Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys! This chapter might be a bit shabbier than the last but I hope it's still enjoyable. R&R!

Miss Imprint

Chapter 2: Changes

The alarm blared out into the still morning and I shot out of bed, my heart pounding at the sudden noise and I slapped at the plastic device repeatedly hoping that I'd hit the snooze button. My glasses were unfortunately at Seth's house, I'd left them there after our last movie marathon and I'd never gotten around to picking them up.

Success, and sweet, sweet silence.

I trudged back to bed but made the mistake of glancing out the window and inspiration struck. I could kiss sleeping in goodbye. The sunrise was far too extravagant to waste on just seeing.

I had to get it.

My canvas was ready to go and I easily swabbed my brush across my paint palate, and dashing vermillion across the bottom. The morning sun rose away from my window but streaks from its dazzling center punctuated the clouds spread across my sky. By the time Seth came over to grab me, I was streaked with a variety of colors, and was close to completion.

I could hear him stomping up the stairs, that boy could never walk silently, not if his life depended on it.

My door creaked open, his version of stealthy.

"You're blocking my light."

"You're drawing the sun."

"And?"

"I don't know where you come from but on my planet there's only one sun."

"I can't see if I'm using puce or mahogany. Get out of my light."

"Jeez, crabby much? Maybe if you drew something decent every once in a while you wouldn't be so stressed out."

I heard a yell as a very well aimed flick of painted landed on his forehead. I had gotten paint flicking down to an art form. Although I was fairly certain I could only hit Seth, and only when he was behind me.

"Aren't you ready to go yet?" I wouldn't flick him again. Really I wouldn't.

"I'm trying to create a masterpiece." I'm calm, composed, compassionate-

"Well hurry up, I'm hungry." He whined.

"Monet wouldn't have had to play second fiddle to your stomach and neither will I. You can wait, like a big boy." I cooed mockingly and for a second, there was silence.

Then the groans started: from him, not his stomach, might I add.

"Seth."

"Yeah."

I flicked another splotch of paint, this time vermillion.

"Ahh, you got my eye. What the hell, that hurts!"

"I did not." I denied.

There was silence for a moment and I felt my head start to turn almost of its own accord. What if I had hit him? These paints weren't really child-friendly-

"Yeah okay, maybe you didn't, but I'd appreciate a modicum of concern."

I can't believe I'm friends with him.

"You're not showing me any." I responded, resisting the urge to throw my entire easel at him.

"You're not starving."

"I'm trying to create a masterpiece." I said, through only slightly clenched teeth.

"You said that already."

"Clearly, it didn't sink in the first time."

I heard him flop onto my bed and smiled to myself, he really was a good friend, despite being an enormous pain in my ass most of the time. I swiped the edge of my canvas, and then set my paintbrush down with a flourish. It was finished. It wasn't the sunrise dear old Claude had birthed by any means but I could live with it. I turned around and to see him glaring at me.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get you to get breakfast with me."

"How's that going?"

"Swimmingly, we just finished ordering the first course."

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm." I shot at him, just turning my head to shoot him a wink.

"Yeah well, I don't appreciate your face but I'm too polite to say anything about it." He deadpanned, before winking back.

"Seth, my ham sandwich has a better sense of decorum than you do."

"Did you make me one?" I smacked my hand on my forehead; it was like talking to a brick wall.

"Completely missing the point; but yes, yours is in the fridge right next to mine."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"You're my hero, you know that?"

"I guess, I'm okay with that." I smiled at him and he grinned back fully, the deep brown of his irises stunning me for a second, and but before I could say anything else, he was up and out the door hollering for me to catch up.

I grabbed my converse, each painted a different color, one was an ode to Banksy, the other to Warhol, and they were probably the pinnacle of my rather extensive dossier. I really needed to redo the black on the Warhol though, it was fading at an alarming rate; you could barely make out the edges of the soup can. I reached for my brush.

"If you touch that paintbrush, I will not be responsible for my actions."

I guess Campbell's would have to wait. I grabbed my messenger bag and darted down the stairs and into Seth's beat up old truck. It was orange, and not orange like the fruit or even orange like fish, it was blood orange, and it was probably the fiercest part of the wretched piece of junk. I tended to keep that opinion to my self, as Seth for some god-forsaken reason had an unreasonable attachment to the car.

"Bruce is waiting." He uttered with an edge of impatience, looking down at me through his glasses.

"Oh my god. Stop personifying your car."

"Stop telling me what to do."

"Stop being an idiot." I volleyed back.

