Rory woke to the sound of her alarm clock buzzing in her ear. For a moment, she just lay in bed, wishing for just one more hour of sleep, before slapping at the obnoxious noise box into silence. It was her first day of school, she remembered, the first day of her junior year at Chilton. And when she opened her eyes, listening to the early morning silence, she remembered something else: this was the first year ever that her mother wouldn't be seeing her off to her first day.

Rolling over, she looked at the uniform hanging on the back of her door. The same blue plaid she'd be wearing five days a week until May. What a depressing thought that was. Still, she couldn't help thinking that the prospect wouldn't seem nearly so bleak if Lorelai was there to brighten the morning routine. Sighing, she pulled back the covers and got out of bed, heading to the bathroom to get ready.

She was in the middle of blow-drying her hair when she heard the faint sound of the telephone ringing. It has to be her, she thought, switching the dryer off and sprinting into the living room. Phone . . . phone . . . where are you Mr. Graham Bell. Jeez, why can't we be normal people and put the cordless back in the cradle?

On the fifth ring, the receiver appeared behind the box of pop tarts in the kitchen cabinet.

"Hello?" she said breathlessly, flinging herself down on the couch.

"Wow, you sound like you've been sprinting around like crazy." She smiled as her mother's voice filled the line. "What have I always told you about running marathons before breakfast?"

"To make sure I look cute so all the hot guys will bring me water?" she answered innocently.

"I have taught you so well, my child," Lorelai chuckled. "So how are you?"

"Better now that I hear your voice," Rory replied. "You know this is the first year ever that you haven't been here my first day."

"I know," Lorelai said sadly. "Ever since preschool. I still remember it." Her voice took on a distant tone. "I brought you into your classroom to meet the teacher. You smiled and said hi and asked what kind of library they had and if they had any Virginia Woolf. The teacher looked at you like you were crazy and asked if we were in the right classroom."

"And then you refused to leave because you were afraid she might eat me," Rory reminded her.

"Oh, I don't remember that," Lorelai denied dismissively. "Oh, my baby's going back to school! How are you going to survive without me there?"

"I don't know," Rory said. "A pot or two of coffee?"

"You are so my daughter," Lorelai laughed. "What time does your bus come?"

"About half an hour," she replied. "Just enough time to stop by Luke's and grab some coffee."

"And make out with you boyfriend for 15 minutes," Lorelai chimed in.

"You're one to talk," Rory countered. "Almost every time I've gone over there this weekend, you and Luke are sucking face. That is a sentence I never wanted to hear myself say, and now that I've said it, it still sounds wrong."

"You were the one who pushed me to go after him!" Lorelai reminded her. "You have no one to blame but yourself."

"But I never thought I'd have to see it," Rory replied jokingly. "I swear, if I come home from school today and hear anything I don't want to hear from upstairs, I will never forgive you . . . never . . . ever."

"So we'll be quiet," Lorelai said simply.

"Oh my God!" Rory squealed. "Tell me that you did not just say that! Please, God, tell me that you did not just say that."

"Relax honey," Lorelai laughed. "I was joking. There will be nothing unconscionable happening in the house when you get home. I promise."

"Cross your heart and hope for split pea soup?" Rory asked with amusement.

"On pain of death," Lorelai replied. "And it's pretty much the same thing."

"I will hold you to that," Rory said pointedly, "Anyway what time are you getting out of there?"

"Noon," she replied. "Luke's going to pick me up and bring me home and insist that I stay in bed and eat healthy stuff. You know he's going to kill me one of these days."

"Yes," Rory said sarcastically, "because you know that rest and relaxation is just too strenuous for you. Maybe we should just put you in one of those plastic bubbles."

"And then you can roll me down the street like one of those huge Gladiator hamster balls," Lorelai continued. "By the time I get out of there, I'll be slim and buff and look like a female body builder. No wait. Scratch that. Those people look gross."

"Okay," Rory chuckled. "We'll scratch the big plastic bubble idea."

"Good," Lorelai said. "Okay sweetie, you'd better get going. I don't want to cut down on your make-out time."

"I love you, Mom," Rory smiled.

"Love you too, babe," Lorelai replied. "I'll see you after school. Good luck today."

