A/N: I own nothing but the SI.

Jenna

by Dimwitch

"Spirit of diligence, possess me!"

- Unknown

Chapter One

Mystic Falls, Georgia

3 June 1992

"You're going to college?"

I nodded distractedly, green eyes still intently focused on the (old, old) computer that I was trying to familiarize with.

Let me tell you this: the act itself was stupidly frustrating. I had only been on it for about an hour and a half (a far cry from what I was used to in the first life), but I was ready to tear my hair out.

Because by all that is holy, how did the people in the 1990s do this? Where the heck was Google Chrome when you needed it? Where the heck was Google when you needed it?

I was sick of this ARPANET bullshit.

I expelled a small burst of air through my nose and attempted to relax, flexing my fingers as well as my toes. I was an impatient person by nature, and what little patience I had was rapidly burning away for the irritation bubbling in my stomach.

The ancient machine—a gift from my godfather, who was retiring from office work and having no need for the computer anymore—was propped on top of a precious antique table allegedly from my great-great aunt, and the monitor was situated just beside my bedroom window, so that I could look out at the bunch of trees cluttering our front yard. Something about reminding me of greener pastures so that I wouldn't be "seduced" by the devil technology or whatever.

My mother was old-fashioned, okay?

I pursed my lips and realized that the person I was with was still waiting for my response.

Damn social cues.

I half-twisted around and leveled my sister, the person so against my college-filled future, a dull look. "And you're married to Grayson Gilbert, em-dee." I stressed the important initials after Dr. Gilbert's name, unearthing a plain black hair tie from a drawer. Impatiently combing small fingers through the pretty strawberry blond hair I had been graced with in this life, I fixed my hair-do into a high pony tail and wiped the sweat off my neck with a sigh of disgust.

Honorary older sister (by eight years) Miranda Sommers, now Miranda Sommers-Gilbert, flushed and ducked her head bashfully, like she and the good doctor were still meeting under my window at one o'clock in the morning and not lawfully wedded as husband and wife as of two years ago.

I made a face at her, and she immaturely made a face back. "Don't make this about me." She argued, putting the conversation back on its original course. She crossed her arms against her chest and pouted at me, and for the nth time in this existence, I wondered at her mental age.

Time to put this sharp tongue to use!

"For once," I snorted, (maturely) rolling my eyes. A prompt box appeared on the computer screen, and I clicked on YES. A tacky loading sign appeared before the dialogue box popped up. I appraised it with a distasteful eye.

Ugh, future technology has spoiled me rotten.

"Jenna," Miranda began exasperatedly, sitting on my plain, unremarkable single bed and watching me consciously block her out. The bed creaked under her weight, and I snapped out of my wishful (maybe when I block her out, she'll go away) thoughts.

"You're twelve." She mimicked my earlier emphasis.

Nope, no, no originality at all. Ugh, grow a dick, Miranda.

Clearing my throat, I typed down the university's official e-mail address on the "Send:" box, and began to construct my letter of appreciation. It began with a professional heading, addressed to Prof. Blah Blah, Ph.D., and included "I am extremely grateful for your blah, blah, blah," somewhere in there.

I had to do a little sucking up, duh.

I glanced at my older sister from the corner of my eyes; Miranda was still looking at me impatiently.

Persistent girl.

I sighed loudly, if only to satisfy her need to be an irritating little pest sometimes.

Okay, now here we have our—rather, Miranda's—problem, ladies and gents. I, Jenna Sommers, was going to college at twelve.

Well, I'm not actually Jenna Sommers, and I'm not actually twelve, but you already knew that, didn't you?

I haven't exactly been trying to keep it a secret, so yeah. Kudos, anyway.

Whom I had been Before ranked first in my No-Fucks-to-Give list, and how old I really was ranked a third (I was old, let's leave it at that), so let's skip past that and just accept that I am a fully functioning reincarnation of another human being.

There, I said it.

I, who had once been someone else, was now, well, me. And really, reincarnations, by default, had only two paths: life as a wallflower, or life as the life of the party.

By my obvious hesitance to show the extent of my ability, you can obviously tell which path I was on!

Were people big on sarcasm in the 1990s? I hadn't been a 90s kid. But, meh, now I was.

