What's this? A chapter's finally here….what's this? What's this!

You're awesome if you get the reference, I'm just saying.

What are you waiting for? Read you beautiful person! This chapter is why this story is in the "humor" category. At least, I think it's funny.

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Between the great things we cannot do and the small things we will not do, the danger is that we shall do nothing. ~Adolph Monod

My blood burned as I stared into the gray eyes of the adversary. I wanted to feel the satisfying crunch of a jaw giving as my fist connected with his face. I wanted to knee him in the gut because more than likely, he had had too many drinks and I could potentially cause some irreversible damage to his already mutilated liver. I wanted to stab him in the eye because its nerves connect to so many different areas of the brain. I wanted to then proceed to slash at him with that same blade. I wanted Michael Newton to hurt for his arrogance, ignorance, and most of all his disrespect toward me.

However, despite how much I wanted, I first had to abide to what was expected of me. Specifically: do not kill any of the students. Following my original plan, the boy would have probably not survived. Secondly, there were quite a few others in the school parking lot with more pouring in and I had to stay low and be as unassuming as possible for a new girl in a small town. Those points severely limited my options.

But I really should start from earlier that morning.

When I woke up, I had no kinks in my neck and no slight discomfort in my back and no lumps digging into my sides. To say I was confused was a bit of an understatement. During the night, my hand wound its way under the pillow to grab my switchblade, so I twisted out of a mess of purple sheets, knife in hand, ready to attack before I was fully coherent. Noting that my only opponent was an extremely purple room I calmed down, remembering my relocation to Forks.

Charlie left a packaged toothbrush in the bathroom next to a fresh tube of toothpaste, for which I was grateful. My mouth still felt gross, as I haven't had the time to brush my teeth since I was drugged a couple days ago. I was still wearing my outfit from yesterday, a pair of sweats with a white shirt. Or maybe it was gray? Either way, I didn't have too many stains on me so I proceeded down the stairs. I snuck around the main floor for a while, checking that no one was hiding behind the couch or something. Then I sauntered around casually, examining the outside through the windows for any search outs.

When I was satisfied that the home base was secure, I chugged down some breakfast. To be precise, some milk from the carton and two floppy pieces of sliced bread. My stomach was churning at the thought of eight hours with high school aged children, but I would stupid to pass up an opportunity for sustenance.

Just as I was ready to leave, I noticed a backpack by the door. After checking its contents, I was once again pleasantly surprised at Charlie's generosity. It held a few notebooks and folders that I might need for school. I certainly couldn't take my own backpack, as it would only take one clumsy student to bump into it before some bomb was set off, and going without a backpack at all would be too conspicuous. Not wanting to go completely unarmed, I strapped a knife to my ankle and checked that my semi-auto was still at my hip and loaded. I ran my hands through my hair a few times before I left. It was a bit greasy but not too bad.

I jumped into my truck and reveled in the feel of twisting the key to start it up. I drove around for a while until I saw the sign for Forks High School: Home of the Spartans. It looked as if it was being eaten alive by vines and foliage—the school as well as the notice. I would have missed the turn if I wasn't paying close attention. Not that it would have mattered too much either way. When I pulled into the parking lot, there were no cars in the student section, and only a few in the teachers' spaces. I slumped back in my seat with a huff. I guess I should have checked when the school day started.

I hung around in the truck for a few minutes, wasting time by picking my nails, but then felt like a bump on a log so I slung my new bag over one shoulder and entered the school building. It seemed pretty small for a school, but, of course, I didn't have much as a point of reference. To my left was a set of double doors to the auditorium. To my right were two hallways with doors leading to what I assumed were a mixture of classrooms, bathrooms, and janitors' closets. Directly to my right was a door labeled "Office". After an awkwardly unsure moment, I decided that showing myself in would be too bold, so I knocked.

"Come in!" An overly sweet, high pitched voice called from behind the door. I gulped and pulled at the knob. As I stepped in, I had a brief internal battle about closing the door behind me or not. After some thought, I decided leaving it open a crack would be my best bet. Nevertheless, I kept my hand on the knob just in case I would need a quick escape.

The Forks High School office was plethora of greenery, as if there wasn't enough of it outside. Potted plants littered every table surface and any available space along the walls. There was even a small cactus sitting idly by, bent under the weight of overwatering. It made me flinch a bit, as it reminded me of Renee. She always overwatered the cacti in our home in Arizona. Even though I was small, I distinctly remembered once asking my mother why our potted "Mickey Mouse" always looked so tired. Renee would giggle self-consciously and reply "I think I gave it a little too much water, honey. I guess I'll just wait longer this time before watering again. That's all." The poor cactus would go without water for months until it turned brown and brittle. Finally, Phil would put his foot down and throw it out. Mom usually bought a replacement the very next day.