"See you then," Rory said, and then hung up. She smiled to herself. Maybe the plaid wouldn't be so terrible. At least not until Lorelai insisted on hemming it again.

Ten minutes later, she walked in through the door of diner still smiling gently. It was its usual chaos: customers tapping their feet impatiently, all speaking at once and mumbling about the lack of service; Luke whipping around the place with food, coffee, and his little white notepad, yelling every few minutes that if his nephew didn't materialize in the next ten seconds, he'd have hell to pay; Jess coming down the stairs, twenty minutes late as usual, but with perfectly styled hair. Rory sighed contentedly. Everything was as it should be.

"Hey," she greeted Luke with a smile and Jess with a kiss. "It's busy in here this morning."

"It only seems that way because you usually don't come in for another two hours," Luke pointed out, almost but not quite rudely.

"Wow, Luke," Jess chimed in. "You know, they say that if you make that face long enough, it'll freeze that way."

"And they say that if you don't get your ass in gear, you won't live long enough to see it," Luke grumbled.

"Are you okay, Luke?" Rory asked. "You're kinda grinchy this morning."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little stressed. Your mom is getting out today, and I wanted to do something for her, but my brain is fried."

"Aw," Rory visibly softened. "Luke, that's so sweet. What did you have in mind?"

"Well," he replied, "at first I thought party, but we all know how that ended last time. The last thing Lorelai needs is to be up and dancing around. Then I thought flowers, but she already has enough of those from the rest of the town that she could swim in them. I don't want her doing anything too active, but I don't want her to be bored."

"Luke," she interrupted his rant. "Why don't you just make her dinner?"

"But we've kind of already done that," he said skeptically. "I brought her a picnic and that's almost the same thing."

"But," she pointed out, "that was food that I made. It was practically out of a box. I'm sure she'd much rather have something you made for her. It would be sweet."

Luke nodded. "Seems reasonable. I'll think about it. Thanks."

"No problem," she replied, smiling at him fondly. "I hope it works out for you."

"Yeah, me too," he smirked, and Rory couldn't hold back a chuckle. He looked almost like Jess when he did that. "So," he said, changing the subject, "first day of school?"

"Yup," she groaned. "I was very much enjoying the nice, long summer until September decided to rear its ugly head again."

"Amen to that," Jess chimed in. "Any last minute advice on Stars Hollow High?"

"Stay away from cheerleaders," Rory joked. "And football players, and Dean. Definitely avoid Dean. I don't want you getting kicked out of school your first day."

"So don't get kicked out," he said as if it were a new concept. "I'll try to remember that."

"Don't even joke about that," Luke grumbled. "Your mom told me how well you got along in school back there. There will be no similar incidents, understand?"

"Yes sir," Jess mock-saluted.

"Smart-ass," Luke mumbled under his breath before heading to refill coffees.

"Walk you to the bus stop?" Jess asked.

"Sure," Rory stood, coffee in hand, and the two of them headed out the door. "So what are these incidents I hear about?" she questioned as they sat on a bench. "What did you do?"

"Nothing much," he smirked, avoiding her eyes as if she could see the answer in them. "Just a few minor pranks. Nothing that involved murder or arson."

"That's comforting," she said dryly, rolling her eyes. "Seriously, I want to know."

"I dunno," he replied. "I did the usual 'superglue in the light switches' thing, and the prank where you let loose three pigs labeled 1, 2, and 4 and watch them look for number three. Yeah, that was a good one."

"Where in the world did you get three pigs?" Rory asked.

"That's my little secret," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"A magician's prerogative, I guess," Rory chuckled. "So, anything else of interest?"

"Hm," he thought, as if he'd pulled so many that picking one was a challenge. "I once stole all the chalk and board markers in the entire school. That was an interesting week."

"You're kidding me!" Rory laughed. "Did they catch you?"

"They couldn't prove it," he said. "Everyone knew it, but due to the complete lack of evidence, all they could do was give me dirty looks and detention for a couple weeks. Slap on the wrist."

"Please tell me that you're not going to pull anything like that at Stars Hollow High," Rory asked. "I mean, Taylor would fry you. He doesn't even have kids, but he's still the head of the school board. I'm sure he wouldn't hesitate to put you on trial at a town meeting."

