A/N (Author's Note): This is a sequel to Twilight, so those of you who haven't read that book, DON'T READ THIS FAN-FICTION! lol: just kidding. This is told half in Paul's pov, and occasionally transferring to Jackie's pov. Paul has been redeemed. He never loved Suze, really. Paul will find romance when he least expected it – and you just have to keep reading to find out. ::evil laugh:: P.S. – fluffy stuff shall come later on down the line, and I promise you it will be good, but it might be a while until things get there, so bear with me, and let me just tell you: good things come to those who wait. Hahahaha!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from the MEDIATOR series created by Meg Cabot, the wonderful writer that she is, and stuff. Her characters are (among the others): Paul, Jesse, Father Dom, Grandpa Slater ("Gramps" as the Paul in this story calls him), and Kelly.
DISCLAMIER: I don't own or whatever the following song: "New," by the great band, No Doubt who rocks hard! (In a good way). But I heard so long as I don't write down the entire lyrics of the song, I can't get sued, so that's what I did – didn't use all the lyrics, I mean.
CLAIMER: I create – and own – the character, Jackie Sonrisa! (ha ha!), she's mine, don't steal her. Do it and DIE! (j.k. about the "dying" part). Ditto goes for later characters that I create that go along with Jackie Sonrisa (her mom, dad, ghosts I make, etc.).
Okay, that's it. The rest is the story, you know. ;-)
Paul
Ch. 1: NEW
"Kelly, will you: Leave. Me. Alone!" I yelled into the stainless steel home-phone, before slamming it down onto the receiver. I gave a muffled cry of frustration and ran my fingers through my hair. God! Won't she ever get a clue? That we were over with: finished; done; no más. There is nothing left: nada, zip, zilch; our relationship was through with.
I broke up with Kelly two weeks ago. It wasn't right to lead her on, and I can't love her - never did. Instead of accepting it, though, she became more and more stalker-y as the days passed. Now I had, what? 168 messages on my cell phone and answering machine in total. I wanted to plug the phone out, but the phone needed to be on, so that we could be able to call 911 for Gramps, like last time, on New Year's, when Gramps had stopped breathing. I shuddered, remembering that terrible, horrific night. One of his attendants called me, and we met up at the hospital. It was total chaos.
One of Gramp's attendants, John, walked into the kitchen. "Still on your case, that Kelly?" he gave me a sort of amused half-smile.
I mustered a rueful smile in return, but give a frustrated sigh, "Yeah," before opening the fridge, and taking out a Sierra Mist. I downed it. Then I told him, "My friends, Suze and Jesse will be here any moment."
"Okay then; I'm just here to get your grandfather the beer he demanded for."
I really gave a smile then. Gramps has been doing much better lately – aside from the New Year's thing. Just today, he called the cable repairman a few colorful things – things that I think the repairman won't forget in this lifetime – for not doing a good job, and thereby having Gramps miss The Price is Right, with Bob Barker, on channel four.
The doorbell rung and I let Suze and Jesse in. "Just try not to get all lovey-dovey like last time," I grin just a little bit.
"Hey! We're here to study mediator-lore!" cried Suze, and pretended to be offended. "Besides," she added in whisper. "If we wanted to make-out, I just would have Jesse come over to my house instead."
"I can hear you perfectly well, querida." Jesse wrapped his arms around Suze's waist. There were no hard feelings between the three of us – at least not any more. I duly acknowledged that Suze was right – about everything, actually. I apologized to her, and later on, to Jesse, too. The only way that I felt that I could perfectly – absolutely – make it up to him, for every thing I did (which was a lot, let me tell you) was to invite him to come and study shifting with Suze. I didn't think that I could find anything big enough to make up for my actions, but this seemed just about right.
I was over Suze – well, as over as a guy can be, without actually ever being in love. Let's face it; I never was in love with Suze. I just thought I was. So it didn't even hurt me to see them together, like they were now.
Fifteen minutes and 30 phone-calls later from Kelly, Suze let out a groan. "Just answer the phone, Paul!"
"No way! It'll just encourage her," I insisted.
Instead, I turned the ringer off the phone. That ought to do it – or so I thought. A second later, I heard Kelly's voice whine over the answering machine. "I know you're there, Paul! Pick it up! Can't we just talk about this!?"
"She wants to talk?" I said incredulity. "I talked to her. I made it perfectly clear that she and I were over with. She was the one who refused to shut up, when we 'talked'!" Then I give a groan, and took the phone of the hook, then put it back on, consequently hanging up on Kelly. "That's it," I say, and turn off the answering machine. "We already have caller-I.D. anyway," I explained to the two of them.
