As we know, disclaimer; I don't own or am affiliated with any part of the Twilight series. That all belongs to Stephanie Meyer, and may it please stay that way, good lord.

Now that that's outta the way; welcome! The literal hardest part of this story was the timeline. Screw Stephanie Meyer for doing this to me because what the fuck. Also, this fic is literally just so funny to me.

-b-

Jessica Stanley is not anything if not aware. Hyper-aware. Hyper-focused, all of the time. There's not a time when she's not thinking, or doing, or actively choosing to do, or be, or say anything. She wonders if this is what being a teenager means; performing for people every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every year of her life, yet always recounting the instances in her incredibly mediocre existence.

And of course, Jessica realizes there is absolutely nothing wrong with being average— her lovely mother makes it a point to tell her the same thing almost everyday. To be average is to be content, without having to deal with anything wrong or scary or bad. But there's just something there, whispering to her, waiting for her answer.

Just, Jessica has so much to give, it's hard to cut it all out completely. It's hard not to be angry when she wants to be so much more than she is.

She pretends her body doesn't ache with want every morning, like her bones don't call for adventure.

And one day she'll make it out of Forks, but today is not that day.

So instead, she hardens her mind. Makes it impenetrable. Makes sure absolutely nothing gets to her. Jessica Stanley is a tsunami of insecurity that never reaches the shore, held back by the levees of her own mind.

—She scowls. She remembers asking Edward Cullen out at the beginning of sophomore year and getting rejected. To be fair, it was a dare, but Jessica would be lying if she said that his manner when rejecting her didn't hurt.—

—Either way, she was the only person seemingly brave enough to do it, and Jessica would rather die than not give her all for her friends.—

—Still, he didn't have to be so rude.—

—And she didn't have to be so vulnerable.—

Jessica frowns, the ends of her mouth tugging as she makes her way down the hall. It's another bustling morning at Forks High School, and she smiles at all the interaction. In her head, she embraces every part of her that was 16, then 15, then 14, filled with jealousy –not that she doesn't still get jealous– and anger –not that she doesn't still get angry– and sadness –not that she doesn't still get sad–; a lot has happened in Jessica's life —and yet nothing at all. She takes in how much she's grown, from embarrassed to somewhat confident, from scrawny to somewhat developed, from smart to somewhat —though really a whole lot— smarter. She's seventeen now, coasting through her junior year alongside the same people she's known her whole life.

And high school is hard; she'll be damned if she lets anyone take it from her.

—The switch between happy and sad is something she's long grown accustomed to. Hate and love share the same space, just as worry and relief do. She wonders when she can set these emotions down, be free of everything that fights to take root at the forefront of her mind, but chalks it up to being a teenager. After all, nothing speaks teenage girl than an expiating attempt to fit a mold.—

—There will always be more than this, Jessica. You just have to make it through first.—

She's becoming sappy again, losing herself in her thoughts. And while Jessica is doing a damn good job loving and hating and spinning her story into one much, much bigger than it really is; there is not nearly enough time in the world to process all of the things that she feels and thinks or sees.

She walks into English instead.

Mr. Mason greets her at the door, surely eager to hear her points during their discussion of the Bell Jar. No way in hell is she going to let Sylvia Plath's road to self-discovery be misconstrued, so she's more than happy to share her opinion. She gives a smile back.

Her attitude is a bit too perky for an 8 AM class, but her face is only as good an extension of her brain as she allows it to be. The smile fades when she sees her seatmate.

The curse she lets out in her head is not a quiet one.

She had thought it was sunny enough that he wouldn't come. But then again, that's her mistake.

Never, will Edward Cullen do what Jessica Stanley thinks he's gonna do.

No matter how popular she is and unpopular he is, the one thing that boy will never do is listen.

However, despite his unpopular popularity —how funny, she thinks—, the thing about Edward Cullen is that he's a weirdo. Sure he's cute, hot even, but he's weird. Not cute-weird. Not funny-weird. Not stupid-weird. Weird. Capital W. Italicized. Period at the end. And 'Weird.' defies all kinds of cute.

He's a loner in a school filled with cliques, though she supposes his siblings could be considered a clique of their own. Not a single one of them belong, and though the Cullens moved here two years ago, Jessica doubts they ever will.