"I'll keep that in mind," he smirked. "Look, don't worry about it. I'll be good, or at least discreet."

"Okay," she chuckled. Her smile disappeared as she saw her bus round a corner in the distance. "You're going to be here when I get home, right?" she asked, her voice tired. "I'm going to need one heck of a cup of coffee."

"Of course," he replied noticing the change. "Is your school really that bad?"

"No," she replied, forcing a smile. "I just don't want to go and leave Mom here. She's getting home today. I mean, I know Luke will take care of her, but it's not just today . . ."

She trailed off, looking down at her hands. Jess looked at the way her mouth was twitching, her eyes blinking rapidly.

"Hey," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "She's going to be okay. You'll be with her when she has her surgery. Just because you're not with her every second doesn't mean she's going to disappear."

"I know," she smiled sadly. "I know, but ever since I can remember, my mom's been here at the bus stop my first day. It was always constant, always comforting. I guess the fact that she's not here now has me crazy. It's nothing you need to worry about."

"It's going to be okay," Jess assured her. "Just remember that she'll be here when you get home. And I'll be here, too. With coffee."

"Thank you," she smiled at him. She looked up as her bus pulled up. "I guess I'll see you later."

"Later," he repeated, kissing her softly on the lips. "Good luck at the genius school."

"Thanks," she replied. "I'll need it."

And with that, she stepped aboard, watching him out the window as the bus pulled away.

Waving a little, Jess waited until the bus was out of sight before heading toward Stars Hollow High.

It seemed strange to him that he was actually planning to attend. He never had back in New York. He'd just shown up enough to slide by with a grade and his teachers hadn't tried to change that. Most of them had known him by reputation anyway, so everyone just ignored him and he did the same. It was a good system.

Here, though, he actually needed to go more than once a week. Luke had laid down the rules and said that anything below C's would buy him a one-way ticket on the next bus back to his mom's house, and he sure as hell wasn't going back there. Therefore, he was off to the land of unidentifiable cafeteria food and bad comb-overs, grabbing a book from his back pocket and hoping that no one would approach him.

Rory sat down in her first class, early as always and the only person in the room. That was how she liked it. There was no pressure of trying to find someone to sit by or making useless conversation with others. She was just sitting in an empty room with a book.

"Hello Rory," she heard a familiar voice, and she looked up in amused confusion.

"Tristan?" she asked archly. "Is that you? 'Cause I could have sworn I heard someone call me Rory, and I didn't think you knew my name."

"Yeah, well," he smirked a little. "I figured I'd try it on for size."

"And?"

"I still think Mary suits you better," he smiled.

"I knew it was too much to hope for," she shook her head with a soft smile.

"Look," he said sitting on the desk in front of her, "I just wanted to call a truce, okay? I know you'd rather have one less person to avoid, and I'd rather be your friend than be the jerk you're trying to evade. I thought that maybe we should leave the past in the past. What do you think?"

"I think that's a pretty good idea," she replied, surprise evident on her face a moment before she wiped it away. "So, how was your summer?"

"Peachy," he replied sarcastically. "You know, the usual. Parties, girls, friends, my father's business functions, more parties, more girls . . ."

"Wonderful," Rory rolled her eyes.

"And what about your summer?" Tristan grinned. "Spend it lying around in your perfect little town with your perfect family while your perfect boyfriend lapped at your feet?"

"Yeah," Rory replied with a dry chuckle. "That's exactly how it was."

"Well then, what did you do all summer?" she asked. "Cure world hunger?"

"I, um, moved to New York," she sighed, avoiding his eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"I moved in with my aunt in New York for about half the summer," she explained. "It was only by a miracle that I could come back."

"I'm still not understanding," Tristan said. "Why did you go in the first place?"

"Well, um," she looked down, nibbling on her bottom lip, "my mom was sick. She had to go overseas for a while for treatment, and we didn't know how long she'd be there, so I needed a place to stay in case it was permanent. But she was responding well, so she came back and we moved back to our perfect little town."

"Is she okay?" The concern in his voice almost surprised her. "Your mom, I mean."

"She's doing okay," she replied. "She's having surgery this weekend, but she should be fine after that." She smiled up at him. "Thanks for asking."

