Lara Jade's Point of View:

I flicked a loose piece of blonde hair from my face as I tried to focus on the teacher's lesson. So far, my brain had absorbed nothing. Since I am in mostly all Advanced Programs, the two classes I actually attended had skipped all of those silly little introductions and had gotten straight to work. This class was Calculus, and I was now beginning to realize my mistake in enrolling in such a difficult and onerous class.

It wasn't even twenty minutes into the first chapter when my eyelids started to gradually shut. My head rested on my hand, so the temptation to fall asleep became greater.

The snap of a ruler on the top of my oak desk had no problem waking me though.

Mr. Hammer, a newer addition to the teaching administration here at East Carteret High, could strike fear into the hearts of every single student enrolled and, right now, it was he who held the other end of that ruler and glared down at me until I shrunk back from him, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Miss Knighton, could you possibly give an example of when we would need to "freeze the frame" to measure something?"

I scooted down into my chair further, abashed that he would use me as an example like this. He knew of my mother's passing; he may not have attended the funeral like the rest of the town, but he knew her and my father. So why put me through this now, in front of everyone else?

"No…sir. I cannot. I apologize, but I wasn't listening."

He nodded his approval at my answer but continued to harass me nevertheless.

"As I am well aware of, this handbook-" he held up the booklet containing the school's rules and regulations, "-has been read to you in each of your classes, and since it is already fourth period, you should have already finished it last hour. Therefore, you should know that sleeping in class results in an automatic detention." He turned back to me. "Am I correct?"

I wanted to say no, my classes had not read through the rules. They expected the students to read them on their own, just like he did. But I was too spineless to even consider contradicting him. "You are correct, sir," I replied weakly, avoiding all eye contact including from my classmates.

With the way he was tapping my desk with the ruler, it was apparent Mr. Hammer was deciding my fate. Detention to his first student on his first day back? Kudos for him… Not.

"The answer you are seeking," a voice, unrecognizable to me, spoke, "is the growth of a child over a period of time."

My blue orbs found a boy of 18 years seated in the desk diagonally of me, to the back left. His face was about as alien as his voice. He sat there, fairly sure of himself, or so I thought with the way he squared his shoulders, his raven black hair shadowing over his pale forehead and dark eyes.

"And just who might you be?" Mr. Hammer finally spoke up, probably shocked that someone had interrupted his torture session.

"Alexander Fortesque," he replied before tacking a snide "sir" to the end.

Mr. Hammer's attention shifted fully to this Alexander instead of me, and I honestly felt for this guy; he was obviously new (considering the fact that I'd never, in my 16 years of living here, seen him before) and probably didn't even realize that he just made an enemy out of Hammer. "How come you didn't respond when I asked for names not on the list, boy?"

Alexander glanced over at me and flashed me a tight smile before his gaze met the teacher's. That smile told me he knew exactly what he was getting himself into.

"I must not have been listening, Mr. Hammer. However, I have a schedule and it clearly states that I attend this class, so if you will continue with the lesson and not bother with impractical games, I, and my other peers, I'm sure, would be delighted." Alexander continued as he twirled his pencil on his fingers gracefully, impudence written all over his face.

I hate to use clichés, but I swear not a soul was breathing.

Mr. Hammer clicked his tongue in disapproval and muttered some indistinct sentence including the words "hoodlum" and "detention". The number of sentences those two words could create was anyone's guess.

"As for you," Mr. Hammer said while turning back to me, "Because of the fact that it is the first day and your mother recently passing, I will give you this one warning. You should be glad I am in such a giving mood, Miss Knighton, because I assure you it won't happen again. And let this be a warning to all students: Sleeping equals detention. Now, what was I saying earlier? Ah yes. An example that Mr. Fortesque-" he said the name with such disdain, it practically oozed out of his mouth "-provided is the growth of a child over a period of time. In order to find the slope of the secant line MQ, we must…"

And as he continued to blather on about the method, he turned away to write on the whiteboard. I bent over my book and started scribbling notes with my horrid handwriting, trying to catch up with the lesson.

The attention Mr. Hammer placed upon me did not go away quickly. Several eyes, some sorrowful, some insensitive, refused to move until minutes later. The compassionate turned away first, and eventually, the callous grew bored and returned their attention to either the new student or the text messages on their cell phones. Throughout the rest of class, I could only feel one pair of dark eyes burning a hole in my backside. Those eyes never left my immobile form. Eyes that seemed too mature and too perspicacious for an eighteen year old body.

Eyes that belonged to a Mr. Alexander Fortesque.

Throughout the rest of class I stayed focused and awake. I was determined not to embarrass myself further… however it wasn't easy though - all throughout class, I had to silently reprimand myself whenever my eyes strayed, sometimes meeting the eyes of the new student.

About the fifth time I'd caught myself, I blew out a breath in irritation and practically shoved my nose into the textbook. My eyes quickly found at the clock behind me, while desperately trying to avoid Alexander's orbs. Only ten more minutes.

This would be the longest ten minutes of my life.

Calculus was the class before lunch, and since Mr. Hammer was a complete... um, never mind... he forced us to wait until he finished the lesson before letting us leave. Six minutes into lunch and the lines were at least a mile long. By the time I got to the front, the cafeteria food being served was colder and harder.

