Do You See What I See?
All of the things I have Seen have been disastrous, dark, and frightening. How can you call that a blessing?

She wasn't sure why she'd decided to come to school today. It must have had to do with a vision, not that she could particularly remember -exactly- what she'd forseen. But she'd dutifully written 'SCHOOL' on the calendar, and dutifully shown up. But...come lunchtime, if she was still bored, she could always ditch.

She looked down at her notebook, wondering what it was that her hand had gotten away from her and sketched. Another murder? Or maybe a car crash... She was certain it would be something bloody or morbid or otherwise awful. So it was a bit of a relief when she discovered she was sketching one of her classmates.

How odd.

Her visions were nearly -always- of dark things, the sort of things someone would want to -change- about the future. Things like...her own death. It was coming...just a few more weeks and she'd be floating dead in the river that ran through downtown. All the more twisted that her visions were, as far as she knew, -not- things that she could change.

She sighed frustratedly and shut her notebook, earning a glare from the teacher. But since when had she -ever- cared about teachers? And she was known for her bad attitude, listed most of the time as 'beyond help'. Of course, it was also whispered that there was something wrong with more than her attitude. She -always- wore long sleeves, and it was rumoured that she was an 'emo', with all the implications of -why- she wore long sleeves behind it.

She tucked a lock of long black hair behind her ear and stared down at the notebook, pushing her glasses back up her nose and wishing she wasn't so dreadfully nearsighted.

"I'm not a faerie, but I need more than this life so I became this creature representing more to you than just another girl. And if I had a chance to change my life, I wouldn't, even for the world." ~Swallow, Emilie Autumn.

Megan Anderson could not help but stare at Becca. She was new, she was different, she was. You could set her apart from the blonde-haired Abercrombie and Fitch zombies easily, with her long sleeved shirts in early September and ebony black hair.

Of course, Meg wasn't a living dead, but you could tell she was very popular. Not because of what she wore, but how she poised herself, and listened to people. Really listened, and responded. Almost like she said what you wanted to hear.

She perked her head up when the teacher started to assign partners for the new project the class was working on. "Remember, urban legends, folk tales people. I don't want to hear about Brittany Spears new single, I want to hear about the history of our little River-brooke." She started naming partners, but what really surprised Meg was that she was partnered up with new-girl Becca. Looking at her, the chestnut haired girl smiled. This was an interesting way to start of the school year.

Becca was used to people staring. It was one of the reasons she avoided school. Maybe if she'd had more money, she would have dressed like an emo. But as it was, her clothes were just simple jeans and her long-sleeved t-shirt, and they looked shabby enough to be perhaps her only change of clothes. They were clean, at least.

She wore battered converse shoes, and the backs of her hands had black marker X's drawn across them, her only real attempt at any sort of style whatsoever. The rest of it was just catch as catch can and probably bought from goodwill. Her most prized possessions came with her to school--an army surplus jacket that she tied around her waist when the weather was warm, and a canvass messenger bag that she kept full of notebooks.

God only knew what was in them, because she certainly didn't give a toss about school. Well. God and Becca herself.

Her glasses slid down her nose again and she sighed frustratedly, utterly annoyed at the things. But the battered wire-frames would have to last her, it's not like they were going to be repaired at any point soon.

She looked up when she heard her name called, having no idea what on earth was going on. She glowered at the teacher, as though her obvious displeasure would somehow prompt her to re-explain what was going on.

Megan smiled sweetly at the teacher, attempting to hide the fact that she knew the truth of the teacher's pale blue skin and the horns that spiraled from her temples. She quickly stood up, smoothing her grey tweed skirt and off-white puff sleeved blouse and grabbed her books, walking over to Becca's desk. The person sitting next to Becca moved, offering their chair to Megan. She smiled in thanks, then sat next to Becca, pulling out a fresh notebook.

"You're Becca, right? Welcome to River-brooke Junior High! I'm Megan, we're partners for the Urban Legends Project. I noticed you weren't paying much attention, but that's ok, 'cause I know a ton about some of the wacky stuff that no-one else knows about this town." Megan shut up quickly, knowing she already said too much. "You know, just forget I even said anything. So if you want, I'm free after school today and we can go to the library and research. But we need to figure out a good topic, do you have any ideas?"

Meg opened up her notebook and wrote on the first page, "Urban Legends" and in small print she wrote "faeries." But said nothing at all.

Becca didn't see the world the way Meg did--it was just another day at just another school, with nothing unusual about their teacher or the students around them. She didn't even realise there -was- anything unusual to see. She was a bit surprised that her assigned partner had taken such an interest in her, and was utterly overwhelmed by the barrage of words that was suddenly levelled at her. Especially as she'd only barely roused herself even half out of the daze she'd been in.

She'd zoned out--there was no reason to pay attention in school, no reason to -go- to school usually. It was all useless as far as she was concerned. Why bother working towards a graduation she wouldn't live to see? Why bother working at all when it would only serve to waste her time? Waste precious time that was...slowly running out. She didn't have very long left; every night the vision came to her, warning her that her days were numbered.

She stared at the girl with a blank look that all but showed that she had no idea how to do a school project. Nor did she care to. "I've got better things to do than a project...we can work on whatever you want...you can do whatever you want. I'm not usually in school." She tried to pass herself off as one of the innumerable 'bad news' sorts, but there was a secret worry hidden behind her words, a silent cry for help that seemed very out of sync with what she was pretending she was saying.

Megan was wide-eyed when the girl's words reached her 1/3rd Diamond Carat studded ears. "You're kidding me, right? NO?" She stared at Becca in disbelief. Straightening her skirt once again in trying to maintain a orderly facade. "Listen, we're both graded on this project, and we each half to do fifty percent, or we're going to fail. I can't fail, I'm class Salutatorian. I will work with you, but we have to do this together."

There was a look of dread in Megan's eyes as Mike came over to their desks. Mike was pretty studly (at least most of the girls in 8th grade thought so) with dirty brunette hair and a smug smile that never left his face. None except Mike and Megan saw underneath the glamour; the real greasy black hair, forked tongue and pointed ears.

"What are you doing for your project Meggy?" He asked. It took all of Megan's willpower not to shudder in disgust. He leaned over and looked at the notebook on Megan's lap, and sneered. "Faeries? They don't even exist!"

"They're still a ton of legends around here about the wee folk, or whatever you call them." Megan smiled, not very sweetly.

Becca folded her arms, scowling angrily. "I don't have time to work on some dumb project. Go tell the teacher I'm not gonna and it's not fair to make you fail cause you got paired with =me=." Although there was no supernatural glamour masking Becca, it was just as thin and just as easily seen through, as long as one approached her with an open mind.

She was a frightened girl, hiding behind the facade of her anger and uncaring attitude. She was trying to keep people away for some reason, pushing them back with her sarcastic words and vitriolic commentary. And her hiding wasn't even confined to pushing people away verbally.

Her clothes were long and covering, like she was hiding something beneath the long sleeves. School had only just started--it was warm out still, in fact quite hot--and yet Becca was still in long pants and long sleeves. She had to be roasting, and yet it seemed important to her to hide herself.

She narrowed her eyes when the boy came over to where she and her apparent 'partner' were sitting, flaring up her 'caustic' exterior as best as a bit of self-preservation ever would. "You two work together or something. I don't care." But the hollowness in her protest was all but glaring in her voice.