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"School sucks and what I want is to go home, but the fucking teacher is talking shit and I need to argue." | Twilight

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And your mom and your sister and your job


And your broke-arse car and that shit you call art


Fuck you and your friends that I'll never see again


Everybody but your dog, you can all fuck off

 

"Confederates were terrible, emotionless people that believe slavery was the best thing in the world." 

 

That fucking bitch.

 

It was laughable, really, because I was an empath. Emotionless couldn't exactly apply to me. But I kept a straight face, though my hand was slowly clenching into a fist as he continued to sputter lies about the Confederacy, my home, and my family. Fuck him, fuck him and his friends and his sister and everyone else he fucking cared about. 

 

"Jasper . . . ." I ignored Edward as he needled me for my attention. "Jazzy!" His voice was so quiet, so small that I almost had the urge to punch that stupid look off his stupid face.

 

What do you want, Cullen? There was no indication that I even heard Edward, except for an angry glare I sent his way. I'm busy trying to pay attention. Paying attention to his half-arsed comments and stupidity . . . 

 

"Tone it down a bit; I can feel your anger," Edward, his hands moving quick, put his hand ontop of my thigh. I hissed; unless it was my Alice, I hated anyone touching me. Unless we were wrestling. Wrestling was fun. "What's wrong, kid?" 

 

No matter how annoyed I was, I couldn't help but employ a lazy smirk, You do know that I was born in the 1800s, right? And that I'm 19 fucking years old. I'm older than your nana, Edward. 

 

Edward hissed, his nails digging into my thigh. I sent some happiness his way, relaxing his shoulders. "What's wrong, Jazz?" 

 

You are a terrible mind-reader, Cullen. Edward smacked my hand smartly, leaving me to cradle my hand with faux hurt. Well, it kinda hurt. But only because I wasn't expecting it, duh. He's talking shit about my family. 

 

Like Edward, I did remember some parts of my old life; Father had died during the Mexican-American war. Both my elder brothers were cast off into the Civil War when I was 10 (or something like that) and I ran away to join them sometime later. Then, Maria found me. 

 

I flinched, causing Edward to scoot his chair closer to me. He set his arm very gently around me, playing a little with my curls as he cuddled with me. "It's okay, Jasper. She can't find you here, whoever she is." I forgot to mention; Edward has no idea who Maria is. 

 

"Mr Cullen, what are you doing?" Edward and I snapped our heads up as Mr Branner called for attention. Edward gripped my hand tightly, ignoring my muttered protests as I figured out exactly what he was going to say. 

 

"My brother doesn't like to learn about dying; I'm just making sure he doesn't burst into tears," I kicked him under the table, cursing him out. He smirked and  whispered, "Naughty Jazzy. Don't like Esme hear you talking like that." 

 

"I hate you, Edward," 

 

"No, you love me," Edward cuddled impossibly closer, ignoring the gawking stares from the others. Dolts. "Talk to me Jazzy. Tell me about Maria." 

 

No. Edward didn't have any right to divulge into my personal life, or, my life before I met the Cullens or Alice. No. Sensing my annoyance, he mumbled a quick apology. Later, his expression read. Yeah, more like never. 

 

Before Edward could say anything else, Mr Branner said, "And this man, this man was the worst of the lot," he showed us a picture, a rather blurry picture. What the hell, or rather, whom the fuck was that? "I know you lot can see him very well, but I've drawn a picture of him for you." Edward smirked, a small laugh escaping his ice-cold lips as he giggled into my shoulder. 

 

I raised my eyebrows as a man, possibly no older than 14, appeared in his hand. His hair was curly long, just reaching his shoulders and his face was boyish, so sad that it made me want to send him all the love I could possibly send a picture in a frame. Edward laughed again. His eyes were the oddest part of him though. I felt like I had seen those same, light brown eyes before. 

 

"This is Jasper Alexander Whitlock, youngest Major in Texas, and in the Civil War." I choked slightly before curling into myself, in shock. Did he draw a fucking picture of me? Was this supposed to be fanart or some shit? "He joined the war when he was only twelve. They say that his power of persuasion, good looks, and charm is what bought him a place in war." 

 

"Twelve?" I barely glanced Edward's way as he whispered. "I thought you were older." 

 

"Nah, I was twelve," I said audibly, too tired from the sudden desire coming from the room. Great. Now all the girls, and wow, most of the guys, want him (well, me, I guess) in their beds. 

 

"Excuse me, Mr Hale? Was there something you wanted to share with the class?" 

 

"No, sir," I said stiffly, ignoring all the lusty eyes sent my way. Damn it, now their lust was aimed at me

 

"Then why are you disrupting my lesson, Mr Hale? Do you believe that you, a Texan, know better than me?" 

