning of the fate that was reserved for me, the coldhearted intentions planned for me. To say the least, I would have enjoyed knowing or having a miniscule hint.

It was then that I vowed to make this fair– to both Nora and to me. If I was going to take a life, I might as well give her a chance to catch on, and allow myself to have a bit of fun.

I wasn't the fallen angel, trying to gain humanity. Not at all. I was the mad scientist, and Nora would be the experiment. How far could I push her? How far could I push myself?

I broke out of my reverie long enough to hear Coach bellow, "Every partner sitting on the left-hand side of the table– that's your left– move up one seat." That was my cue to move next to the bane of my existence, but I couldn't move. Not even as Coach called "Those in the front row– yes, including you, Vee– move to the back." I caught Nora turn to the back of the room, not only to watch Vee move back, but to watch me move forward. She was the bane of my existence, but she was also my one chance at freedom.

I snapped out of the pathetic state I was in and nonchalantly moved forward. Commence Plan Be-Fair-But-Ruthless.

"Hi. I'm Nora." Her voice wasn't quite as perky as she wanted and her smile was nervous. If she was trying to be welcoming she failed. I turned towards her and smiled back. It wasn't quite as perky as hers. It wasn't perky at all. It was a warning, and from the fearful expression on her face, she was received the message, loud and clear.

Coach smiled proudly at his new seating chart and began the lesson. "Human reproduction can be a sticky subject-" He was interrupted by a gratuitously loud "Ewww" from the majority of the class. Nora was a part of the minority. She was staring straight ahead, seemingly observing Barbie and Ken.

"It requires mature handling." Coach was unaffected by the lack of enthusiasm on his class' part. He must have gone through the same lesson at least five other times today. "And like all science, the best approach is to learn by sleuthing-" Was he encouraging us to do some sleuthing on the subject on your own time? "For the rest of class, practice this technique by finding out as much as you can about your new partner-" Easy A. "Tomorrow, bring a write-up of your discoveries, and believe me, I'm going to check for authenticity. This is biology, not English, so don't even think about fictionalizing your answers." I wouldn't dream of it, not when I knew everything already. "I want to see real interaction and teamwork."

I turned my head ever so slightly towards Nora while finding a blank sheet of paper and a pencil. She was still facing forward, looking at the consistent Barbie and Ken. They hadn't change in the past five minutes, and thus were unlikely to do so. But Nora was waiting for them to do something radical. She was waiting for them to get up and walk out the classroom door. Or she was waiting for me to make the first move.

Her nose wrinkled, she checked the clock, and she remained facing forward.

I smirked to myself and decided to use her pride as an advantage. I began scribbling away rapidly, luring her attention to me.

"What are you writing?" Nora's voice was defensive. She suspected that I was writing horrid lies based on stereotype.

"And she speaks English," I added that to my already large list of Nora-isms. The subject of my list stared at me with narrow eyes. She attempted to read the list, but I hid it from her. In the weeks I've been at Coldwater, Grey had never raised her voice about a slight whining pitch. But she was getting angry.

"What did you write?" Her fire red hair seemed to spark with her angry, much to my amusement. There was a blank piece of paper, as white as snow and lined with sky blue lines, sitting in front of her. On a whim, I grabbed the paper, crushed it into a ball, and threw it. With a clear swish, it flew into trash bin a few feet away. Beside me, annoyance was consuming my partner. I stared at Nora and waited for her reaction, expecting serious exasperation.

She delivered. She huffed slightly, trying to control her feelings, and flipped open her notebook in rage. It made a large smacking sound on the smooth surface of the table. "What is your name?"

I didn't answer her, instead grinning at the entertainment. She wasn't going to get a word out of me. At least not a word that didn't provoke her.

After a few moments of silence, Nora looked at me. She saw my grin, her facing becoming disconcerted, and she asked once more, "Your name?" Her words came out shaky, and I knew she was flustered by me. She was easy to play with.

"Call me Patch." For a moment, she looked victorious at getting information, until I said, "I mean it. Call me." And then I added a wink for emphasis. Her mouth formed a little "o" and she had shake out of her shock.

