NOTE: Chapter 1 has been edited, please read for a better feel of the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Simpsons characters; only Katrina, Audrina, Tomas, and Rodney.

I accept constructive criticism. c:

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'God, they think that just because we're seniors we have to be on the fourth floor.'

Forcing myself to lift my foot once again, I finally reached the designated floor. Despite having a toned body and light backpack, going up three flights of stairs wasn't exactly a walk in the park. Looking over at Milhouse, I could see him slightly sweating and fishing around in his bag for his inhaler.

'Geez, you'd think he would've manned up a bit by now.' Smacking him on his back, I enjoyed small humor as he nearly dropped his inhaler.

"Come on Milhouse! If you can fall off cliffs, survive from allergies and get away from dog attacks, surely you can make it up some stairs!"

My blue- haired friend glared at me as he stopped on the gray steps.

"Well look who's talking, jackhole. I guess that body's only useful for being a chick magnet, huh?" My eyes became wide as dinner plates from his smirk and comment.

'Ooh, you just opened yourself up there, Van Houten.'

I let out my breath and lifted my hand, resting it over my heart. "Why Milhouse, I had no idea you felt that way about me! I guess that whole Lisa thing was a ruse, eh?"

"Er-"

I grabbed his arm playfully. "Oh, this is going to be faaaabulous!" Man, was I good at impressions. "Honey, you must tell me everything and anything! We can go down to the village, buy some scones, ogle the A&F catalogues, and get drunk off of fuzzy navels!"

Milhouse looked disgusted by my little outburst and pushed me away hard. "Come on Bart, don't get fruity on me. You wanna do that? Go to Smithers, that should be fun."

We couldn't hold in our excitement as we burst out into laughter, sounding like a couple of hyenas. Of course people were staring at us, but did we give a damn?

"SIMPSON! VAN HOUTEN!"

Had that person's voice been any louder, we surely would've fallen to our deaths. Both of us jumped and gripped onto the rails for dear life. I didn't even need to look up to know who that raspy voice belonged to.

"What is it, Melbaum? Is your hearing aid too loud?" I drawled. Milhouse grabbed my arm and hissed at me. "Bart!"

The man snorted. "You know Simpson. Of the years you've been here, my life has been a living hell. Now I understand what Seymour was talking about. Poor guy."

Ah, old Skinny boy. I wonder how he's doing nowadays. The last time I saw him was in my last year of elementary school. My well-thought out plan of filling his car with mayo, nearly burning his documents and theft of toy soldiers sent him to the loony bin for good. The guilt from my prank carried on my shoulders back then along with a heavy grounding sentence, courtesy of Homer and Marge. Luckily, Mrs. Krabappel managed to save him. Yes, you remember her right? My old flirt of a teacher? Well, nowadays you can call her Mrs. Edna Skinner. She gave him a visit one day and in what must have been for the sixth time, he quietly proposed to her in a last desperate attempt. To the shock of everyone, she accepted with a straight face. They got married two months after; the time between in which she found out they would be having a kid. Ever since then, they've moved out of Springfield and are living who knows where. To be honest, I kind of miss them. They looked like saints compared to the current teachers.

I came back to the present and looked up at the judgmental face of the self-righteous principal standing above us.

"Well, I would love to stick around Melbum, but we have a class to attend to. Or would you rather be stuck with us for the rest of the day?" I couldn't help but to give him a wide grin. It seemed to work as Melbaum's face turned a lovely shade of beet red and imaginary steam came out of his ears.

Milhouse grabbed my arm again, harder this time. "Bart, have you officially gone off your rocker?! Melbaum's really pissed now!"

Oh please, I've seen worse. The furious man turned to us with a stern look on his face, yet his cheeks were still flushed. "I'm warning you Simpson. It might be your last year here at New Springfield High School, but be forewarned that we've started a new system this year." He straightened up and composed himself. "Surely you gentlemen know about permanent records?" he asked us.

I turned to Milhouse and mirrored his confused look. "Yeah, what about them?" Where is he going with this?

Melbaum folded his arms behind his back, attempting to make himself look more authoritative. "Permanent records carry on throughout your entire school career, from pre-K to college. It takes note of every detention, suspension, and misdemeanor you've committed during class hours." He carried on while walking down the steps toward us, stopping on the step in front of us. "The school board decided that it would be in my- I mean- our best interest to add a penalty to students with a terrible record, i.e. you and Mr. Van Houten here. We can't have a bunch of miscreants taking all the scholarships, now can we?" The chuckle that came out of his mouth along with his arrogant grin riled me up.

