Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of its characters.

A/N: Hello! So, another Alice/Jasper story. I tried to write about other characters, I really did, but it just doesn't turn out well. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy reading this opening chapter!

Jasper P.O.V

I pulled my pickup into the first empty parking space and leaned back on the seat, fumbling with the radio buttons until a fuzzy country station flooded through the speakers. I turned the knob left until it faded into a soft background hum as I hunted through the glove box for a pack of cigarettes.

My fingers froze as I remembered I was supposed to be trying to quit. I bit my lip, my fingers tapping the stiff plastic of the dashboard, before withdrawing them with a sigh.

I grabbed my books from the seat, slouching out of the tepid truck cab and into the cool spring air. I slowly made my way to the school dragging the toes of my boots on the gravel. The warning bell dinged as I strode into English class.

I dropped my books on the desk, settling in for a long hour of lectures and high school chatter.

I tried not to let the fact that no one even glanced at me bring me down any lower then I already was. I just need to keep reminding myself that I was almost out of this hell hole town.

Just three more months.

I closed my eyes and rested my head on the desk as the teacher's voice began to buzz through the classroom.

It was almost soothing….

The next thing I was aware of was someone tapping me impatiently on the shoulder. I lifted my head and attempted to blink away the layer of grogginess as I turned toward the individual that had woken me.

"Hey there sleeping beauty." Mike smirked, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

I sent him a glare as I scooped up my books and dashed out of the classroom, partially aware that the bell for the next class had already rung. I loped down the deserted hallways filling my aggravated mind with a comforting mantra.

Three more months. Three more months. Three more months. Three more months and I'll be out of the crappy little town of Forks, Washington.

It soothed my frayed nerves and washed away any lasting thoughts I had of turning on my heel to go back and give Mike something to cry about. Sleeping Beauty. Who the hell does he think he is? I ducked inconspicuously into History class, sliding into an empty back row seat.

"Thank you for finally joining us Mr. Whitlock." Mr. Green said absently as he wrote on the blackboard.

Well, I thought I'd been inconspicuous.

I had a hunch that damn man had eyes in the back of his head. Of course, seeing as he was one of the only middle age male teachers at this school who still had all of their original hair, I couldn't know for sure.

I sighed as I took out a sheet of paper, quickly scribbling down the notes. History was the only class I truly cared about. It was also the only class I did the homework for and paid attention in. I excelled at it with barely any effort.

"It's your lucky day Mr. Whitlock, we're starting the civil war unit." Mr. Green smiled, wiping his chalk dust covered hands on the front of his shirt. I smiled back. It was a genuine smile and felt pleasant on my lips unlike the fake smiles I'd been handing out freely over the last few years.

The civil war was my passion, my infatuation. I'd read all the books, seen all the movies, done hours of research and learned every possible chunk of information that was know to man. And I'd gladly do it again, just to refresh my memory. I settled back in my seat but instead of taking an accidental snooze, my mind whirled as I filed the dates and events in my mind.

Anything to pass the next three months.

The lunch room chatter blasted through my eardrums as I walked into the crowded cafeteria. The tacky health food posters that littered the wall and laid crumpled on the floor didn't help bring the lumps of salty foods being served at the counter to a standstill. I made my way over to the line, planning on buying the thing that looked most edible.

I glanced across the cafeteria just as a scene began to unfold. That bozo Mike was approaching a brunette girl sitting alone at one of the small round lunch tables. He murmured something to her with a cocky look and her face lit up with a warm red blush.

But her features were livid.

I could practically feel the waves of fury rolling off her. She barked something back at him before rising up and striding toward the door. He raced to catch up with her and grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her toward him.

I heard a low growl beside me. The next moment a small girl with long jet black hair tumbling down her back was blazing across the room, her tiny hands balled into tight fists.

Alice Brandon.

A irrational wave of panic bubbled in my chest and suddenly I was sprinting to catch up with her. She was so small, I couldn't let her get anywhere near Mike. The conversation came into focus as we approached.

"Where's your big strong boyfriend today, Bella?" Mike asked with a smirk. Bella pursed her lips.

"He's camping with his parents. What's it to you?" she snapped.

