FORKS
"Did you get a good look at her?"
A private shudder. "It's impossible not to."
"Dude, with a name like that, you'd think..."
Wherever I go, it's all the same. People judge you before they meet you. Like a herd of wildebeests, they run off with their conclusions, and before you know it, your feelings are trampled every which way. My name was given to me by my newly wed mother Renee Dwyer in the dash-ed hopes that I would be a beauty like her. I am, sort of. My hair is as black as ebony, my skin is as white as snow, and my lips are as red as Hawaiian Punch, not blood. In every fairy tale you read, the writers have to make the heroine morbidly beautiful to be interesting.
So with my classic, dark looks, you're probably wondering what's wrong with me. Well, first off, my name is Isabella Swan. And secondly, I am overweight. I'm not talking about muffins or cupcakes around my middle when this terrible atrocity called low-rider jeans was invented. I'm not using the words "pleasingly plump." I am massive, and there's no pleasing anyone about it. Hence, the whispers. The whispers are better than the outright bullying I'm used to. Unlike Phoenix, however, my parent isn't a wispy flake. In my new hometown, Forks, Washington, my father is Chief Swan, and he knows his way around a 9 mm.
When people say that I'm like my father, they mean that I'm too quiet. To me, it means that I have his backbone. How else could I have survived middle school in a desert oasis like Phoenix, where the real swans of my class sport wedges and mini-skirts almost year round? When I was in grade school, a group of kids shoved me to the ground and made me eat sand. My kindergarten teacher, a svelte blond, got into trouble only because I bit down on a piece of gravel and cracked my back molar and then my lips really were as red as blood. While my mother made an irritating phone call to the school, nothing was done, really because I didn't tattle on my class mates. I didn't need the stigma of being a narc on top of being big and clumsy- although the clumsiness was from hands and feet that ribbed me or tripped me up when I wasn't on my guard.
My mother, God love her, believed that I didn't need to take that abuse, and pulled me out of school faster than the dentist yanked my cracked tooth. Imagine that happening to you every year- a cycle of abuse, medical attention, and a U-Haul. My twice-broken arm and other minor contusions wouldn't have happened if my mother hadn't divorced my father when I was a young chubster. I would have had a protector. Despite her passiveness, Renee tried her best to be a mother, to be my mother. She blamed herself for my weight, largely because she was either incompetent or forgetful in the kitchen. It was up to me to convert the groceries to lunch and dinner. Since I didn't have friends, I had time to watch Food Network. I had an empty kitchen and a mother harried and tired from the constant moving.
No matter how well I learned to cook, I could tell that there was a loneliness in my mother's heart that I could not fill, big as I am. It was inevitable that Renee marry again, in fine style. I'll spare you the nightmare I had with wardrobe the day of her wedding. The bride was radiant and the groom, Phillip, wasn't a bad guy. He found my mother's absentmindedness endearing. He kept his mouth shut like a smart man whenever Renee made apologies to him about her messy apartment and her overweight daughter. The only problem with him was that he was never really around because he traveled a lot for baseball. If it weren't for the whole issue of marrying Renee, him and my real dad Chief Swan would have gotten along about baseball, probably. Again, I'll spare you the nightmare of my father's attendance at the reception. I tried keeping my nose in a tragic book through that one, preferring to see the characters, instead of my parents, dismantle their relationship.
My mother missed her new husband when he traveled; she began losing weight and in a weird sort of reaction, I began gaining weight. The situation was intolerable, until I proposed removing myself to Forks at my father's earliest convenience. When I packed later that night, I was a bit grumpy because she did not have to book the plane tickets (me to Forks and her to Philip) that quickly. However, when my mother hugged me tightly before take-off, she didn't frown at being unable to clasp her hands fully at my back.
"You've always understood me better than I could give you credit for, Bella dear. E-mail me every day. I'll call you every week to keep you up to date." She smiled and told me she loved me. I knew I was doing the right thing.
I was homesick the entire flight. For once, I wasn't hungry. I stuck the packet of peanuts in my oversize hoodie just in case.