"Give her my best wishes, though I don't think it will mean much to her coming from me," he smiled guiltily. "So I'm guessing that you're still with the little lapdog?"

She had to laugh at his description. "No, actually," she replied. "He and I broke up just before I left, but I am dating someone new now."

"Jeez, I missed the boat again?" he sighed teasingly. "Tell you what. Next time you're single, send out a memo or something."

"I'll make sure to do that," she chuckled. "I'll write out a mass e-mail and announce to everyone in the world that Rory Gilmore is on the market."

"I'd much appreciate it," he quipped. "So is this one at least better than Mr. Skyscraper?"

"I'd like to think so," she smiled. "And 'this one's' name is Jess."

"Jess, huh?" he made a face like the name didn't sit well with him. "Are you sure you don't want to just ditch him and go out with me?" he arched a suggestive eyebrow.

"Thanks," she laughed, "but I'm happy where I am."

"You can't blame a guy for trying," he smirked. About this time, other students began to file in, disturbing the private conversation. "Well," he sighed, standing up, "I should probably find a seat now before I ruin your good reputation, shouldn't I?"

"Whatever you say," she nodded. "I'll talk to you later."

"Talk to you later . . . Mary," he threw her one more smirk before taking a seat a couple behind her.

Rory looked up, smiling softly as the teacher entered and began his 'first day of school' speech. She'd made a friend, lost an enemy, and it wasn't even 8 am yet. Maybe the year wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

The idea was barely out of her head before she heard another voice in her ear. "Gilmore."

"Hello Paris," she replied flatly. "Have a nice summer?"

"Perfect," Paris replied impatiently as she sat down behind Rory. "Wonderful. Couldn't be better. You?"

"Same," she nodded, not feeling the need to go into further details.

"Great," Paris almost snapped. "Glad to hear it."

"Glad to tell you," Rory couldn't help cracking an amused smile as she turned her focus back to the teacher.

"Okay class, now that the formalities are out of the way," Mr. Jacobson announced, "let's get on with the show."

"Many of Shakespeare's most famous plays were not published until after his death," Mrs. Jenson was saying. "His folio was published in 1923, and does anyone know why it was called a folio?"

It was almost the end of fifth period, and Rory was dying for the lunch bell to ring. It wasn't that Shakespeare didn't interest her, but she really wanted to get away from Paris's unyielding glare.

"It was because the paper that held the scripts was folded in half," the blond girl spoke up quickly before returning her eyes to burn holes in the back of Rory's head.

"That's correct," Mrs. Jenson smiled. "In those days, they had large pieces of paper that were used as binding. If it was folded in half, it was roughly the size of a piece of computer paper. If it was folded twice, into quartos, it was the size of today's standard paperback cheesy romance novel."

A few students laughed as the teacher arched her eyebrows at the girls in particular.

"Now, little is known today about William Shakespeare's life," she continued. "Some of the very little we do know is taken from the Stationer's Register. Does anyone know what that is?"

Just then, a loud buzzing sound filled the room, and every head turned toward the shrinking brunette whose bag it was coming from.

"Is that a cell phone ringing in my class?" Mrs. Jenson asked. "Miss Gilmore, I assume you know that the school has a policy against having phones turned on during school hours."

"I know, Mrs. Jenson," Rory stammered. "I'm sorry. I have it on vibrate. It's just on in case of a family emergency."

"And you're expecting one during my class?" she asked archly.

"Quite possibly," Rory replied honestly. "Look, it'll never happen again. I promise—"

Her plea was interrupted by the bell, and students were instantly out of their seats.

"Just this once, I'll allow it," Mrs. Jenson answered over the rustling of papers and eager footsteps. "Next time, leave it in your locker or it will end up in my desk drawer."

"Yes, Mrs. Jenson," Rory smiled thankfully. "See you tomorrow."

Before she could even receive an answer, Rory was out in the hall. "Hello?" she spoke into the phone.

"Rory?" she smiled and let out a relieved sigh when Jess's voice filled the line. "What's going on? I let the phone ring, like, twenty times."

"Next time, wait about one more minute before calling, okay?" Rory laughed, leaning against a locker. "You almost got me in trouble in class."