"You can't just keep avoid her like this, Paul," said Suze.
"Um, as you can tell, Suze," I eye her skeptically. Was she going to demand I get back together with Kelly? "I can; and I will."
I whipped out my cell-phone, and deleted all my text-messages from Kelly.
"Tried blocking her number yet?" Jesse asked. He's been catching on to 21st century life pretty well so far.
"Yes," I sink into my black leather desk chair, miserably. "But she uses pay-phones… her friends' cell phones… her friends' home-phones… her dad's office phones… her dad's cell phone…"
"We get the picture," they both say, in a rush.
"So what now?" I ask to no one in particular.
"Maybe I should send Brad after her," Suze mused out loud - to herself more than to Jesse and me. "He'd love for a chance to go out with Kelly, now that she's free. That ought to keep her busy for a while."
I stand up all of a sudden, in a burst of epiphany. "You're brilliant, Simon."
Suze looked confused. "What are you talking about?"
"I think he means the comment about Kelly and your brother," Jesse said.
"My step-brother… and Kelly? You're not going to try to fix them up together, are you?" she looked up at me.
"God no!" I said, disgustedly. "Nothing like that. I mean I should find my own girlfriend to make Kelly get the picture – that we aren't boyfriend and girlfriend any more."
"I don't know about this…" Suze said.
"What? You doubt my ability to find a girlfriend?" I quirk my eyebrow up, questioningly.
"Nothing like that. It's just that… Paul, you can't just get a girlfriend like that," she snapped her fingers in the air. "It'll take weeks, months, God-knows how long until you find a girlfriend."
"With all due respect to your boyfriend," I nodded my head towards Jesse, who gave a slight nod of the head in return. "Not all guys wait for a long time before asking a girl out."
"I know that from personal experience, thank-you-very-much," Suze sardonically replied, referring to when I first asked her out, at the Pebble Beach Resort last summer. "I don't know… I just have a bad feeling about this. Besides, you're considered to be on 'rebound,' Paul."
"So what if I have a girlfriend soon after I break up?"
"I mean, well, it's not very nice to just ask a girl out, when you don't even like her, just to get Kelly off your back."
"So?" I said, stubbornly. "I'll get to like her then."
Suze gave a sigh of frustration. "Fine. Forget it. Never mind that I said anything, Paul. Now can we please get back to work?" Unfortunately, it was time for Jesse to take Suze home, so we headed for the door.
Just before leaving, Jesse said, "I agree with Susannah on this one, Slater. Don't toy with a girl's emotions. I don't quite understand 'rebound,' but I know that it's not gentlemanly to get a woman's hopes up, and then have to explain to her that you had to date her only for your own purposes."
They soon drove out the drive way, and I gave a loud sigh. I was trying to be all good about this, you know? No manipulating people… no overdosing them, or gagging them – not any more. Not like back before Suze proved that she was right, and that I… let's just say I've seen the error of my ways. Suze had been right about… a lot of things before. Maybe Suze and Jesse were right this time. Still, I couldn't think of any other solution. Besides, I argue to myself, I just might end up liking the girl – whoever that ends up being – anyway. So what difference does it make? I tell myself, as I go to bed. I can't sleep. My mind keeps going in circles around this whole issue. What should I do? And with that thought, I yawn and finally drift off into sleep.
"This is just great," I put down my backpack and grab a seat in detention hall. That's right. Detention. For using words Sister Ernestine deemed "filthy and inappropriate" to use at this school. It's all Kelly's fault, I think to myself. If she'd just left me alone, maybe I wouldn't have used such colorful four-letter words that I did when I told her to back off and leave me alone.
Oh well. All the better, I think. At least she can't come into detention without having Sister Ernestine notice. And the Sister would shoo her away. I should probably get detention more often, I think, humorlessly to myself. My train of thought is cut off when I hear singing coming from behind me. The heck - ?
I turn and see this girl with headphones on so loud I could hear catches of music from where I was sitting.
"New. You're so new/And I've never had this taste in my mouth… You're different. You're different from the former…"
I waved my hand in front of her face – she was working on what looked like was a chemistry worksheet. Finally I got her attention. She pulled off the headphones, and left them hanging around her neck.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"I don't know if you've ever had detention before," I told her. "But um, you're really not supposed to talk."
She laughed. Her laugh sounded like Christmas bells. That astonished me, because she definitely did not look anything fragile – or Christmas-y, for that matter (obviously. It was in the beginning of February, why should she look Christmas-y?). She had on combat boots, and thick, black eyeliner. Her jet-black, straight, chin-length hair had the occasional streaks of bright red in it. "Trust me," she looked amused. "This defiantly isn't my first time in detention. Besides, I wasn't talking. I was singing," She said, matter-of-factly.
