A/N: Hi guys! There's an author's note at the bottom that will explain why exactly it is that you are seeing this all revamped and everything.

Introduction: Brief Lesson in History (Mainly Mine)
by: Secretive

I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly
is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.
- James Baldwin

Remembrance's Point of View

I don't think I'd be mistaken in deeming this completely and utterly wrong. Honestly, standing up here on this stupid stage just makes me think of how, many years before (think the early 1700s), slaves were treated in such a way. Okay, comparing what is happening to me to the pain and torment that the early African slaves had to go through makes me seem like an ass, I know. I'm just some white girl (well, I'm part French and my dad is half-Jewish...granted that still makes me a white girl) standing on a stage, waiting for her twin brother to sell her off to some guy. I'm not facing any of the crap that they had to go through, but... Well, it's not really the best feeling in the world. Sure, I'm not being bought for hard labor, but my services are being paid for by a man.

Okay, that really didn't come out right. If anything that makes my dilemma sound even worse – not worse than slavery, but worse in the sense that now people are probably going to think I'm a hooker. Let me reiterate: I was forced into participating in an school activity. So of course the one that my counselor brow beat me into, was the Bachelorette auction.

Curse my luck.

I'm still not exactly sure how the broad got me to do this; I'm the most stubborn and antisocial girl enrolled at Oak Waters Academy. I'm not the kind of person that bends to the will of others, regardless of whether or not they hold some kind of authority over me. In fact, I kind of remember saying no to this whole ordeal...

...And then that's when Remington gave me the puppy dog eyes, causing me to cave. Curse him and his stupid puppy dog expression – one I'm sure he's perfected just for moments like those. Curse the fact that he has me wrapped around his little finger. All he had to do was ask me to do this for him and I – the most stubborn and antisocial blah blah blah – said I'd do it. And yes, you read that right: my twin brother asked me to be sold for him.

I think that sounds so wrong.

"Next up is Remembrance Pierce, my sister and the uprising artist of this academy!" Remington hollered into his microphone, smiling at me as I sent a death glare at him. Sadly, he's the only one that does not sense the effect of my death glare, which seriously sucks, since he's the only one that can get me to do stuff that I really don't want to do.

Again; curse that stupid puppy dog expression of his.

Andof course my twin is totally into these stupid school activities. I honestly think he lives and breathes for this kind of thing; and not because he likes the be the center of attention or anything like that. He just likes to work hard to help other people, he gets a great deal of satisfaction from it. Something I don't quite understand, but I'm more likely to beat the crap out of a group of people just to get them to shut up.

Yeah, we're pretty opposite when it comes to the whole twin thing. I'm not the female version of Remington and he's certainly not the male version of me. Which is good, because he'd make a very horrible cynic – besides, he has a great smile. One that should definitely be shared with the rest of the world and it would suck if he kept his brilliant mind all to himself, instead of using it to help the poor starving orphans in Africa. Which is what this whole auction is about (and yes, I do see the irony in auctioning off people in order to raise money for Africans) and is the only reason – beside the puppy dog eyes – that I'm even up here. I saw the pictures of those little kids and was immediately wracked with guilt, which lead me to...this.

Granted, when Remington thinks about those poor little orphans in Africa, he just thinks about raising money and trying his hardest to help them in any way he can. When I think of them, I think of Rwanda, how the women are treated in some parts of Africa, and AIDS. And I get angry; actually I get livid. At men and at America. But regardless of our differences in reactions, we're both up here willing to do something about it.

That's definitely something.

"Personally I think she's priceless, but we'll start the bidding at one thousand dollars." Remington went on, calling my attention back to him. Just in time for me to stare at him slack jaw: one thousand dollars? Is he kidding me? Does he not realize that I am the most stubborn and antisocial girl ...well, you get it by now.

Has he lost his mind?

And does he think that no one is going to notice how much he upped the price for me? The last girl he auctioned off (my God, that sounds terrible) started off at five hundred dollars and she was well liked. Unlike, well, me.