"Oops," she could hear the smirk in his voice. "Wouldn't want to scar your reputation on the first day."

"You sound so torn up about it," she chuckled dryly. "So what's up?"

"Just wanted to hear your voice," he replied, and she smiled. "You know this school is exactly as you described it."

"How is that?" she asked.

"Hell," he replied. "Too many cheerleaders."

"Yeah, well," Rory laughed, "maybe you'll start to like it. I can see you joining the football team and ditching me for a bimbo with pom-poms."

"Bite your tongue," he rolled his eyes. "I think I would probably drop dead before you see me in a letterman's jacket."

"Me too," she smiled. "I rather like my surly and sarcastic Jess. I wouldn't want to see you corrupted by the evil Stars Hollow High elite."

"I think they're afraid of me," Jess laughed. "They keep edging away when I walk down the hall."

"Now why can't I have that kind of affect on people?" she asked with a chuckle.

"So anyway," he sighed. "I should go. The payphone is almost up. I'll see you later at the diner?"

"As long as you still house the coffee," she replied. "I love you."

"Love you too," he said, and she could hear a soft smile behind it.

"And Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"Hang in there," she leaned her head against the locker.

"You too," he replied. "Bye."

"Bye."

"So who's Jess?" Rory turned and almost ran into the object of her torment for the last five periods.

"My boyfriend," she replied, walking purposefully past Paris towards the lunch room.

"What happened to Bud Parker?" Paris persisted, following closely behind her in the empty hallway.

"He went back to Pleasantville," Rory answered flatly, keeping her eyes straight forward in an attempt to ignore the other girl.

"So this Jess," Paris continued, obviously not taking the hint. "Who is he, the paperboy? The town crier? The new drive-thru guy at the local McDonalds?"

"He's none of your business," Rory said pointedly. "And why are you so interested suddenly?"

"I'm not," Paris denied, not even trying to be convincing. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't still throwing yourself at Tristan. It was starting to get embarrassing."

"Excuse me?" Rory stopped, her patience breaking as she faced the other girl. "What is wrong with you? If you haven't noticed, I'm not interested in Tristan. I never was. Now he's gotten over it. I've gotten over it. The whole damned world has gotten over it. Why don't you? Now if you'll please get a life and stop butting into mine, I'd like to go to lunch."

And without another word, she turned and walked quickly down the hallway, leaving a stunned and somewhat lonely-looking Paris.

"Okay, class," the teacher was standing in front of the class, giving the same stupid speech Jess had heard five times before that day, "my name is Mr. Matthews, and obviously I'll be your teacher for English III. I must warn you that there will be a lot of reading, but I assure you that all of the books are worth the energy."

Jess tuned him out about halfway through his lecture, focusing on the paperback in his hands. He never could get into all of the crap associated with high school English classes. The most amazing book could be turned to mindless words by the time constraints of the curriculum. Never mind the fact that he'd already read most of the booklist. It was the principle of the thing.

"So," he didn't look up, though the teacher was standing right next to his desk with a small smile on his lips, "what, may I ask, is your name?"

"Most people call me smartass," he replied, his eyes still turned down, "but if memory serves, my name is Jess."

"Well, Jess," Mr. Matthews said casually, "is there a reason why you feel the need to ignore me during my lecture?"

"You're just going over the syllabus, which I can read from the handout, and the rest of it I've heard way too many times today," he answered evenly. "I think it's starting to kill brain cells."

"I can understand that," Matthews nodded, and Jess looked up, a little surprised. "I mean, everyone hates the first day of school, right? It's boring and repetitive and no one really wants to be here."

"It almost sounds like you're encouraging me to skip," Jess smirked. "And if that's the case, I think you and I are on the same page."

"I didn't say that," Mr. Matthews replied with mild amusement. "I'm just saying, today is your free day. Enjoy it. Tomorrow we start into The Great Gatsby, and I expect you to be ready."

"I wouldn't lose sleep over it if I were you," Jess replied before returning to the pages of his book.

Mr. Matthews returned to the front of the classroom, and Jess smirked to himself. Of course, he had already read Gatsby a couple times and could remember the plot backwards and forwards, but he wasn't about to tell the teacher that. Still, he found himself liking the man. Jess recognized a humor in him that he hadn't found in many teachers. He wasn't just there to hear himself speak. He was there to teach, and Jess had discovered what a rarity that really was in current society.