 

"No, sir," I repeated again, wishing for his stupid voice to shut up. 

 

But he continued, and Edward held my hands, making sure I didn't get up and bite his head off. "Let me ask you a simple question, Mr Hale. Did you fight in the Civil War?" 

 

Damn it. I glanced quickly at Edward, who was warning me not to do it. "Yeah, so what if I did?" Edward hit me and slammed his head into the desk. 

 

Mr Branner came closer, smiling as if he was ready to humour me and whatever came out of my mouth next. "Tell me, Mr Hale, do you believe that the Confederates were right in their values? That slavery was right?" 

 

I sputtered, standing up so I could look him in the eye. "Of course, not! But that's not what the war was about!" 

 

He arched an eyebrow, "Really?" 

 

I shook my head frantically, too tired to keep my mouth straight. "The Union was treating the Confederates like absolute shit, and they didn't deserve that! They didn't understand that we needed slavery to live. Y'know, not everyone's economy back then was all about makin' stuff with them machines. We needed labour and help to grow our crops and cotton." I winced as my accent started to drip out. "Slavery was wrong, and we shouldn't a treated 'em like that, but the North kept raising the taxes, and tellin' us that we don't got basic rights, which was immoral." 

 

I took a big, gasping breath, somehow running out of air. I walked closer to him, angrier than I had been in a long time. "Then they fucking voted for Lincoln, and suddenly we were under a prez that woulda probably made us get rid of slavery. And Texas, Texas needed this shit to thrive because it was so damn hot, and Mama, all she wanted was for me and my brothers to live good lives, but we couldn't do that when we're stuck in a fucking country that didn't care about anything below the goddamn state of Missouri!" 

 

Then, it got too much. 

 

The lust I had felt before increased, but layers of disgust were also added. Edward's confusion and helplessness were even worse because he was touching me. I brushed him off, sending another wave of despair through my veins. And finally, Mr Branner's anger and my own . . . . both pounded in my ears and through my non-existent blood. 

 

Without a further word, I ran out the door, collapsing in the middle of the hallway. 

 

I stood extremely still as the bell rang for 5th period, causing me to cry out from the pain in my ears. Two sets of footsteps, one light and the other heavy, quickly walked toward me. They stopped and I peered up at their faces as they looked curiously at me. 

 

Emmett and Edward. 

 

"What are you doing here?" I asked sullenly, tugging on my hair as their waves of concern washed over me. "Well?" My voice cracked, making me choke on my venom. 

 

Emmett sat next to me as the hallways dispersed, leaving the three of us alone. He pulled me into a hug, whispering quietly, "Eddie told me what happened; I'm sorry about it, little bro," 

 

I buried my head in his chest, but not without sending a sharp look toward my younger brother. "I'm more than 100 years older than you," 

 

Emmett laughed and pulled me closer, leaving room for Edward on my other side. "But you're only 19; I'm 20." 

 

Ugh, he had a point. 

 

I'm more mature than he is, though. 

 

Edward shot me an amused look like he knew what I was thinking. Oh, wait . . . 

 

I took a deep breath as Edward snaked his arms around me again, falling against my back and also onto Emmett's chest. "Do you wanna talk about it?" 

 

"He just ticks me off, you know?" I let Emmett hug me tighter. Honestly, it's not like I would run away . . . "Like, I can't just sit there and watch him talk about my family like that!" 

 

I caught Emmett's wave of hurt, and I looked up at him with earnest eyes, "Em, no. You're my family too," I looked at Edward with a small smile. "All of you, but they'll always be the guys that raised me. They'll be the ones I fought hard battles with." 

 

"We fought hard battles too . . ." Emmett joked, and Edward smirked at my uncomfortable expression. Nope. I'd rather never live through those moments EVER AGAIN. 

 

"Yes, I remember last time you went feral . . ." Edward trailed off, his fingers curling up threateningly. His fingers disappeared under my shirt, and I sent him an unamused look. Ha, Edward was the only one in the family that didn't know where my sweet spot was, and I'd like to keep it that way, thank you very much.

 

"That doesn't work on me, Cullen," I sensed the mischievousness from Emmett. Oh damn, Emmett can't keep a secret to save his life. Edward, with another big grin, let his fingers go down to the back of my knees, touching the skin there lightly.

 

Biting my lip, I tried to keep it in, but I couldn't. Bursting into giggles, I rolled off of Emmett, running away (humanly, duh) from my brothers. Dolts, the lot of them. 

 

Edward pounced on me, sending me to the floor and laying his head on my chest. His hands appeared in my hair as Emmett sat me up properly. 

 

"You know you can talk to us about anything, right Jazz?" 

 

I let a small smile grace my pale lips as I punched both my brothers (lightly) in the shoulder. "Yeah, of course.)