Chapter Two

Things hadn't gone quite as planned, not that there'd been much of a plan when she'd waltzed into Principal Rupprecht's office. It'd become glaringly obvious early on that no matter what Dakota said, how sound her reasoning behind her actions were, that every word spilled from her mouth amounted to nothing more than meaningless gibberish. Between her attitude, her straightforwardness and inability to take a no, she'd accomplished little more than irritating an already irritated man.

Mr. Rupprecht hadn't wanted to hear a word of it. He hadn't wanted to sit across from a teenager willing to argue her way into whatever hole there might be nearest. The disinterest had been written across his face clear as day.

And yet, Dakota had ignored the warning signs and dug herself in deeper.

She hated when people older and more powerful took advantage of their positions. She hated when people blamed her, scolded her, for defending herself when she'd obviously been the one wronged.

Mr. Rupprecht rarely scolded without hearing from both parties, much less dished out punishments.

Today it didn't matter. She didn't matter. A looming divorce, the threat of his children possibly no longer wanting to associate themselves with him, and the pressure from the school board and parents' committees had taken their toll. The anger, the stress, that'd built and built within him unleashed when she'd provoked him.

Dakota knew he'd feel bad later. That this wasn't the sort of principle he wanted to be to his students, but at the time Mr. Rupprecht hadn't cared. What's one troublesome girl in comparison to a nagging veteran teacher? Who'd be more of a nuisance at the end of the day? The school board, the high school staff, a troublemaker's guardian, or his own family?

The answer is an obvious one.

His bitch of a wife that'd cheated on him and then blamed him for her infidelity. His mentally unstable wife who's taking him to court for nearly everything he owns. His soon to be ex-wife who'd accomplished poisoning his own children against him.

It's amazing what people freely gossip about when they're buying sweets.

Short, chewed on, nails thrum against the top of a half filled lunch table. A loud rhythm that has a senior down the way turning to glower. Dakota ignores the older boy, and thinks for a passing breath that he'd look better if he traded his olive-green sweater out for one in sky blue or indigo.

From across the cafeteria someone laughs. A dainty and feminine sound that some Christmas fanatics might liken to being bell-like. Dakota snorts. Alice's laughter isn't bell-like, it doesn't jingle and jangle, but she can't deny the musical quality to it. People don't laugh like that. Free, pure, and childish despite all they've been through.

It's exasperatingly hard to hate.

Dakota blames it on the vampiric charm. The atrocious perfection Edward would one day try to make Bella understand (I'm not beautiful, I'm deadly - that speech). How many people would sully their underpants if they knew the imp could crush their skull with the slightest flick of her fingers? How many in this room alone would be into that sort of overpowering dominance? A tartness coats her tongue at the thought.

'To many', Dakota imagines. In the mists she sees a face. 'Jasper likely… seems like the sort who'd like to be conquered.'

If she were in a situation like that, with any of them, Dakota knew she'd have an aneurysm. They wouldn't have to even be out to kill just maim. She'd keel over on the spot before true harm could be done.

"You gonna eat that, D?"

She shoves the untouched tray toward the boy with a short no. The dull pulse deep in her brain thrums once, then twice, before dissipating on the third thrashing. Paranoia creeping up her spine. As much as she'd love to shake the feeling of eyes Dakota can't.

Ever watching. Ever imagined.

Her mind twists and makes leaps before bounds, taking small insignificant things for something else. An age old dread, trickling fear that doesn't ever seem to leave the underside of her skin, that her paranoia isn't unfounded. That Edward Cullen can in fact hear everything she is thinking, knows everything she knows about him and his family, and is just torturing her by not saying anything. That the scrap of sandpaper beneath her fingernails, the itch along her scalp, the blankets of calmness in class and as she walks through hallways is due to Jasper. That with a single word from Edward, he could turn her inside out and make her spill her secrets without realizing her freedom of choice has been tampered with.

Did they know Dakota would splinter like a rotten egg if they just sent Rosalie? That all it'd take is the sight of the blonde walking towards her. Canary yellow eyes hyper fixated on the red bleeding blemish in her life. The corner of her bow shaped mouth pulled up in a snarl.

Did Alice soothed away any worries of a human knowing about their secrets? How many times had Alice seen Emmett, Rosalie, or Jasper lose control in a classroom full of red bodies? How many futures had Dakota died in? They were here in Forks because of her, because of who would move to Forks in the upcoming new year.

Dakota is a nobody to them.
Dakota will stay as a nobody.

From the corner of her eyes she can see their table, and not a single one of them is turned her way. They never are - no matter what she thinks about. In the movies and books the Cullen family was so obvious in their staring. If Dakota hadn't known what she did about them, about their dirty laundry, she wouldn't keep studying them so openly.

