So this is really short, but it's just the prologue. I noticed there were barely any Jumper stories on here, so here we go. :) Obviously, this is based on the Jumper movie, to which I have no copyright over.

It happened when I was eight years old.

One minute, I'm on the playground getting kicked around by Chase Samuels, the next I'm in the cafeteria, sprawled out underneath the table. Luckily for me, the students were not in there, so I only had to mumble an excuse to the lunch lady who had seen me, and run from the room as quick as my feet would carry me.

I tried to push it out my mind, write it off as a strange inexplicable phenomenon that was only a one time thing.

But then it happened again.

This time I was ten. Lucy Maris, my best friend, had just left me entirely alone at the lunch table, writing me off as 'uncool' and convincing everybody else that I was too. To a growing girl, that was about as emotionally crippling as anything in the entire world.

One minute I'm there, the next I'm in the bathroom, tears safely hidden through stall walls.

This time I couldn't push it away. It was all too easy to blame the first one on the tricks of my mind, but this time was entirely different. I had felt it happening. I had concentrated so hard on wishing that I was anywhere else, preferably somewhere hidden, and then it happened.

From then on, I worked on controlling it. I realized that I had a powerful, but unusual gift, and I couldn't tell anyone.

I jumped from room to room in my house when nobody was home to see. I jumped from the bathroom on the third floor to the first when I wanted to get home quicker. I jumped from store to store in the mall, hiding in dressing rooms until walking out, sure that no one would see.

And then my goals grew bigger.

When my mother was at work, I would jump to New York City. I would eat a pretzel from a street vendor, browse through bookstores, and catch the occasional subway ride or two, just to maintain a sense of normalcy.

I then began to jump to our vacation spot in Florida, taking quick swims in dolphin coves and checking out exhibits at the aquariums. (I eventually had to stop going there when people questioned my tan in the middle of Winter.)

It was hard not to talk about my journeys when they became such a huge part of my life. Half the time, I would catch myself telling a story and have to stop altogether because I wouldn't be able to explain how I got there.

The huge secret that I wanted so badly to share with everyone weighed on my mind. It was the constant piercing in the back of my head, the uncomfortable tense silence in every conversation.

And one day, it completely left my mouth.

Let's just say that telling my mother was not a good idea.

I figured maybe she would be shocked for a few days, but then accept it and help me.

I figured wrong.

The only thing telling her got me was a ticket to a boarding school and a prescription for crazy pills. (For my mother, of course, who was considerably freaked out by my demonstration.)

Boarding school was just as bad as public school. I wasn't an outcast, but I certainly didn't fit in. My parents weren't rich like all the kids, they just didn't want me at home. So I scraped by and managed to keep a low radar until I graduated.

And that brings me to the present.

Realizing that I would rather be homeless than actually go home, I did what any logical person would do- I traveled the world, stealing only enough money as I needed. I would never over indulge myself, but rather live as moderately and impulsively as possible.

I wanted to see places, to live my life in peace, and not get too attached to anything.

I never planned on anyone actually looking for me. I never planned on anyone finding out my secret.

And I certainly never planned on meeting Griffin.