Disclaimer : Don't own the Nightworld thingy, James and Lizzy and co. Are mine though.

Thanks to all who are reviewing, keep it up!!! Sorry about the shortness of the 4th and 5th but I'm trying to obviously change from Lizzy's view, and James'. Any ideas, post me a review. Any moans, post me a review. Any praises, post me review *hint hint*. God, this is a short one. Sorry, nice cliffhangers though, don't you think? PLEASE REVIEW!!! It really does encourage me to write. I've completely abandoned homework for the last week!

Apologies to lisa about some of the content, they say all main charaters are really the authors in disguise. It's a very familiar scene isn't it?

Dead Ends For Elizabeth

Elizabeth stared at her drawing, and then at her friend, drawing, friend, drawing, friend.There was something not right at all, she just couldn't put her finger on it. It didn't help that her model, Meghan, kept on wandering off to talk to the boys on the other side of the room. She toyed distractedly with her black rose necklace. Even its usual cooling effect could not reduce the pounding of her headache. Oh God. Now they were singing.

Elizabeth believed the bane of her life was to be good at all, but excellent at nothing. She drummed her fingers irritatedly on the table, and rubbed at a smudge with a finger, there. Now, if she could just make the dimples a little more prominent, she might start getting somewhere. Dipping her finger into a pot of water, she dampened the end of her pencil and outlined the dimples of Meghan's smile, her free hand gripping the table, making her knuckles white. She should have felt the charge of childish male testosterone, before she was pushed by the pile of kids. A surge of anger washed through her as she was poked by odd elbows and knees. All she heard were the protests of the kids on the floor, and the loud noise of shattering pottery. Elizabeth stood, rooted to the spot. No one had touched that pot apart from she, heart racing, she yanked her shaking hand away from the table. It seemed to hum, and was unusually warm, compared to her other cold hand. Not now, not here she thought. The others were already looking, and Mrs. Lesley was coming over. She rushed hurriedly past the dazed teacher towards the cupboards. Just get a dustpan and brush, clean up the mess and fret about it later. The class was silent and confused. Give it a few minutes and they'll all be talking again. She didn't make that happen, it was an accident. She didn't have that kind of power.

Did she?

*********************************** sorry it's so short again! Next one's a lot longer, promise !