Studying not gawking.

Austin pokes her in the side of the ribs, attempting to turn her away from the table of inhuman beauty before one of her many theoretical disasters strikes. It doesn't work. She's far too absorbed in soaking in each of the immortals.

"You never fan over the Cullen's. Something changed? Have you fallen into Cullen-sickness?"

Dakota scoffs. "I don't fan, and I have no crush on any of them." It's true. She could care less about seeking a romantic endeavor with anyone in this school. Her issue lies in her head. She's a paranoid and overly suspicious child that allows her mind to over criticize everything. "I like pretty things, and they are very pretty."

Austin's eyes roll at that. His jealousy is a very common trait that can be found in many of the residents of Forks. She dismisses as he prickles and mutters beneath his breath, "Pretty doesn't mean everything. You can be pretty and stupid at the same time."

'None of them are stupid, Austin.' She thinks back, but memories of the idiotic things Edward will do when it comes to Bella flicker about her mind. Her side aches in remembrance of a cold finger jabbing at her earlier in the day. Emmett, Dakota believes, might be the exception. The combination of dangerous and impulsive can create its own sort of brainlessness. 'Not stupid in the way you're wanting at least.'

Resting her chin on her palm, Dakota cocks her head as she stares unblinking. Her attention shifting from time to time to the snow falling slowly behind the glass windows beyond them.

She's always wondered why no one (beyond Bella) ever seems to question them. Did the human mind really dismiss things that easily? Did it really push aside what felt off and wrong with simple explanations such as ; of course they'd be unsocial, they're from Alaska …. or …. Emmett is a growing boy, why wouldn't he carry a few dozen hard boiled eggs around …. or, her own favorite …. the Cullen's don't socialize outside their own family because they move around so often (Dakota ignores the truth in that one. How getting attached hurts you later when that person leaves your life).

There had to be more to the common folk being so blinded to the glaring truth. She didn't want to acknowledge how the mere presence of the supernatural and mythical could be so foreign that the mind completely loses its ability to recognize danger unconsciously.

Surely others noted their peculiarities. Dakota knew people out there did, because she recalled Edward telling Bella of his family having to move due to such people. Dakota just didn't understand how so few ever grew so unsuspicious. How people didn't immediately find their gold eyes (that grew dark with thirst) as more than unusual. How no one made comments about how they didn't make puffs while breathing when the air around them turned cold.

Did not everyone listen to the little voices in their heads? Did others just forgo the weird things; like icy skin, marble bodies, and inhuman beauty (no teen is that beautiful - that mature). Was it a universal thing here to ignore danger if it has a pretty enough face?

Dakota ran from sketchy vibes when shopping for veggies. She could only imagine what she might do if one of the Cullen's tried to corner her. She'd throw her bag at them and scream fire before trying to fling herself from a third story window.

Or more realistically, she'd drop to the ground and hold her arms above her head. Then, begin to sob hysterically.

The thrum of her nails against the table intensifies till the pads of her fingers feel as if tiny needles are pricking them. She ignores the pain in favor of watching one Cullen (Emmett) smack another (Edward) across the back before barking a laugh so loudly tables near her turn to look towards him.

She'd once thought that if they could hear her thoughts, feel her hesitation and suspicion towards them, that the coven would have fled in the dead of night. That if Edward heard the things she'd screamed at him those first few days of school last year he'd have gone stiff and his head would have snapped in a manner that would've given Dakota whiplash. That if he'd shared what he'd heard with his siblings she would have had to deal with more of those she shared classes with.

What would Alice say to keep them in Fork despite the human girl who seemed to know more than they'd be comfortable with? That Dakota wouldn't approach any of them on her own? That Dakota was wrong about the reason she'd pressed so hard for their family to return to Forks? That Dakota wouldn't cause any issues or tell anyone? That this little nobody human wouldn't get their entire family in trouble with the Volturi?

It's smart, Dakota has to give that to them. It's practical. Live in the shadows, play by the rules, and maybe the gifted can stay out of Aro's ever wanting hands.

Still, Dakota finds it odd that out of everything they could do participating in high school over and over again is the least likely path any of them would willingly choose. It seems like the worst place to put someone like Jasper. It seems like an unlikely place to find someone so above it all like Rosalie. Highschool feels too innocent for a man with a god complex like Edward. In a manner of speaking, Dakota could understand the desire to return to somewhere with people for those social like Emmett and Alice.

But … why high school?

What's so wrong with college? With attending different universities? Dakota couldn't imagine registering for one would be much different legally than a high school with hundreds of kids.