It was so strange how I remembered the seemingly insignificant things about my parents. Phil would always curl his toes after sitting down in his favorite armchair. Renee would always sing Britney songs when doing chores around the house. I could clearly recall how happy it made me when my dad would give Mom a clumsy kiss when she was in the middle of something, and she would blush and giggle. It was those minute details of everyday life that I coveted the most. They gave me a sense of hope, I think.

Of course, there was also the flip side of memory lane. No matter how hard I tried, I could never get a hold of my parent's faces. My brain would only barf up their mangled visages that were barely recognizable as belonging to a human. I didn't remember what color eyes Phil had, or recall the exact shade burgundy of Renee's hair. Without any pictures, I had no way of refreshing my reminiscence. All I had were fading memories.

I shook myself out of my musings by examining the rest of room. The walls were a pale, chipping yellow that reminded me of pus. There were a few chairs along one wall with worn, green cushions for seats and a matching couch at the other end of the room. The carpet's magenta tried, but failed, to cover up stains that told stories of rushed coffee breaks and muddy walks. In the back of the small, square room, there was a desk that took up most of the far wall. It was covered in an orderly disarray of papers, coasters, and office supplies. My eyes widened at what I saw next.

The lady at the desk was staring at me strangely with a far off look in her pasty gray eyes. She had short, orange, and extremely permed hair framing an aging face covered in too much makeup. There was a coral lipstick stain on her yellow, crooked teeth. Her smile widened.

"Hello dear!" she squeaked. My eyes jerked around, suddenly suspicious. I know it was superficial of me, but I just couldn't help myself. In my experience, a criminal attempting to blend in looked just as over-the-top as her. I tensed for armed guards who would undoubtedly jump out from the overstuffed couch. Of course they never came, but someone else did.

"Shelly! Have you-"

My instincts kicked in immediately. The movement and sound came from behind me; behind the door. So, I pushed back with the hand still on the doorknob until I met resistance.

"Shit," I heard the person curse in a high-pitched voice. I turned and was met by the sight of a balding man clutching his reddening hand to his chest, fighting back tears. A second passed and I blinked, remembering myself. My head was ringing with the prospect of a battle, but I knew this man didn't deserve to die. He was too far below my abilities. I must not kill him, I chanted.

Shelly got up in a hurry and floundered her way over to our side of the room. She was wearing a white shirt that I could clearly see her bra through and a skirt that showed off her extensive muffin top. She waved her hands around helplessly as the injured man made these repetitive grunting noises. At this point, I was considering taking my chances sneaking through the door, now blocked by two figures.

"Mr. Banner," She exclaimed slowly and clearly, as if his injury was to his ear and not his hand, "are you alright?"

Mr. Banner's hand was starting to swell, but he straightened up anyway and smiled through a grimace. He nodded in assurance to Shelly, fixed his colorful tie, and faced me.

"You must be the new student? Isabella Swan?" Mr. Banner extended his injured right hand before retracting it and offering his left carefully. Heat rose up my face.

"Yeah…sorry," I managed to choke out. I began twirling my hair in agitation. My muscles were tense and still thought it was killing time.

"Oh yes!" Shelly piped up and smiled at me again. I saw some spinach stuck in her teeth. My own tongue began searching through my mouth, just in case. She raced back to the desk and picked out a few papers.

"You're Isabella Swan," she paused. I nodded. She continued, "I knew it. You look just like your father!" She paused again, looking at me expectantly. I shrugged. Well, at least the locals were buying the story. But doesn't news travel fast around Forks? I didn't even know I was going to be here until recently. She finally looked as uncomfortable as I felt and stuck the papers into my chest.

"There you'll find a map of the school, your schedule, the school policy, and all. I'm Mrs. Cope, and if you need any help don't hesitate to ask me, any of the teachers, or a student." Yeah, right. I began to back out, my eyes twitching from Mrs. Cope to Mr. Banner. He gave me a confused wave while cradling his hand. As soon as I was out of sight, I ran. I ran out to my loyal Chevy, the only thing I could trust around here.

I slid down into the driver's seat, breathing heavily and clutching the papers. My eyes clenched shut and I whimpered. I couldn't do this. That must have been a rather average encounter with only two other human beings, and I was already freaked out. Cars started pouring into the parking lot, and I knew I had to make the decision. I started mumbling to myself and rocking. Esme's voice echoed through my head.

"So are you just going to lay there feeling sorry for yourself you little bitch!" She was screaming at me. She just kept screaming. It hurt. I hurt. I was on the floor. Her words were swimming in my head, molding together. However, even in such a state I was trained enough to perceive the movement towards me. I twitched to attack, but couldn't bring myself to move.

"Move! Survive! Go!" She kept yelling; the man kept approaching. This was an exercise. Pitting two people against each other, and then whoever was left got to live another day. No rules applied, as long as it was every-man-for-himself. I was nine and my opponent was a 25 year old man who was bigger than a truck. I heard others jeer and holler around me, but only her voice registered. I twitched again.

