Hey guys, I just want to quickly apologize for keeping you waiting for so long. I've been suffering from massive writer's block, and that combined with family vacations and two jobs is not conducive to quality writing time. I'll do much better at keeping up with this story in the future, you have my solemn vow. Anywho, let me know of what you think of this chapter, please. Thanks for all the feedback and followers. Keep 'em coming! :)

My hands and feet are shaking, but I did it. I look out across the desks and the bored faces of my classmates and see Tooth grinning. She gives me a thumbs up. I smile back at her and then look over to where Ms. March is sitting. She, too, is smiling at me, but I notice that there's a weird kind of sadness in her expression.

"That was very well-done, Clara," she says.

"Thank you," I say, and move back to my seat quickly. I don't think anyone in this room knows how important reciting that poem was for me. I years had been from home… I keep my eyes down as the next person steps up and begins to speak. Another recitation of Hope is the Thing with Feathers. Joy.

I don't know how long I've been zoned out for before I hear chairs scraping along the ground as the other students in the class rush out. I scoop up my bag and start moving towards the door – and Tooth, who is waiting for me just outside the room – when Ms. March's voice stops me in my tracks. "I'd like to speak with you for a moment, Clara."

My green eyes stare into Tooth's purple ones as we exchange a look, and then I slowly turn around. I think she notices my worried expression because she adds "Don't worry, you're not in trouble or anything," reassuringly.

She sits down at her desk and looks up at me as I stand I front of her. "I just wanted to thank you, Clara."

Now I'm just confused. "For what?"

"For a couple of things, actually. First, thank you for being one of the few, brave students to actually find a poem besides the most basic, well-known Dickinson work. I don't know how many more recitations of Hope is the Thing with Feathers I can handle."

I can't help but smile. She's mirroring my thoughts from before.

"The second thing I wanted to say is that I very rarely get the opportunity to hear a poem read with as much emotion as you read yours. It brought tears to my eyes, how much you obviously connect to the piece. Thank you for sharing that with me, and with your classmates."

I'm speechless. That was the last thing I expected her to say. "Thank you, Ms. March. That poem does mean a lot to me," I hear myself say, although I can't really register when I came up with those words. She just smiles at me and nods at the door. "You can go now, Clara, I just wanted you to know how wonderful that was. I don't want you to be late for your next class."

I nod, pick up my backpack, and shuffle out of the room as quickly as I can. Tooth is waiting for me as I step into the hallway, and immediately swoops down with questions. "What did she say? Are you in trouble for something? Was it about your recitation? Tell me!"

I laugh and hold out a hand to keep her at an arm's length from me. "Deep breaths, Tooth. I'm not in trouble. She just wanted to tell me that I did a really good job reciting today, apparently. That's all we talked about."

"Oh." I think she was expecting something a little more dramatic, but she doesn't ask any more questions. "She's right though, you did a fantastic job."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks."

She bumps my shoulder with hers as we walk down the hall towards our lockers. "I'm serious, Clara. You almost made me cry, it was so sad."

I shrug. "It made me cry, too, the first time I read it. That's why I chose it. I like words that can really make you feel things." That's one thing that I wasn't able to fully appreciate until I became Clara, until I really had nothing better to do than to sit in my room and read, rather than run around with Jack and the rest of the gang and cause problems. I love words, the way they can be shaped and formed and the way they can really make you feel, like whatever the words describe was actually happening to you.

"But where did you find that poem? I looked all over and didn't find anything as good as that one."

"Online. I'm something of an expert at random Internet searches."

She throws her head back in a laugh. Just like every other aspect of her personality, Tooth's laugh is both highly enthusiastic and infections. I join in.

"Well, next time we have to do some research, I know who to ask for help, then."

I shake my head. "Nope. You can't afford me."

She's just about to respond – with something snarky, I can tell by the way her eyes move to the side and the half-smile she makes – when the shrill ringing of the bell sends her rushing away in a panic. "OhnoI'mgoingtobelateforclassI'lltalktoyoulaterClarabye!"

I wave at her and continue down the hall. I have a free period next, and since I'm not a troublemaker, teachers tend to let it slide when I'm late, which doesn't happen often. I reach my locker and open the door when someone's hand lands on the locker next to my head. I jump, but don't turn around. This is the first time I've been approached this way, and I'm not really sure of what to do.

"Well, well. If it isn't the Snow Queen," a voice whispers in my ear. Not really a whisper, but quiet enough that I know it's meant for me. The voice seems to sneak down my spine, like a spider, and goosebumps form on my arms. I shiver, and turn around to face my harasser.

Yellow eyes stare back at me. Pale face. Black hair. Black clothes, too, from what I can see. I'm so close to him, I could count the hairs on his head if I wanted to. I don't. All I want to do is get as far away from him as possible. I try the meek Clara tactic first; duck my head, avoid eye contact, and just turn around and leave. It doesn't work, as his other hand grasps the side of my locker door, creating a trap for me.

My second option is to act confident. I straighten my shoulders into what I think could look like a strong stance and glare up into his face. "What do you want?" I demand.

He doesn't answer right away, instead just inspects me like he's trying to decide whether I'm worth his time or not. As the seconds tick by, a slow grin starts to make its way across his face, but somehow, on him, it looks more like a sneer. He leans in towards me, and I move away, as far away as I can get, which isn't enough. "I just want to know," he starts, "why you're so cold."

"Excuse me?" I glare at him.

"Brrrr. You see what I mean, Snow Queen?"

There it is again. Snow Queen. The name I get for shutting people out. For doing what needs to be done. But I don't shut everyone out. I let Tooth in sometimes, and her friends…sometimes.

"What's it to you?"

He looks genuinely puzzled. "It's nothing to me. I'm just curious. People like you are usually hiding something. I want to know what it is."

I open my mouth to speak when another voice booms out from down the hall. "Clara? Is that you?" and a large hand claps down on my harasser's shoulder. I let out an inaudible sigh of relief. North.

"Pitch." He says neutrally.

"North." The yellow-eyed boy says back.

"I think it's time for you to be on your way," my rescuer says. He words it like a suggestion, but his tone of voice makes it clear that it's a command.

"Fine with me," Pitch responds casually. He leans back and removes his hands from where they were fencing me in, and with another sneer turns his back and starts walking away. "See you later, Snow Queen," he calls mockingly as he turns a corner.

I let out my breath now, a shaking rattle that I didn't know I was capable of making. North looks at me in concern. For such a big guy, he's pretty intuitive. He gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Was Pitch bothering you?" When I nod, his eyes crinkle up into a glare in the direction that Pitch left, but he makes no other sign to show that he's upset.

He looks back at me and smiles. "Well, don't worry about him. Whatever he said to you was probably just something stupid anyway. He picks on everyone in this school. I'll keep an eye out for you though, okay? And Bunny and Sandy will too. Let me know if this happens again."

I smile up at him. I always forget how tall North is until he's standing right next to me, then he's suddenly a giant. "Thank you," is all I say, and apparently it's all he needs to hear, because he gestures formally with his hand - like a prince leading a princess into a ball - and starts walking me down the hallway, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be strolling through the school with me in the middle of the morning.

So this is how Jack felt when those stupid guys made fun of him for his hair…and me. But Jack didn't have a North to stand up for him, and he doesn't have me to stand up for him either. Hopefully he's a lot stronger than I am. He has to be.