I shrugged my small shoulders and waited for the e-mail to load, dead-eyed.

I couldn't wait until it was the 21st century. I'd kill to get my hands on an android. Swiping was part of my life; my thumbs ached something fierce, practically incomplete.

Ugh, #ReincarnationProbs.

"So what?" I muttered finally, fed up with the silence.

"You can't go to college at twelve!" Miranda exclaimed, gratified by my answer, however poor a response it was. "You should be in middle school!"

I sighed and twisted around to shoot her a deadpan expression. I raised three fingers. "Alright, Miranda. I have three questions for you." I waved away her protests and pushed on determinedly. "Number one, did I pass their entrance exam?"

She frowned. "Yes."

I nodded. "Good to know. Two, did I get Mom and Dad's permission?"

Her frown grew. "Yes."

I glanced back at the computer and impatiently kicked my foot, seeing the loading sign. "Three, is it good for my future to explore my abilities the best I could?"

"…Yes."

I flashed her the sunniest smile I could muster. "Then why shouldn't I go to college?"

"You'll be alone there!" She protested vehemently, and my smile twisted into an ugly line. "You're moving away from us. From home. Your home. Come on, Jenna."

"I'll make friends." I lied. In truth, I didn't plan on actively making the effort to gather friends; I planned on graduating as early as possible and making money.

Money, money, money. I was going to invest on Facebook. And Google. I was going to businesswoman the business out of business. I was going to turn into Tony Stark—or better yet, Pepper Potts—of this universe.

"Friends who are, by far, older than you!" Miranda was ranting.

I was getting a little impatient. "Miranda, I can handle myself just fine."

"No, you can't!"

"Yes, I can!" I exclaimed, violently clicking the refresh button.

The screen reloaded. I had to retype my letter. FUCK.

"No, you can't!" She bounced on the bed.

"Yes, I can!"

"NO—you can't."

"For God's sake, Miranda, I FUCKING CAN."

Miranda gasped. "Jenna! Language!"

Someone cleared his throat. How this person made it sound so bemusing was beyond me. "Eherm."

Knowing who it was, my big sister and I assumed defensive poses, shoulder hunching, arms crossed. If I stuck my tongue out at her, she made a face at me.

"Am I disturbing something, girls?"

I craned my head to level Dr. Grayson Gilbert, who stood by the doorway to my room, an unimpressed look. He raised a plastic bag of what seemed like fresh mangoes as peace offering.

"Oh, Grayson! Back from hunting?" Miranda greeted happily, dropping her unhappy stance in lieu of standing up and pressing a short kiss to his whiskery cheek. I looked away with a theatrical roll of my eyes.

The argument was far from over, but Miranda had backed off at least.

I began to reconstruct my e-mail, my earlier enthusiasm (if you could even call it such) all but gone. I absolutely hated doing things twice.

(That was going to be a constant thought throughout this reincarnation.)

I heard Grayson chuckle. "Yeah—my pals and I just managed to get some deer, a couple of rabbits and squirrels."

"That sounds…" Miranda trailed off uncertainly. She clearly didn't know what to think of his hunting past time.

Jesus Christ, even I didn't know what to think about Grayson Gilbert's past time. Hunting deer, rabbits, and squirrels? What was he, a cave man?

I told him so at one point during his engagement to Miranda. He looked at me like I was an adorable puppy trying to play for a wolf.

"That's good." I deadpanned from my spot across the room, not even budging to look at them. "You can get your wife out of my room and out my decisions."

"Jenna!"

"She's your sister, you know." Grayson pointed out to me, amused. He was always so level-headed. Killer of Bambi's mother or not, I knew I approved of this man for a reason.

I paused, sent the e-mail again, and faced him. "Before sunset, she's your wife." I moodily altered a Disney quote.

Grayson kept on smiling, puzzled.

Oh, right. Lion King hadn't come out yet. Fuck.

Seeing my distressed expression and mistaking it entirely, Miranda went over and messed with my ponytail with a sickeningly affectionate expression. She had the "motherly eye" down to an art. "Oh, come on, Jenna." She began to tease. "I only want what's best for you. You love me."

"Unfortunately." I sighed and batted her hands away without much heat to my actions. She grinned and doubled her efforts.

