Disclaimer: If I owned Twilight, they would all be human and there would be a hell of a lot more swearing.

Sorry if I offended any Spanish Beauties, but making bitch-Maria one. She'll be out of here eventually, I promise :) I may even throw in a Rosalie/Maria bitch fight.

And on with the show!

********

Three Days Later

"What the fuck?!"

"Mr Whitlock please refrain from swearing when speaking to me."

I glared at him, rolling my eyes.

"As I was trying to explain before interrupted, your science grades are slipping. We all know that you are capable of performing better than this, so we are moving you up a class in the hope that you will buck up."

As he spoke he slid a piece of paper across the table to me.

"Advanced Chem? Are you kidding me?!"

"I do not joke about science Mr Whitlock."

I snorted, snatched up the new timetable and stalked out the door, tossing it into the trash can as I passed.

"Advanced Chemistry, Mr Whitlock. Everyday last lesson, room 403!" His voice rang after me as I walked away, and I flinched.

Great. Now I have to go.

A hand ran across my shoulder, long nails digging into my neck. "Maria," I smirked.

"Jazzy," she cooed in my ear, "skip class with me?"

I gritted my teeth at the nickname, but tried to ignore it, "Can't babe, sorry. I've been transferred to a new Advanced Chem class and they're expecting me."

She pouted, "fine, I'll just go and drink on the bleachers with the Jocks." She turned away, her hips swaying in her short skirt as she sashayed towards the door.

"Hey," I called after her, and she glanced over her shoulder, "Don't shag any of them."

"Wouldn't dream of it babe," she winked, before disappearing round the corner.

Damn.

I walked into the Science class ten minutes late without knocking, slamming the door loudly behind me and waiting for the teacher to notice I was there.

"So you must be the elusive Mr Whitlock I have heard...so much about."

"That's me."

He nodded thoughtfully, "I know just the partner for you."

No freakin' way.

Her plastic science goggles were making her already huge eyes seem slightly bug-like, her hair was spikier than normal due to the heat of the classroom, a pencil was stuck behind her ear and a pen poking out of her mouth, and she was elbow deep in a very complicated looking experiment.

"Miss Brandon?"

"Mmm?" she said without looking up, her eyes fixed intently on the test tube in front of her.

"This is Mr Whitlock, he will be your partner for the rest of the year, tell him what your doing and help him catch up on all the work he has missed. I know you'll be able to keep him in order for me."

She straightened up, her eyes fixing on me, her mouth dropping open slightly, "You've got to be kidding me Sir."

"Sorry to disappoint Miss Brandon," he nodded, and walked to the other side of the classroom.

"Fucking great," she snapped, throwing another pair of glasses my way, "Just what I need. Another idiotic jackass coming to look over my shoulder and do no work while I slave away trying to not fail, and then expect me to help then at the end of the year when it comes to the exams."

The heat in the classroom was making my head spin, and her slight form was getting blurrier by the second. I threw myself into the chair next to her and pressed my fingertips against my temples.

"Look, Brandon. I don't want to be here anymore than you want me to, Ok? If I promise to not talk unless you expressly give me permission, can you just help me pass this class?"

She appraised me for a moment, "Fine. No talking. And you have to do everything I tell you, but don't do anything on your own."

"Gladly."

She rolled her eyes.

One day they are gonna roll right out of the pretty head of hers, I hope she knows that.

- Brandon? Pretty? Really?

Hey, I'm your subconscious.

"Whitlock!"

"Huh?"

"Please don't drift off when I'm trying to help you pass."

"Right. Sorry. What do you want me to do?"

She sighed, exasperated, "Well we need to test the rate of reactions when different reactants are mixed with different –"

I cut her off with a wave of my hand, "Enough with the science lingo there, Little Miss Chemistry. Tell me something I actually understand."

"Fine. Add a small amount of this white powder to that liquid."

Seems simple enough. Although she didn't tell me how much to add. Whatever, won't really make a difference.

I rolled my eyes, apparently it was catching, and tipped the glass beaker of powder over the test tube, watching Brandon set up the bunsen burner. I swallowed hard, my stomach churning slightly as she reached over to turn the gas on.

The hiss of gas was loud even in the noisy classroom, and I flinched instinctively. My hand trembled over the test tube and I glanced down.

Shit.

I don't think I was supposed to add all of the white stuff.

"...Brandon?"

"Little busy here Whitlock."

"Yeah I can see that," I stuttered, taking a few wary steps back from the sudden flare of the blue flame, "I just..."

"Fuck!"

Apparently she'd caught sight of the empty jar, and the heap of white powder soaking into the clear liquid.

My eyes flickered back to the flame of the burner, dancing by her elbow. A few inches and those sleeves of hers would –

Something cannonballed into me hard, catching me off guard and throwing me backwards. My shoe caught on the leg of the chair and my legs buckled beneath me.

I landed heavily on the floor, my head smacking the cool tiles hard.

Stars danced before my vision, my head throbbed and I became vaguely aware of a soft, warm object pressing against my chest.

I blinked down, trying to clear my vision, and my eyes met a huge pair of violet ones, peering from underneath black bangs, "Brandon, wha –"

A loud shattering sound cut me off, and my eyes squeezed shut instinctively as glass rained down on the two of us, my arms wrapping tightly around the girl on top of me.