Sighing, I waited for the embarrassment to commence: no one on this earth is willing to pay that much money for me. I don't think any one in this school would be willing to pay more than ten dollars for me; I'm really not loved around these parts. It happens when you make it your life mission to hate pretty much everyone.

I wonder how long he'll wait until he realize that he's the only one that loves and let's me slink off the stage? He better buy me a lot of ice cream from Karen Osmund (a girl notorious for making her own ice cream and then selling it at ridiculously high prices) after this, because I really don't appreciate social suicide.

"One thousand." A clear, confident, and male voice called out from somewhere within the crowd of lemmings. Sorry, I mean students.

Huh?

As I attempted to figure out where the voice had come from and who it belong to (he sounded familiar, but then again this school isn't that large, so of course he'd sound familiar), the biding continued.

"One thousand five hundred!" Some other guy called out from the other side of the auditorium. My head quickly whipped around to that side. I probably looked like a complete idiot, but I didn't really care. I was a little too stunned to care about such things like that.

What the hell?Two people? How the hell are there two people in this academy that would be willing to put down that kind of money on me? Better yet, what the hell do they think I'm going to do? Because I am not having sex with anyone for money, I don't care how much they put down on me. And in this academy, that's saying something.

"Two thousand."

"Two thousand five hundred!"

You know what, one of these guys is sounding way more excited than the other one. The first voice, the super confident one, doesn't even sound worried about his competition. Meanwhile the one that keeps using all the exclamation points sounds like he's a little worried about his hold on his prize.

My God, I can't believe I just thought of myself as a prize.

Both voices sound really familiar... Unnervingly so...

"Three thousand."

"Three thousand five hundred."

"Derek, you really must be kidding me." The first voice declared, sighing and causing my entire body to freeze. Suddenly I knew why these voices sounded so familiar and I seriously didn't want either of them purchasing me. I wonder if I could possibly bid on myself now? I have enough money to get myself out of this jam, trust me here.

"Remington!" I hissed and he looked back at me with a huge heaping of brotherly concern. Wait...no, dammit, he was actually giving me the freaking puppy dog expression! How dare he! That's is, I am so killing him after this!

"Eight thousand dollars." The first voice – the voice of Satan himself – said calmly and after a moment of silence I could practically here him smirk. "Is that all you have, Overton?" I think I heard a muttered swear after that, but I can't be too sure. Actually, knowing Derek, I'm sure that's exactly what he did. Asshole. However, he has absolutely nothing on the asshole that just spent eight thousand dollars on me.

Eight thousand...

Oh my God.

Remington shot me a pained look, but then cleared his throat. "Eight thousand going once... Eight thousand going twice... Sold for eight thousand dollars!" Remington shouted into the microphone, "Africa's really going to appreciate it."

I glared at my brother until he turned to look at me and then mouther out the word Sold? He just shrugged sheepishly and then reminded me of why I was going through this. He managed to do this without any words or gestures, I just knew that that was what he wanted me to think about. Yeah, we're close enough that we have the whole twin vibe thing going on. I can still remember the time he broke his arm when he at an away game (soccer) when we were eight; I felt the pain even though I had no idea what was going on at the time. Okay, so we're nothing like Lindsay Lohan in I Know Who Killed Me, but we pretty much share the same brainwave.

Not that that has anything to do with what's going on at the moment. My therapist constantly tells me that I tend to stray from the subject or overly explain things when I'm stressed. Generally I ignore everything Dr. Gold has to say, but I think she may have hit it right on the money with that one.

"Would our winner come on down?" Remington called out in his best game show voice, brushing a lock of his black hair out of his jade eyes.

The crowd grew silent as he made his way up to the stage, just waiting for the drama that was sure to unfold. God, teenagers suck. Anyways, the first thing I noticed about him was his white Oxford shirt. It was school mandated, but he somehow always made it seem like he chose to wear it; it had a lot to do with how it was halfway unbuttoned to show off a few inches of his flat, muscular stomach. He wore a pair of blue jeans – not school mandated – that fit him absolutely perfectly; not too baggy, not to tight. He had on a pair of those black shoes that look like the ones he wears on the soccer field, except sans the cleats, duh. Those are Adidas, right? Not that it really matters.

