This chapter was really fun to write, and I even surprised myself at the end of it, so I hope you all enjoy!

Jack? Jack Frost? Jack freaking Frost? How in the world did this happen? I don't see you for two years and now…what the hell happened to your hair? I don't say any of this out loud, of course, but with these thoughts running – sprinting – through my head, I can't think of anything to say, can't even remember what he just said. I can only focus on the fact that my best friend is staring at me and doesn't know me.

I'm shaken out of my panicked state of silence by computer-screen-Jack tapping his finger against the video recorder, causing the screen to shake slightly. I blink, probably for the first time since I saw his face, and try to contort my mouth into something resembling a smile. "Oh, sorry, I think my screen froze or something. My name's Clara Robinson. It's a pleasure to meet you, Jack." I don't know where that excuse came from, but I go with it.

He chuckles. Since when does Jack chuckle? Why does he look so grown up? What happened to his hair? "That's technology for you. Can't live with it, can't live without it." I laugh vaguely and agree. There's an awkward silence that stretches for a few seconds while we stare at each other uncomfortably.

"So…" he begins, apparently searching for some kind of question to ask. I should have made some conversation cards or something. "How did you get roped into doing this?"

I shrug. "My teacher called my uncle and asked him if he thought I'd be interested. I was. How did you get in?"

He mirrors my shrug and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was, and somehow it still looks good. Seriously, what happened to his hair? I don't know why I'm stuck on the whole hair thing, but it's really strange to have that one detail so incongruous with my memories of Jack. "I saw a flyer at school, thought it sounded kinda cool, so I applied. My mom really wanted me to try it, too," he laughs, and then adds: "One does not simply say no to my mother."

The words, "I know," are on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them in. Clara doesn't know. Elsa, go away! Instead, I just smile and nod. "I know the feeling, that's how my aunt is sometimes."

He pauses for a moment, and I get the feeling he's deciding something. Then he looks up again and I see a question in his eyes. "Okay, this is probably too personal since we just met and all, but you mentioned and aunt and uncle but not parents."

"Oh." I look down at my hands, which are clasped tightly together in my lap. "I live with my aunt and uncle here in Arendelle. My parents are…" I trail off. What can I say about my parents without giving something away? I don't want to lie to him. Again.

Jack puts his hands up in a calming gesture. "You don't have to say anymore. I was just curious."

Before another silence places its heavy hand on our conversation, I jump in with a question. "So where are you from? And how old are you?"

"Burgess, so we're actually pretty close to each other, only two-ish hours away. And I'm seventeen, gonna be a senior this year."

"Me too."

"For real? Wow, talk about coincidence. So why haven't I heard of you before? Our schools play each other in sports and stuff."

I laugh out loud. "I don't really do sports. I mean, I used to, but not anymore."

He grins sheepishly. "Oh. Well that explains it I guess."

"So I take it you play sports?"

"I do. Football, basketball. Not track though. I hate track. Besides, not doing sports in the spring means that I can focus on practicing guitar."

It suddenly dawns on me why Jack was assigned as my partner now. "So you're the instrumentalist, are you? That's why we're partners."

Jack's expression right now reminds of the cartoons I watched when I was young. I wouldn't be surprised at all if a lightbulb went off over his head right now. "Ah…" he says. "You're a writer, aren't you?"

"I guess. I mean, I haven't really tried writing songs, but I'm willing to try."

"We're in the same boat, then. I don't usually try to make up my own music, it always sounds terrible, so we'll have to try together."

"Do you play any other instruments besides the guitar?" I know the answer to this question. He plays the piano, just like I do. Back when we were inseparable, we begged our mothers to give us piano lessons, then ended up begging them to let us stop taking them. I was better than Jack at playing, but I'm probably really out of practice now, it's been at least five years since I stopped playing.

He grins at me. "I play the piano, but my knowledge extends to scales and chopsticks, and that's about it."

It's so easy to talk to him, it's like nothing has changed. Except his hair. Let it go, Elsa. Talking to Jack, it's easier to forget who I am now and remember who I was…who we were. I have to remind myself that I'm not Elsa, that I'm Clara, otherwise this will get really complicated, really quickly.

"You never know when knowing chopsticks will come in handy, though. It's a valuable skill," I respond. "Wait a second, if you can play and I can write, who's gonna sing?"

He looks at me, and I look at him. Then, at the exact same moment, "Not it!" Stop it, Clara or Elsa or whoever you are. We used to do that all the time as kids, especially when it came to asking for permission to do something, since the answer was usually no anyways.

He starts to laugh, but then stops and tilts his head slightly sideways, staring at me with new interest. "What?" I ask when his looks starts to make me uncomfortable.

"You remind me of someone, Clara."

Uh oh. This is what happens when you're not careful enough, Clara.

I raise my eyebrows. "Who?"

Just when I think he's about to answer, he waves my question away. "It's nothing."

It bothers me a little bit that he won't say more, but I don't ask again. I divert back to the question of singing. "Well, I'm sure we'll figure out the singing thing a little later into the project. We still have to write the song first."

"A valid point," he responds. He's still distracted, I can tell, but I choose to ignore it. To make myself less recognizable, I start fiddling with my hair, trying to emphasize the fact that it's so different from Elsa's long, light blond locks.

As if on cue, my phone starts ringing, a string of notes that jump around, creating a melody of organized chaos. The name on the screen shines "Mom". I look down at it and look back up at Jack. "I need to take this call, okay? Sorry we couldn't talk longer, but maybe again sometime soon?"

He nods, and a smile returns to his face. We exchange phone numbers quickly and as soon as the screen goes blank I lift my phone to my ear. "Mom?"

"Elsa, how are you doing? How was your first meeting with your partner?"

"It was….interesting."

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know how this could have happened. Mom, my partner is Jack!" I exclaim, and the panic that I initially felt begins to make its appearance again, first through a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach, and then in a faint tingling at the back of my head.

I expect her to be as surprised as I am, to gasp out loud in alarm or some other sound of shock, but all I hear from the other end of the phone is my mother's self-satisfied voice: "I know."