Disclaimer: I hold no ownership rights of Twilight. Anything original does belong to me, however.

Author's Note: This is technically a rewrite of Phased, but done in the style of my Emily & Sam fic, Fallible. It's somewhat a sequel, but both stories can stand alone. There is a lot of content that is brand new here, so if you liked Phased, I strongly suggest you read this one, as well. After this is complete, I will be deleting Phased from this site.

Also, on the subject of Kim's and Jared's last names: I'm aware that Stephenie Meyer never officially made last names for them, as they are minor characters, but I'm starting to see in a lot of fanfics that the popular last names seem to be Thail and Connweller, so those are the names I'm just going to go with. I want to say that I disclaim the names and I most certainly didn't come up with them, so don't anyone sue me, please!

Thanks and happy reading!

01 – WONDERFULLY GIFTED STUDENTS – 01

"So, wait, let me get this straight… You're telling me that for every single triangle in the world, the angles add up to one-sixty de – "

" – one-hundred eighty – "

"Right. One-hundred eighty degrees? That's pretty wild."

He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I can't contain my laughter anymore. Watching me, he makes another silly face before succumbing to laughter himself.

"It actually makes a lot of sense when you think about it," I say, struggling to get control of myself. I look away from him, which is hard to do, given the attractiveness factor, and back to his paper. "Triangles only have three sides. So if one of the angles is obtuse, the other two have to be acute. It's the same if one of the angles is ninety degrees. The other two have to be acute."

"You're pretty acute, yourself," he says, teasingly.

I blush, and pretend to ignore him. Do not look up, Kimmy! I tell myself. That's how he'll get you. He doesn't mean it, doesn't know what he's saying. He's just a –

"Kimberly?"

My eyes betray me and I look up in spite of myself. He's staring at me now, all traces of joking erased. My heartbeat quickens.

"Y-Yes?" I stutter, only causing myself to blush more.

"I mean it. You're more than cute. You're beautiful."

Jared.

In an incredibly dramatic gesture – perhaps too much for the situation – he sweeps all of our books and notes off of my kitchen table. Then, he leans his large, muscular body over and reaches one hand out to cup my cheek. Slowly, like a scene from a movie, he leans down, so close now I can feel his breath across my face. I stop breathing.

I've been waiting for this. I've been waiting my entire life for this moment, and although I couldn't be more thrilled that it's happening, it sucks that it's happening from such an awkward angle –

"… angle A, Kimberly?"

I lift my head quickly in a jerking motion, making unnecessary noise. The clutter gathered on my desk scatters in all directions. I watch in dismay and embarrassment as my pencil goes sliding in one direction and a few sheets of blank paper in another. The girl in front of me, Sarah, reaches down to retrieve the paper while the boy behind me, Nathan, taps me on the shoulder to hand me my pencil.

"Kimberly?" I can feel Mr. Mendoza's and everyone else's eyes on me. My heart pounds rapidly and I stare at my desk, hoping that if I just ignore him, he'll go away.

But he's not going away. He's still standing there while the seconds tick away feeling like minutes. Behind me, Nathan gives up trying to hand my pencil back, and in front of me, Sarah actually tips her chair far back enough to deposit the fallen papers on my desk.

Desperately, I scan the board, and hope that I don't make a further idiot of myself. To my horror, I can feel my eyes welling up with tears, even as I locate the math problem he's probably asking me about.

"The angles of a triangle always add up to one-hundred eighty degrees," I whisper, mortified as my voice cracks and a single tear slips down my cheek. "It's equilateral, so each angle is sixty degrees."

I want to run out of the room, but I'm frozen, paralyzed with fear and humiliation.

Mr. Mendoza sighs. "Thank you, Kimberly. Jared, can you help us out with the next one?"

As if the torture isn't bad enough already, my heart skips a beat when he says Jared's name. Jared Thail, the object of my affections, sits either one seat to my right or one seat in front of me in every class we have together because I lost a bet with my best friend, Jamie, and had to take a dare.

Normally, I would have jumped for joy at the sheer luck that he didn't notice when I played 'musical chairs' in every class, but when things like this happen, it makes me want to sink through the floor. And since I cry every time I'm put on the spot, that would pretty much put my permanent residence somewhere in the school's boiler room.

"I don't know. Sorry," Jared says in a clipped voice, causing me to start again. This time I almost knock my textbook onto the floor, but luckily my reflexes are good enough so that I catch it. It still causes a disruption, however, and I hear someone giggle, which only serves to bring about a fresh round of tears for me.

'Chronically shy,' is what my mother calls it.

I feel incredibly pathetic, and I can feel eyes on me that I wish weren't there. I wonder if it's too late to fake sick and get out of class. But no, it would be totally obvious I'm faking, and honestly, I'm too petrified to even stand up right now and call more attention to myself. I sit frozen and stare at my desk instead.

Mr. Mendoza sighs again. "Class, could you please turn to chapter thirteen? It seems we might need to review a little bit more before the quiz on Thursday."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mr. Mendoza approaching mine and Jared's desks. Oh, God. Please don't let him say anything else to embarrass me in front of Jared.