I gazed at my watch impatiently. "Just spit it out already, old man." "Ah yes, I'm sure a detailed explanation would be wasted on you two." Asshole. Melbaum knew that my weakness was my short fuse and the wick was running extremely short right now.

A firm hand rested on my shoulder and I looked up to see Milhouse, giving me a stern gaze. The look told me to relax and save it for another day. I let out a deep breath and nodded at him, thankful for his presence. Melbaum cleared his throat and continued his speech. "I will forget the interruption and continue." Oh sure, it's not like we have a class to get to.

"As I was saying, students who have the maximum number of strikes on their record will be put on the 'special watch' list."

Milhouse spoke up quietly, "W-well, what's the maximum number of strikes you can get?"

"About 10-15, depends on the severity of the act. And if you have way more than that, then you get put on the 'extra special' list." I could hear my friend tense and swallow the lump in his throat. I'll admit, I was nervous too, but I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing my unease.

"What are the consequences? They can't be that bad, right?"

RIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGGGG.

The two of us jumped at the late bell, watching as people scrambled to get their asses to homeroom. "Oh gentleman, I'm terribly sorry, but it is class time. You should get a move on. You wouldn't want to start off the school year badly, would you?" Melbaum walked off in his high manner down the hall and called back to us. "Have an excellent first day!"

I looked down at my watch.

Ugh.

Only 7:47 and already I had a bad feeling in my stomach.

~•~•~•~

With Milhouse in tow, we made our way to our homeroom. "Hey Bart." I stopped once again and looked at him. "Yeah?" He fidgeted with his bag strap, covered with crude Sharpie doodles.

"About what Melbaum said…" I rolled my eyes and placed my hand on his shoulder. "C'mon man, forget about what that douche said. Maybe he was trying to bluff us, y'know, scare us a little?" The best I could do was bluff Milhouse, and even myself, in hopes of reassurance.

The blue-haired boy just twisted his strap tighter in his shaking hands. Typical, neurotic Milly. "Let's just get to class, alright?" He finally looked up at me. "O-okay..."

We kept walking down the nearly empty hall until we reached Room 407. I opened the door and expected to hear a shrill voice screech at us for being late. "Well, well, have we got some more familiar students or am I just seeing things?" I looked at the man leaning against the desk, grinning at us with straight, white teeth.

Un-freaking-believable.

"Mr.….Mr. Seppel, is that you?"

The man scratched his shaggy brown hair and chuckled. "Well, if you know anybody else named Jarod Marcus Seppel, I demand to sue them for identity theft!" The entire class laughed in good humor at his joke. Now I couldn't suppress my grin. I must've looked like the Cheshire cat right now. Mr. Seppel straightened up and walked over to shake my hand.

"It's nice to see you again, Bart. You too, Milhouse." Oh right, Milhouse is behind me. He looked as equally shocked, yet ecstatic to see one of our old teachers from middle school. He stuttered, "Oh s-sorry, we're late Mr. Seppel. We were having a...friendly chat with the principal."

He waved his hand at the excuse and smiled. "You don't even need to excuse yourselves. Now, why don't you two take a seat and we can get class started, huh?"

We quickly took our seats in the third row, right next to each other.

Mr. Seppel walked back to his desk and resumed his leaning position. He scanned the classroom with his dark eyes and nodded. "Ah, I remember you kids. Is it just coincidence that I have the same students from seventh grade or was something rigged during the summer?" We all shared a smirk. Everybody expected to have Mrs. Weskits for the entire school year, so we gathered together one hot day in July and had somebody sneak in and hack one of the counselors' computers to change the class arrangement. Nobody wanted that crazy witch to have a moment of peace. But now that we have Mr. Seppel, it seems that all the trouble was worth it.

He saw our looks of mischief and shook his head. "Haven't changed at all, eh?"

Jaffee, a boy with shaved red hair raised his hand. "Hey Mr. Seppel, what have you been doing all this time?"

The brunet sat on the desk and replied to the question. "Well, if I tell you what I've been up to, I'll have to start from the beginning, won't I? Oh and by the way, call me Jarod, none of that formality crap. " Everyone murmured their agreement and readied their ears for a long story.

"I was born in the capital of Canada in Ottawa to Iren and Pamela Seppel. I lived there along with my scamp of a brother, George. My childhood consisted of having to study hard, just to keep my parents happy and graduate with flying colors. High school was a bad time for me, what with peer pressure and drugs surrounding me. It was like every friend I had suddenly started getting high and wanted to see how many girls they could bang in a week. During my senior year, I was so stressed and irritated that I finally turned to marijuana and other illegal substances."