She gritted her teeth before asking, "What do you do in your leisure time?"

"I don't have free time."

"I'm assuming this assignment is graded, so do me a favor?"

I leaned back in my chair with my hands behind me head. I stretched my legs, not used to having to sit for hours on end. "What kind of favor?" She looked astonished once again, making me assume she had never had contact with a teenage boy. I observed her, noticing a slight red hue gracing her cheeks. She was making this much too easy for me.

"Free time," I repeated, pretending to actually be serious. "I take pictures."

Nora was surprised once again. She probably wasn't expecting me to cooperate. On a level, I was playing along, but I was also playing hot-cold. I was attempting to confuse her, and keep her guessing.

I waited for her to write down "taking pictures" or something before I started up again. "I wasn't finished." She looked up at me, expecting more innuendo. "I've got quite a collection going of an eZine columnist who believes there's truth in eating organic, who writes poetry in secret, and who shudders at the thought of having to choose between Stanford, Yale, and…" I paused for dramatic effect as Nora's face grew as grey as her last name. "What's that big one with the H?"

I was referring to Harvard, and she knew it. The look in her eyes told me all I needed to know. She was mentally scrambling, searching for the reason behind my cache of information.

"But you won't end up going to any of them" I said darkly. She was going to be dead before she could even choose a college.

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she blurted out "I won't?"

For a split-second, I almost panicked. Almost. It would be a bad idea to say 'Of course not. I'm pretty sure colleges for murdered teenage girls haven't been established yet." It would be a fair warning to Nora, but that paled in comparison to being a horrendous idea. I had to think of an excuse and quick.

I opted for the less ghastly option, not letting an awkward silent settle between us. I ended up hooking my fingers on the cold metal bar underneath Nora's seat and pulling her towards me for the figurative kill. The legs of the chair made a squealing noise against the tiles, but the noise didn't bother Nora. She was actually bored, or feigning boredom. I pulled her slightly closer, moving her so close that I could feel the raging ocean of emotions inside of her.

"Even though you'd thrive at all three schools," I started, "you scorn them for being a cliché of achievement." Never mind the fact that Nora was a cliché of achievement herself.. "Passing judgment is your third biggest weakness."

The raging ocean turned into a boiling pit of lava as she asked, "And my second?"

"You don't know how to trust. I take that back. You trust– just all the wrong people." I could hear a little bell go ding for my victory. I was banking on the terrible trust skills to make this gory task of mine easier.

I'm pretty sure Nora heard the bell too, except it made her angry. "And my first?" she demanded.

"You keep life on a short leash," I said in conjunction with my earlier thoughts of cavalier poetry.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her voice held an attitude that I didn't think she was capable of.

I leaned closer to her, leaving a few inches between us and told her quietly, "You're scared of what you can't control." Thus, you're scared of the future, taking chances, me.

Nora seemed to repress a shiver, and I had to repress a smirk. Even though she was generations into Chauncey's lineage, she was just as argumentative as Chauncey was that first stormy night he became mine. She glanced around the room, at anywhere her eyes could land. They lingered on Coach' desk, before she turned back to me, defiance flaming in her eyes.

She wasn't going to go running to Coach to ask for a new seating arrangement. I was impressed by her fortitude. Considering Coach would not change our seats, I found it more compelling to be sitting next to a challenge, rather than a whimpering coward. At least I had some personal entertainment.

Speaking of entertainment, "Do you sleep naked?"

She looked flabbergasted, but replied with a strong, "You're hardly the person I'd tell."

"Ever been to a shrink?" I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her attempts at fighting me.

"No."

"Done anything illegal?" No.

"No." She replied curtly. "Why don't you ask me something normal?" She tried turning the tables on me. "Like…my favorite kind of music?"

I already knew the answer to that. I would constitute as a stalker with the information I knew. I told her straightforward, "I'm not going to ask what I can guess."

"You do not know the type of music I listen to," her voice was waffling again, and I could almost picture a hyperventilating attack swooping down and clutching her any minute.

