I can't continue lying to Jeremy.

It's heartbreaking to see how much he misses Vicky.

But I miss her too.

I miss having her and Matt over for dinner and bringing leftovers to her when she had the munchies.

I miss the occasional joint and beer she offered, even though I always refused.

She was the first friend I made here; in reality, she was my only friend. It's hard to accept that she's gone and I'll never see her again.

I have to find out how she died, why she died, and, perhaps more accurately, who killed her.

She was a vampire when she died; could that be why she-?

Damon is a vampire, and no one has offed him; he deserves it far more than Vicky.

Damon killed or at the least turned her into one, maybe- maybe Stefan killed her.

But if Stefan killed Vicky, why did he compel me to stay away from her?

I replayed my conversation in Stefan's car in my head. He said he wasn't the one who turned her, and she would have killed Jeremy and Elena.

Damon turned her, and Stefan killed her.

It was most likely done to protect Elena.

All must be done to preserve the stunning Elena!

These thoughts plagued me all night; giving up on sleep, I decided to read to clear my mind.

And when that didn't work, I logged into Facebook.

I got two messages, Jacob and Angela, and many friend requests.

Jake was just asking about school, Gran, if I'm okay, and the usual stuff.

I told him everything was fine.

Angela's was about Jesse.

So I just heard from Jessica, and it seems she has something special for you. Her mom ordered it a while back when you two were still friends. Jessica wants to send it to you, but I thought it would be better to check with you first. What do you think?

I debated whether this was just some elaborate prank but decided to take a chance.

Sure.

Onto the friend requests.

I instantly accepted Matt and Jeremy.

I checked out their profile pics; Matt was in his football attire on the field.

Jeremy was with his parents, and Elena wore her cheerleading uniform; the four looked so happy.

The next was a guy I had never met named Royce King II; in his photo, he was with a group of people, including Rosalie Hale. I checked out her profile and learned that she and Royce were on the school paper; she was on beauty and advice, but still, I was impressed.

Maybe she wants to interview me so people take her seriously; Torchy Blane, I like it.

Still, it could be good to have a reporter on my side.

I accepted her request and Royce's, too, I guess.

The subsequent three requests threw me off: Alaric Saltzman, Dr. Francis, Jessica Stanley, and Elena Gilbert.

The doctor's request made sense; for some people, it was easier to talk through written messages.

I wanted to talk to Gran before I spoke to the shrink.

Alaric Saltzman.

Why does he want to be friends with me?

I went on to Jessica.

What did Jesse want?

Had she decided- oh.

Her mom got me something; she only wanted my address. I could friend her, and if she starts spewing her anti-bella rhetoric, I can unfriend her.

I accepted Jesse, but if Lauren is mentioned, I would not accept her.

Lauren can go to the way ole Yeller.

Matt, Jeremy, and Jesse: yes.

The Salt Man and The Shrink are undecided and need adult counsel before the final decision.

Last, Elena Gilbert.

I don't want to be friends with her...

Maybe it would get me closer to John Gilbert.

Maybe John Gilbert has a Facebook.

Her account was private, so I couldn't scan through her friends; we had Caroline and as mutual friends.

I scanned through Jeremy's and found Johnathan Gilbert II.

I could send him a message to him.

Dear Sir,

I want to introduce myself as Isabella Swan, who recently moved back to Mystic Falls. I have become friends with your nephew, Jeremy. I came across some old pictures of you and my uncle when you were my age. I hope you don't mind me asking, but I am curious to know more about him and your life during that time.

Thank you in advance for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

Isabella Swan

No, that sounds so... impersonal.

Hello there, my name is Isabella Swan. I recently moved back to Mystic Falls and stumbled upon some old pictures of you and my uncle when you were both younger. As my uncle is no longer with us, I am confident you can provide me with helpful information about your relationship with him. I would be grateful for any insights you can offer. Thank you so much.

No, that sounds bossy; let's try...

Hello, my name is Isabella Swan. I recently moved back to Mystic Falls and am friends with your nephew, Jeremy. I found pictures of you and my uncle when you were my age. I'm just curious about him and you, of course.

I turned back and grimaced at Elena's request; her photo was identical to Jeremy's.

If I rejected her, I'd never hear the end of it.

But I don't want to be her friend, friend Bonnie.

Friending her friend group but not her is shady.

But I don't want to be her friend.

Bella, it's the polite thing to do.

But I don't care for her.

You sound like Lauren Mallory.

How dare you compare me to her?!

Because I know you, and that sounds like Lauren would do.

Fine, I'll be her friend.

I chose to accept Elena Gilbert's friend request.

The ringing of my phone took me out of myself.

