Chapter One

Rory

You'd think that I would be more happy being alone, finally.  No scary Paris, no Chilton, and no high-school drama.

But then I came to Yale and realized that there were certain things to replace others.  Like even scarier-life-coachee Paris, Yale, and worse, university drama.

I had always been the loner, and I had always enjoyed that.  Mainly because my mom was there each time I cam home.  So I guess I wasn't really a loner.  Just… antisocial to some respects.

But now, here in Yale, knowing nobody when I really want to know somebody, was, to be frank, getting me pissed.

So I'd sit on benches, much like today, and study, frowning, angry at the world around me.  Rory Gilmore is turning Emo, and that's not a happy place for her or anyone else.

"YOU ALL GOT THAT?!"

A few heads turned to look at me, obviously taking in the fact that I was, indeed, off my pants.  I sighed when I realized that nobody really caught the Emo comment, since, you know, I said it in my psychotic head…

I lowered my raised fist; a fist I hadn't realized was being waved, and buried my face back into my book.

"Hey freshman, can you move your books?"

I continued to read, knowing that I was not being addressed by the cranky owner of the cranky voice.

"Freshman, you deaf?"

Then I heard a small growl of frustration and the next thing I know, my books were dropped in front of my face and onto my lap with a thud.

I looked up to see a rather angry-looking guy with his hands on his hips and his evil eyes on my forehead.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammered, pushing my books away and onto the ground, making room for him to sit.  And just like that, the rambling button was pushed.

"I'm new here, and I didn't know you were talking to me, 'cause, you know, no-one ever does, for some weird reason.  I'm not gross or anything, just antisocial."

Evil Eyes just sighed and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket.

Suddenly I saw Jess Mariano's head superimposed on his smoking body.  Not like, sizzling hot body, but verbally speaking, because he was, erm… smoking.  Like the verb.  And like Jess.

"You freshmen are always so uptight.  Lemme guess; you were valedictorian of your class, weren't you?"  His lazy eyes shifted from the butt of his cigarette to my flushed face.

"Um, yeah, I was."

"And all the little boys were running after you all the time, eh?"

"Are you Canadian, by any chance?"

"And then you come to Yale, expecting the same old crap, but you realize that Yale's nothing like high school.  Classes are hard and all the boys hate your guts."

I froze.  There was a certain lack of romance in my life, all of a sudden…

But even if all he said was true, as a person, I was awfully offended.  I fixed him with my Die-Jerk glare (one I was supposed to give Jess, but he left before I got to deliver it) and slammed my book shut.

"Look, Bud (God, I was turning into Paris), I don't know why you just said all those things in that mean way, but I don't like it.  And really, I don't think anyone would.  I'm new here, I'm having trouble socially, so what?  So, I'd appreciate it if you just shut up because you don't even know my name.  Now, if you'd excuse me, I'd like to read my book in peace, without your scathing tone and emphysema-ed breath getting in between the words."

I whipped my head back and opened my book.  Truthfully, I had lost the page long ago, but I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing me all flustered.

"Lorelai Gilmore, right?"

I could have fallen off the bench if I wasn't clinging to the armrests so hard.  Jesus, Yale bred stalkers, along with snobs?!

"How do you know that?" I asked cautiously.

"Relax, lady.  Your grandpa knows my dad.  Family connections and all that jazz," he said with a gesture with his wrist and a drag at his smoke.

"Joe," he said simply.  No last name, no, "Hey there, I'm…"

Jess

I bit my lip as I looked out the grimy bus window.  Geez, the institution could spare a few doll hairs for transportation cleanliness, couldn't they? 

Oh, wait.  Bus transportation was outside Yale's budget bill.  That's right.

I was thinking of the Stars Hollow School Bus and the disgusting crap I found each field trip to the town loonies.  I realized then that Yale was completely different from Stars Hollow, from funds to location to system.  Plus the fact that one's a university, and the other is a town (of roughly the same size, give or take a few students).

One thing, however, still remained invariable:  Rory Gilmore's residential status within in each of them.  One then, one now.

Man, the wonders of college.

And I thought I was pretty smart.  Guess I was still stuck in time where everything was going somewhere besides Venice Beach.  I gathered my skateboard, affectionately, yet secretly named Bertha, and backpack and stood up.

I ventured a brave step off the bus and into a world I then knew I would never be able to enter (unless I take senior year again and hell if that's going to happen), missed by a few steps and fell face-first into the asphalt.

"You okay, kid?" the bus driver yelled from his seat.

Through the mangling pain coursing though my body, it was a wonder how I ever managed a thumbs-up sign to him behind me.  All the while having my lips kissing sweet government-paved road.

And with that, the doors squealed shut and the bus left me right in front of Yale University, kneeling over Bertha, whose trucks were stabbing straight into my armpit.

Rory'd better appreciate this.