"As I was saying," Jess heard Mr. Matthews say. "Your assignment for tomorrow is to read the first two chapters of The Great Gatsby. Notice the emerging themes and the setting in which the book takes place. This novel, above all, was written to portray a message about the era, and by the end of the unit, your assignment will be to write a 1000-2000 word paper on what that message is, so I suggest you start looking now."

Jess smiled at the groans emerging from the rest of the students. If he wanted to, he could have the paper finished that night. If he wanted to. Who knows; maybe he would. Maybe he would do it just to show Mr. Matthews a thing or two. He could picture the look on the teacher's face. It would almost make it worth it . . .

"Hey," Rory sped her pace when she heard Paris's voice approaching her quickly from behind. "Rory, wait up!"

"What do you want?" she asked the girl impatiently, not slowing. "I'm really not in the mood for your paranoid psychobabble right now."

"Look," Paris stepped right in front of Rory, causing her to stop abruptly and almost run into the girl. "I don't say this very often, so when I do, you'd better be listening 'cause I'm not repeating myself."

"Then don't," Rory stepped around her and kept on walking.

"Don't walk away from me, Gilmore!" Paris called after her, rushing to keep up as Rory pushed through the crowded hallway to her next class.

Safe in the classroom, she let her bag drop heavily to the floor and slumped down behind the first desk she came to. Tired, she laid her head on her folded arms.

"You know, I wasn't finished," she heard an angry voice above her and had the strong urge to bang her head against the desk.

"I don't care," she cried tiredly, pulling her head up to face the girl. "Please, get that through your head. I don't care what you think. I don't care who you like. It's not my problem to deal with. So if you're here to further scold me about how pathetic you think I am, I suggest you move on because I still don't care."

"Look, Rory," Paris said impatiently. "All I wanted to do was apologize for what I said earlier. I was being stupid and jealous and girly and I shouldn't have said what I did. So I'm sorry."

And without even waiting for a response, she turned on her heal and took a seat three behind Rory.

Rory, on the other hand, just sat stunned for a moment before letting out a dry, surrendering laugh and putting her head in her arms again.

"So Luke," Lorelai smiled as he helped her from the wheelchair to his truck. "Why do I have the distinct feeling that you did something?"

"What?" he asked, confused.

"You have the guilty face," she replied with mock accusation. "You're hiding something; I know it. Come on, give it up mister."

"What drugs did they give you in that hospital?" he asked as he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Fun ones," she replied. "But that's not the point. You're definitely hiding something. I can see right through that flannel exterior of yours." She sat silent for a moment, thinking about what she'd just said, and then gasped, "Dirty!"

"I do not have a guilty face, I am not hiding something, and there is nothing hidden under this flannel exterior," he told her.

"Even more dirty!" she gasped again.

"I give up," he mumbled. "Have it you're way. It seems that the surprise I had at the diner isn't going to be a surprise anymore, so I might as well just take you home."

Luke drove past the diner as Lorelai stammered protests. "But I want my surprise!" she cried. "Go back! Go back!"

"Sorry," he said, staring straight ahead at the road. "Now that you've ruined it, there's no reason."

"But . . . but . . . but Luke!" she whined as they pulled into her driveway. "Come on, I'll act surprised. I'm very good at it. See, this is me surprised." She covered her face with her hands and then took them away to reveal a surprised expression.

"Come on, Lorelai," Luke said, opening her door and helping her out. "Let's get you inside. You should be resting anyway."

"You're mean," she pouted as they walked up the steps.

"I know," he chuckled a little as he let them in the house. "But I'll make you some coffee."

"That doesn't make up for a missed surprise at the diner," she sulked as they headed toward the kitchen. "You're still mean and grumpy and cruel and . . ."

He opened the door and her mouth just hung open. The table was covered with a good linen tablecloth, obviously not from anywhere in the Gilmore house. Candles were standing on it, unlit, and two place settings were very elegantly set across from each other.

". . . wonderful and amazing and sweet and still very cruel," Lorelai went on, hugging a very pleased looking Luke tightly around the neck. "You so had me going there. When did you become such a good liar?"