I grin at her. She was kind of fun. Who was I to force her to stay quiet? Besides, when she sang along to her C.D., her voice was actually kind of pretty. It was very calming to listen to, but I had a feeling if she wanted to, she could belt out notes better than Christina Aguilera (and Christina Aguilera has a pretty damn good voice). She was just holding back. Sister Ernestine had walked in, though, and said, "Miss Sonrisa! Head phones off!"
The tough girl grumbled but, unlike what I expected her to do, she took the headphones off and stuffed it in her black backpack.
"Great," she groans. "And that was my favorite track, too."
"What song were you listening to?" I ask, curious.
" 'New'," she smiles.
"New?"
"It's by No Doubt," her smile grew wider.
"No Doubt?" I ask.
"Are you going to repeat every word I say?" she laughs at me.
"Er, no," I said, embarrassed, but tried to recover myself by asking her, "What's your name anyway? I haven't seen you here before."
"It's Jackie. Jackie Sonrisa." She sticks her hand out and shakes mine. I feel like a jolt of electricity has just passed through me when our fingers touch; like I just ran my hand into a live wire, or stuck a fork into an electrical outlet (which is a bad idea to do, let me tell you. Never, ever stick anything metal into an electrical outlet, except, of course, a plug). I don't know if she felt it too, but when I look at Jackie's face, her eyebrows are up, here eyes widened like mad, and she and she swallowed hard, I noticed. How weird. I never felt that before.
"Sonrisa? Doesn't that mean "smile," in Spanish?" I ask her.
She blushed. I never thought I'd see a … well, someone with combat boots, and heavy eyeliner, blush.
"My dad's Spanish," she explains, like it's something to be embarrassed about.
"Well, I've never seen you here before," I ask, changing the topic she doesn't really seem like she wants to discuss.
"Well, I'm new."
I stared, dumbfounded, at her. Then burst, laughing. She started to laugh along with me, until Sister Ernestine yells across the room, telling us to keep quiet, and threatening to separate the two of us, if we don't shut up. I didn't want to leave Jackie because she seemed so interesting, so I shut up. She did too, but occasionally, we break into peals of laughter.
This went on until the end of detention. Finally, as we left, I ask her, "Can I listen to your C.D.? The song, 'New,' I mean?"
"You can listen to it here," she hands me her headphones. "But," she adds fiercely. "You can't borrow my C.D. No one borrows my No Doubt C.D.s."
"No doubt about that," I grumble. She laughs at my pun, and then smacks me on my left upper arm.
"Shut up, do you want to hear the song or not?" I keep quiet, and wear the head-phones. I notice that she sits down on the side walk, and starts looking around.
I pulled off the head-phones. I ask her inquisitively, "Why are you sitting down on the ground?"
She snorts, "I'm not going to stand for three hours while I wait for my friend Loupe to pick me up."
"Three hours!?"
"That's how long it takes to get here from San Francisco, doesn't it?"
"You have to wait. For three hours. For your friend to drive you home," I said; my tone expressionless.
Jackie shrugged at me. "What else am I going to do?" she asked.
"It's called public transportation," I tell her.
"It's called being-broke-until- Mom's-next-paycheck," she retorts.
I stare at her, surprised. Coming from a family that, let's face it, has never had any financial problems, I never really had to think twice about transportation, or anything like that. I didn't realize how much people need money – if only to go to and from school, or something.
"You could ride a bike?" I ask softly, I already feel bad because of the situation Jackie's in.
She just laughed bitterly at that comment, "Yeah well, it'll take more than pedaling to go up the hill to my house."
What an idiot I was being! "You want a ride?" I jerk my thumb in the direction of my silver BMW convertible.
"I don't need your charity," she tells me. "I'm a tough girl," Jackie flexes her muscles, as if to show me that her strength came from brawn. But I know from experience that strength is more than just muscle; and that is the kind of strength Jackie seemed to have – the non-muscle kind I mean. Even though she did look like she could kick ass if she really needed to.
"All right, well, if you're sure…" said, backing away, with the portable C.D. player in my hands.
"Hey!" she cried out. I ignored her. "Hey wait!"
She stood up, and then started to run quickly after me. By that time I had reached the front door of my silver BMW. She said, breathing quickly from her semi-sprint. "Give me back my C.D. player and No Doubt C.D., you jerk - "
She reached for my hand that I had it in, but found out straight away that my hand was empty and it isn't there. I held both my hands up in an "I'm not armed" way.