—Maybe they belong with each other? Or find belonging within each other? But maybe that comes with being adopted into the same family? They're all adopted but somehow some are romantically involved but who is she to judge because quite frankly, they're all very attractive and shut up Jessica, Edward Cullen is looking—

Deciding to skip out on questioning why —God, why— Edward Cullen, who rejected her more than a year and a half ago, agreed to still be her seatmate for their first period of shared English, Jessica makes her way over to the back of class.

She waits for the day he requests a new seat, practically salivates thinking of it; and yet she will not be the one to crumble.

—She's not scared of him. Never has been, never will be.—

They've been together —no, not that together— for the past four months, and shouldn't having two classes with the guy every single day mean she should know him a little better?

Nope.

—Other than the fact that his eyes are a nice kinda brown, almost topaz, a brilliant gold; and his hair is secretly soft, despite looking so stiff; and he likes to hog all the partner work, always muttering something about being able to get it done faster before shutting up that off-beat mouth of his. And he's smug—

—So incredibly smug for seventeen that she has no idea why no one's decided to punch him at least once in all his years of sorry adolescence. He huffs shortly at her nearly every chance he gets, though she has no idea what's so infuriating about her that makes him do so.—

Jessica Stanley knows absolutely nothing about Edward Cullen. She doesn't want to know either.

—Jessica Stanley is not her thoughts, so as frequently as her mind screams at her, she knows that what goes on in there is as much not-her-business as every other person.—

—If she was, her thoughts, she means, Edward Cullen would be hurled across the Earth, far, far away from Jessica Stanley and Forks, Washington and all that was of her and all that ever will be.—

And besides, those are all obvious things.

Eyes are a surface level observation; hair is soft no matter what's in it at the end of the day if you play with it as much as Edward Cullen seems to; and of course, someone as rich and smart and pretentious as him will in fact always monopolize all the work he gets assigned, partners or not, in order to get it done faster. It gives him more time to brood.

—Never mind. Forget him.—

Jessica's a good student, and good students would not be contributing to classroom traffic by standing beside the teacher's desk, making eye contact as intense as what she seems to be having with Edward Cullen.

—Or as she likes to call him 'the brooding menace.'—

He scowls. She starts.

Dealing with Edward Cullen is nothing compared to what the future has in store for her.

—Being Forks High School's very own volleyball co-captain, Jessica's got student council president and graduating class of 2006 valedictorian in the bag. Stanford is a ten dollar train ticket and thirty thousand tuition dollars away, unless she can write a major essay. And she's gonna write a major essay.—

—But, she's getting ahead of herself. Again.—

And of course, Jessica sourly, yet gratefully, acknowledges that none of this will matter in five years. Still, though, she's gonna have as much fun toying with the mighty Edward Cullen as she can.

She's gotta be wholly present for this interaction, focused on his every countermove.

It's not like she's been keeping track. Now that would be too far.

—Round ninety-six of the Jessica Stanley vs Edward Cullen Games, begins.—

"Good morning!" Her face strains under the tight smile she wears. They do this every day, two boxers in a ring. More often than not, Jessica throws the first punch.

—Games like these are fun, as verbal battles always are. She hates the routine though, the pretending. Why can't she just, be?—

—Worse, she hates the slight happiness that blooms when he looks at her even more.—

"Jessica." His voice is cool, unfeeling around her name. It's like a dodge, and the alarm bells that go off in her head are getting louder by the second. Usually he's more pleasantly unbothered than this. Usually, he's eager to one up her. —Jessica knew she should've listened to Teen Magazine this morning. Just as it said, today is gonna be a completely different kind of day.—

It's then that she notices how sick he looks. His eyes are sunken in, and his shoulders appear to be angled just the same. He looks like he's trying to make himself small, and for a boy who stands at almost 6'2, that's damn near impossible. At least compared to her 5'5.

—She wonders why he would ever want to.—

With all the banter these past few months, it's hard for Jessica to remember that he's not her friend. Not really. He said he wanted nothing to do with her —though in fewer, shallower words— so nothing is what he's gonna get.

She refuses to tiptoe around someone like Edward Cullen, even if he looks slightly sick. His world is a little too dark and gloomy for her right now, and the stormy cloud forming over him in her mind looks eager to feast on her emotions as well.