"I wasn't lying," he smiled. "I was just leaving out information."

"But you said that I had a surprise at the diner," she argued.

"Who says I don't?" he asked.

"You're kidding me," she laughed, her eyes lighting up. "More surprises? I get more surprises?"

"Now don't get all excited," he warned her. "It's nothing much. And I don't want you to get yourself all worked up. You just got out of the hospital."

"Spoilsport," she pouted a moment before going to sit down. "So, what are we having?"

"So whatcha doing?" Jess looked up to see a short blond girl standing above him.

"Playing chess," he replied, going back to writing his essay.

For a moment, she looked confused before shaking her head, "Whatever. So who are you? Haven't I seen you somewhere?"

"I don't know, have you?" he asked absently. He would be getting a lot more writing done if people would stop trying to talk to him. It was really starting to irritate him.

"Don't you work at that diner in town?" she asked smiling. "That one with the hardware sign above it?"

"Give the girl a prize," he deadpanned.

"Why is that sign there?" she asked, tilting her head pensively. "I mean, it took me years to figure out that all hardware stores don't sell food. I got a lot of really weird looks because of that."

"Well, I'm glad you got everything cleared up," he shook his head in disbelief.

"So, I heard you moved from New York," she sat on his desk, right on top of his paper. "I would love to go to New York City someday. Be on Broadway with all the stars."

"I bet if you run, you could make it there by next Tuesday," he said impatiently. "Is there something you wanted?"

"Just your name," she crooned, leaning closer to him.

He looked down at the worn paperback at the edge of his desk, a smirk flickering over his features. "Just call me Holden," he replied sardonically.

"Holden," she looked up as if she was thinking about it. "I like it. Well, my name's Shane."

"Good to know," he sighed.

"Okay," she smiled, standing up off of his desk. "So I'll see you around, Holden."

Jess rolled his eyes as she turned away, strutting out of the classroom like she was God's gift to the world. Yeah, Jess thought, she was born for New York. With another sigh, he went back to his paper and tried to give off a loner vibe.

When the final bell rang, Rory practically sprinted to the door of her classroom. It had been way too long of a day. All she had to do was get to her locker and out to the bus without running into . . .

"Rory," she groaned as she spun her combination.

"What is it Paris?" she asked, focusing on getting all of her books from her locker to her bag.

"I just wanted to ask you," Paris replied hurriedly. "Are we, like, friends now?"

"What?" Rory asked, laughing dryly at how surreal the day seemed to be going. "Not less than eight hours ago, you were calling me a pathetic slut and now you're asking if we're friends? Paris, what kind of medication are you on?"

"Hey," Paris objected. "I never directly called you a slut, and I apologized about the pathetic comment. What else do you want me to do, catch a bullet for you?"

"Okay, so maybe you skipped your medication," Rory rolled her eyes. "Has anyone told you that you are severely bipolar?"

"Frequently," Paris replied impatiently. "So is it yes or no? Are we friends?"

"Sure," Rory chuckled tiredly. "We're friends, Paris. Happy?"

The other girl paused a moment, seemingly surprised. "Yes," she said slowly, a real smile spreading onto her face. "I think I am." She nodded her head, please with herself. "Okay, so I'll talk to you later, Rory."

"Yeah," Rory replied, a little confused, as Paris turned away. "Bye."

Shaking her head, trying to figure out if that had actually happened, she closed her locker and walked out to her bus.

Thirty minutes later, she smiled as her bus pulled into the Stars Hollow bus stop. Home at last.

"Hey, beautiful." She threw herself into Jess's arms the moment she was off the bus, almost spilling the coffee in his hand. "How was your day?"

"I don't know," she replied tiredly. "I think I must have dreamed it all because not much of it made sense. You?"

"I seem to be writing a paper on Great Gatsby so that I can scare the hell out of my English teacher, and some girl named Shane thinks my name's Holden," he explained.

"None of that makes the slightest amount of sense to me," she said pulling away from him, her brow wrinkling.

"I know," he smirked, "but I don't think high school is supposed to make sense."

"No," she agreed taking a sip of her coffee. "It's really not."

Smiling softly at each other, they headed back to the diner.