"Where is it?" she circled me, and looked to see if I had it hidden behind my back or not, but to no avail.
She gave me the evil-eye.
I pointed into the car. She peered into my convertible. It was right there, on the passenger seat, where I had tossed the thing.
She gave sort of a low growl at me as I grinned, then brushed past me, and opened the door to the passenger seat.
Once she got into the car, I got behind the wheel and start the ignition. I closed my door. Jackie took her C.D. player and opened the thing. She stepped out of my car. Then, just as I thought she would, she yelled at me, "My C.D.'s not in here!"
I turned on the car's C.D. player, and Gwen Stefani's – the lead singer of No Doubt – voice is blared out of my car's wicked stereo system.
"If you want the C.D.," I yelled over the loud music I had turned up, "You've got to let me give you a ride."
I started backing out of the parking lot.
"Wait!" she screamed. I stopped the car, and raised one of my eyebrows up, questioning her.
She looked like the words taste bitter in her mouth. "Fine," she finally said. "I'll let you give me a ride." She opened up the passenger door, and slammed it after she got inside.
I grinned, happily.
Jackie sulked, and was annoyed about the whole thing. She kept her mouth shut during half of the car-ride to her home. Later, the track, "New," came on. She'd told me in detention that it was her favorite song on this C.D. I glanced at her.
"Go ahead and sing."
"Shut up and keep your eyes on the rode," she huffed.
I look back on the rode, and then look back at her again.
"You know you want to," I smile.
She growled and said, "I told you to shut up."
"Fine," I said. I ejected the C.D. and pretended to be about to throw it out of the car.
"DON'T!" she shrieked, and lurched at me, causing me to swerve the car on the rode. It was more than miraculous that I didn't run the BMW off the side of the rode, or into the hill-side.
"You're evil," she informed me.
I held both hands up quickly, "Did I ever say I wasn't?" Then I put my hands back onto the steering wheel.
Her eyes narrowed at me while I put the C.D. back into my car stereo. "Next time you do that - threaten to harm my C.D. - and I'm kicking your ass, little man. Got it?"
"Fine with me. So long as you sing," I smile 'sweetly' at her. Then I ask her, "Why's the C.D. so important to you, any way? It can't be because you're 'that much' of a hard-core No Doubt fan."
She mumbles something under her breath, but I can't hear her.
"What?"
"I said my dad gave it to me before he left us, alright?" she said swiftly, and her eyes held daggers, daring me to say something in return.
I remained silent.
"Listen, sorry about that," I started in a quiet way, after the awkward silence that pervaded. "And you don't have to sing if you don't want to."
"No, it's okay. I will," but her gaze was wandering outside the side of the car.
New came on again. She started singing quietly – humming, really. Then her voice grew stronger and stronger until she looked like she had went into the "Zone" where her eyes were closed, and she appeared to become part of the song – no, actually she became the song. She was oblivious to the world around her.
I stared at her in astonishment. I couldn't tear my eyes off her. It was that magnificent. If this is how she got to a No Doubt song, imagine how she would sing Celine Dion's songs, or Mariah Carrey's, or even – you guessed it – Christina Aguilera's.
"And I really gravity to your will… And you're not familiar/recently discovered, and I am learning about you/don't let it go away, the feeling has got to stay…Why am I so curious/This territory's dangerous…"
It was breath-taking, truthfully (but I'll never admit it to any one, obviously). I was wondering why I was so keen on hearing her sing – I mean, it was a strange pull coming from deep inside of me. I guess, because, deep inside, I knew she was capable of singing pretty well. I knew she was holding back in detention because, in actuality, she didn't want to get in trouble with Sister Ernestine – a paradox, right? She acts as if she's tough and doesn't give a damn about it, but she really does. She didn't want to get into more trouble. I thought she might be able to really let go here, away from the detention hall restrictions. But I didn't even imagine how beautifully she could actually sing – the way she was singing right now – and it blew my mind away.
She didn't sing the rest of the songs like she did with "New." The others she just hummed to, or sang along to the chorus, but that was it. If I had hopes of her really going at it – singing the songs, I mean – I was destined for disappointment.
I drove her to her house, which was pretty shabby, but I didn't even get a decent "thank you" from her or anything. She seemed intent on getting herself – and her precious C.D. – out of my car and away from me.
When I mentioned the no "thank you" thing, she said, marching up the path to her house, waving back at me, without ever turning around, "You don't deserved any thank you's."
And with that, she went inside the house, and I drove off home.
A/N: Read and review, please, please, please, please, please, please?????