Thanks to whats. the. time. mr. wolf. again for being nice enough to leave another review. And to Louisa, I'm glad you like how Maureen can pick up on the emotions and motivations of the Twilight universe. It's one of my favorite parts to write.

A shorter chapter than some others. But we're halfway through the story now, and it's about to get dramatic! Dun dun dun! But no drama. Just dramatics.

In the Girl's Bathroom

That Friday, Maureen had been walking towards her first class when the dark-haired albino girl had passed her, crossing in the wake of Maureen's path only a foot behind her. It hadn't seemed relevant at the time. But in retrospect, Maureen realized that the girl had walked past her with no actual destination—after passing Maureen, she had stopped, turned around and gone back the way she came.

The same thing happened again after first period, but with Rosalie. And she'd been less subtle, walking right up to Maureen in the hallway and eyeing her critically. She'd leaned in, like she was about to speak—then made a face, stepped back and walked off.

Maureen was disturbed, but not surprised to see the large dark-haired guy—Edward's brother—approach her before lunchtime. Maureen turned her head and pretended she didn't seem him, ears straining to keep track of his presence. He moved close behind her, and Maureen heard him take a deep breath. Then just as abruptly, he moved away.

This is getting more creepy than weird. Maureen thought.

Rosalie, Edward and the other three weren't at their table during lunch. But Edward did make an appearance, and slipped into the lunch line right behind Maureen. She didn't look at him, but felt extremely uncomfortable. He was more or less breathing down her neck.

Edward vanished after buying his lunch, and Maureen sat at the table his group usually claimed as theirs, eating her food in small, nervous bites. The final one, the blond guy, appeared at the end of lunchtime.

"I think I may have dropped a pencil here yesterday." He confessed, sounding just as constipated as he looked. He adjusted the cuffs on his black corduroy jacket. "If I could just check—"

He made a show of scanning the floor, and as he bent towards the table he reached out and hesitantly grasped Maureen's shoulder, as if to nudge her aside so he could check under the table. Maureen started—his hand felt like a brick wall, heavy and cold. But even as he bent to look under the table, the boy's expression turned from constipated to confused—and then to suspicion. His hand was still on her shoulder, and he was breathing heavily.

Maureen was too freaked out to say anything. She edged away from him, and his hand slid off her.

"Sorry, I guess it's not here." He said. He was staring at her like she'd grown a second head. "I'll just—"

The blond boy retreated, still looking at her even as he walked out the cafeteria door. Maureen was still for a few seconds. Then she slammed her hand down onto the table. That was absolutely enough. Maureen didn't care how crazy or reclusive Edward and his posse was. They owed Maureen answers, right now.

Maureen slung her backpack over her shoulder, and marched out of the cafeteria. She planned to storm into the hallway and start shouting at the blonde boy—but as she reached the doorway, she changed her mind. They'd been sneaking around her all day—let her sneak around them. Maureen peered out into the hallway, and saw the blonde boy walking some twenty yards ahead. Maureen went after him, keeping her footfalls in sync with other people moving through the hallway. The blond boy turned left, down a hallway nobody else was walking in. Maureen was reluctant to follow him further, but he abruptly turned and walked into a bathroom—a girl's bathroom.

Well, that's something strange. Maureen thought. Moving quietly, she slid around the corner and caught the bathroom door with her foot as it swung shut. There was a partition between the door and the cubicles, so it was unlikely anyone in the bathroom would see that the door was propped. Maureen bent her head towards the open space, and listened.

It took a second for her ears to catch the thread of the conversation.

"—read any problems, did you?" It sounded like Rosalie.

"She thinks peculiarly." Edward's voice, she could tell. "Like I said before. And it's not what she thinks, but how she thinks. Her thoughts are like…like woven tapestries, or pictures done in embroidery. I can see it all perfectly well, every word and image. But it looks so strange."

"She smells awful." The blond boy's voice. "Sharp and sour."

There was a chorus of assents—she smelled bad to everyone.

"Not like spoiled milk, though." A female voice—the dark haired girl?

"No, more like lemons, or crabapples, or wild onions. A natural sour." It sounded like the mouth of the speaker was twisting into a pucker at the thought "But natural or not, I don't like it. It's off-putting."

"For which you should be exceedingly thankful." Rosalie again, definitely. "One less concern in a school full of temptation. But that's no reason to let our guard slip."

"She may not be human."

"She looks human."

"Some things do, that aren't."

"We should discuss this later, with Carlisle. There's no point speaking of it here, the walls have ears."

That was as good a cue as any. As quietly as she could, Maureen extracted her foot, and let the door close. She backed away, and slipped down the hall. Walking quickly, she pressed her fingertips to her forehead. It was beginning to throb in time with the sudden increase in her heartbeat.

Classes started again in ten minutes, but the walk to the Nurse's office took less than five. Maureen went up to the nurse's desk and explained that she felt feverish, could she please use the bathroom? Her acting was very good—or, Maureen, thought, she was so nervous she really looked sick. Either way, Mrs. Hammond bought it, and gave Maureen a cup of water before showing her the bathroom. Maureen downed the cup, then put her hands on the sink and stared at her reflection.

What was going on? Was there no peace to be had here? What were Rosalie and her gang, that they could detect hints of her true nature?

Maureen touched her fingers to the grubby bathroom mirror. In this place, as in others, she looked ordinary. If everyone here had had blue skin, her skin would have become blue as well. It was a reflexive cloaking mechanism—for lack of a better term.

And Maureen had supplemented this, trying her best to suggest no part of her true self. But while a human might be easily fooled, something unhuman—

She wasn't going to class, that was for sure. Not with Edward sitting three feet to her right, and by his own admission, capable of reading minds. Maureen left the bathroom, and asked Mrs. Hammond if she could lie down for a little. The nurse felt her forehead, and looked concerned.

"I think I should call your mother to come get you." Mrs. Hammond said.

Maureen felt a pang of discomfort in her chest. "I live with my Aunt." She said. "Her number is…"

Aunt Joan ended up not making it to the school until classes ended—Maureen spent the hours in between dozing on the nurse's cot, trying to stay calm. She lay with her hands behind her head, and looked out the window up at the sky.

Now was not the time for fear—an emotion that so easily crippled those who suffered from it. Fear was pointless here, pointless to her. If Maureen had to run away from Forks, she would do so. But that was jumping to conclusions. She needed to focus on the here and now. And now was the time for action. If Maureen wanted to deal with this situation intelligently, she needed more information.

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