Lunch was not my strong suit, nor my favorite period - though that may make me the first high school student to say such a thing. 

Alice was always the first one to lunch and secured a table in the corner. To say we were creatures of habit would be a statement of mere irony; we were indeed creatures, and along with that came the number of habits we have developed over the years. To that extent we always sat at the same table during lunch. 

I was the second one in. Alice had a free period right before and the teacher was so used to her up and leaving that she declined to comment any more. I came from Psych 101, right across the courtyard. 

The bell couldn't have taken longer. Mr. Gerig was in one of his lecturing moods. He had totally blank spaced from his syllabus which had been strategically placed on his desk and now was merely talking off his own thoughts, writing down as he went along. No doubt it would be on our next test, if his swish of sea foam colors were any indication.

By the time the bell rang other students were stretching their hand muscles. I did too, imitating them, not wanting to provide evidence for how we could be any different. 

As soon as the bell rang I was out of my seat, my notebook falling gently into my backpack as I left the room. Clear air swirled around my nose and I breathed it in deeply, feeling the flame in my throat reduce. Once students began to swirl into the courtyard I slipped into the lunchroom, finding Alice very easily. 

She already had my lunch waiting for me, a patient mood encompassing her - marred only by a light brown at the very edges. Must be a worry for Edward, who no one had heard from bar Carlisle yesterday. 

"Alice," I greeted casually, assuming my usual position. She gave a smile to me but very quickly spaced out again. 

I found my eyes watching the students that began to file in. Normally I would try to avoid them, look anywhere but the beating pulse points on their necks and how nice their warm blood would taste against my lips - but I'm getting ahead of myself. Shaking off that mood and borrowing a hint of patience from Alice, I looked to the students once again. 

It had been a strange morning to say the least. She, Yellow Girl, was in a couple of my classes. From what I had gathered on her so far - I was keeping a mental list going, constantly adding onto it because I was constantly learning (and complimentary to that had the questions I was beginning to gather of her as well) and admiring her, seeing what else she could reveal - Yellow Girl was intelligent, for a human. She was only a junior, yet she had been taking some of my senior classes. English, for one of them. And she was in my writing class as well; perhaps she was headed down that track.

Whatever her educational level was, the emotions were the strangest part. She was so pure, so bright, that every time she appeared in the same room as I was my emotions changed as well. And then, after, it was if I could sense her. Though it didn't last longer than a half hour, I could feel her as she went to another class. So I knew for a fact that right after I had English with her, I went to Psych 101 and she went to Spanish, which was three doors down from my class room. To get even more specific, and I realize also very stalker-esque, she sat in the back of the classroom, right side. 

Now I could sense her as she got close to the canteen. From my estimation, she would open the door...right...about...now.

I was right. She waltzed right in, her eyes immediately scanning the cafeteria. As she did, I let my eyes flutter shut, not even registering Emmett and Rosalie as her emotions washed over me. The warmth that came along with it, the elevation I felt consumed me. 

As that went on I picked up a couple things that had changed since I had seen her in English. Her backpack was heavier; the straps dragged a little at her shoulders, despite the fact that she was clasping a book in her hands. And her hair, which had been up in English, was now down. 

And I decided that I very much liked when her hair was down.

When I next opened my eyes, Emmett and Rosalie were conversing in low terms with Alice about Edward, excluding me as usual. It wasn't that I minded. In fact, now, it gave me more time to study Yellow Girl. I would have to learn her name, and soon. 

She grabbed a lighter lunch today and made her way back towards what I could see becoming her usual table. Two students, I believe of the names Mike and Jessica, were already there. The snide feelings of Jessica rivaled a side of me I wasn't aware could get challenged outside of my world. Instinctively, I felt as if I had a duty to go over there and protect Yellow Girl from the dark colors that swirled around Jessica; it was as if I was instinctively afraid that even being close to such dark colors would wipe out the yellow. 

She sat next to her twin, nudging her shoulder in a friendly manner of saying hello. The other one, I also don't know her name, was not as bright as Yellow Girl. She was peaceful, but it was very similar to how most of my family functioned: in muted beige and off-white tones. Though there was a twinge of sadness about her too. 

Yellow Girl noticed, and I could abruptly feel a flash of anger startle through me. My head shot around, checking to see if my siblings had changed, but they hadn't. I whipped back to look at Yellow Girl, only to realize that a streak of red had suddenly taken over her. My own emotions reflected that. The apple I was holding would very quickly become pulp if I didn't let it go. 

Yellow Girl was listening to her sister, the two of them mumbling low enough I could not hear them. That bothered me. I wanted to know what they were discussing. She ran her fingers through her hair, all the way down to her waist. Now that she drew my attention to it, I could see the red in it was amplified in the light and there were also parts that looked almost bronze-like. It was the most stunning collection of colors I had seen.