"Could you two please see me after class?" he says in a low voice, and again, my heart jumps. He wants to see me? Me and Jared?

"'Whatever," Jared mutters, and I'm so stunned that I almost forget to nod, as I'm still unable and unwilling to form speech. Mr. Mendoza seems to hesitate before he walks away and I don't blame him. Jared is always polite to everyone, teachers and students alike. I've never heard him give a flippant answer like that, ever. I wonder if he's having a bad day, or more accurately, a bad week. He's been acting strange and moody for a few days now.

I lower my head back down to the desk, but I don't look at Jared. Mr. Mendoza returns to the board to go over what I assume is chapter thirteen. I know it's self-destructive, but I'm feeling more than a little resentful towards him for my embarrassment and for annoying Jared, so in a silent act of rebellion I don't open my book, and he doesn't call on either of us for the rest of the class period.

"You're both wonderfully, gifted students, and it's been a joy having you both in my class," Mr. Mendoza says with a warm smile. "Truthfully. Unfortunately, you both have several things you could work on, and I'm beginning to wonder if summer school might hold the answers."

I freeze again. Summer school? What? He's joking, right?

"Summer school," Mr. Mendoza repeats, triumphantly. "Jared, you've been a model student up until just recently, and I don't want to see your GPA drop. Kim, you as well. I hear that you excel in your writing class. I'm thinking that if you were both in a smaller, more concentrated class, you two could help each other. Maybe working with someone one-on-one Kim, could give you a bit of a boost when it comes to speaking up in class."

He looks at each of us in turn. "What do you think?"

I can feel myself burning up, and I know I must be bright red from head to toe, but I make myself nod. What other choice do I have? I mean, I don't know about Jared, but I wouldn't fail if I didn't attend. However, my parents would be pretty upset to see my GPA drop, and this math class is killing me.

Jared doesn't answer, he just shrugs. I can't help, but feel more than a little devastated by his lack of enthusiasm, but quite honestly, I can't say I'm surprised. It's not like he's imagining all sorts of summer scenarios where after we get out of class, the two of us head somewhere to do a fun date-like activity. He's always been nice to me, sure, but he's nice to everyone, which is part of the reason I like him so darn much. I want to open my mouth and say something cheerful about helping him improve his grade, but I don't want to sound cheesy or fake, or super bubbly, so I just keep my mouth shut and don't say anything.

And jeez, if I can't even say anything in front of Mr. Mendoza, how am I supposed to talk to him one-on-one in a summer school session? I suddenly feel worried. Maybe this isn't the best idea after all.

"I don't know what more I can do for you," Mr. Mendoza interrupts. "Honestly, Jared, I've already offered you the after school tutoring with me, as well as the group sessions in the library, but I can't help students who won't put in the effort to help themselves. I – "

Without a word, Jared suddenly stands up from the desk he had been sitting on, grabs his backpack from the floor, and walks out of the classroom. Mr. Mendoza and I stare after him, both of us wide-eyed and stunned. Jared has never been a perfect student, but he's never been rude either, and for him to walk out on a teacher like that… it's just unlike him.

Thankfully, I don't take it personally; otherwise, it might've been a bit hurtful.

After a few seconds, I turn to Mr. Mendoza, unsure how to process what's happened. He blinks a few times, clearly just as lost as I am, and clears his throat as he turns back towards me.

"I'm aware that you and Jared Thail don't exactly run in the same circles, and this could be asking a lot of you, but if you run into him outside of class, or if you have any other classes with him, please offer your assistance and try to convince him to come on his own. I have a feeling that you could be what he needs, and I hate to be the bad guy and send a letter home to his parents," he says, almost pleadingly.

Dazed and more than a little confused, I promise Mr. Mendoza I'll try before I walk out of the classroom and make my way to my locker. Staying after class with them has caused me to miss the bus. Luckily, I have no one to wonder where I am. Unluckily, I have no one to wonder where I am and will be forced to walk home unless I call a cab or something.

Silently, I chastise myself as I pull out my cell phone. I could've spoken up, said something about not being able to stay long… but no, I'm Kimberly Connweller. Not speaking up is why I was held after in the first place.

I have one text message and it's from my mother. Of course.

'I love you Kimmy! Order takeout for us! Be home by 6!'

I take a page out of Mr. Mendoza's book and sigh as I bring up the screen to text her back. Six o'clock for her means eight o'clock in real time, by which point all the movies in our meager collection will all have been watched, and the food will be cold. Re-heated Chinese food is never as good as the real thing, although it is a close second, but I could sacrifice all that to make something that's almost just as good. Ramen noodles.

'I love you Mom, but I missed the bus… Sorry. Money for taxi? Chinese food rain check?'

It takes her a second but she responds with a 'tsk tsk' and a 'Cya later love.'

I wonder if she'll be so easygoing when she realizes I'll have to attend summer school. My sources say no.

A lonely taxi cab ride later, I arrive home to what I thought would be an empty house –

- house on the front porch waiting for me.

My best friend taps her foot, shakes her head, and glares at me from the porch stairs.