When my father picked me up from Port Angeles, my stomach was doing back-flips.
"Hello Bells," Chief Swan said, awkwardly mirroring the hug my mother gave to me. He smelled strongly of tobacco, which made me wonder how many cartons he'd chain-smoked away in anticipation of my arrival.
"Hello Chief," I said, wrinkling my nose.
He grinned at me and discreetly flicked the butt out of his hand to crush under his heel. "I know, I know. If the perps don't get me, the cigs will. I hear it from Sue Clearwater all the time."
Sue Clearwater made the best blueberry pie topped off with vanilla ice cream. My stomach rumbled loudly this time.
"You hungry?" he asked, but didn't really wait for an answer. "Since we're already here, let me take you out."
I didn't let him get to the car before I hugged him back, and squeezed the breath from his lean body. The fear of God showed on his face, not because I was crushing him, but because fat droplets rolled in curvy paths down my plump cheeks and a couple of my chins.
"You can go back, you know," he said gruffly, patting one of the rolls on my expansive back. Immediately, I cut the waterworks and ducked into the car. I didn't tell him no because I didn't trust my stupid voice to hold. My dad was a good man. He didn't sputter out any false assurances or heckle me with questions. Silent and strong, he thrust my baggage into the trunk. Though he knew they were most likely oversize due to my book collection, he didn't complain. Often, I wonder if I wouldn't be happier if he had gotten custody of me.
It started pouring by the time he finished. I rolled down the window, frowning that I had to do it manually. I forgot my annoyance when the fresh air blew in and flicked cool drops over me. For a moment, I almost believed that I would have a fresh start. I would make friends. I would be happy.
"Welcome home," my dad said, when we pulled up. Lagged as all hell and full of cheese-stuffed ravioli, I collapsed on my mattress, too tired to be alarmed by the groaning noises my bed made. When I woke up in the morning, I had a meandering, rambling message from my mother.
Fast forward to now, my first day of school. Believe me when I tell you that high school isn't that bad compared to middle school. I practically gave myself ulcers worrying about my first day in high school back in Phoenix, but the physical bullying stopped there. All my tormentors, who were highly strung in eighth grade, were overcome with a strange ennui when they hit ninth grade and fell into their respective cliques. No one does anything to you if you're not in their social circle. You are invisible if you run in none of those circles. And me, I haven't run since the fifth grade.
I should just stop cracking fat jokes to myself and open the door. I tried not to take the resulting static shock as an omen. Within minutes, I was fighting the urge to hyperventilate under the stares. There was one thing I had not factored in about Forks- the tiny population. For a high school, there weren't a lot of students. Plenty of space for tongues to wag.
I passed a group of girls by their lockers. One of them had pretty curls and a guy on her arm. The guy had his letter jacket on and his fair hair spiked charmingly in disarray.
"Whoa, wide load," I heard the guy murmur.
"Mike," the pretty curls giggled, pushing him lightly. "You better not say that around Chief Swan. That's his daughter. I saw them at the Corner Diner."
"That is no swan," Mike said. "You're more like a Swan, Jess." He made Jess smile and the other stick-thin girls looked on jealously before their eyes also raked over me. I could see it clearly- the moment they dismissed their troubles after comparing their problems to my big one. I'll bet a quarter pounder that all of them were thinking, 'At least I don't look like that.'
I didn't apologize when my meaty shoulder budges one of the girls aside as I march down the unending hallway of lockers and damnation. There was a prickle dangerously rising in my piggy eyes and in my nose, which was lost in my bloated face. The door for the Ladies Room catches my eye and I plow right in, automatically going for the handicap stall, knowing I'd get stuck if I tried for a normal size slot. After I wipe the toilet seat compulsively with the wads of tissue bunched up in my doughy hands, I plop onto the seat. I pillow my sad face on my thighs, which touch when I sit.
For perhaps the thousandth time, I send another prayer up: Please, oh please. Prove me wrong. Prove that people can change even if I am a freak. People can change.
I hear knocking; it's on my door. "Sweetie, are you alright? Do you want me to get the nurse?"