Her emotions cooled after a moment, swirling into disinterest before that began to fade away too. It seemed like, whether she was conscious of it or not, her innate state was to be purely happy, and she worked to keep it consistent. 

Jessica had captured her attention now, and that strange side to me flared again. Alice's eyes were on me and I turned carefully to her, keeping Yellow Girl in my vision. "Yes, Alice?"

The smile on her face was just a little too smug. "I'm getting a very interesting vision."

I let an eyebrow arch itself, feeling a sweep through me of - oddly - relief when Yellow Girl picked up on the fakeness of the smile Jessica was performing. 

"Oh, it's not set in stone yet," Alice chided herself, shrugging, "but you and Jules over there may be spending more time together than I think you are aware of. By the way, she's about to look at you."

I switched my eyes back to her the same time she looked up at me - and the feeling of euphoria was amazing. It was turning into a drug now, a gaze I needed. The feelings that came along with it made me feel as if I could take on the world. Her cheeks colored a little, but for once I didn't feel the flame in my throat enlarge. I was more enraptured by the fact that her name was Jules - most certainly a nickname - and that her wide brown eyes were a stunning mix of the same exact joy that I could see radiating from her like she was a sun.

The remainder of lunch was, for the first time, not a pain for me. I didn't pay any attention to my siblings, something that I am sure I would hear about later, and the pain in my throat was only a secondary thought. 

Once the bell rang I was quickly up and out of the cafeteria. I would have to open the window again, just slightly, so I would not have as big of a struggle as it was yesterday. I The pain is a constant reminder of who I am - why, to her, I will never be 'normal'.

I was already seated when she entered the room, and it took her only a couple steps for me to come to the conclusion that I wanted to talk to her. It was strange, the burning desire I had, but I wanted to hear her voice as she spoke to me, to see the emotions swirl around her and in her eyes in response to whatever thoughts were racing across her mind.

For I knew a girls as smart as herself did not think idly; she thought with the power of the world at her fingertips.

She dropped her bag with a more distinctive thud than it was yesterday, absentmindedly pulling out a spiral journal. This was a new development. I didn't know she kept a journal. What did she write about, in there? Was there anything interesting? Did she write her thoughts?

I want to know what's in that journal. 

And then suddenly I couldn't control myself any more. "Hello." She was writing in a page, but the moment I spoke her pen paused. Nearly a second later she looked up, her eyes wide and glass-like. 

"Oh, hello." Her yellow tinged off with a dusting of pink; she was embarrassed. I must've disturbed her train of thought, and she took it as a slightly longer response time then normal. I hadn't noticed anything off, but then again, time had begun to cease to exist.

"I'm Jasper Hale." I decided introducing myself was the best approach to take, because perhaps if I divulged a little information about myself, she would divulge more about herself. 

She moved to picked up her pen as she replied, moving the air and sending a wave of her smell towards me. I cut my lungs off, not letting myself go down that path. Instead, I focused on her response. 

"Juliette Swan, but I prefer Jules." She let a soft smile grace her lips, the edges curling up and crinkling her eyes slightly. Her fingers twisted the pen back and forth; and my list grew ever longer. 

Perhaps she likes jokes; I decided that I wanted to test that theory. "So, you are one of the two new girls everyone has been talking about." I ran a hand through my hair, giving off a natural movement, and drew a deep breath in when a breeze swept past. I could register the pain, but my mind was too occupied with the conversation to make too much of it. 

"Ugh, don't remind me." She groaned, letting her head rest on the desk with mock exasperation. Humor bubbled inside of me, for as much as she portrayed her annoyance, she too was enjoying this conversation. She was a joke person. "I'm sorry, did that insult you?"

She, too, found the situation amusing, though she let her head remain on the desk. "No. But I'm getting sick of the stares, the looks and the whispers about Bella and I -- Bella being my twin sister, I mean." Another nickname. Did they not like their full names? Isabella and Juliette; I don't see why not. They are both beautiful names. 

"Oh, I see." Quickly, my brain pulled a starter question from my list. If I had her engaged in conversation, might as well learn as much as I can about her. I decided to check a rumor I had heard floating around, "So did you really move from Phoenix?"

She sat back up, letting her hair drape over the back of the chair. My fingers twitched with a sudden desire to know what it felt like...but she was replying again. "Yes, I did. And I don't miss it at all." 

Strange. Her voice was infused with more emotion than she was actually feeling, or at least that I could register. Though, now, concentrating on it, I could feel the slight tinge of relief go past the happiness. It was very thin, layered just on top. I pondered this, while also continuing the conversation. 

"Why not?" Surely if it was her home she had to miss it. She must have left things behind that were very important to her.

"I'm not a huge fan of the heat -- I prefer rain." That much was understandable to me. From what I could tell of the two days I've known her, she did seem to favor the longer jeans and sweaters, with long sleeves. "But Bella is the complete opposite and is not happy to be here."