It was silent for a fraction of a second, all I heard was Alice's shallow breathing and the frantic pounding of my own heart thundering in my ears. There was just me and her – not moving, not thinking, not talking.

My mind registered one tiny, insignificant fact in those moments.

Alice Brandon smells nice.

Then the world erupted around us.

"Mr Whitlock?! Miss Brandon, are you Ok?!"

There was shouting and screaming, panic everywhere making my ears hurt and my head spin. Alice was gone from my arms and I was pulled to my feet.

"What...what happened?"

That was my voice, but it sounded disjointed. Separate from my mind – I wasn't even aware that I had spoken.

"There must have been a mistake in your experiment – the solution overflowed and caught fire. You're lucky Miss Brandon has fast reflexes and pulled you both to the floor, otherwise you would have ended up with a face full of hot glass and some very nasty burns."

Sure.

********

"I can't believe I have to stay behind for an hour with you."

"Believe me Whitlock, I'm enjoying it a hell of a lot less than you are."

"Somehow I doubt it. Who's fault is it again?"

"Yours! You're the one who added ALL of the powder! I told you not to add too much!"

She did? When was this?

"Whitlock," she sighed, "You want to pass this class, right?"

I nodded grudgingly.

"Well to do that you're going to have to start fucking listening to me!"

"Fine!" I half shouted, throwing down my pen in exasperation, "Now please show me how the fuck I even start this experiment, so I don't fail this assignment too."

"Alright," her pointy nose wrinkled slightly, "And next time could you please wash before sitting next to me, you smell like a prostitute."

I sniffed my shirt collar; it smelt like... "Maria."

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the bubbling test tubes, "Like I said. Prostitute."

I snorted, "Hey," I said with false indignation, "Don't talk about her like that."

"Why do you care?"

"She's my..."

But I broke off. What was Maria?

I'd never been one to feel the need to label a relationship before, but hell we were definitely something.

"Friend," I finished lamely.

It was her turn to snort, "Yeah. Right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, you're Jasper Whitlock. You don't have friends. You have cronies, you have followers and you have girls who throw themselves at you. But you don't have friends."

I knew you were a bitch, but ouch. That stung.

"I have friends," I muttered. "Aro. Marcus. Felix."

"Follower. Wannabe. Bodyguard. When's the last time any of them were at your house, and you were doing something other than drinking and picking up girls?"

"They don't come to my house," I said stiffly, averting my eyes from her and barely paying attention as I wrote the date.

"And why not?"

"Personal reasons!" I hissed, pressing my pen hard onto the page.

"Do they know these personal reasons? Or do they just ring you up when they want you?"

I stood up abruptly, my chair falling to the ground with a bang, "If you know so much about friendship Alice Brandon, then why the fuck do you spend every minute with a different person? Why do you feel the need to have a platonic friendship with everybody, never settling? What are you running from?"

"I'm not running from anything."

Her voice was weak, lacking conviction, and I knew I had her.

"Of course not."

"Speaking of running from things, how's your father doing?"

I saw red.

Before she had time to blink let alone wipe the smug grin off her face, I had pinned her against the wall behind her by her thin arms. My face was inches from hers, my eyes narrowed in anger and hers widened in fear.

My breathing was laboured, coming in short bursts.

"Don't. Talk. About. My. Father. Again. Got it?"

Her face had paled even further, and she swallowed.

"Answer me!" I snarled, my nails digging into her arms as I pressed her harder against the wall.

"I won't. I promise."

It was barely more than a whisper, but it echoed loudly in my ears.

"Answer me Lizzie! What do you think you're doing, disrespecting me in my own household?! Have I taught you nothing over the past few years?!

"I'm sorry!" Her voice was a strangled cry, "I didn't mean anything by it!"

"Well you won't make that mistake again will you?!"

"I won't! I promise!"

"Jasper?"

I was backed against the wall on the otherside of the classroom. My eyes closed, my breath coming in short gasps.

No. No no no no NO! I can't be like him! Not this much!

I told you Jasper, I always said so. You are your father's son through and through.

"I'm not." I whispered, "I'm not, I'm not."

"You're not what?"

I opened my eyes, barely able to discern her face through the blurry veil of tears.

"I'm not my father."

Her expression was twisted – sadness and sorrow. Concern and worry.

"I know. I'm...I'm sorry I mentioned him. I really am."

I nodded, my head falling back onto the cold stone of the wall again.

"I really don't even know anything. I just knew that you moved from Texas a few years ago because of...something to do with him. I'm sorry."

"It's a small town – people talk," I muttered, "It's not your fault."

There was a pause, and I opened my eyes again to see her fiddling with the hem of her shirt awkwardly, her eyes darting around the classroom, looking anywhere but at me.

"I...um. You can go? If you want..."

It came out more like a question.

"I can finish up here, I know the practical and I can give you the results tomorrow?"

I knew it was her way of trying to say sorry, without prying and I was thankful.

"Sure," I nodded, grabbing my bag and she smiled tentatively as I turned away and headed for the door.

"Oh and Brandon?" I turned back to face her as I reached the door.

"Yeah?" She glanced up.

"Thank you."

"It's alright Whitlock."