The voice is so unexpected, that I answer honestly, my voice thick with mucus. "I will never be alright. Everyone's judging me already. I'm screwed for the year."
A line of toilet paper dangles over my door. It wiggles. I take it, and a chuckle worms its way through all the mucus. After I blow my nose, and wipe my entirely damp cheeks with my oversize hoodie, I open the door to see who's being nice to me.
It's a boy. He's Asian. He's slender and horribly dressed in tight jeans and yellow plaid. He's kind. This is an alien combination to me.
When he speaks again, it's in a high, gentle voice and I don't wonder how I mistook him for a girl. "Thanks. I'm Izzy Swan," I introduce myself by the name I prefer.
"Hi Izzy. I'm Jamie Lo." Now that my eyes are no longer flooded, I see that he's pretty in a way that I could never be, despite his rough complexion and his hair, dark and shining like an oil slick. I also see that he is different than anyone I will meet in Forks because he looks me in the eye and shakes my hand. In the girl's bathroom.
"Well, Jamie Lo, you're in the wrong bathroom."
"Not by choice, Izzie," he retorts. "The jocks beat up on me if they catch me anywhere near the urinals. Part of their 'No homo' policy."
I snort, which makes me more piggy-like. "Great! We have something in common then." I was talking about the part where jocks beat you up, but he interpreted it another way, because he laughed. I turn a little red, feeling like I said something stupid.
"Oh, that's great. Wait 'til the girls hear that one. Something in common," he quoted me with his smile, which was growing on me.
The bell rings and Jamie groans. "Ugh, that's our cue to go to biology. Mr. Banner will tear me a new one for being late. You, at least, have the excuse of being the new kid."
"If you go in after me, I can block for you," I joke, holding the door open for him.
He pockets his eyeliner and I can see that he seriously is considering taking me up on my offer. "Mr. Banner's a jerk, it's not you."
Despite the temptation, Jamie quickens his steps and throws himself into the classroom. To my disbelief, he blows kisses and gets a couple back. As the notorious Mr. Banner steps up to chew him out about tardiness, I put my best, heaviest foot forward. The resulting thud takes even me by surprise, and it knocks down the miniature globe on his desk. Words cannot describe my trauma, but it gives Jamie the chance to get to his seat unscathed.
I do my best imitation of a smile, though I'm breaking out in a sweat from the heated air coming in through the vents. I regret the decision to leave my hair down. Earlier that morning, I had brushed it to a fine sheen because, let's face it, on anyone else, my hair would be beautiful. It also covers up some of my double chin.
"Class, this is Isabella Swan-"
"Izzy," I cut in, my smile tightening. "Call me Izzy."
Mr. Banner must hate seeing courage in his students, because he glowers and stabs at the attendance sheet. "Take a seat next to Mr. Cullen, Isabella. Edward, raise your hand."
Jamie was right. He is a jerk. If I sat on this guy, I'd be doing everyone a favor.
I look for "Mr. Cullen" and, if the rest of the class wasn't outright staring, almost stopped dead in my tracks. I could tell you about his reddish hair, dark eyes, and strong jaw line, but those are the boring parts. The parts I'm obligated to tell you so that you have some conceivable idea of what Edward Cullen might look like. Let's just say that he did not need to raise his hand to stand out. Let's just say that if you took Edward Cullen to a plastic surgeon in L.A., the plastic surgeon would refuse to chisel that face or cut that body, on principle.
My eyes go to the floor, where it's safer, as I plunk down on a stool. A collective hush falls around me, as my class mates wait with bated breath, for the collapse of that stool. They are disappointed when the stool creaks, and stands valiantly. When the staring continues, I realize that it's not me, it's Edward they are looking at. Amused smirks chase around the expressions on the faces of kids I recognize from the hallways. I figure out that it must be the contrast that's the source of hilarity. I can practically hear the "Beauty and Beast" jokes circulating as Mr. Banner lectures in the sluggish morning air.
Jamie waggles his plucked eyebrows at me and some of the pressure on my chest lifts.