"I was thinking since he was out of town, maybe we could go over to my place tonight?" he purred.

I could almost hear Bella's teeth grinding together. Half of my mind was cooking up ways to hurt Mike and the other half was recognizing what a cliché high school fight this was. I usually tried to steer clear of crap like this.

Not today, I guess.

I decided to go with the direct approach. I shoved Mike into the closest table. He floundered around for a second before realizing who shoved him.

"Whitlock? Your coming out of your distant little bubble just to beat me up? What an honor." he jeered.

I raised a fist, making sure he knew what was coming. I didn't want an unfair fight. He laughed. I shot my fist out, feeling a bout of fulfillment wash through me as the crunch of my knuckles coming in contact with Mike's face filled the air. I saw thick red blood seep through the cracks of my fingers, the warm sensation of it finally making me realize what I had just done.

Shit.

"Have a seat Mr. Whitlock." the principal sighed, motioning lazily to a plastic chair on the opposite side of the desk. I sat down swiftly, the squeak of the chair's metal peg legs against the tiled floor sending a shiver down my spine. Mr. King sighed again, dragging his fingers down his weary face and resting his palm under his chin.

"Jasper, you do realize that last time was your final warning, correct?" he asked tiredly.

"Yes Sir." I murmured. He shook his head.

"First skipping class, then skipping detention, then a teacher finds you drinking alcoholic beverages in the back woods…and now a fist fight? I may have expected the first three from you Jasper, but I never thought you would be capable of this. You're always so calm and polite….what happened?" he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

I had no reply to that. I didn't even know yet myself.

"I've let you slide many times Jasper. I know you've had some rough times. That you're still having some rough times. And you know how close I was to your father. But I…. just can't excuse this."

I closed my eyes, waiting for the final verdict to come down on me. I prayed it would just be suspension and not expulsion. If I was expelled then the last four years would've been for absolutely nothing. They might as well be scum on my boot laces. If I was expelled then the promise I had been torturing myself for the last four years to keep would've been in vain. My stomach flipped at that thought.

"Jasper, I want you to take an art class." Mr. King stated, his voice dead serious. I laughed anyway.

"Are you….joking? An art class as a punishment?" I couldn't keep the disbelief out of my voice. He nodded.

"I think you need a way to…express yourself. You're obviously having problems in school. Your teachers have informed me you don't talk to anyone. You don't care about your grades or your work. You've stayed at a steady sixty five average all year, and that's only because of history." he lectured me.

I didn't feel the need to tell him it wasn't because of history that I had a sixty five. I made sure I did at least enough in every class so that I could graduate. That's all I need to do to be free of this town. And, more importantly, free of this promise. Mr. King sent me a scolding glare.

"You need to keep at least a ninety average in this art class or a much greater means of punishment will be issued. The class starts now, room 302. It's photography, the only class that had an opening." he clarified.

"That will be all, Mr. Whitlock." he finished with a soft smile, straightening a stack of papers on his cluttered desk. I nodded.

"Thank you Sir." I mumbled, bolting out of the small office. I didn't want his pity about my past. But, unfortunately for me, I needed it.

I walked down the once again deserted halls and into the small art building. I sent a bogus smile toward the instructor, a tall woman with short curly brown hair. She smiled back at me, motioning for me to come over.

"Hello Jasper, I'm Mrs. Wilson." she shook my hand delicately. "Since it's toward the end of the year, everyone else already has a lot of experience. We just started a new project. It's a partner project and you and your partner will share the work equally." she explained.

I had to repress a groan. Not only did I have to take this pathetic class, I had to work with someone too? This would not go well.

"I'm partnering you up with Alice Brandon." she continued, oblivious to the fact that I wanted to smash my head through a wall.

"For two reasons. One, she's an good photographer and more than capable of teaching you the basics. Second, she's the only one without a partner. She prefers it that way, but I'm sure she'll adjust easily. She's a sweet girl but very quiet. I already told her about the arrangement, so you can just head on over." she finished, turning back to a book she had opened on her desk.

I sighed, searching the room quickly with my eyes. I spotted Alice in the corner.