That's an interesting twist. "Then why did she come?" Not that I was particularly ungrateful she did; though I doubt that is a topic Edward and I would see eye to eye on. 

"Because she wanted to let our mother travel with our step-dad." My own emotions, freeing from her for just a moment, tinged themselves with a little annoyance. It was so hard to read her! Her answers are cryptic, giving just enough to answer the question but not enough to suffice my curiosity. In doing so, she was lengthening the conversation without even having to really work at it. 

"What is his job, that requires so much traveling?" And this was a topic I knew nothing about - her family life. I did know that her father, Chief Swan, lived alone after his wife left with their two daughters - whom I now know - and she quickly divorced him after. But that was about it. 

"He's a minor league baseball player - though not many people have heard of him because he is strictly minor league." A chuckle slid last both of our lips; what a beautiful harmony it made.

My mind was assuming left and right, and the only way to clarify these assumptions was to see what she deemed correct. So I let my mouth run on its own motor, lessening the filter that was almost always on. "I get it. Your sister sent you two down here so your mother could be happy."

"Yes and no." This strategy seems to be working. "Bella sent herself down here, and I'm bound to follow wherever she goes. She needs someone to look after her."

It was such an odd statement coming from a seventeen year old that it caught me off guard. "Why?" My eyes scanned her face, as if I could see the answer written across it. She didn't seem annoyed by her statement, which was also highly unusual. 

"Because she is the clumsiest person alive, and I've grown up with her. It's second nature now to catch her." There was a protective layer over her voice now. 

"Ah, okay, I think I understand now." We lapsed into silence, my mind cataloging everything I was gaining from this conversation. 

She broke the silence first. "Can I ask you a few questions about your family, since you asked about mine?" Her eyes were entirely trusting towards me, and it shocked me out of the state I had been in. I could feel the filter and mask go back into place, returning behind the shell I place to ward off suspicions of my family. How curious was she? 

"It depends, but I suppose so." I could feel my own worry begin to creep in. Her question were dangerous, because it seemed like my filter was nearly non-existent around her and that would be very problematic if she asked me a difficult question. 

"Are you all adopted" Relief flooded through me. Without knowing it, she had provided the perfect question for me to solidify our cover story. 

"Yes. My twin sister, Rosalie and I are blood related, but other then that no one in our family is." She bought the lie easily, and I shoved away the small twisting feeling in my gut. 

"Oh, that's cool!" The happiness she radiated suddenly shined out of her face and her eyes too, lit up like she was the sun. 

"You think so?" I was so caught up in her emotions I barely registered that I had begun to talk again. 

"Oh, yes. I like hearing about those types of things -- as tragic as they normally are, it's like a real life fairytale." Bitter amusement swept through me. A tragic nightmare, more like, but I wouldn't be letting her know that. My eye caught the movement of her foot as she kicked her bag slightly under the chair. 

"You really like your stories, don't you?" I referenced her journal. 

She let out a very un-ladylike snort, but it suited her. "Like them? I don't like them, I love them." Passionate, too.

"What's your favorite story?" It seemed like a key aspect of her personality. I was suddenly hoping I had read it, that we would have a common topic to talk about. 

"Why are you asking me?" Though the question was defensive, there was a strong latter of curiosity that overpowered it. She was going for the honest why, like there was a conclusion, not like she was being provoked. 

My mind scrambled to come up with the best answer - the answer that didn't make me sound like a stalker. "You're in a writing class, so I'd assume you want to be an author. Also, you corrected me by saying that you love stories, so you are bound to have a favorite." I shrugged it off, but was curious as to what she would make of it.

"Completely right." She nodded in seriousness, "Yes, I do have a favorite. It's The Secret Garden."

I haven't read it yet...but the name wasn't unfamiliar. I cast my mind back to the house, scanning over the list of titles we could find. Then, abruptly, it was staring at me. Esme had just gotten it with Carlisle's recent purchase from one of the local antique stories they had visited. I wonder if I could borrow it..."Really?" I arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I like the way she cares for it, it's hers and no one else's, and how she only shares the secret with a few people." Her answer was so different, so completely purely her, that it was instantly committed to my mind and being deciphered. 

"But it starts in a tragedy, and she keeps the secret from everyone." Surely, with a  personality as happy as her own, tragedy and loss have a huge impact. 

"It does," she shrugged it off. "but it makes the ending that much sweeter. Besides, secrets exist to be kept, in my mind. Once someone tells me a secret, my lips are sealed. It's like being an undercover spy -- but less dangerous." She was grinning at the end of the sentence. 

I could feel the teacher getting ready to start her lesson. "I suppose," I replied, rather idly, as I sat and thought. Was she really good at keeping secrets? I doubt she could keep mine. Surely it would make her uncomfortable...my mind swept itself away with all the possibilities. 

A/N: 3309 words