Campus life seems so logical to Dakota. Pursuing a degree or two, going for a masters after an undergraduate program, might even offer those who want to be around people (Emmett and Alice) and those who desire to put down roots (those like Rosalie and Esme to stay in a singular place longer) the chance to. After all, who'd question a family so spread out among so many different departments? Who'd get weirded out by students choosing to reside at home rather than pay the overpriced cost of housing in dorms or finding apartments (not that the Cullen's suffered in terms of money). Who'd find it suspicious that none of them ever socialized outside their own family unit?

No one - that's who.

So, why high school? Why pick relatively small towns?

Dakota wondered more often than not if their continuous repeat of high school wasn't about reliving some of the shortest years of their mortal lives but rather getting back something they'd lost or never been able to fully experience when human. Is that what going through high school offered? The opportunity to get back something they felt they'd been cheated on? Or is it more domestic? Did the six of them commit to this act to please their immortal motherly figure.

Give her the chance to have the family she never got as a bleeder.

"I think you're lying."

"I think you chew your food like a cow."

Austin pauses, mid-chew to glare at her before yanking on her disheveled braids. The warmth of pain shooting across her scalp is quickly accompanied by his incessant need to chew with his mouth open. The pain and the noise are more than an adequate distraction. One Dakota greedily takes up.

It does her no good to obsess about the Cullen's like this.

"You are so sick with Cullen-sickness." Dark eyes clash with equally as dark, brown, and muddy eyes. "On a more interesting side note, did you win this time or did Mr. Rupprecht?"

Dakota plucks the poor excuse for a cinnamon roll from the tray she'd shoved toward him. Before Austin can protest, before that pale face of his covered in large freckles can scrunch in disapproval or swallow the brown gunk in his mouth, she cuts him short and says. "He gave me detention with Mr. Sheldon for the rest of the week."


Dakota hardly notices biology class pass by in a blur, her attention hyper fixated into the yellowed pages of the books towering about her. If not for the recurring chime of the school bell she might have spent the entirety of the last two hours hidden away in the library. Such things happen more often than you'd think.

It's one of the few spaces Dakota feels as if she doesn't have to constantly be looking over her shoulder. A tiny and remote paradise filled with books and endless quaint silence. She couldn't remember ever seeing Bella visit the school library.

Yet, here it sits forgotten and abandoned (Dakota with it in the soft dusk-like darkness). Abandoned in the terms the librarian had forgotten once again to turn on the lights when he hobbled his way into his back office.

Mr. Michale (Mitch) Marybeth is one of the few staff members that Dakota likes. He isn't one to patronize and antagonize her. He doesn't mind the mess she creates and constantly leaves on the singularly used table. She isn't even aware if he's aware she's here half the time.

The second semester began less than two weeks ago (plus or minus a few days) and Dakota could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen him.

The poor sod sleeps most of his hours away in the small back room (his office), and that's on the days he shows up. Who can blame him? Who'd want to work at Forks High? Who'd want a job that only pays seven-dollars and twenty-five cents an hour? The only sign that he'd shown up today came from the soft glow of yellow light streaking across the tiled ceiling above the bookcases near the back..

The second toll of the bell ushers Dakota into leaving, the hoarders-like collection of books wave goodbye with a precariously leaning stack. The publication nearest the top glints its own farwell - a silent reminder of all she'd read about that past hour.

A Lesson in Penguins, written by a scientific genius Dakota couldn't remember the name of, had taught her some interesting and useless information about the flightless birds. She didn't think she'd ever forget that penguins defecate nearly every twenty minutes or that if it could be mass stockpiled that it could have groundbreaking impacts in the game of fertilization.

Her walk to history passes without incident, and is entirely mentally occupied by the fact that penguin shit is astonishingly high in components like nitrogen and phosphorus. She nearly forgets to keep an eye out for the seeking eyes of the receptionist. Dakota wouldn't put it past Mr. Rupprecht to send his receptionist out hunting for her - especially after she hadn't shown up for biology and now would be minutes late for history.

He'd done so in the past. Her history teacher on occasions would take the class out on an 'educational walk' to see if they could play ' ind Dakota' (like find Waldo - the winner getting extra credit points). A bit odd, in Dakota's option, but he seemed invested in her future… or the very least in making sure she didn't end up as a fry cook for McDonalds.

The way he treated her wasn't any different than how he behaved towards the rest of his students. For once, Dakota could say with certainty that the man didn't play favorites with his students. The smart ones, the ones who learn easy, and those who struggle are all treated the same. A few earn different remarks than others from him but -

"It's good of you to join my class, Miss Greyson." Mr. Sheldon greets as she steps into the room.