She was sitting at a small table, a look of absolute concentration on her face. She had both arms in a black canvas bag up to her elbows, the fabric of the bag pooling around her tiny arms. I chuckled when I realized she had to hold it up with rubber bands. I could see the shape of her hands through the fabric rapidly shuffling around. I walked up behind her until I was at the back of her chair.

"Hello." I mumbled awkwardly. She yelped, jumping about a foot out of her seat. She turned her torso so she could face me while keeping the black canvas bag on the table, her gray-blue eyes wide.

"You startled me?" she stated breathlessly, like she could hardly believe a thing like that could happen to her. Then her eyes flashed and became cold. She turned her back to me, continuing with whatever the hell she was doing in that bag.

"I could have stood up for my cousin just fine, thank you. I didn't need your help." she accused. Anger flashed through me, but it was dulled, like my body and heart didn't want me to be angry with this girl. I bit back the remark I was about to make about how she should be thanking me.

"Bella is you cousin?" I asked instead. She nodded, studiously ignoring me. I sighed.

"Uhhh…if we're going to be partners we can't hate each other, now can we?" I asked quietly. She turned to me, her lips pursed. Then her face softened and she sighed daintily.

"I guess not." she answered. "And…thank you. It's not that I didn't appreciate your help, it's just that….never mind." she cut off, shaking her head to shift a lock of dark hair that had fallen into her eyes. She only succeeded in helping another tress slip past her shoulders and into her deep blue eyes. They reminded me of glistening orbs, as cheesy as that sounds. She huffed under her breath.

"Do you want me to help you get the hair out of your eyes?" I asked artlessly, realizing she probably couldn't remove her hands from the black bag until she was done.

"No, I'll get it when I'm finished." she mumbled, the look of concentration back on her tiny features.

"What are you doing?" I asked quietly, slumping into the chair beside her.

"I'm putting the film in a canister. It can't be exposed to the light until it's developed." she explained easily, somehow managing to not make me feel like a moron.

"Oh." was my brilliant answer. Her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile.

"There, all finished." she informed me. Her nose scrunched up.

"Uhhh…would you mind helping me take these rubber bands off?" she asked meekly.

"No problem." I swiftly reached over and shimmied the bands down her thin arms, making sure not to come in contact with her skin. She seemed like she enjoyed her personal space. She pulled her hand out of the bag and flexed her fingers, furtively eyeing the wrinkled pattern the bag had pressed onto her forearms. She unzipped the canvas, pulling out a canister and a small film container.

"That's enough for today I guess. Tomorrow I'll show you how to develop the film, and then maybe we can go over to your house to start to figure out how we're going to organize this project?" she asked me, probably picking up on the fact that I wasn't much of a leader and didn't have many suggestions or ideas. I nodded, but then bit my lip.

"Ummm….wouldn't you rather work on the project at your house?" I asked quietly, trying to hold back the unease I had at the thought of her coming any where near my dysfunctional household.

She mirrored my anxious expression, biting her lip also.

"Uhhh….I don't know…" she stumbled, trying to bake up an excuse.

"Look, can we please just go to your house?" she asked quietly, looking ashamed of herself. The uncomfortable weight in my chest lifted as I realized no one would be home tomorrow. I smiled.

"Sure."

She grinned, her aura of happiness and sass bouncing back into place.

"Alright Jasper, I'll see ya tomorrow." she chirped, sending me a smile before gracefully leaving the classroom the exact moment the bell rang.

I shook my head. Her steps looked like dancing. A small voice in my mind was singing, sending some foreign emotions fluttering through my brain.

I shook my head to clear it. One conversation with a odd, yet peculiarly charming girl didn't change anything. It was true it was the first authentic conversation I'd had in a long time, but I convinced myself it wasn't anything special.

I'd be out of here in three months, with the memories of this part of my life behind me, blurred in a cloud of dust.

Soon Alice would just be faint memory.

I trudged out to my pickup through the light misty rain. I quickly rummaged through my brain before coming to the conclusion that today was Thursday. Four school days down, one to go. Not that the weekend was any better. I sighed, starting up the truck and pulling out of the lot.

A/N: Whew, that's the longest chapter I've ever written and it's only the beginning. Please review if you get a chance and tell me your thoughts or criticism. I can handle it. I think. :)