OKAY. So, I made this story about a year ago, and the first chapters were absolute crap. I was originally just going to abandon the awkward cliche that was this story, but I didn't. Mainly because I wanted to prove something to myself. I just feel like this last year I've really improved on my writing, and I want that to show in my fanfiction, one of the most personal things I've ever written.

SO, without further ado, here is the re-vamped version of 'Starting Over!' (Which I may or may not change the title of?)

Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever claim to, own TNT, Falling Skies, or any of its characters/plot scenes. I do, however, own any OCs and plot twists that I throw in.

I was in high school when I met him, three months or so before the invasion.

What to do?

I contemplated ideas, biting my lip and tapping the pencil I was holding against my temple. After a few minutes of drawing blanks, I reclined back in my chair and spun around a few times.

Oh, the troubles of AP World History.

How was I supposed to come up with an essay on god-knows-what after my brain was fried from a last minute extra credit poster for AP Chemistry? What do I look like, some machine that can crank out assignments like it's no big deal?

I groaned in frustration, my head falling against the table - partially from said frustration and partially in hope that the dizziness would stop. Note to Self: no more spinning in spin-y chairs.

I closed my eyes, deciding a short nap couldn't kill me right now, and really, I could always write the essay tomorrow night...I relaxed my body, letting the exhaustion take over and going out like a light bulb.

"Ingrid! Wake up!"

Huh?

That beautifully orchestrated thought of mine was followed by more furious pounds on my door, similar to the ones that must've awoken me.

"You're going to be late for school!"

"I'm up," I muttered, repeating it in a louder voice a moment later to make sure she heard me. With that, I turned my body over into more pillows.

Or at least, I thought I did.

Instead of being greeted with my warm comforter and soft pillows, I felt the tilting of my computer chair as my eyes widened in realization. My arms flung around me as I attempted to get some sort of grip on anything, but nothing was able to prevent my body from hitting the hard floor.

"Aargh!"

I groaned, rubbing my sore shoulder. I used my free hand to help lift my body off the floor.

I hate my life.

"Are you okay?" My mother's frantic voice came through the bedroom door. "Ingrid, you have fifteen minutes! You can't afford another tardy, so hurry downstairs and I'll grab you some breakfast to eat in the car."

I grumbled something incoherent in response, before sighing heavily. Life is such a chore.

My eyes snapped open suddenly.

Did she just say fifteen minutes? Crap, crap, crap!

I rushed over to my dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a random shirt, ripping off the previous day's clothes that I fell asleep in before throwing on the ones I picked out. I surveyed the limited selection of shoes before deciding on white and black flats that matched my white top.

After dealing with my clothes, I quickly brushed my hair and teeth, and washed my face. I proceeded to French braid my hair in attempt to make it semi-presentable. Afterwards I gathered the materials I needed for the day along with my poster, hauling the stuff out of my room and down the stairs.

I glanced at the digital clock in the kitchen.

6:56

I mentally did a happy dance before going through the garage and into my mother's car. Once putting the poster in the back seat and buckling into shotgun, my mom wordlessly handed over my breakfast.

"Thanks," I breathed. I grimaced after tasting the food though, the toothpaste from before leaving a horrible taste in my mouth. "Ew."

"Milk helps," My mom commented, sensing my dilemma.

I noticed some milk in the cup holder and gargled it down before attempting to eat the breakfast burrito again. I smiled as the sensation of eggs, cheese, and green pepper blended beautifully in a warm tortilla graced my taste buds.

"Did you sleep well?"

I nodded my head, unable to speak with my mouth stuffed. I swallowed and elaborated, "Actually, not really." I tried to massage the kinks in my neck that were consequence for falling asleep at my desk. "I fell asleep doing my homework at the desk. Again."

My mother sighed, but an amused smile was evident on her features. "AP work?" She guessed.

"Yup," I replied, emphasis on the 'p.' "And I thought sophomore year was supposed to be easy."

"Not for the bright ones like you, Ingrid. Maybe if you work real hard and stay focused, you can go to a school as good as your father's."

I shrugged. I was smart, sure, but my dad was a genius, and living up to the legacy he left behind was beginning to be more pressure than I could handle.

