[episode 1.1]

September 7, 2009

"DID YOU HEAR the news about Margot?"

My third period teacher was late to class, and it meant that the students were all left to their own devices. In their search for a way to entertain themselves, teenagers in Mystic Falls' favorite vice was gossip. 

"Yeah, I heard she's gone crazy."

"Her parents' dying sent her over the deep end."

I sunk down into my seat.

Never had I wished more strongly to have been held back a year, so that I could have had more classes with my friends. Even if they didn't say anything to the gossipers, it at least would have made it more bearable to have them with me.

"She's so brave for coming back here." Sarcasm and judgment colored all of their words.

"Brave? Are you kidding me?" another classmate bit out. "She deserves it after what she did to Cale Whitmore."

I flinched so hard that my textbook flew straight off my desk and onto the floor. All the gossiping took a dramatic pause as they turned to stare at me.

I smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

They all ignored me and soon resumed their whispers, quieter this time. I sighed and leaned down to pick up the textbook from the floor. A few of my classmates snickered as I did. I heard whispers about drugs and hippie clothes and my parents mixed into the murmurs.

I was staring at the doorway and wishing Mrs. Peterson would get to class already when I felt like someone was looking at me.

I looked to my left—the opposite direction of the whisperers—and saw an attractive man with shaggy black hair that fell into his eyes standing along the wall of the classroom watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. 

I stared back, trying to make sense of who this stranger was and why he was looking at me, but he disappeared during a blink.

With conflicting feelings and shaking hands, I swept all of my belongings into my arms and immediately made a beeline for the door. In response to my hasty exit, my classmates' whispers grew frenzied. They saw it as all the more proof that I was crazy and didn't belong here.

"Enzo," I whispered under my breath as soon as the door shut behind me. "Please tell me you're there."

"What's wrong, Margot?"

"Have you been here all day?" I asked while booking it down the empty hallway toward the exit of the school.

"Yes," he said. "I've been able to see you all day."

I bit down on my lip.

"What's wrong?" he repeated.

"Did you see that guy?"

I quickly glanced around to make sure I wouldn't see him. What if that guy was a vampire? If Enzo was right in his claims that vampires were real, should I have been worried about one trying to come after me?

I came to an abrupt halt when I realized Enzo still hadn't answered me.

"Enzo?"

"Which guy?" he asked, voice quivering with something darker and barely restrained. "The one who said you're crazy, or the other one who will lose his tongue for saying you deserve it?"

I shivered at the sound of his voice and tried to swallow on my suddenly very dry throat and shook my head.

"Uhm, no—I—to clarify, that's not—I don't need you to—"

"Why don't you restart, darling?"

I licked my lips and finally managed a gulp. "They're only stupid kids," I said finally. "I wasn't referring to them anyway. I was talking about that guy who was watching me. He disappeared before I got a good look at him."

"I didn't see anyone disappear."

I paled.

"Describe him."

"He looked a bit older—maybe mid-twenties. Dark hair, dark eyes, probably could have been the hot villain in a fantasy movie or the lead singer of a rock band," I said, "and he was staring straight at me. You didn't see him?"

"No."

My breath caught in my throat, and I resumed walking toward the exit. This was not good. If even Enzo, my freaking auditory hallucination/possible actual vampire pen pal, couldn't see that guy, what did it mean for me? Was I actually having visual hallucinations now? Even worse, was I in danger?

My footsteps echoed across the empty hallway as I hurried to the exit without even stopping at my locker or the main office. Once I got home, I could have Jenna call and explain. Maybe I could pretend to have thrown up. Or maybe I could tell her I was missing mom and dad and wanted to come home.

Or maybe I could tell her the truth.

I turned the corner, almost to the exit, when I jumped out of my skin at the sight of the new boy already standing there and looking down at a piece of paper with his eyebrows knit together.

"What a prat," Enzo grumbled. "Please tell me you weren't referring to him."

I shook my head ever so slightly to answer Enzo without weirding out the new kid, who was now flashing me a polite smile.

I gave him a closed-lipped smile back and hurried out of the school without slowing down in the slightest. Enzo clearly wasn't excited about me talking to the guy, and once again, I found myself agreeing with Enzo's judgment. Something about him rubbed me the wrong way, and I'd seen enough thriller movies with Jeremy to know to never stick around to find out when your gut is telling you to go.

**********

To say Jenna was surprised when she got home from her graduate school class to find me eating a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the counter was an understatement.

"Oh, no. A grilled peanut butter and jelly?" she asked, wincing when she saw it in my hand. "What happened?"

In our family, a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich was generally reserved for really bad days. The sort of days where you absolutely couldn't care less about the nutritional value of what you're eating or the productivity of how you spend your time. It was a day of trying to get through it with as many little joys as you could steal.

By the time she walked into the kitchen that Monday afternoon, I had already washed away all my makeup, changed into an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants, and had fully given up on the day. A grilled PB&J was only fitting.

"Idiot kids." I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could.

"I hate teenagers," she grumbled in empathy, but she was quick to add, "Not you, of course."
Ze
"Thanks." I motioned toward the plate where I had two other sandwiches laid out. "Want one?"

Jenna looked at it and sighed. "Yeah...Yeah, today might be a grilled PB&J day for me too."

She dropped all of her stuff onto the dining table and pulled herself up onto the counter beside me after scooping up one of the messy sandwiches.

"I was late for my meeting with my mentor today," she supplied around a mouthful of the sandwich. "I got an earful."

I grimaced sympathetically. "I'm sorry, Jenna. I know you didn't expect to suddenly be a mom of three kids on top of being a graduate student. That's a lot to juggle."

She waved me off as she chewed. She didn't ever accept comments like that—she'd always respond like—

"Taking care of you three is a privilege and an honor," she said and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "Besides, you and Elena are much better moms than I'll ever be."

I chuckled and shook my head. Jenna didn't give herself enough credit.

"I mean it!" She bumped her shoulder against mine. "Elena is so responsible and organized, and you are an excellent cook. Way better than I'll ever be. You're going to be a great mom one day."

"Well, thank you, but I...don't know that I want to," I admitted. I blinked in surprise at the omission, not expecting how much lighter I would feel finally admitting that to someone. "Do you think there's something wrong with me?"

Jenna's eyes widened. "Margot, of course not! I didn't mean to imply you have to be a mother."

I set down my sandwich and smiled, looking ahead at the framed pictures of our family hanging in the hallway. "It feels nice to admit it out loud. Sometimes I feel like it's a dirty thing or like it makes me less of a woman for not wanting to be a mother."

"Margot, you are one of the strongest women I have ever met," Jenna said encouragingly. "Children or no children, I don't think your strength will ever waver."

"I guess it's just that Elena wants to be a mom so badly," I explained, "and I've never been able to relate to her in that way. Sometimes I feel like I'm missing something, like God forgot to dump some certain chemical into the mixing pot when he was throwing me together."

Jenna frowned. "I know you might think I'm obligated to say this, but please know that I mean it: Margot, you are already perfect. Your worth isn't defined by your ability or desire to get pregnant."

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I was quick to wrap my arms around Jenna in a hug. "Thank you."

"Of course," she said, holding me in return.

Aunt Jenna may have believed herself to be a hot mess, but it was her ability to make anyone feel like they were doing just fine that truly made her amazing.