Her feet slow to a still as she catches sight of the blackboard, a brow pushing up at the many names written out across it. "I try, Mr. Sheldon. I really do."

On one half of the board is a rough drawing of the classroom, of rows and seats and tables and names set upon each. An exact replica of how his classroom currently is. He'd misspelled her last name again. In a swift move she rubs away the 'a' and replaces it with an 'e'.

"You do know that assigned seating involves moving people around, don't you?" She twirls the chalk between two fingers as she eyes the rest of the names. Mr. Sheldon isn't the brightest when it comes to spelling (which she supposes explains why he's a history teacher and not an English one). An 'e' disappears for an 'i' , an extra 'l' is added here and there, the additional 's' in Casey is eradicated, Aristophanes has to be completely rewritten, and when she makes a full circle back to her shared desk she fixes Austin's last name as well. Changing 'Marks' to 'Markers'.

From her left she hears Mr. Sheldon shuffles through a collection of papers. The quizzes and homework from last week. "Do you have an issue with assigned seating?"

"Not at all." Her hand stills over two names. The same two she'd skimmed past seconds prior. Dakota doesn't fixate on the way he spelt Rosalie (Rosely) but she thinks of adding little gangs on either side of her name, and the one beside hers. She doesn't and moves on to the next row of seats. "Just trying to figure out what is causing this atrocity." she almost asks if he knows how to spell that.

She already knows the answers.

"When you finish please take your seat, Miss Greyson."

She hums in response as a coldness brushes past, and from the corner of her eyes she sees long pale hair and smooth white skin. A shirt of pale blue and dark jeans speed by, and not far behind another follows in a dark green sweater and matching dark jeans.

Dakota forces herself not to shiver and shrink away from them, but to stand tall. Ignore them as they ignore her.

A heartbeat passes. Then another.

Dakota makes a third round through the names.

When she's done, she turns and leans to look down at Mr. Sheldon's desk. At the papers in a neat stack and his open planner for the week. In bold she sees written across the entirety of the remaining three days of the week "READY STUDENTS FOR RESEARCH PROJECT" and in smaller writing "DUE the FRIDAY PRIOR TO SPRING BREAK" .

She almost claps at the lack of misspellings, but holds herself back as she recognizes that the complexity of names and commonly used words such as these don't hold the same sort of weight.

With a snap of his wrist Mr. Sheldon whacks his planner with a ruler, and if she donned to look up she'd have seen the tinge of annoyance on his face. Perhaps a silent demand she stops snooping and find her seat. However, before he can say anything of merit Dakota feels a tugging from behind her as someone drags her toward a set of desks.

"Stop antagonizing him and sit." Austin chastises as he kicks out her seat and lobs her into it. If not for his rather short legs directly behind her chair she might have toppled right over.

Dakota slings her bag onto the ground to her left, not bothering to tuck it in close to her chair. A girl Dakota doesn't bother recognizing scowls when she has to step over it instead of around the faded leather. "I do no such thing."

"I've heard you've caused Mrs. Dalton to go fully gray."

"That old coot has been gray for at least a decade." A green binder is plopped down on her desk, the doodled-on cover flipped to showcase Dakota's notes from the first quarter. "You got a green pen? I can't find mine."

Austin tosses her the stolen ink as a hush descends the class.

"Good Wednesday everyone." Mr. Sheldon greets as he makes a pass down a row of desks. Dakota's attention splits between Austin playing footsie with her (it's her who starts it) and rolling little pieces of paper to throw at Lauren Mallory (who's seated directly in front of her) as small stacks of paper are set before each student.

"Today I'd like to spend the first fifteen minutes talking about the first of three projects you will all be doing this semester." An audible groan comes from the students, from Austin beside her and the twitching teen before her. Dakota grins as another little ball of paper bounces off the back of Lauren's head. "Many of you have already approached me with ideas. On the board you can see I have a number of them written out and today I'd like to address a handful."

Lauren turns in her seat, seething and teeth bared. Dakota nearly points out the red lipstick smeared on her slightly oversized front teeth. "Mr. Sheldon!"

"Mr. Sheldon." Dakota mocks back as the teacher in question steps between them, laying a pile of sheets before her and another before Austin. "Oh, hello."

He doesn't look nearly as entertained as Dakota feels.

"Would you like me to extend your detentions into the weekend as well? I've got nothing better to do. Do you?" With a sweep of his hand he pockets the small gathering of shredded paper. "I thought so. Miss Mallory, please turn forward."

"But-"

"But nothing. If you will be quiet and listen you will learn that along with discussing this first project that it will also be done in groups of two or three, and that because of this there will be a new seating arrangement."

