A/N First off I would like to thank Dalonega Noquisi for reviewing so often. You're amazing! Secondly, well, I'm actually surprised that I'm able to finish this and put it online. I think my teachers are easing up on homework. I love reviews, so if you like this story or have some suggestions on how I can improve my writing, reviews would be appreciated. Enjoy!

"So what are you?" I asked when I regained my capability to speak. Jasper simply helped me into his Audi, saying nothing.

"Well at least tell me how you found me," I pleaded. His lips remained pursed together, and though I should have felt afraid after what I had just seen, I was surprisingly comfortable being there with him.

"Jasper, you can't hide this from me, I will find out. You've already seen how persistent I am," I continued the one-sided conversation. Jazz turned the key in the ignition and wrenched it into drive, his golden eyes focused on the road in front of us. Then he slammed on the gas pedal and started winding through the slums at sixty miles per hour. Then I noticed he wasn't breathing.

"You don't need to breath?" I questioned. His eyes flickered to me for a fraction of a second, and then he clenched his jaw even tighter, if that was possible. He still ignores me. We slowly settled into an uncomfortable silence. He drove like a maniac. Not even a professional driver could handle the car the way he was handling it.

Finally, abruptly, Jazz spoke.

"Where's your hotel?" he asked brusquely.

I told him the name of place, and hoped he'd start answering my questions, but of course he didn't.

Jazz dropped me off at the hotel at exactly four o'clock p.m., glowering at everyone as he helped me out of the Audi.


I grimace as I recall the details of the car ride back to the hotel. It's strange how I can remember everything almost perfectly from the time Peter attacked me to the time Jasper dropped me off at the hotel. It must have something to do with how traumatic it was. I stare at the white ceiling above my mattress, pondering the events that happened over a day ago.

It's Monday night. Jace will be out of the hospital in less than a week. I will finally be able to progress towards walking normally again in less than two days. My dad and I are going to paint my room this weekend. None of this matters to me.

What matters to me is that the Cullens and the Hales weren't in school today. Their table was empty at lunch, and Jasper and Rosalie didn't make an appearance in psychology. Somewhere in the back of mind I wonder if they've disappeared because someone knows that something is definitely very different, and possibly very wrong about them. But that doesn't seem like something they would do. The Cullens and the Hales have been meticulous every time I've seen them. If I was a problem, they would eliminate me, and with what they can do (assuming all their traits are highly similar) that won't be an issue.

When my mom drops me off at school the next day I see the Cullen's cars, the silver Volvo and the black Audi. They're most ostentatious cars in the lot, and I would have to be truly oblivious to not notice that the Cullens and Hales drove them in every day. Their appearance makes me nervous, but I'm also excited. I am finally going to get to the bottom of my mystery.


The beginning hours of the day tick by slowly as I anticipate seeing the Cullens at lunch. I am not disappointed. All the couples come in separately, as do Jasper and Edward. Each of them observes me differently as they grace by. Rosalie gives me a baleful glare. All the boys except Jasper look at me curiously, trying to pry out the truth from behind my face. Alice, the little one with the spiky hair, smiles at me so stunningly I almost fall out of my seat. Jasper's face is pulled taut with the same painful expression that he had on the first time I saw him. He doesn't make eye contact with me, and barely even glances my way.

"Do the Cullens seem… off to you?" Bella asks me as Jasper takes the last open seat at their table.

"Kind of," I reply as I poke the pile of spaghetti on my plate, biding my time. I don't want to accidentally tell Bella about what happened this weekend. She looks at me as though she expects more of an answer, so I add, "Maybe they're just having a bad day or something."

"I don't know, they seem on edge, and," she pauses uncertainly. "I think they're watching you."

"Well, at least all my stalkers are good looking," I mutter as I viciously stab my fork into my spaghetti. "How are yours?" I ask attempting to change the subject. So far Bella has been asked to the girls' choice dance by both Mike Newton and Tyler Crowley, the kid who almost hit her with his van. She has said no to both of them, and is currently telling everyone she's going to Seattle the weekend of the dance. I have had the honor of being asked to go by Eric Yorkie, who evidently, according to Jessica, is obsessed with me. I told him no, that if couldn't even walk, how was I supposed to dance.

Bella blushes. I grin at her and continue devouring noodles as our lunch table population increases. Eventually Bella and I are dragged into a conversation by Jess.

"So are you going to come dress shopping with us?" Jess twitters excitedly. I also know that Mike and Jess are going to the dance together. Jess is ecstatic.

"Yeah," Angela interjects. "You two should so come with us. It will be awesome."

"I'm not going to the dance," Bella says flatly.

"Isn't it like two or three weeks away anyway?" I buoy Bella's case.

Angela frowns.

"Well yeah, but we should start planning now, so that way all of us can go…"

"And what about La Push," I add a third point. "Are we still going there or what?"

"We're going," Jess affirms. "Just give it a week or so. Maybe you'll actually be able to surf with us if we put it off a little longer." She motions towards my leg.

"Maybe," I shrug.

"Anyway," Angela says, "back to dress shopping. Are you guys coming or not? All you have to do is give your opinions on our dresses."

I sigh and look at Bella.

"Are you game?"

She nods.

"I guess."

"Great," Jess says. "Now it'll be so much more fun. Plus, you'll get to see Port Angeles."

I nod absentmindedly and let the conversation continue without my input. Rixon glances over at me.