The class and I were generally shocked at the trouble he had when he was our age and how off-handedly he mentioned it. Jarod chuckled and stretched his arms behind him. "Worst mistake of my life. I barely managed to graduate high school and go to college, but my freshman year was horrible. Halfway through the semester, they kicked me out for finding my drugs stuffed away under my mattress. My folks were steaming when the school called them, so I couldn't bear to face them. Instead, I came to America, hoping to make something of my failure."

Sherri timidly raised her hand. "Is that why you showed up in Springfield?"

He nodded. "I guess you could say that. I spent about eight years in various towns, teaching and working odd jobs. Then I heard about a small town named Springfield, but they weren't positive. Still, I came here and managed to get hired."

A squeaky voice burst from the front row. "Hey, wait a minute!" We all averted our gaze to Wendell, sickly and pale as ever. "You never said that you went back to college. Does that mean…?"

Jarod became serious. "Yes, I taught classes without a degree. That's why I couldn't stay in one place for too long. People would've gotten suspicious." He switched to a happier expression. "But don't worry; now I'm a certified school teacher. After I left Springfield, I went to Regent University in Virginia and got my major. Took me a while but it finally happened, all thanks to the lady in my life."

Chelsea waved her hand frantically, causing her blonde curls to bounce wildly. "Who is she?"

Jarod laughed and walked to her desk. "Now, now, last time I checked, this was school, no? So why don't we save the questions for another day?" Chelsea turned red and smiled nervously at him.

"Alright everybody! Grab your World Studies textbook and turn to page 27! Read up to page 50!"

Everyone, including me, groaned, remembering exactly why Mr. Seppel was still a teacher. Once business had to be done, he made sure it was carried out.

I read various ramblings about the Mayan civilization, trying to remember some of it. I needed-no, wanted to graduate from high school if it was the last thing I did. Before I knew it, I reached the end of the section and closed my book. Some people were already done and sat around, twiddling their thumbs, carving messages in to their desks or talking to each other. I leaned back in my seat, folding my arms behind my head. I closed my eyes, feeling ease take me over.

'So far, so good.'

The sound of the door opening brought me back to reality. I thought it was a teacher here to deliver something to Mr. Seppel. Boy was I wrong. A girl, tall and slender, stood in the doorway, tugging at her long raven hair with one hand and holding a crumpled schedule in the other. 'What a fox.'

"Hello miss. Can I help you?" She handed him her schedule quickly.

Mr. Seppel squinted at the crushed paper, trying to make something of it. "Ah yes, you're definitely in the right room. A little late, aren't you?"

Every other student stared at the new girl, examining her automatically. The girl blushed at the attention directed toward her.

"I-I'm sorry. I came from another state last night. I woke up a little too late."

'Whoa. Why does her voice sound familiar?' I'm getting feelings, but they weren't good ones.

"Relax; I'm just joking with you. Go ahead and take a seat there Ms…" He continued to squint at the schedule trying to make sense of the mess. "I'm sorry, I can't read this. You'll have to give me your name." She jumped as the color drained from her face. 'Man, is she jumpy or what?'

"Wh-what?"

"I need your name so I know who you are and to mark you as present."

She took a deep breath and stared straight at him.

"My…my name is...Jessica Lovejoy..."

I dropped my pencil, my mouth open wide.

'Oh dear God. Why the hell is she back?!'

My stomach twisted into knots, an ice ball formed in my throat and my face burned.

"Thank you, you can take your seat now. There's an empty one right behind Adrian." He pointed to the boy in glasses who was sweating profusely. I wondered if he felt the same as I did. Maybe he was afraid of becoming one of her victims. Jessica shuffled to her seat, keeping her gaze to the floor. Every single pair of eyes was on her, scrutinizing, hateful, and curious. I turned back to the front, unable to look at her any longer.

I hated her so much.

Yet…I was also scared of her. She was like a swan. Beautiful to look at, but always vicious and mean, never hesitating to hurt you.

If I wasn't in class right now, I definitely would've gone up to her and given her hell for showing her face around here.

"If you've finished the section, answer questions 1-3 in your notebook." Mr. Seppel's voice cut through everybody's frantic whispers. All I could do was take a deep breath and answer my own three questions.

Why is Jessica here?

Why is she so quiet?

What the hell am I going to do now?

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