Horror dawns on Lauren's face. Dakota only smiles and waves as fish green eyes bolt toward her. Dakota would gladly welcome an F on the project if it meant bullying Lauren and making the girl's life a living hell for a whole entire hour each day.

No promises that their tension wouldn't turn physical. The last time the two of them were left together unsupervised Dakota had fractured the girl's nose and blackened an eye. If she squinted, Dakota thought she might still see the yellowing of healing flesh from a year ago - but it's nothing more than the eyeshadow Lauren donned for the day.

"I will not be her partner."

What a scandalizing way to hiss. Austin jabs her in the ribs. A silent beg that she leave the rising queen bee of Forks alone. Dakota's only desire is to add to the conversation that sometimes after she says, or thinks, Lauren's name she feels the need to find some mouthwash.

'No sophomore is a queen bee, Austin. She's one of the princesses that some generic queen is grooming. Give it time and another zealous wannabe queen will tear the wings from her back.' Dakota thought Lauren lucky in that her ostentatious better-than-thou attitude didn't extend to needing to outshine Sophia Green. 'Worship till the current queen bee leaves, good plan.' Dakota also thought it lucky that Rosalie Hale didn't wish to be in the position. That she didn't become bloodthirsty over idiotic jocks (not that Dakota ever thought Emmett would fit in well with them), prom crowns, or the sense of entitlement to date the hottest boy in high school. Who needs brains when you've got the captain of the football team or basketball team on your arm? Who needs smarts when you can sheet off a nerd who wants to be acknowledged by you? Who needs anything when mommy and daddy are held in high regard by the school board and city?

Lauren Mallory falls short in so many categories. (What an outright blatant lie to tell yourself, Dakota. Shame on you.)

Her parents make an adequate amount of money. They live in a house too large with a lawn to freshly cut all the time. There's a rumor that her father is cheating on her mother with someone from Port Angeles. Dakota is half convinced that Lauren's personality is a copy-paste hand-me-down from her cousin Sophia Green. Who, Dakota is more than positive, had gotten hers from her mother and auntie. Dakota hasn't had the honor of meeting Sophia's mother, but she has (on multiple occasions) been greeted and judged by the icy stare of house Mallory's one and only high lady who peaked and never left high school.

Bella's mother might have had the right idea of getting out of Forks when she did (but nothing will ever make Dakota forgive the hardships she'd forced onto her daughter and the trauma and self-blame she'd left with Charlie).

It's confounding to Dakota how someone like Lauren can be so popular. A tiny voice in the back of her mind whispers how ironic it is that the students of Forks would make a basic white girl like Lauren popular. That becoming popular in high school has little requirements beyond being adequately attractive and of approvable social norms.

"Groups will not be negotiable." It's not Mr. Sheldon making his way down Lauren's row of desks that draws Dakota back to the present. It's the sensation of pin pricks down her spine. The way the air around her seems to shimmer and shift and dull, as if miscolored. A haze in her mind that she can feel herself struggling to recognize as normality. The bump of Austin's elbow is jarring. "Moving on - and no Mr. Aristophanes I will not be accepting corrections on the quiz for extra points - I would like to begin discussing research topics such as the effects of the industrial revolution on social classes, the impact of the second wave of feminist movement on gender norms and women's rights, as well as the role of propaganda in both World War I and II."

A better part of the other suggested research subject that follow fail to hold a candle of formidableness as Mr. Sheldon dissects and exterminates them one by one. The long list is quickly torn apart and rewritten or expunged in their entirety.

Between an in-depth concentration on fashion trends and their importance during key turning points in U.S. history, Dakota leans toward Austin and whispers, "How does a sophomore get into AP U.S. History?"

To which he blows hot air out his nose before saying, "Are you gonna keep asking that every day until school gets out?"

Dakota ignores him.

She doesn't need him to answer a question she already knows the answer to. Mr. Sheldon explained the change to their AP level class last year. She just liked watching Lauren react, seeing the stiff take to her shoulders and the way she cocks her head to listen.

A subtle daring for Dakota to call her what Dakota is hinting at.

Their continuous game of cat and mouse.

Advance placement is a simple program of classes developed by the College Board to give high school students an introduction to college-level classes, and the chance to gain credits before even graduating high school. For Dakota it's an early credit into a college that might not even accept the credit. For the sophomores, for those like Lauren, the class is simply a way to challenge the mind and pre-pre-prepare for the strain of a higher level of education (and without the added benefit of a college level credit).

Forks High School isn't a Grade A school. Not a single member of the staff expects all the students to graduate at the top of their class and become well established humans in society. It's a known fact that many are well aware of their rebellious and troublesome students, (and as quoted from Mrs. Dalton and Couch Clapp) many of such students won't amount to much later down the road. That the inconvenient teens will either end up dead, in jail, or working in some fast-food network.