The next thing I noticed was his mop of shaggy red hair. Not the ridiculously bright kind; he didn't look like Chucky or anything like that. His hair was the same shade as Rupert Grint's, damn him – yeah, I'm a huge fan of Rupert Grint/Ron Weasley. That boy is hot; Rupert not him.

I bet you're wondering who this guy is, huh? His name is Jonah Mills and I hate him with the white hot heat of a gazillion suns. The feeling is mutual; granted he has more reason to hate me than I do him. But I don't want to get into that at the moment, I'd much rather stay on my high horse.

Alright, time for another quick lesson in history, this time mine: I go to Oak Waters Academy, which is not a public school. Oak Waters Academy is a school for the rich and the spoiled. Though, the brochure reads: Oak Waters Academy of the Gifted and Talented. But really, it's just a school for rich kids whose parents want to get them off their hands for nine months out of the year. Remington and I live here because our parents are rich, snobby, and don't want us around. So we're pretty much the typical student, but there are two students that truly stand above the others. One, because he actually is gifted and talented - Christopher Thaddington Vance Rinehart IV – and the other because his wealth exceeds all our own, and you guess it; that would be Jonah Mills.

He's arrogant, he's egotistical, he's narcissistic, he's a jerk, and so many other adjectives. He gets everything he wants and he's rumored to have the power to kick a person out of this academy with just a wave of his hand. Yeah, his daddy's that rich. Not that I really know anything about this dad...or much about Jonah either. I know enough to know that he's a jerk – Jonah, though I'm not sure about his father – and that he should be hated. But that's about all, which is a little unsettling, since we used to be inseparable.

Yeah, I used to be friends with that. Which totally blows, because that's a total cliché and it's a part of my life, and I hate nothing more than that. Why couldn't I hate Jonah for some other reason? Like because his mom gunned down my mom at a Macy's or something completely random like that? Why couldn't I hate him because he had a weird obsession with yard gnomes (which I have a pretty irrational fear of) or something like that? Now that would be refreshing and not clichéd, but as it is, I hate my old friend. And my old friend, my twin's current best friend, hates me right back.

Cliché, cliché, cliché. But it's my life, so there you go.

Man, once again I have strayed from the subject; Dr. Gold is so right about me. Which sucks, because I had been taking so much pleasure in the fact that she wasn't helpful at all and that I was wasting my parent's money.

I digress; Jonah has got some power behind him and to most that would scare them off, but not me, the most stubborn and – kidding, I'm just kidding. Anyways, most people would be scared off by the intimidating power that he has, but not me. It's a well known fact that we hate each other; wait, let me rephrase that: we loathe each other. Yet, in the ten years that I've been at this academy, he has yet to ever use that power against me.

And now that ass owns me for a week.


A/N:Okay...um...I bet you are all thinking this is weird, right? Here's the thing, I started editing this story the other day, because I have always wanted to go back and fix it up. However, I didn't want to post over the original, because so many people really liked that one and this chapter doesn't look a lot like the original one. Granted that was bound to happen, when I first started writing this story I was fifteen...it's been five years. If my writing style hadn't changed, I'd feel...wrong.

Anyways, I'm not sure if there will really be anyone that will read this remake, but I find posting chapters one by one really helps me write a story. I took The Matchmaker's Best Friend down probably three years ago now and I have only just started working on editing that. I think if I do it this way, I'll actually finish the editing process. But I didn't want to take the original from you guys, so...here's the remake.

Um...Remembrance sounds a little different, I know; they are probably all going to sound a little different. Mostly because I don't want them to be as disjointed as they were in the first take of this story. There were a lot of things that I did that I look back on and cringe at and I want to change that; make the story run a little more smoothly.

So that is my excuse for taking on yet another project/story. If you read this, please drop a line to tell me what you think of the remake. Thanks! (I hope I haven't bothered anyone too much with this... I guess I could just do this on my own, but I really do appreciate the feedback.)

-:Secretive:-

Soundtrack to rewrite: "Brighter Than Sunshine" by Aqualung, "Chocolate" by Snow Patrol, and "Material Girl" by Madonna.