After paying for the barely-edible substances they supplied us, I went in search for a seat, which proved impossible considering the fact that the cafeteria was severely undersized when compared to the student body. Every seat was filled except what many liked to call the "Clique" table - an exclusive table for the elite and popular. Even though it was against protocol, I set my tray down on the table. Hey, it was this or the floor next to the garbage bin, and I assumed it would go well… until the streams of gossip suddenly ceased, leaving a deafening silence to ring in my ears. Almost all of EC's fashionistas turned to me and scowled. I guess it didn't matter where you lived - small town or large city - public high schools everywhere had their social structure, and I was at the rock bottom.

Blushing, I quickly picked up my plate and scanned for a seat other than the floor when a voice called out my name.

"Lara! Over here!"

Down at the other end of the table, Katie was talking to some of the other cheerleaders (her posse since she was one of them), and was the only one who tolerated my insubstantial presence.

"Hey, I saved you a seat. Did you not get my text?"

I shook my head, still slightly abashed, and sat down in the empty chair between Katie and Veronica, the head of the squad.

"Oh, well, then you may not have gotten my other texts either. It was during the class right after Coach Verney's, you know the only class we share this year. Anyway," Katie lowered her voice several decibels making it so only the few sitting near would hear, "Jennifer texted me and told me about this new - and totally - HOT guy, Alex. She said he was in your guys' math class and that he would not quit staring at you! And since you didn't answer your texts I couldn't find out the truth…" She pushed out her lower lip to make it look like she was pouting. "I was lonely without you."

A halfhearted smile tugged at the corner of my mouth and I bumped her with my shoulder. "Don't be stupid, Kate. He may be new, but he's probably already up to date with the gossip and just heard of my mom's passing. Maybe he was sympathetic."

Veronica finally spoke up, weary of all the attention placed on a nobody like myself. "His name is Alexander Fortesque, Katie, not Alex."

"You say this like you already know him, Veronica. I bet you don't know a thing about him," Katie retorted.

"Care to put some money down now, because you couldn't be more wrong, darlin'." Her nasally voice echoed down the entire length of the table and every estrogen filled body turned to listen to whatever scandal she had in possession. "His parents died when he was, like, really young, so he lives with some older brother at 1255 Alpine Drive in Windsor Square. Devastating, I know! I mean who lives in that god forsaken suburban joint." She snuck a quick peek at me, aware of the fact that I resided in that area, before continuing.

I only caught a smidge of what she said, but I got the gist of her whole story: Apparently, Alexander has lived in almost every state (and even a few other countries) because of his brother being affiliated with the military… or something. I didn't really catch that part. They had some ancestors reside here once upon a time. One-hundred and sixty or so years ago was the last time a Fortesque had lived in Beaufort, North Carolina. They were rich, but I had acknowledged this fact when I took notice of the sport car, the Plasma TV's, and the hundreds of thousands of boxes, furniture, and artwork next door. However, they didn't just acquire the title of "Multi-millionaire." According to Veronica, at least. She wasn't exactly the most reliable source.

"And his favorite color is black."

"Obviously," another piped in, "I mean, don't get me wrong, but who does he think he is? Zorro? He just looks Goth to me."

Others soon joined until a tide of commentary drowned out any form of silence that once beheld this table.

"He doesn't have the mask. Zorro always wore a mask… didn't he?"

"Zorro was from Spain. Have you seen him? He's cute and all but so fricken white! Obviously, the farthest thing from Antonio Banderas' portrayal of Zorro."

"Mmm, if he were Zorro I'd be his Elena Montero any day."

Finding the shallowness of these girls' minds somewhat entertaining, I worried at my bottom lip to keep myself from smiling. Katie, too, had a difficult time of keeping a straight face, but we managed to keep from laughing out loud.

Despite all our efforts of trying to keep quiet, they were eventually announced by Veronica.

"And just what do you think your laughing at?"

Silence. Only then did my friend give her opinion.

"Well, to be frank, you guys are acting like a bunch of squabbling, spoiled brats. I mean you barely know the guy and you're already trying to see yourself with him simply because he's new and mysterious."

Suddenly, my tray became a most fascinating subject as Katie finished speaking. She could afford to be blunt. I couldn't.

I stirred my spork in the gravy that covered my - well, I couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it appeared to be meatloaf…

"We are not!" a few of the girls, including Veronica, defended in unison.

"Then tell me something, V, why are you stalking this poor fellow and draining info out of all the secretaries… and when exactly did you have the time to find all this out?"

"Oh, between 3rd and 4th period. And I only did so to satisfy the curious minds of the student body. It's my job."

"Right, forget your studies on the first day back. You just care about getting dirt on people."

"But of course. That is what high school is all about."

Katie opened her mouth to say something but decided against it when the bell rang and the door to the teacher's lounge swung open, revealing all the instructors as they spilled out and headed in the general direction of their rooms.

"Whatever, you go about your little dream world and don't mind my big mouth, girls. However, I'll be the last one laughing when your dream world - or at least the one involving him - comes crashing down."

Not wanting to be late, I left after Katie to fend for herself (which, its not like I was aiding her in any form) and threw away my tray of S.S Nausea before heading over to my next class.

Ugh.

Gym.

I think a piece of me died inside after I triple checked my schedule. Don't get me wrong, I love to run and do yoga, but lifting weights and playing dodge ball were not my thing. In fact, I down right hated Physical Education. It's a shame it was mandatory for three of four years of high school.

As I left the cafeteria and its vociferous crowds, I detected a black pole leaning against the white washed walls of our - well, my - prison and became conscious of the fact that Alexander had been standing there, around the corner of the cheerleader table probably taking note of every word each of those cheerleaders said.

I tried to pull my eyes away from his statue-like form but found that I could not. His gaze trapped mine and a lazy smile twisted the corners of his pale lips.

"Hey," he purred softly.