I impatiently crack my fingers as I stand outside in the dreary weather. I know it's a bad habit, but I can't help being nervous. Jazz asked in psychology if he could drive me home so we could "talk" about what happened this weekend. He seemed unhappy about the prospect, but I agreed. It's probably best to get it out of the way as fast as possible, plus, I really want to know what's going on, even if it is somewhat dangerous.

The black Audi pulls up less than two minutes later. Jazz glides out of the passenger seat and helps me load my crutches and my bag into the car. His face remains impassive as he helps me into the car. Then he closes my door and moves quickly back over to the driver's side.

On the way out I notice that all his siblings except Alice, who is beaming again, and Edward, who is missing, are staring at us with dumbfounded expressions.

"How are they getting home?" I ask as we get in line to leave the parking lot.

"Bella passed out in biology, so Edward took her home," he responds. "He'll be back to get her truck and pick everyone else up."

"Why'd Bella pass out?" I ask, though I doubt he has an answer.

"They were blood-typing," a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. I notice he's not exhaling again.

"You're not breathing again," I audibly note. The smirk leaves his face. He turns the wrong way out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" I question.

"We're taking the scenic route," he murmurs.

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" I inquire teasingly, testing my theory.

He looks at me quickly, and then returns to the road. For the first time since I've known him he full out smiles, even if it is a bit predatory.

"No," he replies, "not yet."

"What do you mean not yet?" I query disbelievingly.

He inhales once but doesn't reply. We settle into silence, and once we reach the outskirts of Forks (which doesn't take very long) he starts accelerating until he hits one hundred miles per hour.

"What if the cops catch you?" I ask nonchalantly, though I'm a bit disconcerted after that last comment.

"The license plate won't ring up anywhere," he says, back in a disinterested tone. I figure this is as good of a starting point as any.

"Which leads us back to the question, what are you?" I muse, allowing a small smile to slip onto my face.

"You don't have any guesses?" he questions. I shake my head.

"None that fit the situation, though if you want I could start listing superheroes for you."

He starts to say something, but then pauses and rethinks it. He starts again.

"If I tell you, you won't tell anyone else?" his accent begins to color his voice again. He only seems to do that when he's stressed.

"Of course I won't, what have I been doing for the past month and a half?"

"If I say supernatural, what do you think of?"

"Gods, heroes, and villains."

"What if I say creatures?"

"Vampires, werewolves, goblins, elves, sphinxes…" I trail off and shrug. "The list goes on."

"One of those five," he states.

"Are you serious?" I raise my eyebrows and look at him incredulously. He stares back seriously, and I realize he truly isn't joking.

"Um, well you're obviously not a sphinx, no tail or wings. Not a goblin, too good looking." I chastise myself when I realize I say it out loud. "You could be an elf… except you don't have pointy ears. That leaves a vampire or a werewolf?" I end with a question.

"The first," he answers.

I remain quiet, reviewing the facts in my head. He's incredibly strong and fast. He holds his breath around me… he's trying not to eat me? That might be why he looks like he's in pain. He is definitely one of the most beautiful boys I have ever seen. His eyes change color, though they're gold instead of what normally is red, black all the time, or pale. He's pale, though I'm not sure how he does with the sun. I shake my head incredulously as this sinks in. There's no way… and yet it all makes sense.

He chuckles, as though he can feel my disbelief.

"So… how likely is it that I'm going to become your lunch?" I know it's tactless, but just so shocked I can't think of what else to say.

"Not likely, unless I lose control of myself. Then you might have a problem," he says evenly staring at the road.

"And this whole impassive thing... is it normal for you?"

He smirks at this.

"No, but this is the best and easiest way for me to react to a stressful situation."

"And I'm stressful?"

"Very."

"Then why don't you just knock me off?"

The smirk stays in place.

"We're supposed to be reformed vampires, I suppose you could say. We try not to kill humans if we can help it."

"Then what do you eat?"

"Animal blood."

"Hmm…" I respond thoughtfully, attempting to find another question. "How long have you been a vampire?"

"150 years, approximately. I was nineteen when I died."

"So like, Civil War Era?"

He nods.

"Were you a soldier?"

"Yes, ma'am," he goes full force with the Southern accent to prove his point. I have to laugh. I love his accent, though now I understand why he doesn't use it full force. It would point him out as different, and it wouldn't go well with their Alaska back story.

The tension slips out of the Audi now. We are both very comfortable, though he still doesn't breath regularly. This leads to another question.

"What do I smell like?"

"Mint, and forest," he says, the accent gone.

"And this smells good to you?" I ask, trying to imagine the combination of scents. He nods in concurrence.

"On a scale of one to ten, ten being the most mouthwatering, what would you rate me?"

"Fifteen," he says as we begin to slow down. I didn't realize that we were this close to my house. Surely enough, he turns down my now visible driveway. I blink, surprised at his answer.

He rockets down the driveway at forty-five miles per hour, so we're at my house in less than five minutes.

Once we've stopped, he walks around the front of the car and grabs my bag for me. Then he hands me my crutches, and we slowly make our way to the porch. I make a move to grab the door knob, but stop abruptly for one final question.

"So," I say, frowning. "Now that I know what you are, do you have to leave?"

He frowns also.

"I don't know," he responds slowly. He pauses and looks at my face like he's trying to memorize every detail. "If you don't tell anybody then I'll stick around."

I nod.

"Deal." Then I enter my house, my mystery solved.