It was Stefan Salvatore.

'Hello?'

'Bella?'

'Hello, who is this?' I said casually.

'Stefan.'

'Oh-'

'Have you seen Elena?'

Christ, we've only been friends for 30 seconds, and people are already-

'No.' I said calmly.

'Oh-'

'Well, Stefan, as much as I loved to chat with you about Elena-'

'Wait, Bella.'

There was a long pause before I sang, 'Well, Stefan, I'm waiting.'

Stefan paused, then quietly whispered, 'Elena has been kidnapped.'

'What?'

'It just happened; it was by a vampire named Anna. Did you see anything?'

'No, do you need my help?'

'No, if Anna gets a whiff of you, she'll go crazy.'

'They could be killing Elena-'

'Damon knows something. He's talked to Anna-'

'And he got her P. O.ed. Typical.'

'It's Jeremy's friend.'

'That Anna?! '

'Have you met her?'

'No, but he's mentioned her to me. We have to save Elena-'

'Anna can be reasoned with; besides, Damon has Emily's

grimoire.'

'Ok, that's good. One question?'

'Shoot.'

'Who is Emily?'

'Bonnie's ancestor.'

'Oh, so Bonnie is a witch.'

'How did you- never mind. Anna wants the grimoire, and Damon has it.'

'Why does she want it?'

'To free Pearl from the tomb.'

'And who is Pearl?'

'Her mother.'

'Is that really-'

'There are other vampires there; some could be like Damon, and others are worse.'

'Is there a specific vampire you want to stay locked up?'

'There is a vampire, Katherine, Damon wants to release.'

''Why?'

'He's in love with her.'

'But that would imply that Damon has a heart.'

'Don't make jokes at a time like this.'

'Is this Katherine that bad?'

'She was the one who turned us.'

'I haven't seen Elena, and I never met Anna. How do you know Elena's not dead?'

'Anna's obsessed.'

'No, Damon is obsessed; Anna just wants her mother.'

'Just let me know if you see Anna.'

Have you seen Elena and Bonnie? Texted from Caroline read hours later.

No. I lied.

Poor Caroline.

I've been trying to get ahold of them for the longest time, but they are again icing me out.

Maybe.

Are you going to Duke's party?

There's always something going on in this town.

I'm coming to get you, Bella Swan. You will have fun tonight, and I will bring you something to wear.

My grandmother.

I will handle your grandmother.

Caroline and Matt were over an hour later with a large red trunk.

'Are we doing the thing?' I asked.

'Oh, you're doing the thing.' Matt answered as he hauled the trunk inside.

After hours of being her fashion guinea pig, Caroline took the roller out of my hair, the pore strips, and the wax off my legs.

I was finally allowed to look in the mirror; Caroline was a miracle worker.

My hair was in waves; it looked like I could be a spokesmodel for shampoo.

I had just the right amount of makeup, which complimented my skin: gold rose eyeshadow, rosy pink blush, and nude pink lipstick.

(A/N: I don't know anything about makeup; I google what shapes would work with pale skin)

'What do you think?' she asked.

'I look like a completely different person.' I stuttered

'I know, right?' she said gleefully. 'Now, on to your clothes. I've noticed that you wear a lot of neural colors-'

'Neural color?' both Matt and I gasped.

'Black, gray, and brown.'

'They're safe colors.' I replied.

'But when you wear blue, it compliments your complexion.'

'My dad always told me I looked great when I'm blue.' I joked lamely.

The dress Caroline chose for me was what she called a tie midi dress, navy blue. She partnered it with a short white cardigan and white flats.

'You look great.' Matt insisted.

'I am truly a miracle worker.'

'Bella, is that you?' Rosalie Hale asked when she saw me with Matt and Caroline. 'You look so... no like you. You should share your beauty routine; I'm sure everyone will be interested in your Cinderella-like transformation.'

I laughed at the idea of me giving beauty advice. 'You should talk to Caroline. She's the one who Barbiefied me.'

'What did Mr. Saltzman want?'

'To talk about my attack.'

Rosalie scoffed. 'Rj wrote a story about that; he could have read it.'

'Rj?'

'Royce King II.'

'He sent me a friend request.'

'I know, RJ is a bit of a pig.'

'No, I mean, yeah, but I was talking about Mr. Saltzman. He

sent me a friend request.'

'Why does the mysterious new teacher want to befriend the new kid?'

'I'll bite, why?'

'You're a bit isolated from the rest of us. You barely fraternize with the other kids; you're a predator's dream.'

'You watch too much Dateline.'

'Just be careful.'

Her concerns, amusing as they were, touched me. For the first time since we met, I looked at her.