"I would've thought you'd be hiking today. It's sunny enough." —She forgets, sometimes, that she is an acquired taste, that even if her best friends are some of the most known in the school, not everyone can take what she has to offer, especially when that means cackle inducing conversations at ungodly hours of the morning. She wishes she could take the words back. Especially since they never seem to work on him.—

"Can't hike everyday."

"Only when it's sunny?"

—There's something so incredibly vicious about being human. The need to say something you don't mean, all in hopes that appearances do not drop. She's so exhausted performing, he has to be too.—

"Oh, cheer up, Cullen. Your precious star'll be back tomorrow."

She imagines him stepping into the sun, burning up in the most fiery way possible. He stiffens beside her.

She'd strangle him if she could, throttle him, maybe in the rain to remind him that he's alive. Anything that'll break the perfect facade he wears again today.

Jessica hates him, but she also knows when to pull her punches. She hopes whatever's bothering him works out.

There's five minutes till homeroom ends.

Jessica takes her seat.

Cullen scoots away.

Something in her twists.

She won't say anything though, he's just having another one of those days.

—

Thankfully, the discussion of the Bell Jar takes up half of the period, so she can't really notice Edward when she's too busy taking notes for their final essay. If anything, Jessica really loves the part of her brain that lets her focus on what needs to get done if it means getting permission to soon hang out with friends.

She'll revisit their conversation later, imagine all the things she could've said or would've said or should've said but didn't. And she'll punch her pillow as anger seeps further into her, not at him, but at her and her terrible habit of overstepping.

The second half of class goes to watching the beginning of the 1979's Bell Jar movie, and with that, Jessica considers round ninety-six of the Jessaica Stanley vs Edward Cullen Games a round lost.

And if Jessica notices the glances —serious and light and inquisitive— he sends at her all throughout class, then well, she really doesn't.

——

She'll see Edward one more time in third period before lunch, then not at all for the rest of the day, and even then, Jessica refuses to let his foul mood and over-the-top voluminous hair ruin the good streak she has going with Mr. Varner.

They talk sometimes after class, about her dreams with science and the local news. Of course, the shallow teacher will still explain things to her as if she understands absolutely nothing at all, —the curses of being a girl— but he is old, and he is lonely, so maybe he just needs someone to listen.

And if Jessica's immensely grateful about her seat being in the very back, courtesy of Mr.Varner personally asking her where she'd prefer to sit and with who, and Edward's being in the very front, just by the door, well then, again, she says nothing at all.

———

b

Jessica Stanley's group of friends is not one you'd think you'd see her around. They just don't look it. But of course, when you grow up with the same people your whole life, and the same interests carry throughout that same group, you're bound to end up being quite the close-knit bunch.

—They are.—

Jessica's friends do not look like her friends, but they do act like it.

Mike scarfs a piece of pizza down his throat as he says the words, the smile on his face brighter than the sun. "Did you guys hear there's a transfer student coming tomorrow?"

—She remembers the short crush, the subtle glances. She remembers feeling so much uglier than she feels now, having just been rejected. And though she is no Lauren Mallory, who is having a particularly bad morning today, she is just pretty as Angela Weber with her glasses off, which is absolutely stunning compared to with them on, though her best friend is remarkable regardless.—

"Tomorrow?" Jessica raises a brow, because why hadn't she heard about it earlier? She's quite literally on the student council. "Halfway through the year?"

"Yep." Eric takes a seat right beside her, sliding his portion of the greasy school food toward Mike and popping the 'p'. His own brows furrow as he eyes the blond before turning to Jessica. "Chief's daughter."

Tyler laughs and points at Mike's not so subtle choking. He wipes a tear from his eye as his laughter strikes back up, but only after slamming his hand on his friend's back. Mike's loud coughs make him seem to laugh even louder, though the smile on both their faces clear up any worry that the table mates might've had in the moment.

Above them, a camera flashes, as someone takes a seat on Jessica's other side. Angela is grinning sheepishly, changing the setting quickly before snapping another. Swift as a fish, that girl was. She pushes her glasses up with a greeting, nodding then ducking her head to check the results of her quick camera skills.