"I don't know if I'll get into any sort of Ivy League school, but who knows? Maybe they'll overlook my horrid attendance, which I like to think my superb test scores make up for," I said cheekily, hoping she wouldn't notice my discomfort at her previous statement.

I saw her roll her eyes while she pulled up into the school's front parking lot.

"Have a good day, sweetheart. Love you," she said as I got out of the front seat.

"Love you, too," I replied while taking my oversized poster from the back.

"See you later, alligator."

I called back with a childish grin, "See you in a while, crocodile!"

After slamming the car door, she drove off and left me standing amiss the students at the hell hole.

Ugh.

I dragged myself to English, still sleepy. I didn't bother going to my locker, knowing I already had my English work in my backpack.

"Good Morning, Ingrid!"

I was greeted by the incredibly perky Mrs. O'Hara and her sugary sweet voice.

"Hi, Mrs. O'Hara," I said with forced joyfulness.

I gave her a tight smile, not wanting to upset her. She was such a nice person.

Minutes later, the bell rang to announce the beginning of the school day. Yay.

Mrs. O'Hara cleared her throat loudly and brought her microphone to her lips. Did I mention she was the only teacher I've ever met that used a microphone on a daily basis?

"Alright students! I hope you've each had a wonderful morning! Today we are starting a miniature project that encourages development and friendship," her overly cheerful voice made me want to cut off my ears.

The class let out a collective groan, which did nothing to damper her happy attitude. Mrs. O'Hara was the embodiment of energy and positivity. She was the kind of woman who gave the class "meaningful" life quotes to discuss at the beginning of each day; the kind of woman who forced kids to give each other positive reinforcements, and gave out candy for accomplishments. O'Hara wasn't all bad, but her eccentricity could be slightly unnerving at times. Especially at 7:30 in the morning.

"No complaining," she said in a sing-y voice. "As you know, it's tough to start a new grade with new teachers and an unfamiliar curriculum. So I talked to Ms. Mulleins, who you all should know as our school's principal, and together we came up with a buddy program!"

"What?"

Joe Stein, the most outspoken of us all, voiced the confusion in all of our heads.

What is this, 4th grade? The last time we had a buddy system was in elementary school to read to the kindergarteners. What's the point of bringing it back in high school?

"Joe, please don't interrupt, I am about to explain," O'Hara chastised. "We will be pairing up with Ms. Padgett's English 1 Honors classes and, together, you will each prepare a freshman for their sophomore year! Isn't this exciting?"

When none of us jumped up to agree with her, she continued undeterred. "It will last from Thursday to Wednesday of the week after next. We'll head down to a room in the media center tomorrow and meet with Ms. Padgett's 1st period class. We won't go meet every day for the next two weeks, but have planned to meet at least five times."

Mrs. O'Hara shuffled through the papers at her podium, retrieving what looked like a time sheet.

"This will be your schedule for the next two weeks, listing what assignments or discussions must be completed each day. Take a minute to look it over while I come around with name slips for you to choose your partner."

As she meandered around the room, assigning partners row by row, I studied the schedule.

Thursday, March 17 - Wednesday, March 30

Thursday, Friday, Tuesday: Complete About Me packets.

Thursday: English 2 Honors curriculum overview.

Friday: Novel discussion.

Tuesday: English 2 Honors preview worksheet and essay.

Wednesday: Reflection.

I sighed, wondering why this was necessary in the first place.

"Hello, Ingrid," Mrs. O'Hara showed off her pearly whites that contrasted her fake tan. "Please choose one," she said, thrusting a cup containing slips of paper in my face.

My eyes flitted across the name written in graceful loops.

"Ben Mason," I said, more to myself, curiosity getting the best of me.

Mrs. O'Hara scribbled something next to my name and continued around the room, shoving the cup at miscellaneous students before moving on to the next task of the day.

But instead of focusing, I just sat back in my desk wondering who the hell 'Ben Mason' was.

Aaaand, that's all, folks! Please review, letting me know how to improve this story. I would really appreciate any constructive criticism, or any feedback at all.

Thanks for reading,

Jackie :)