"Heard you're off to college?" Grayson asked politely as I pointed him where to put the mangoes. The plastic crinkled as he set the heavenly gift on my desk.

I gave him a thumbs-up, more occupied with staring out of the window and "admiring" the view.

Gotta indulge the mother once in a while, you know.

Grayson whistled admiringly, examining the rest of my room. "You're something else, Jenna. Made for big things."

I gave him another thumbs-up. "At least someone here acknowledges it." I baited.

Miranda smushed my cheeks together and shook my head playfully. "Aww, Jenna. I love you!"

"Unfortunately."

Miranda and Grayson shared a breathless, amused laugh at my expense (that annoying hahahaha, this child is so cute), and without my meaning to, I joined them, giggling a little behind my hand (because I must never publically give in, you understand). I poked Miranda's stomach, and she shrieked, leaping away. "No, Jenna! Not the stomach!"

"Mmhm." I hummed sagely. "You'll miss me, won't you?"

She nodded, expression melting into something a bit more heartfelt. "Of course I will, kiddo."

Aha. "So that's why you were being so difficult." I stretched, and decided to go easy on her. "Well, at least you're off my hands, now. Grayson, she's your responsibility now."

"Of course, Jenny-wenny." My brother-in-law replied good-naturedly as I shook my fist at him at the nickname. "She's in good hands."

"Very good hands." Miranda continued in a whisper, winking at him.

Ugh, couples.

"Oh my God, you two take your flirting elsewhere." I bemoaned tragically.

"As my princess commands." Grayson hummed, wrapping an arm around Miranda's waist. He leaned in and whispered something to her ear, making her giggle. The disgustingly sweet quickly duo made themselves scarce. I sincerely hope they weren't doing anything I wouldn't do in this house. This was my house.

Well, technically, my parents' house, but still. I lived here.

Putting Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert out my thoughts for the time being, I checked the computer screen. I noticed that I had somehow sent two copies of my message, which was weird, considering I had only clicked my mouse once. Don't tell me the first fluke was…well, a fluke!

For a moment, I thought about sending another message that would apologize for the extra copy, but decided to just leave it be. The university will probably just blame it on the computers, anyway.

Hopping off my chair, I looked over the mangoes from Grayson and found another one of the funny little herbs he kept on leaving around the house for some time now. It was a pretty (but useless) purple plant that smelled a little too nature-y for me.

I made a noise of disgust and ran out of my room. "Graysooon! You left one of your leaves with me again!"

I sped down the stairs just in time to catch him and Miranda leap away from each other. I waved the leaf around, and stubbornly refused to acknowledge what I almost caught them doing. Ew. "It smells weird!"

"It's vervain, Miranda." Grayson told me, straightening his clothes with flushed cheeks. He cleared his throat. "Why don't you keep it?" He finally suggested.

"Why would I need vervain?" I asked them childishly, rolling my eyes. "Can I even make tea out of this?"

"Why, little miss genius!" Miranda laughed loudly—a little too loudly, as she fixed her hair and attempted to pretend that she hadn't been sticking her tongue down Grayson's throat just a minute ago. "Didn't you know? Vervain wards off vampires."

"As if vampires are real," I scoffed, a little defensive that I hadn't known. I stuck my tongue out at Miranda. "You're so obsessed, Miranda. Ew."

Grayson laughed wearily. "Alright, alright. Don't fight now, you two. Jenna, keep it. Make it into an earring, or something." He said, recalling my wickedly cool carrot-earrings from two months ago. Now, those had been authentic—at least, right until they began to rot. "As a good-luck charm from both Miranda and I."

I looked the plant over. "I guess it is pretty enough to dangle from my awesome lobes. Okay, Grayson. Whatever you say. You two are such weirdoes."

"Vampires." Miranda mimed reaching for a bite. I threw my slipper at her, and, cackling, sprinted back to my room.

Recovering from my laughter, I dropped myself on the bed and curled into a ball, breathing heavily.

Jenna Sommers.

Miranda Sommers-Gilbert.

Dr. Grayson Gilbert hunting.

Vervain.

Vampires.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

Nah.

It couldn't be.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please leave a review; tell me what you think.