Speaking of "Beauty", I sneak a glance at the boy next to me through my long hair. My heart sinks when I see that he is straining in his chair to lean away from me, and his nose is tilted high from how hard he presses the length of his left forefinger over his nostrils. I can read the repulsion in his eyes, and it's so honest, so truthful, so physical like the outrage building in me. I'm not exactly spring fresh around the clock, but I shower once in the morning and once before bed to compensate. I use deodorant and scented oils (Renee's idea).
'He's not so beautiful on the inside,' I think darkly. Why do hot guys have to be assholes about being hot?
Given how attractive people have treated me all my life, is it any wonder that I've developed a deviant prejudice towards them? They just coast their way into friendships and admiration, like cardboard cut-outs slipped under doors that people like me will never hope to break down. Hot guys never have to develop a sense of humor or compassion or manners. I'm not saying that all hot guys are devoid of personality or talent. I'm just saying that personality or talent, which are necessary to survive in this world, isn't as necessary for them as it is for me.
Jane Eyre thought she had it rough being plain. As her nemesis once said, "an ugly woman is a blight on the face of creation." Dorian Gray was totally fine with murder if it meant everyone, especially that Lord Wotton, admired his angelic looks.
A tear worked its way down my cheek, but my stubby hand flicked it away. I could hear the taunts of little boys as they forced a girl to her knees on the scorching ground. I had the taste of hot sand in my mouth again, and the taste of blood. And pain. Startled, I unrolled my lip from under my teeth, wincing as I tasted more blood. Charlie was a smoker; I was a lip biter.
"You're bleeding," Edward curtly said to me, it sounded like he was mad at me for doing so. From the way my stomach was rolling, I couldn't argue with him about the blood. But the part where he was mad at me!
"Excuse me for bleeding. It's not like I can't control that," I muttered under my breath.
Before I understood what was happening, my eyes were jerked away from my meticulous notes and into his intense gaze. Something cold and hard was gripping my chins. Once my eyes met his, I was pulled in. Captured. Mesmerized. The fat fell away from my body. Then my nerve endings. Leaving only my rapid beating heart. I wanted more than anything to break away and flee, never mind the futility of me running. Flee from his eyes, darker than murder. I did the next best thing, by falling on my ass.
Giggles erupted around us, and Mr. Banner loomed over me, his nostrils flaring in anger over his interrupted lecture. "Is there a problem Isabella?"
"No, I'm alright. I'm fine," I said, as though he'd asked me considerately if I was hurt or not. I'd be madder if I wasn't relieved to put distance between me and Edward.
Edward was pale as he told Mr. Banner that I was bleeding.
"Well, we don't need anymore disruptions. Cell meiosis is a difficult concept to master without distractions. Mr. Cullen, why don't you escort Miss Swan to the nurse?" His lip curled derisively over my last name, as though acknowledging the irony.
I didn't bother putting up the stool. Hunching over with my book bag didn't ward off the unwanted attention of my class mates, but I did my best. I walked for some time, my head in a whirl, before I realized two key things: I had no idea where the nurse's office was located. My guide was nowhere in sight.
I may be massive, but he was a massive asshole.
And I did not stink!
Balling my fists, I wandered around until cornered by a hall monitor, who sternly pointed me to the office. The hall monitor must have had terrible listening skills, because his finger pointed me to the administrative office. Nowhere did I see a first aid kid or a plaque that read NURSE. Cursing small towns, and their clearly inbred citizens, I settled for the office. Maybe I could get the rest of the day off, go home, and educate the Chief on the advantages of Independent Study. Then I recalled Jamie's kindness, and grudgingly decided to ask for more directions to the nurse's office. If that didn't pan out, it would be the girl's bathroom until the lunch bell rang. I hoped that Jamie would let me sit with him after Edward made an ass of me in biology.
I stepped through a likely looking door and froze. There was no mistaking that sculpted body, and the dazed smile on the secretary's face as she apologized to him for not being able to switch him out of the junior biology class. The only class he had with me.
