Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians or any of the characters; Dreamworks and William Joyce do.

"What?" snaps the boy sitting across the room from him.

Jack pastes an innocent smile on his face and tries to ignore the distraction tapping her fingers on his forehead. He subtly pushes his hood down and the hand with it. He can feel cold shooting through him and he's immediately grateful for the oversized hoodie that hides his shivers.

The boy gives him a long, hard glare before turning back to the front of the classroom where the teacher is talking.

Jack promptly turns back his attention on Emma. She has her arms wrapped around his waist in an overenthusiastic hug and is blowing in his ear to annoy him. Lovely sister he has...had.

"Emma, leave me alone," Jack whispers, hoping that nobody can hear him. "Go bother someone else."

Emma detaches herself from Jack only to sit on his desk. "But, Jaack-" Here she does her best pout. "-I'm bored and there's nothing to doo! Why don't you ever want to play with me anymore? Is it because you think I'm not real? Cause I am, you know. And nobody else can see me. It's only fun to haunt people who are scared. They notice me...and then run for their lives. I'm not scary."

Jack's heart goes out to her. "We can go visit the graveyard after school and pick up a friend or two. But you have to keep them under control because I am not a killer. Got that?"

Emma beams at him and swings on the ceiling fan in excitement. "Yay! Do you think Jamie Bennett will be there again? He still can't see me but..." She blushes cutely and covers her face with both hands. Both hands.

Jack pales, trying to devise a way to catch her in time without anyone thinking that he's crazy.

Emma screams.

No. No. Not again. Jack speed-walks across the classroom to get a tissue.

He doesn't reach her in time.

With a last scream of, "Jack! Jack, help me! I don't want to go back there!" Emma disappears through the carpet.

"Stop staring at me," the same boy from before growls, raking his hand through his hair in agitation.

Jack gives him an apology, a corners-up smile, gets his tissue, pretends to blow his nose, and goes back to his seat - all the while staring at the carpet. If he strains his ears hard enough, he can still hear her screaming. The room seems much warmer now that she's gone so Jack takes off his hoodie and hopes he's not melting. That'd be embarrassing to explain.

He checks the time (nineteen more minutes before class ends) and leans back in his chair, trying to think up a plausible reason to go back to Pennsylvania.

Maybe his mom could have a crazy fit so he'd be obligated to visit. But, no, she really had gone mad and asking such a favor from her would be cruel. Or he could go to the local graveyard and make a deal with a ghost to go fetch his sister. But he isn't on good enough relations with any of the ghosts in California to ask anything of them. And from his past experiences, most ghosts are untrustworthy and liable to almost kill and leave people on the brink of death to posses them. The other ghosts are bitter and do as they please, spooking, haunting - the stereotypical ghoulish activities. Jack's unofficially his sister's host but they came to an understanding after she died that she would only be allowed to possess him in extreme situations for his safety or others'.

So his best bet is to find a young random ghost who's new enough to not be desperate for a host, strong enough to dig up a grave, retrieve his sister from her coffin, and be professional enough to reseal the grave so her remains wouldn't be disturbed. No biggie.

Jack jumps when the bell rings. That boy who hates him snickers and Jack decides he really doesn't like him. Jack gives him a dirty look and the one-fingered salute before gathering up his stuff and stalking out of the classroom. Just a few hours before lunch, Jack tells himself, gritting his teeth.

"Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack," Tatiana says, each word accompanied by a kick to the back of his chair.

"Mmm?" He yawns and buries his face into his hands. "Ana? What? What's happening?"

"You have to wake up. Class is about to start. I let you sleep through the intro (the hello-I-am-your-teacher-and-this-is-what-I-expect part) but this is the first assignment of the year. Don't you want to make a good impression?"

Jack sighs and rubs the sleep from his eyes. "This is what?" He glances around the classroom. Maps, books, globes, travel stuff, and odd little knickknacks. "History? I already kn-" Jack bites his tongue before he can say anything self-incriminating. "I know most of the material," he revises, careful to not mention that he learned from ghosts.