It wouldn't surprise Dakota in the least to find her name on that list. Etched in by Mrs. Dalton herself and safe guarded by the receptionist and Couch Clapp.

Students like her didn't get into AP classes. That's why when she'd first seen AP U.S. History for her eighth hour she'd smelt the irking meddlesomeness of either Mr. Sheldon or Principle Rupprecht instantaneously. She just wished she knew which of them was the one who'd gotten to her uncle and convinced him to sign off on the barbaric idea.

"Miss Greyson, what are your thoughts on fashion importance during the Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918 through 1920?"

"No idea, but I can say that fashion during pivotal moments in history is significant because it acts as a visual marker for historians to ear-tag notable societal changes. Clothes reflect the evolution of gender roles, status of society, political movements, and even the conditions of the economy." If not for a twenty-three page paper she'd written in college a life-time ago Dakota wouldn't have known how to answer him. If not for her slightly peaked interest during a class she hadn't thought she'd enjoy taking, Dakota wouldn't have known to answer.

Mr. Sheldon nods, "Very good." He turns to scribble a possible thesis on the board. All around her pencils rush to copy the information down. "However, that is too broad of a topic to cover for a short eight-to-ten-page paper split between a few individuals. Perhaps a focus on one of those points you mentioned would be better, possibly two."

To her right, Dakota sees Austin's fingers inch forward toward her favorite green pen. The crack along the outside leaves a thin green line as it's dragged across her notebook. She ignores him, and it. Her mind counting each tick of the clock above the blackboard.

Ten minutes left of class and then if she's lucky she might be able to dip before Mr. Sheldon recalls her detention. On more than one occasion he's let her slip them, but on most he catches her long before her bottom left her chair and the final bell of the day rings.

"Now as for groups. There are twenty-eight of you so I'll be splitting all of you into eight groups of three and two groups of two. Each group will be given a journal that I expect to be filled out and turned in by the end of the day. Included should be the date, your name, and what your productivity has produced. I want names of what you've read or watched, as well as short summaries. For each day your group journal isn't turned in will cost the overall project a single point. Those points add up." Leaning back on his desk, crossing a leg over the other, Mr. Sheldon picks up a sheet of paper from his desk and examines it. "If you look at the blackboard you will see that each of the four rows have been broken into ten groups." Dakota had noted that when she'd been correcting his spelling of her classmates' names. She hadn't thought much of it at the time. "As I call out your groups please move so you can be together. The last ten minutes of class will be used to decide on a research project. I'll remind everyone once more that this project will be due the week before spring break. That is only seven weeks away."

Austin squirms in his seat, leaning in to whisper, "I hope I don't end up with Kirt or Christian. Last time we did anything together I think I alone brought down our entire grade by one letter."

Dakota feels his silent question like tiny spiders crawling across her skin. A brush of anxiety and dread fog in her brain in sympathy. "If only Ben hadn't nearly flunked history last year."

"If only." Austin murmurs, shielding his eyes when Mr. Sheldon looks out across the classroom. His attention shifting from student to student. Looking for every single teen who dreads finding out who they'll be partnered with.

Dakota crosses her arms.

She could put up with anyone he partners her with - even if said people might include Lauren Mallory.

Mr. Sheldon turns away from the class, raises the sheet up so he can see it, and wipes the board mostly clean of names. Of those to go includes Dakota's and Austin's. People prepare for the inevitable with zipping bags and stifled groans and soft whispering jabs at why this project couldn't be done individually.

The names drone on for a handful of minutes. Austin being called away three groups in. He's been partnered with a freshman and fellow junior. His fear of being left with Kirt Aristophanes or Christian Abbott disburses and trades for a soft smile, and even softer blush.

"Bye-bye."

"He's so hot."

Theodore (Theo) Miller. The co-captain of the Forks swimming team. A nice boy by all means but from a rather religiously strict catholic family.

"Don't come onto him too quickly, else his mom might spring from his backpack with her bible." Her comment is lost on him. Austin's to frantic and giddy to get across the classroom to realize she'd said something funny.

"Bye-bye." She repeats as he scurries off.

"Miss Abigail you will be with Miss Jackson." A girl with short blond hair rises from beside Lauren. Fingers touch in longing as the girls part and Dakota gags. "Miss Greyson and Mister Hale, the two of you will be partnered."

Wait… what did he just say?

"Mister Aristophanes, Mister Brings, and Miss Casey. The three of you are together."

If a soul could leave the body hers would in that instant.

