Rosalie POV:

I was stunned by my brother's words.

"You ever been slapped around like a piece of shit? You don't fuckin' know what it's like!" I pulled him back into his seat.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I hissed, my eyes widening under my sunglasses. "Are you insane?"

"Jasper, I-" our clueless teacher started. Bitch was probably trying to apologize. "We're gonna play a game, all right? It's a lot of fun. I promise. Look, you can either sit in your seats

reading those workbooks, or you can play a game. Either way, you're in here till the bell rings. Okay. This is called the Line Game. I'm gonna ask you a question. If that question applies to you, you step onto the line, and then step back away for the next question. Easy, right?" She put a line of red tape down the middle of the room.

"Yeah, whatever," Charlotte muttered.

"The first question, how many of you have the new Snoop Dogg album?"

A lot of the kids stepped up, but not Jasper and I. We couldn't do anything fun.

"Did you steal it?" someone asked Alice.

"Okay, back away. Next question, how many of you have seen Boyz n the Hood?"

Lots of people stepped up.

"Okay. Next question. How many of you live in the projects?"

Everyone walked to the line.

"How many of you know someone, a friend or relative, who was or is in juvenile hall or jail?"

That was another common one.

"How many of you have been in juvenile hall or jail for any length of time?"

Just a few of the LaPush people stepped up.

"Detention don't count," Jacob said.

"Does a refugee camp count?" Emily asked.

"You decide. How many of you know where to get drugs right now?"

Some of us did. I didn't.

"How many of you know someone in a gang?"

Another popular one.

"How many of you are gang members?"

"Nice try," Sam said.

"Okay, that was a stupid question, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. You're not allowed gang affiliations in school," Leah said.

"I apologize for asking. My badness. Okay, now I'm gonna ask you a more serious question.

Stand on the line if you've lost a friend to gang violence,"

Almost everyone stood on the line, except Jasper and I. We weren't allowed to have friends.

"Stay on the line if you've lost more than one friend,"

Some people stayed.

"Three,"

A few people remained on the line.

"Four or more,"

Maggie, Garrett, and Kate were left.

"Okay, I'd like us to pay respect to those people now. Wherever you are, just speak their name,"

"Tanya," Kate whispered. "Kachiri, Senna, and Zafrina,"

"Mary and Randall," Garrett added.

"My parents," Maggie went on.

"Does my mom being shot by a drive by bullet count?" Alice asked.

"Yes,"

Alice walked to the line.

"Thank you all very much. Now, I have something for each of you. Everyone has their own story, and it's important for you to tell your own story, even to yourself. So, what we're going to do is we're gonna write every day in these journals," Mrs. Cullen held up a bunch of journals. "You can write about whatever you want, the past, the present, the future. You can write it like a diary, or you can write songs, poems, any good thing, bad thing, anything. But you have to write every day. Keep a pen nearby. Whenever you feel the inspiration. And they won't be graded. How can I give an A or a B for writing the truth, right? And I will not read them unless you give me permission. I will need to see that you've made an entry, but I'll just do this, skim to see that you wrote that day. Now, if you want me to read it, I have…" she walked over to a cabinet in the back of the room. "Excuse me. A cabinet over here. It has a lock on it. I will keep it open during class, and you can leave your diary there if you want me to read it. I will lock this cabinet at the end of every class. Okay? So, you can each come up,

one by one, and take your own journal. Whenever you're ready,"

This is exactly what I didn't want to do, but I forced myself to do it anyway. Jasper squeezed my hand soothingly and I managed a smile. I wrote my story on the bus and hid it from our parents.

"Hey, Rosalie," Emmett got my attention. "You gonna show her or what?"

"I don't know. Are you?"

"Well, she sorta deserves to know. Seems like she cares about us,"

"She won't when she reads what I've gone though," I said, biting my lip but immediately regretting it. I'd split my own lip again.

"You angry a lot?"

"Yeah,"

"How do you deal with it? I just use a punching bag, in the gym. Wanna come with me, let our anger out?"

"Sure,"

"Hey, we'll join you," Jasper said as he held hands with Alice.

The four of us punched the hell out of that bag, but I stopped when Emmett asked, "How 'bout you punch me?"

"What?" I wasn't sure if I'd heard him correctly.

"I know you want to,"

"But I'm not mad at you,"

"Pretend I'm someone you're mad at all the time,"

"Here I go," I sighed. With all my might, I punched his shoulders, chest, stomach, and then felt the tears coming. I was whispering my parents' and Royce's names. He must have felt me shaking, because he pulled me into a hug. Surprisingly, I didn't move away. I just stayed in his arms, crying my heart out as he stroked my hair. We sat there for hours.

Esme POV:

All my students handed their journals in to me. I had a lot of stuff to read in the cabinet, and then, I would tell them my story. They deserved to know.

"Rosalie holds back, but I know she wants to be involved. She's so stubborn. Who really surprised me was Vera, who never says a word, but she was the first to step up and take a journal. I…" I was telling Carlisle as I ate standing up.

"Honey, here. Here, sit down,"

"It's all right. No, it's all right,"

"I'll move this,"

"I don't mind standing. Food goes straight down,"

"I just want to hang out. I want to be home. And I want to be with my schoolteacher. I've always had this fantasy about being kept late after school," Carlisle said, winding his arms around my waist and leaning down to kiss my cheek and then my neck. I started giggling.

"Well, I'm sorry I left my dirty erasers at work,"

"Do all the other teachers put in this much extra effort?"

"I don't know. I'm kind of making it up as I go along. And the other teachers don't really

talk to me. I mean, Renee…"

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. You're so selfless. I wouldn't be surprised if you were their favorite teacher,"

"I don't think I am. They hate me,"

"Maybe they're scared to open up,"

"Oh, that reminds me. They all gave me their journals with their stories. And then I'll tell mine when I know theirs,"

"You sure?"

"Positive. They think I don't know how they feel. But I do know. I've lived through it,"

"I know, baby,"