She was statuesque, model-like, with long wavy hair to the middle of her back. Her dark blue, almost violet eyes looked bewitching in the moonlight.

'I promised I will be careful.'

'Good.'

The party was uneventful, but I had as much fun as a sober person could have.

Bonnie's grandmother passed during the night; Caroline came the following morning and told me.

After the funeral, Bonnie went to stay with family. I sent her several messages on Facebook, but she didn't respond; I wasn't expecting her to.

When you lose someone you love, the pain numbs you.

Elena was safe, so that was fine.

Not wanting to think of Bonnie's grief and Elena in general, I went through the yearbooks and saw her, IF.

She was standing next to another girl, and they dressed like cheerleaders, Isobel Flemming and Trudie Peterson.

Trudie was slim, and she looked pretty.

I stared at the photo, grabbed my laptop, and logged onto my Facebook account.

I searched Grove Hill, liked the city and the high school, and then searched Trudie Peterson.

I sent her a message.

It was a simple message,

Hello, my name is Isabella Swan. I'm looking for information on Isobel Flemming. She was friends with my uncle, Beaufort Higginbotham. He died in the war, and I'm just curious about his life.

Isobel Flemming, I searched for her next and found a memorialized page.

She went missing, presumed dead, in 2007; her parents were still alive and lived in the same place.

Maybe I could drive over there to meet them.

Elena called and insisted I come over; she said she had a lead on her birth mother. What she told me left me speechless.

'Alaric's wife might have been your mother?' I questioned.

'It can't be true, right?' she sighed. 'I mean, the coincidence alone is just crazy.' She veered around to face me while holding up a Post-it note. 'I have the address for her friend Trudie.'

'You wanna talk to her?'

'I don't know. I...I--I don't know. If it's true and they are the same person, that means that my birth mother is dead, and I don't know if I could handle that.'

'Elena, did Jenna tell you anything about Alaric's wife?' I inquired. 'How she died?'

Elena shook her head. 'Just that she was killed, and the case was never solved.'

I nodded, content that he didn't mention Damon; Elena stared, surprised.

'You knew that already?'

'The night at the school when he attacked me,' I confessed, 'he told me some things about her death.'

'Well—'

'No, no.' I gently took her wrists. 'It's not possible. The coincidence is—it's too much. Now, listen, if you decide to talk to Isobel's friend, I'll go with you. Okay?'

She nodded. 'I just don't know what I'm gonna do yet.'

Elena wrapped her arms around my neck. 'I should get going. I have to go deal with Damon.

'How's he doing?'

'He's dealing in his way.'

Dear Diary,

I can hardly believe it—here I am, writing twice in one day. It's been way too long since I last did this. My aunt Jenna uncovered a secret that shook me to my core: my birth mother's full name is Isobel Flemming, and she was the late wife of Mr. Saltzman.

Isobel was a cheerleader, just like me, and suddenly, I found myself wondering if I inherited more than just her looks. There's a connection more profound than I ever realized.

Earlier today, I took a leap of faith and met with Trudie Peterson, one of Isobel's high school friends. I was supposed to have someone with me, but I couldn't resist the urge to meet her. The anticipation was almost overwhelming. When I arrived, Trudie didn't offer me a warm welcome into her home; instead, I barged in. She served me vervain tea, its herbal aroma filling the air, a reminder that she knew about vampires. I suspect that knowledge might have come from Isobel's past. After all, Damon turned Isobel, which could explain why nobody could mourn.

It's astonishing to think about—Damon actually took pride in what he did. Looking back, I can't believe I ever thought some good was left in him.

After I left Trudie's house, something strange happened. A man was standing outside, like an ominous figure waiting for me. He approached me at the Grill, eyes full of urgency, and warned me to stop looking for Isobel. The energy around him felt manipulated as if someone had compelled him—maybe even Isobel herself. And just like that, he darted in front of a moving truck. I was stunned.

That night, driven by fear and curiosity, I took the man's phone and called Isobel, my heart racing. But she just hung up, leaving me more confused than ever.

But the weirdness doesn't stop there.

Earlier, I had decided it was time to tackle the laundry, gathering clothes from all over the house. As I rifled through Jeremy's room, the clutter revealed a secret of its own—tucked away on his nightstand was a photo of Isobel with a man I didn't recognize.

What kind of connection does Jeremy have to Isobel?

Did he overhear Jenna and me talking?

Or maybe he caught something between Stefan and me?

If he heard us, I can't help but wonder what else he picked up on during those moments.

Yet, the bigger mystery looms: how did Jeremy even get this photo, and who is that guy beside Isobel?

Could this man possibly be my father? The questions swirl in my mind, each more intense than the last.