"No can do." He shot a cheerful grin at me before revving the engine, although in this case that mean that Bruce here gave a few splutters and groans before resuming its normal obnoxious hum. I got in and reached over to smack him upside the head.

"Hey!"

"Just drive, Seth."

"Will do."


By the time we got to school the hallways were milling with students. There was a great deal of hustle and bustle as apparently Jared Thail had returned from his brief hiatus doing something or other. Regardless, everyone was all a flutter.

I tugged Seth towards the beige wall of lockers insistently; he tended to lose focus when there was a lot of noise; or lots of food; or really anything bright and shiny. He was quick witted, sure, but definitely not the most purposeful bristle in the paintbrush.

"Cassie, look at him."

"Look at who?" I asked easily, not completely paying attention, my locker was giving me trouble again; the numbers never seemed to click like in the movies. I was half tempted to put my ear against the door and listen for it when-

"Seth." The deep rumbling voice was in no way the easy alto that Jared had sported before, but it was unmistakably him; plus like half a person, no joke, the guy had grown like six inches in the space of two weeks. I took a step back. I have no shame; it was just a survival instinct. There was no way he could see me from that high up and I had no intention of being trampled.

"Jared, man, what happened to you?" Seth looked a lot less obvious about his shock, but I could see how wide his eyes were. His left hand fisted his shirt. He was nervous.

"Nothing." Jared flicked his gaze towards me appraisingly, before replacing them on Seth.

"Dude, I'm not blind."

"I said nothing." Jared's glare hardened and Seth took a half step back and then forward again, his right hand joined his left.

"Jared, is everything okay?" I don't really know what possessed me to speak but I was seriously regretting it as Jared took a step towards me, eyes piercing and narrowed.

I saw Seth moved closer to me out of my periphery but then before Jared could say anything, I heard Paul yell out.

Jared stiffened for a second before relaxing and suddenly it was like his face became fluid again, there was a lightness about him now. He turned to face Paul, smile turned up slightly in casual camaraderie, but they were beautiful in their intensity. I suddenly wished I had my sketch book. I was about to make what I'm sure would have been a very foolish request to draw them, when-

"What're you looking at?" Paul took a step towards me and I shook my head quickly before grabbing my books in one arm and Seth in the other and tugging him into class. We didn't talk about what happened. We just shot each other bewildered look across the classroom and then ignored them.


I made it to lunch first. Italian had gotten out early.

So I sat down at the table nearest the south door, my back to the lunch room, eyes focused on the paper bag in front of me. I was ravenous. I had just pulled out my first when I heard the bench creak rather ominously as a heavy set Paul sat himself across me looking mutinous.

I waited a few seconds, but he seemed content to sit there and glare into the table, his eyes flickering upwards every minute or so to glance at me before resuming their trajectory circling grains of wood.

"I…uh, Paul, is it?" I fumbled, unsure of what exactly to do myself. It seemed entirely inappropriate to keep eating my sandwich.

"Yeah." That was it. He might have grunted after, I'm not entirely sure. I wasn't sure what exactly I was supposed to say.

"Look, not to be rude, but…did you need something?" I tried to meet his gaze but he persistently kept it away from me.

He ignored me.

I tried again.

"I could give you half of my sandwich if you're hungry." I even pushed the still wrapped portion towards him. But he just withdrew that hand that was closest to it so I pulled it back.

I felt a sting at that. I didn't really know Paul, but whatever his deal was, it was making me nervous.

I saw his fist clench as I opened my mouth again so I promptly shut it and packed away my lunch. I stood up.

"Well…it's been real….scintillating."

I lifted my right foot slowly, and just as I was about to pass over the bench, he looked at me. He was furious. His eyes were black, his mouth twisted into a scowl.

"Sit down." The nerve, he may be all big and intimidating but, that didn't give him the right to sit down at my table and order me around. I'll show him.

"I'd rather not actually. You're making me uncomfortable." That's right, he'll think twice about using that tone with me next time he-

"Just fucking sit down." He spat furiously.

I sat.

Oh what was one period of awkward silence, it's not like I had anything better to do; besides Seth would be here soon anyhow. I hoped. I twiddled my thumbs a little and then took a gander around the cafeteria. No sign of him. Not a disheveled, partially tucked collared shirt, or thinly-rimmed set of gorgeous Prada glasses anywhere.

Yeah, Prada.

Seth may seem incompetent when it comes to all matters human but he's really not. He picked out those ridiculously hot glasses all on his lonesome.

An ornery huff drew my gaze forward again and to my extreme disappointment, Paul was still there.

I suppose it's good to at least try to make the best of situations. At least that's what dad always said.

"So…do you like my converse?"