All the while, Lauren files her nails, the Queen of Forks High School just as diligent in her appearance as you'd expect her to be. She is vapid, yes, but she is beautiful. Her words come out as a hiss.

"And? She'll be just like everyone else in this town–" She blows at her nails, wiping her canvas clean, "leaves and comes back. No one ever makes it out."

"That's not true, Lor." Angela, ever-kind with all the support and no fear at all, grins, snickering as she manages to recall memories from the years before. The horror is on Jessica's face before she can ever process the words being said. It's her tone. Her tone. "Jess is going, and Jess is never coming back."

Jessica practically dies. The shames of middle-school will forever haunt her.

A sigh is all that comes out.

Lauren scoffs, though there's a chuckle buried beneath. She continues to file, lips lifting into a tiny smile as she shoots back. "She'd die of excitement before she even makes it to California."

The crinkle of her eyes as they roll is too hard to hide. She repositions herself in her seat, leans forward close enough to just barely grasp one of Lauren's grapes and mock, "As if you guys aren't coming right along with me."

—She says it with so much love, she wonders if it'll ever be possible to connect with a group of people more. Sometimes Jessica thinks that if she looks around, just stops to listen, the town air will call to her; that the buildings and the roads and the forest trees will reach out to caress and kiss her. But she knows it's not the town; it's the people. And she knows that she cannot stop for them, not just yet.—

—They'll call, and she'll always answer, even if it is with a calculated eye roll and a toothy smile.—

Lauren hums. The air around her lifts. Sometimes the girl just needed reassurance. She'd never admit it though. She's too mean for that.

—Jessica likes to think that sometimes, they all do.—

—She refuses to leave any of them behind.—

Lunch carries on as it always does, though the eyes she feels in her back seem amplified by just a little bit more today.

It's okay though. Jessica does not turn around, nor does she bother to ask just who in the world could be looking at her, because she's looking at them instead. Mike and Eric and Tyler and Lauren and Angela. Her friends.

All hers.

Jessica belongs.

—She ignores the whisper in her heart that tells her otherwise.—

———

b

Later that night, Jessica decides that tomorrow, no matter how brutal or grueling or distasteful Edward Cullen would surely be, she will be nice to him. She'll also be so incredibly nice to the new girl, she'll think Jessica's made of sugar or something.

Speaking of, Jessica will probably lay off the sugar for a little while. Imagine the surprise when she gets home from school and on the very top of the arch of her eyebrow is the biggest fucking pimple imaginable. Of course her first instinct is to curse her friends—because how dare they not tell her.

Her second, obviously, is to curse the Cullens.

—With their stupid faces and their perfect bodies and their stupid perfect glistening shiny skin. They're teenagers for god's sake, where the hell was the acne.—

The third is to wash her face at least fifteen times in hopes that it will magically vanish by tomorrow.

And once that's done, Jessica bids goodnight to her mom and her stepdad; heads up the stairs, and into her room; she's done all her homework, taken her shower, brushed her teeth, and washed her face one more time for good measure.

The moon is full.

She jumps face first into bed.

Something howls.

She falls asleep.

She tries very hard to remember that all the hardest people in the world once used to be soft like water.

She wonders if she'll ever be allowed to be that kind of soft again.

—

b

-

It's not as if Bella doesn't have character, it's just that Bella… doesnt have character. Like girl cries when she's mad, doesn't fit in, blah blah blah. Jessica, howeverrr. She's a normal teenage girl trying to get by, that includes in every day life, fighting against boys who don't like her, acne, insecurities, and worst of all vampires.

I think the thing about her that I love the most though, is that she's normal. Just like everyone else. And yet, the most common thing about teenage girls though, is that they're always wishing for more, in a way that doesn't really transfer over to teenage boys. It's indescribable as of right now but, to put it simply, in my years, at least; teenage girls have this constant awareness that there's so more to the world, that they're this small thing in the grand scheme, and how do you grapple with the reality of your existence whilst ya know, trying to exist. Jessica Stanley deserves more representation, and I'm here to give it to her.

Also naming chapters is so much harder than I thought, a lot of options fit but I'm guessing I'm gonna save them for later chapters. This was the Goo Goo Dolls' Iris!

Anyway I hope you liked it! Bye!