This wasn't part of the plan : The WallFlower Plan . Dakota needs, with absolute certainty, to not be associated in any capacity with any of that family. She needs to not just be under their radar but completely off it. Being partnered with Jasper Whitlock shatters so many leaps and bounds without anyone but her knowing it.

It's worse than being stuck with Rosalie or being trapped in the library with Edward for less than five minutes.

Mechanically, Dakota stands and grabs the strap of her bag before turning her attention towards where they'd been sitting. Where the Hale twins had been sitting for over half the year. All the way across the classroom. Far away from Dakota and the nearest door.

Now a seat is vacant. Now Jasper is sitting ramrod straight in his chair and can't look any more uncomfortable if he tries.

This is not great. This is so far from great.

"Fucking hell."

A body brushes past hers. A girl she knows is a sophomore. A stupid and overly achieving sophomore who won't achieve anything in life but taking up more space on this green earth. A waste of oxygen.

"He's so hot. Want to trade."

'Yes.' Dakota thinks, almost says, but bites her tongue. Even if she got on her knees and begged before the whole class to Mr. Sheldon the man wouldn't be merciful. He'd cock a fuzzy eyebrow and point at the chair she's now to occupy. Telling her to get over it, grow up, and take her seat. 'I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate-'

Curly blonde hair bounces as Jasper's head snaps up.

'Fuck.' Dakota tries to reign in her emotions. The endless depth of chaotic stress pushing her to the verge of crying. She'd imagined moments when those yellow eyes turned in her direction. Spoilers - nothing ever ends sexy. Dakota always ends up dead. Dakota always ends up missing or in the ground. The Cullen's are more than happy to flee or scold one of their own before forgetting they'd ever murdered her. 'Calm down. I need to calm down.'

From across the room dark yellow eyes, encased in the shadows of his bangs and dark circles beneath his eyes, flick toward her. Unassuming and unamused and uninterested.

Dakota more than feels his gaze on her, and it smolders with a cold sort of dead heat that she knows is all in her overly paranoid head. A little voice in the back of her mind whispers as she walks closer 'he isn't suspicious' and another counters 'but he will be soon'.

Suddenly the idea that she'll be close enough to see each individual shade of yellow is unnerving. It makes her fingers twitchy to pluck one from his head so she can analyze it, a color chart in her other hand at the ready. An obsession in another lifetime tries to claw its way to the surface.

Dakota shoves the desire down with both metaphorical hands and her entire spiritual body.

This is going to be an absolute nightmare. For whom she isn't sure, but that's likely to be determined very soon.

'This isn't great.' Dakota nods to herself. The action draws more of his attention. A head of soft blond lifting slightly, eyes more assessing she almost suspects. 'But it is what it is.'

It's as she takes another step and comes to stand at the back of her new chair that she notices she'd been wrong. His eyes are far darker than any shade of yellow she's ever seen before. Dakota can barely tell the pupil from the iris.

She detains from commenting on it. That his irises should be yellow (brandished gold - Dakota refused to refer to anything about them with extraordinary vocabulary) like the rest of his siblings. The entirety of Forks, every man and woman and child, has made note of their oddly beautiful eyes.

Why are Jasper's black right now?

She tries to keep her own gaze locked on his, and not where his hands are crossed above the desk. She tries not to overly assess the manner in which he sits so erect and stiff and still.

Dakota outright ignores that while his shoulders rise and fall his chest doesn't constrict and expand.

"Hello."

For a beat of her heart she doesn't think he'll answer.

"Hello."

Dakota forces herself to yank the chair next to his out and seat herself there. She will not bolt like some scared little girl (which she very much is feeling like). She will not be intimidated by his intense and unblinking black eyes.

If she peed herself would that drive each of the Cullen's off? Would they be chased right out of town and into another country?

Her nails settle into beating a steady rhythm across their shared desk. A heady noise that draws a few of those near them. Dakota ignores their glares and hissed 'Dakota's' for a very forced smile and a flirty sounding, "So groupie, how do you feel about the impact of fashion during the Spanish Flu Pandemic?"

She doesn't care what their project will be about, and highly doubts he does either. She leans towards him and Jasper's nostrils slowly expand as he sniffs the air.

The Major of the South is sniffing the air around him. Something about the action lifted a bit of the tension growing in her chest. Like invisible hands are untwining them and snipping them one by one.

"That is fine with me." He stares at her.

Dakota notices for the first time he sounds no different than any other person in Forks. His Texan accent is nowhere to be spotted. A spark of disappointment flares as she leans away, crossing her arms to stop her excessive tapping.

"I'm Jasper."

She knows his name. She knows him to some degree. She doesn't want him to ever discover that.

