empathy

THREE

Storms are a fascinating thing. A force equally as beautiful as it is dangerous; as wild and unpredictable as it is foreseeable; frightening as much as it is calming. 

And yet Anastasia has never really understood other people's mesmerization with them. She doesn't feel any different than when the sun is shining. She doesn't understand why some people preferred to read while it is raining or why people were afraid to shower when there is lightning.

To her, a storm is just as uneventful as a blue sky - not that they get that much in Forks. Though, she supposes, raindrops feel nicer against your skin than the burning of the sun. Rain is more comfortable than sweat and cold is better than heat.

"Miss Wright." Coach Clapp calls her name.

Looking over to him from her position on the ground, she raises an unimpressed brow at the way his furiously hand moves, trying to tell her to run with the rest of the class. As if.

"Miss Wright." he shouts again when she turns her attention back to the sky hidden by dark clouds that seem to melt into one.

"Yes, Coach?" leaves her lips in an annoyed matter. "This is PE and I would advice you to get your ass over there and join your classmates in their running practice before I send you to Mr Greene." he stalks over to her. "I highly doubt Harold would appreciate me stopping by for a visit. Have you seen me? I'm dripping." Anastasia shrugs as well as she can since she is still laying on the ground.

"Yes. Well, how much do you think I will like you failing my class yet again?" Coach Clapp raises a brow at her. "Not as much as you like getting your students in danger. But that would only be my guess. How do you think he will react to finding out you are letting your class run on sloppy grass during a thunderstorm? Or to the fact that you barged into the women's dressing room." Anastasia's eyes are closed by now; the feeling of the raindrops hitting her skin intensifying.

"You know fairly well that was an accident." he hisses out. "I do. Greeny doesn't." she points out. "His name is Mr Greene and he is your headmaster, so show some respect." Coach Clapp warns her. "But Greeny sounds so much more... worth mentioning. Don't you think?" Anastasia states flatly.

"Worth mentioning? You don't think the name of your headmaster is worthy to be mentioned?" he asks her; his eyes indicating that he very much believes she is some sort of madwoman. "Most things guys like you love to ramble about or comment on aren't worth being mentioned. And frankly, no one truly listens to them. I mean, they might... listen... but they won't understand." Anastasia replies indifferently before getting up, wiping some dust off her clothes.

Letting out a scoff, Coach Clapp turns around to pay attention to his class again - the part of the class that actually does as he says.

It has always bugged Anastasia, teachers doing nothing to earn your respect or even move a finger to get you to like them but still demanding things from you. She kinda gets that studying and homework might be important as this will be what will set your future and therefore career. But why study things you are not interested in? Things you won't need in your future. Wouldn't it be more... appropriate to actually teach things at school students are interested in instead of having them run laps?

PE thankfully passes by smoothly after that and Anastasia is quite thankful once it and therefore school is over. She really can't stand this place. So, it is not surprising that she is the first to leave the building to make her way to her car; not watching out where she is going.

"Hey, watch where you're going." she practically hisses as she bumps into a hard chest.

Wiping around to look at the guy properly, she puts on a glare.

His honey blonde, curly hair fits perfectly well to his dark golden eyes and his lips are pressed tightly against each other. He is wearing what seem to be boots that are covered by the dark, washed-out jeans that looks as though they are a tad too long and a dark blue, long-sleeved shirt wrapped around his tense muscles.

He looks too old to be a high school student but the bag hanging off his shoulder indicates he is.

"I apologies, Ma'am." even his voice is tense - tight - and a slight southern accent hangs in the air. "Yeah, whatever." she simply rolls her eyes before turning back around, continuing her way back to her car.

Anastasia can feel his eyes burning into her skull but doesn't care enough to turn around.

Her mind is comparing him to Alice. Their eyes are so alike and yet so different. While hers are light and sparkling, his are dark and... dull. While hers are filled with optimism and happiness, his are filled with suppressed longing and apathy.
Their skin looks the same, both too immaculate. Too unreal.

Shaking her head to rid it of thoughts, Anastasia turns the keys; sending a glance towards - who she assumes to be Jasper - before driving off.

Leaving Jasper to stare after the retreating car; his mind working to understand her emotions.

They were so... weak, it was almost scary. While she was annoyed, irritated and maybe even a little sad, all of those were outshone by the gigantic wave of indifference that is threatening to pull her into its depth.

It's a dangerous combination, the overwhelming feeling of nothingness, whateverism but the strength to cover it up with anger. But then again, anger is by far the easiest emotion to feel, at least from his experience. Anger is the emotion least likely to get you hurt - emotionally vulnerable. It's the emotion that will always be by your side and therefore may give you a sense of dependability.

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How do you guys like this story so far?

And what did you think about Anastasia's first interaction with Jasper?