First off. Yes, this is another Jelsa High School fanfic; But, we had a vision to try to do something amazingly creative and different. We are hoping to any who read will like this story as much as we LOVE writing it. Honestly, We're like squealing about this story everyday...

(BTW: If you didn't get the hint, this is a co-written story)

For anyone reading this, we'd LOVE to hear what you think! Even if you don't think it's great, any criticisms are highly accepted! We just wanna see what y'all think! Now for the disclaimer:

WE DON'T OWN ANY CHARACTERS OR ANYTHING FROM FROZEN OR RISE OF THE GUARDIANS; We're merely writing a story! Now please enjoy!

Prologue: What About Her?

How do you fit a puzzle piece into a puzzle already finished?

I'll tell you how.

You don't.

My name is Jack Frost—or well that's what I was told my name was, but that is complicated story for a less complicated point in time. It's been about a month since my transfer to Burdelle High, as a senior I might add.

I don't really belong here and it becomes that much more painfully evident during lunch. I don't want to compare this high school to the clichés of "A Typical Teenage Movie", with scripted hierarchy's that puts ever person, place, and thing in their specific territory, but...I am left with no choice really.

As I sit here, secluded under the shade of a sturdy oak, I watch through wide glass windows at everyone settled cozy in the cafeteria like a show on a stage. Everyone routinely sits in the same seat, with the same people, doing the same thing. Funny how high school plays out like some sort of grand story with condescending actors and a flimsy plot line, dedicated to some invisible goal that not one player can grasp. It is the same thing everyday.

Is it weird that I've picked up on daily habits of people I haven't even said a word to?

For example, the group of obnoxious tools calling for the center of attention, occasionally causing a bit of a ruckus by throwing free shots with their uneaten food into nearby trashcans.

Or how about the blonde bimbo army that is seated at the table to the right, fawning over the tools immature antics like they were Prince Charmings in the making.

Then there's freshman that all cling to each other, still unsure and confused about what and what not to do.

Each person plays a specific role making up a dysfunctional picture with no real direction. Each action, good or bad, impulsive or carefully thought out, is scrutinized and judged by the other players. Everything has an inner, more personal motive.

Except for her.

Day in and day out I see tables filled, overflowing with the sweaty bodies of students who are still trying to accomplish impossible task at keeping the table functional. The hustle and bustle of words and actions. The screams of delight or anger, all spinning violently into a storm of incomprehensible chaos.

Except for her.

She sits like a queen on a thrown, over looking all her subjects with so much poise and elegance you would've mistaken her for a fairy-tale princess.

Her pale face maintains a constant and perfect expression. Never smiling, not frowning, just…blank. Shockingly so. Almost expressionless.

It looks as if she has a wall around her vicinity. No one really approaches her. They shy away from her seldom stoic glances. She's in utter solitude as she sips a blue thermos and flips through thick books with no illustrative covers.

They—and by they I mean everyone—calls her the "Snow Queen". Of course I've heard "Ice Bitch" too, but the first was a bit more popular if not a tad more flattering. The name, however, captures her essence essentially well thanks to the cold and distant vibe emanating from her presence. The only thing I know about her is that she voluntarily isolates herself, interaction was limited to authority figures only.

I don't know what grade she was in, what classes she took, what little friends she might have. I don't even know her real name and yet everyday I sit here , trying to answer some of these questions myself.

Why?

I don't really know. Curiosity, I can only assume. There just happens to be someone else who purposely separated themselves from the entanglement of this social establishment, already notorious and recognized for it. She could've been another fair-haired damsel enjoying herself with the companies of those alike, and yet there she stationed herself at the end of the cafeteria, only having to shoot a look at someone to get them to back off and leave her alone.

Why'd she want to be alone?

I already had my reasons to be alone. She probably has her own reasons. That was no secret.

But, oddly enough, I found myself wanting to know them.

Perhaps, just as I do, the mysterious Snow Queen liked being alone too.

*Alrighty, so this is our first story. Hope you enjoy and we would love to hear your feedback! :)*