"I know." All around them the final bell signaling the end of the day. Students rise and rush to leave, others loiter to wait for friends. Neither Dakota nor Jasper budge. She feels again the scrap of something foreign… something there but not. Her mind wars with her body. Her skin prickles and the hairs along her arms rise. "I think everyone in Forks knows who you are, you and your family. Y'all have become quite the celebrities in under two years. There seems to always be something for the people to gossip and chitter-chatter about."

Among the shuffling of feet and bodies Mr. Sheldon claps to gravitate the attention back to him. "Please do not wait till the last minute to complete this project. It is the first of the three this semester. It will not be the only project you will be working on before spring break. And, as I know you all have gotten tired of hearing, besides the paper and presentation I expect each of your groups to come up with something creative that the class can interact with while the presentation is being given. This cannot be a piece of paper with bullet points. I want creativity. Something that represents your topic. As for the journals I will have them available starting next Monday."

Then it's like a light switch is flipped. Dakota knows what this sensation is. Why it feels so invasive and foreign, and yet familiar.

He's reading her emotions. He's manipulating and taking her anxiety and stress. He's replacing it with something calmer and more welcoming.

A whispering coo of 'don't be afraid' and 'I'm no different than anyone else here'. It reminds her of sandpaper against skin. A sensation she's felt on a few occasions out of the blue, and only for less than a breath.

She imagines slamming a wall between herself and him. An invisible and impenetrable thing. Of an ability that will protect her from him, from them, but nothing happens.

How could she wake in another's body and not be given something supernatural to protect herself with? Bella is a shield. A mortal born with the rare blessing of a gift that is awake before her premature immortal creating death.

Why couldn't Dakota be given the same sort of luck? Why couldn't she have woken elsewhere? Why did she need to wake in another's body at all?

How come it seemed like only her knowledge of the future is being hidden so well from them? Edward can't hear her thoughts — or at least those to do with the future of this town and its inhabitants.

She feels Jasper retreat. She sees no change as he gathers his things and begins to stand.

"People like to talk."

"Indeed they do."

Then, he's walking away. Rosalie stands in waiting by the door. Her narrowed gaze on him, not Dakota. She likes to imagine it's because Rosalie Hale sees Dakota as nothing but a blimp in her long life. Something not worth noticing.

A little and mundane thing.

Without thinking she calls out, "I like to research. We can split that, if it's alright with you. I can take the first few years and you the later." Jasper turns a step out the door and looks over his shoulder at her. Waiting patiently for her to finish. "Then, for the creative bit I stress bake so I'm sure I can create something that we can use for that portion. Shape, say cupcakes, into little dresses or hats or something."

He only nods. Once. Then disappears into the hallway.

When the school grows quiet, the whine of old engines dies away outside, Mr. Sheldon speaks. "I don't think I've seen anything smoother."

If he'd been anyone else she'd have told him to mind his own damn business. Instead Dakota hides her face behind a book as blood rushes to her cheeks. She'd been so cringe.

She'd let a crush from another life and a manipulative empath make her feel cozy enough to risk risking everything.

Stupid.

"Yes, make fun of me now but our project will be the best." A new wave of trepidation and paranoid embarrassment washes over Dakota. Had she really told (not asked, mind you) Jasper that they'd be making cupcake shaped clothes? "The best and tastiest."

This isn't wallflower protocol.


Authors Note

So… will a 7k+ chapter make you all forgive me for taking forever to update this story? Because it's all I have.

Truth be told, I wasn't sure if I'd continue writing this or not after posting the first chapter. I know, what a jackass move. There's just been this overwhelming desire to write, and I'd found my fascination for Jasper returning in full throttle.

It's the comments and the never-ending kudo's (even after so much time) that has made me write another chapter. A chapter that became way longer than originally planned.

Uhhhhh- the other characters in this so far aren't all ocs. I want to stick to the cast of Twilight as much as possible.

Austin Marks is someone hinted at in the books as being in the same year as Bella. I figured since he's not a major character I could play with him a bit more. Bend some things, like age and grade. He's best friends with Ben Cheney (eventually Angela's boyfriend). They actually live right across from each other.

Kirt is another character in the novels. He's mentioned briefly as being part of the swim team at Forks. I gave him the last name Aristophanes.

Theo, Christian, Sophia, and Casey however are my own little creations for this story to fill some blank spaces in the current junior class.

As for staff additions; Mr. Sheldon, Principle Rupprecht, Mrs. Dalton, and sweet old man Mitch are my own creations as well. I am fully aware that twilight has a principle in the books and movies.

Thoughts? Prayers?

Thank you for reading.
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