Thses are genuine convos me and some frineds have had... it's scary stuff. 'Nother filler, but quite humorous. Enjoy.

I bloody wish I owned Twilight...

I dressed for courage the next day. Knowing I looked good (or at least, even better than I usually did) gave me an extra burst of confidence and dignity to carry out my plan.

I decided to go with another dress, this one of white lace. It was cut low at the neck with three quarter sleeves and fell to mid thigh. I paired this with another pair of heels; five inches this time. Hey, the guy was a solid foot taller than me. Not that that was very hard, but still…

I grabbed my beloved coat and Prada bag on my way out, checking to make sure my dagger was still there, and it was still in great condition. Then, as a second thought, I ran back up to my room, and selected another dagger out of my extensive collection, strapping its sheath to my forearm underneath my sleeve. I grinned inwardly as I thought of all the fun I could have with my second favourite of blades, the castration knife.

I decided to make a grand entrance at lunch. And it worked. The doors banged open dramatically. Heads turned, as one, to where I stood, framed by the entrance, Bella standing behind me, trying desperately to blend in with the background. I felt like snorting. As if that was going to happen.

I led Bella to the lunch line, and waited patiently for her to select and pay for her meal. When we walked over to where we had sat the previous day, our section of seating had been taken, so we had no choice to move further down the table towards the Cullens. One Cullen in particular.

Who was not there.

I resisted banging my head on the table with great difficulty. I reached over to where I had dumped my bag and pulled out a bag of Starburst's Party Mix. My favourites were the snakes, and the dark green babies. I chewed on one thoughtfully as I watched Bella eat her pizza.

"How can you knowingly put that in your mouth?" I asked her, genuinely curious.

She shrugged. "It's not that hard. You pick up the food-"

"If you can call that food," I interrupted.

"-pick up the food, open your mouth, and place it in. Challenging for some, I know, but I've never found it all that taxing. And anyway, hark who's talking. This is coming from a girl who is eating pure sugar and preservatives."

I suddenly had the strangest feeling someone was listening. I wasn't wrong. I glanced towards the Cullens out of the corner of my eye and saw them watching us interestedly, Emmett with hilarity, Rosalie with horror, Jasper with unconcern, and Alice with inquisition.

I looked back to Bella, awaiting an answer to her question.

"Yes, it's sugar and preserves, but it's good sugar and preserves-"

She burst in much like I had her. "Is there such a thing, Rya?"

"-but they are good. At least they aren't lying to you about the nutritional value. They just come right out and say it's bad for you. That crap you're eating they try and pass off as healthy, when anyone with better vision than an old, decrepit, cataract-ridden naked mole rat can see it'll take years off your life, I swear. And when I get older "-not that I ever would "- I'll need all the bloody preservatives I can get."

Actually, I was just bullshitting about nutritional value. I thought (and believed) that my words were true, but it wasn't something I didn't need to worry about. A really cool side effect of being immortal was being able to live off junk food and TV dinners without adverse health affects or cholesterol. But I ate well most of the time anyway.

"You know, she's got a point there." My well honed hearing caught this comment that I was obviously not supposed to catch, from the Cullens, oddly enough. It was Emmett who had spoken, in a deep rumble, rather like distant thunder.

"But isn't she worried about getting fat?" Rosalie talked now, in a rich, pleasing alto, sounding anxious.

"Obviously not, Rose." Alice had a high piping voice, like wind chimes, or a chorale of flutes.

"So tell me. Why are we listening in breathlessly to a conversation that doesn't concern us in the least? And the topic isn't even something that concerns us either." That was Jasper. His voice matched his appearance; dark and brooding.

I was a little confused by his comments, but let it pass as I continued to chat to Bella about the crap the cafeteria was serving.

"Honestly, you'd think it was a government funded attempt to kill off all students in the Forks region…"

Slowly the conversation turned to a game of twenty questions. I was being careful with my answers, not wanting to give away anything vital, but trying not to lie at the same time.

So far, I had managed to get Bella to admit her most prized possession was her copy of Wuthering Heights and that she fainted at the sight of blood. I had told her that my favourite piece of clothing was my thigh high leather boots with chunky heels, and laced up the front. I had also admitted that I would much rather be reading up on my mythology than be listening to teachers drone on about the importance of trigonometry and calculus. I was an immortal. What use did I have for needlessly complicated math? Wasn't this why calculators were invented anyway?

"Mythology?" I heard Emmett ask.

"Yeah, like Lucifer and Beelzebub and God and the angles and stuff." Boy oh boy was Jasper wrong there.

I glanced at my cell phone, checking the time. I stood; the rain had eased, and I wanted to get to class before it began pouring again.

"I thought Lucifer and Beelzebub were the same person," Emmett replied.

"No they aren't," Jasper argued. I rolled my eyes at their naiveté, and paused as I walked past them.

"Actually, boys, Beelzebub is the Devil's second in command, as Gabriel is God's."

Emmett frowned. "Aw, man! Jasper can't be right. And how do you know that?"

"We're drinking buddies," I said sarcastically. "Every Friday, we take the night off and go get plastered. Have any of you seen The Chronicles of Riddick? After a few Bloody Mary's we go out and play Keira's game, 'Who's the Better Killer". Luscious Lucy keeps saying the best way to get 'em is with a food processor, but I'm of the firm opinion death by egg timer is much more vicious. Don't ask, you don't want to know all the details."

With that as a parting shot, I allowed myself a victorious smirk as I strode off to class.

Tada! Whaddaya think?