"You could've said something, Kim!" she says, pushing her curly, perpetually messy hair behind her ears. "You could've texted if you were going to be late!"

I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach. In all of the Jared Thail excitement, I completely forgot about Jamie and the fact that she was going to join in on our impromptu movie night. So much for Ramen noodles.

"I'm so sorry!" I say, rushing up the front door to open it for her. "How long were you waiting?"

"Long enough!" she says, huffily. "I was thinking about leaving to be honest."

"I'm sorry," I apologize again, feeling my face redden. "Mr. Mendoza kept us after – "

"Liar. I saw Tiffany Spearce from your class get on the bus. Try again," she interrupts, rolling her eyes.

"Honestly," I say, as she pushes past me to go into the house. She leads the way up to my room as I continue my explanation.

"Mr. Mendoza wants me to take a math class in summer school. Me… and Jared Thail."

"Rancid!" she gasps. "That's dis-gross-ting! Did you tell him no way in seven hells? Especially not with Thail." She drops her purse in the middle of my floor, having already been home to switch over from her backpack, and collapses onto my bed like she owns the place.

"I like Jared," I say, softly, as I place my own backpack next to my desk. She rolls her eyes, but of course, she already knows this. She just likes to hear me say it, so she can react to it. She swears that Jared Thail is the loThail of the low. At first, she would say that because she thought it made her a better friend to badmouth a guy who wouldn't give me the time of day. Now, I think she takes pleasure in pointing out his flaws just because she can.

"I don't think it'll be that bad," I say. "I do need to bring my grade up, and it'll give me something to do this summer while you're away."

"Yessss!" she sighs, happily. "While I'm vacationing in sunny Florida way across the country, my poor sad friend will be here. Stuck with Thail. In a classroom… improving her math grade."

I don't say anything.

"It's balls, you know," she says. "I would much rather you were with me. You mom's a butt munch for not letting you go."

I just shrug. We both know she's lying. She would much rather go alone so she can come back and have something to brag to me about. Not that I mind not going. I would never say this out loud, but a break from Jamie would be a vacation in itself. She's… a handful, to say the least.

Still, though, she is my best friend. She's pretty much my only friend, due to my inability to make any others combined with her tendency to scare people off. She didn't have to talk to me when she first moved here in sixth grade, but she did. And when I asked her why she chose me to be her friend, she declared that everyone else was a brain-dead loser, and offered me one of her zebra snack cakes from her lunchbox. We've been inseparable ever since.

"I really can't wait," she pipes up, cutting into my thoughts. "We only have like a week until school is over."

"So are you leaving the same day?" I ask. "The last day of school?"

"Yessir!" she exclaims. "And I'll be sure to send you a million postcards!" She says, still rubbing it in my face. I fight the urge to roll my own eyes. Again, we both know she's lying.

"So where's your mom?" she asks, abruptly changing the subject when she sees that her Florida trip is not going to get a reaction out of me, whatsoever. "What did she have to say about your sudden summer plans?"

"I just found out today," I say. "She doesn't know yet."

"Ooooh, that's one conversation I'm sticking around for!" she says, grinning at me.

"It's not like I did anything wrong," I say, shrugging. "I'm not failing math. I'm just going to improve my grade." And to see Jared… hopefully.

"Summer school is summer school!" she singsongs.

Anxious to get off this subject before she brings Jared up again, I entertain the idea of watching a movie, and being an easily distracted person, she agrees quickly enough.

As we settle in to watch the movie and she laughs at me for spilling the bowl of popcorn all over the couch, I can't help thinking that school can't be over soon –

- soon enough, I'm waving goodbye, just barely able to contain my glee as I see her off from her driveway about a week later. I jump on my bike and pedal my way back home. It's no small feat getting from my house to hers. She lives clear across the rez and usually she'll just take a cab to my house or insist on paying for one if I want to go over hers.

There's an old bike path through the woods I'm not really supposed to take, but always do anyways. It's faster than going the long way around, and I've been playing in these woods my entire life. The chances of me getting lost or falling into a ditch are slim to none. I'm careful and I never go traipsing through there at night, so I don't see the harm.

In record breaking time, I break free on the other side and it's a slightly uphill, but much shorter, ride to my house.

Leaving my bike on the front lawn, I let myself in, grab my laptop from where it was plugged up on the kitchen counter, and park myself on the couch. I log into my Tumblr account and update it with a word-post: Finally! I'm free for the summer! I scroll through the pictures, reblog a few that I think are funny, and log off to play the Sims, which in my opinion, is the best game in existence. Naturally, Jamie thinks it's a waste of time and when she discovered I liked it, made fun of me endlessly, and even took a picture of my 'Jared Thail' Sim threatening to show him. She didn't back off until I cried, at which point she disgustedly called me a baby, and didn't speak to me for three days.

I sigh at the memory. Unfortunately, I have many like those. But no matter, because it's summer time. My math class doesn't start until the second half of summer, so I have quite a while to just relax and have alone time before the madness starts. Plenty of time to just sit around and daydream about Jared Thail…

Without Jamie.

Without distractions.

Just me. Alone and content. Just the way I like it.

- FadingSlowly