"Baroque." She frowned. "With you, it's all about order, control. I bet you play…the cello?" The chances of me winning the bet were very good. One hundred percent to be precise.

Yet, Nora insisted on lying to me. Smart girl. Trusting me wasn't high on her priorities list.

I kept barraging her with questions, immersing myself in the fun new game I discovered. "What's that?" I lazily tapped my pen on her wrist, on her birthmark.

She pulled her hand away from me as if the pen had just seared her skin. "A birthmark," she said matter-of-factly.

"Looks like a scar. Are you suicidal, Nora?" I was laughing internally, when she looked back at me. Our eyes locked for one second, and she pulled her chair away the tiniest bit. She didn't seem aware of it, and it was probably just instinctual.

"Parents married or divorced?" She lived with her mom, and Nora confirmed the fact. I was expecting divorced. After all, nowadays, everyone was divorced.

People today thought of "forever" as today and tomorrow, maybe a week from now if they felt as if forever was worth something more. I would kill for the brevity of their forever. I, on the other hand was stuck with the old fashion definition of forever, the one that meant until the end of the universe as we know it.

"Where's dad?" I asked her. I thought of the many different places: New York, London, France, off with his new family, still married but off with his mistress. The possibilities never ended.

"My dad passed away last year." I wasn't expecting that. Pure curiosity lead me to ask how.

I sort of wished I didn't when she flinched. "He was– murdered." Nora looked like she was in pain. "This is kind of personal territory, if you don't mind."

I didn't. Some things, you just didn't tell anybody. Sometimes, keeping the pain inside was better than letting it show. The worst physical pain could do was kill you. But emotional pain was more than a killer. It could rip out your heart, your very soul, and transform the blood in your veins into ice. It could freeze time for eternity, leaving you frozen with it.

I didn't know what to say, so I said the only thing I could say: "That must be hard."

A minute passed by in mutual silence, and mutual awkwardness, and on my part, sympathy. I bolted for the door the moment the blessed bell rung. I heard Nora call after me, but pretended not to know who she was talking to. I had enough of her for now. Predators don't feel sympathy and compassion for their prey.

"Patch! I didn't get anything on you." I froze. I was already outside the door, why turn back? Just to help her maintain her four-point-oh GPA? I thought missing one assignment would be ok. She could suck it up for once. I tried to put my foot forward and away from the classroom, but it wouldn't move. Some powerful, unknown force was coercing me, bending me under its strength. I turned back, putting on my charming mask and marching right back to Nora.

I grabbed her hand, almost dropping it in surprise. It felt unusually ablaze in my hand, but I held on to it as I wrote down my number. There, on her hand were seven digits in red ink, staining her pale hands like incriminating blood. Once I finished, I waited for the inevitable witty retort she was bound to make. Shockingly, it never came.

I didn't doubt that she was searching for something witty, but all her thoughts must have eluded her. She finally said, "I'm busy tonight."

I forced a grin and told her, "So am I." I ended the class on that note and did a redo of my escape sequence. This time I got away– but not before I heard her call after me, "I won't call. Not– ever!"

I sauntered through the bustling hallways of high school, avoiding the inevitable traffic buildups caused by teenagers who just couldn't wait one measly second to babble with their friends. They were talking about boys, girls, fashion, parties, drugs. The mundane subjects of teenage life. There was more to the world than getting so wasted that getting up the next morning was impossible. What I wouldn't give to be young and naïve.

I had English next, but I couldn't go. I wouldn't be able to swallow the classics being shoved down my throat. The Catcher in the Rye wasn't a bad book necessarily, but it was a book that one had to be in a certain mindset to read. Right now, my mind was off in space, not wanting to land back on the ground.

No one minded when I just walked out of the building and onto my bike. No one noticed. The steady thrum of my bike as it started up didn't attract any attention. I left as unnoticed as I drove in that first day of school, my face hidden under my tinted helmet.

The words "Not– ever !" rung in my ears, seemingly louder than the wind whipping around me. I was sure Nora was going to eat those words.

AN: And that was my stab at Chapter One in Hush, Hush. :)