He could see them before Emma died but kept it to himself, wanting to seem sane. His mother was always a little emotionally fragile with an obsessive desire to be normal (wasn't she already the most normal one in the family?) and Emma's death was the last straw.

Jack remembers going to random funerals to see ghosts either try to hide back in their corpses or search for the road to heaven and he would quietly explain to them what happened to make them ghosts. Nobody who lived their life and was satisfied - no regrets at all - ever became a ghost. So what they have to do is to lose their regrets - which is near impossible, by the way, if no one can see you - in order to find peace within themselves and join the world of the dead. Or something. The ghosts who disappeared sometimes left a note, most of the time not, and then were simply never seen again. And from what Jack knows, ghosts are invincible once they can harness and control their powers. The reason why new ghosts are so weak is that their energy leaks out of them and when they can plug it up (sheer will, Jack guesses, because the answers vary).

"Jaaack," Ana whines, waving a hand in front of his face. "You're zoning me out."

He apologizes and reads out the directions aloud, jotting them down quickly to appease her. By the way she's frowning at his awful handwriting, he's not too sure it worked. "It's due in a week," he explains to her disapproving stare at seeing it stuffed carelessly in his binder, "I've got plenty of time."

Tatiana mhmm's and places her neatly written notes carefully in her 3-ring binder.

Jack notices she has labels written out and it seems to be color coded. It suits her, Jack decides, along with her blue, pink, yellow, and green dyed hair, rainbow beads, and nice outfit. He'd describe it as as pink flowery top, yellow and green ruffle-y skirt, and some really high heels, neon everything in color. Though everything probably is designer and has fancy names and he really isn't doing it much justice by his describing skills.

She clears her throat, one eyebrow arched. "Yes?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to stare. You're pretty, that's all." Jack blushes beet red and waves his arms around frantically. "Not," he chokes out, "like that. You look like my sister. The way you smile and talk and just...I should shut up now."

"No, go on." Tatiana tries to hide her smile.

"Her name's Emma...was Emma." You see, the thing with ghosts is that they're extremely sensitive to tenses. Accidentally use past with one who is in denial and find yourself with a chill that won't go away for months. Do the opposite to the wrong ghost and you get the same results. Jack rubs his hands together nervously, even though he knows that his innocent kid sister would never harm him purposefully. "She's dead."

"I'm sorry," Tatiana blurts out, belatedly remembering how explosively Aster reacted to meaningless apologies after he lost his family.

"It's fine," Jack gives her a smile that seems too big for this situation. "I see her sometimes. Her grave, I mean. Or at least I used to...back in Burgess...couldn't really bring her along... But, um." Jack stares at her hand on top of his, turning even redder.

"Yeah?" Ana threads her fingers through his nervously.

"I don't, um, like, um, yeah," he finishes lamely, looking at her helplessly.

"I see," she says slowly and pats the back of his hand. "Thanks for telling me." She hopes that whatever it is, she can infer by what he says next.

"Girls," Jack blurts, face so red by now it looks a queer shade of purple. "I don't like them. Like that," he adds unnecessarily.

"Okay," Tatiana says again, very slowly.

"Uh-huh," Jack agrees, nodding real fast. "So, um."

"Yes?"

"Sorry. I was going to make small talk about the weather..." he trails off and gestures at the only window showing a lovely view of the hall.

"Ah," Tatiana nods wisely. "If it's freezing in here, then it must be burning out there. Aren't you hot in that?"

"Better than burning." Jack rolls up a sleeve to show her a very, very pale arm. "I have allergic reactions to several different brands of sunblock and a rash is hardly preferable to a sunburn."

The bell rings and saves them from continuing that painfully awkward conversation.

A/N: Apparently I can't write Aster because I tried, reread and he was so OOC it was embarrassing. By the way. That guy who hates Jack is Aster and Emma was floating above his head by the ceiling fan across from Jack. Kept it vague to be safe. And I added in Jack's not-relationship with Tooth because some people were asking and I cut out a part that'll be in the next chapter.

Thank you to all who read and special thanks to 321night .dreamer, AmaraRae, Asbit, Guest, and LightMyBulb for following and/or reviewing.