What if I just didn't move? What if I died? Then I'd see them again…

"Oh no you don't! Make the choice, girl! Don't you fucking dare embarrass me!" My eyes flickered and I saw a hilt. Anger flooded through me. I will live. Pain burned through me and I screamed. I didn't know what it was, but I grabbed it and stabbed upwards blindly. Wrong choice?

Then the world went black.

My eyes snapped open. I wasn't breathing. I shook my head of any thoughts and my indifferent visage returned. I opened the door and confidently left my car. This was nothing but another exercise. I have even been given tools to improve my chances of survival. As I strode back to the school, I opened the map and schedule Mrs. Cope gave me. Before the day officially began, I could acquaint myself with my classes and all of the exits, rooms, locks, and passages of the school. Just in case.

Suddenly something was in front of me. I skidded to a stop in a puddle, splashing murky water on my pants. I looked up angrily into the face of a very smug looking boy. He was chubby, pasty, and put on far too much cologne that morning. Not to mention the boy's pants were half way to the ground. I glared at him for a second and moved to the side. He moved with me.

"Excuse me," I murmured and tried again. His smirk grew wider. I gritted my teeth. Do not kill any of the students. Stupid letter.

"Watch where you're going," he licked his lips. Some of his friends gathered around and chuckled. It was obvious where they got their style choices from. I quickly took inventory in case the situation turned ugly. A kid with greasy hair stood on his left, and a dark skinned tall kid stood to his right. I could easily take them in a fight, especially since the greasy one seemed so apprehensive. I took a breath in and out; I moved forward.

His hand reached out to my shoulder roughly, and stopped me. I saw red.

"Fight,"

I lifted my gaze up to meet his. Chubby's grin wavered, but remained in place. I grinned back. He knew I was the predator, and he was my prey. The stupid boy just wouldn't admit it to himself.

"Show no fear,"

"I asked you to move," I repeated in a clear voice.

"Remember, that even if no one dies, you must be the one on top. You have to leave that arena with everybody knowing that you would have killed the guy."

"Why don't you make me, babe?" His double chins wobbled. I was ready. I tried moving around him again, anticipating that he would stop me. Chubby didn't disappoint. His arm shot out, so I grabbed and pulled it back. He jumped back in pain, whimpering. His friends marched forward with their fists out. Amateurs.

I easily whipped the tall kid's hands away and kneed him in the balls. He fell. This was too easy. The greasy kid looked unsure and nervous. He looked at the cowering leader behind him and back to me, classic case of following orders or going rouge. Feeling sorry for the guy, I just kicked his legs out from under him.

That was nothing, but adrenaline was still pumping through my limbs. My shoulder twitched. I approached Chubby, gaining satisfaction out of how he seemed to curl into himself at my gaze. Then I turned and walked away. Being in high school was making me feel so bad ass; it did wonders for the old ego. Plus, that fight took my mind off the fact that about a hundred students were currently gathered around, staring with their beady eyes. I slowed down.

Oh shit.

I glanced at their faces; the expressions differed. The majority were staring at me in anger and Chubby with sympathy. A few were looking at me like I was a godsend. Nobody moved yet except for me and the parking lot was filled with dead silence. I stared down at my map and schedule abruptly and increased my pace.

"Wait!" a girl's voice huffed behind me and the spell was broken. The students began chatting with each other again. I looked to my side and there was a girl with curly brown hair who was a bit shorter than I was.

"Hi! I'm Jessica, but you can call me Jess or Jessie" She flipped her hair. I didn't respond.

"So that was really cool, you know? Mikey totally deserved that, but you were a bit harsh. You must be Isabella? The chief's daughter? That is so cool, but at the same time kind of lame. Your dad must be really strict and stuff." She stopped for a breath and I looked on incredulously, but kept walking. Let's see how much information I can get from her without saying a word.

"Anyway, I like you, Isabella. You should, like, totally come sit with us at lunch today. I'll take you under my wing because here's the secret," she leaned into my ear a bit, "I'm kind of queen bee of the popular crowd here, you know? You are the new kid and all, but you'll be safe with me." She winked. I think I can take care of my own safety, I thought. Did I not just prove it?

We entered the school and an excited boy quickly opened the door for Jessica. She stuck out her chest and smiled at him. He appeared star struck. I rolled my eyes. Jessica's hand moved to mine, and I let her proceed. She grabbed my schedule, looking over it with gossip-hungry eyes.

"Ahh!" she squealed, "We have Spanish together! But, omigod, you have so many nerd classes." I grabbed my paper out of her hands and left to English.

"Okidokie!" Jessica called after me, "I'll see you in Spanish and lunch!"

With that, I headed to English to start the school day.

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Guess who's alive? Come on, guess!

Yup, that's right. I'm back like the Terminator! I'm back like Randy Quaig! Heck, I'm back like Mel Gibson and Danny Glover from that Lethal Weapon movie!

Back to serious matters (where we ever in serious matters?), this chapter was incredibly difficult to write. I feel like I couldn't wrap up my ideas well and it got boring in some parts.

Ha! Anyway, give me some feedback or hate or love in the form of a review.