A fearful look spasm-ed her mouth and shoulders. He must have sent her that mean look of his, and now he was bluffing his way out of his slip-up. "I see that we are at an impasse. Thank you for helping me, ma'am." He actually bowed and spun around to walk past me without so much as an apology for his behavior towards me earlier. I am ashamed to say that I let him by without a word. Something like fear constricted my gut. And that's very difficult to do, unless it's my one belt from Lane Bryant.
"M- may I help you?" the secretary asked. Her name plate reads Mrs. Cope.
"I'm lost," I said, and after a brief explanation, she kindly gave me directions and tips to stay under Mr. Banner's radar. Her niceness made me angrier at Edward. It was one thing to mistreat fat chicks, but to a lady who was most likely someone's mother- unforgivable.
The nurse handed me a damp towel to clean my lip with and a signed slip to take with me to my next class. I was disappointed that I wouldn't get a cozy nap; there wasn't anyone passed out on the cots. I snatched a handful of pretzels from the bowl on her desk.
Physics. Composition. Nothing noteworthy, except for a boring rendition of Julius Caesar and the Edward doodles artistically rendered in my margins. It's a total coincidence that I drew the 23 knife wounds made on Julius Caesar aimed for Edward.
At lunch, I was relieved when Jamie jumped in front of me in line. Usually, I'm pissed when something gets between me and my next meal, but I make a special exception for friendship. "What did you do Izzy? I've never seen any of the Cullens show emotion in public."
I choked on the last pretzel I'd stolen from the nurse. "There's more than one of them?" God help me.
"And you pissed off their prince."
"Ice prince," I said. "It's always like this. New school. Same old pack of wolves. Same physically endowed alpha male running the show."
Jamie began cracking up. "Oh, that's rich! Physically endowed! You talk like someone's granny."
I blushed from the lewd way he repeated my wording, although it could have been from the heat lamps. Jamie poked fun at me good-naturedly and led me to a table close to the exit, on the fringe of other tables claimed by other social groups. The popular kids and upperclassmen were, of course, closer toward the center. I was introduced to a very tall girl and a black girl, whose names were Angela and Dallas.
"Nice to see you," Jamie said pointedly to Angela.
Dallas waved, as she was in the middle of chugging chocolate milk.
Angela ducked her head. "They wanted me to report to them what happened between Edward and the new girl." Angela spared me a shy smile, and I softened up.
"Angela's our fair-weather friend," Jamie said, winking at me when she objected.
"There's nothing wrong with sitting in different spots every once in a while," Angela said.
Dallas spoke up. "Off your high horse, J Lo. Who wanted to get a breakdown of Mike Newton and his crazy post-game party last Thursday?"
"Touche, my lady. Touche." Jamie raised his milk carton to her.
Dallas smiled and I was struck by her perfect, white smile and her dimples. She was so normal-looking that I had no idea why she was relegated to a table on the outside. "What brings you to Forks, Izzy?"
"My mom remarried," I said lightly.
"But your dad doesn't have custody," Dallas blurted. Jamie elbowed her with a hasty "Shh!"
"How did-" I started. Angela shook her head. "It's a small town, Izzy. Every weekend, our fathers rotate where to watch the game and our mothers are all in the PTA. I swear they have conferences about everyone's kids, which now includes you."
Considering how closely I cherish my privacy, I took the news well. "It's NONE of their business." My doughy fists came down on the table hard enough to rattle the trays.
Jamie patted my hand, a wicked gleam in his perfectly lined eyes. "You should have been here when I came out sweetie."
My mind blanked, trying to picture the shock waves echoing through such a close-knit community. I received an epiphany instead. "Based on what you're telling me, everyone is talking about how much Mr. Perfect hates my guts."
Jamie picked at a nail and asked me in a deceptively bored voice. "Is it possible that you have an unknown history with him?"
"You might as well spill, Izzy. If you leak the truth to Angela, that might control the damage Jess and Lauren get up to," Dallas said, jerking her thumb at Angela who peered interestedly at her pulled pork sandwich.
Angela glanced at me guiltily. "Lauren swears that you threw yourself at him in biology and he was nearly crushed."
"And Jess?" I grumble.
"Jess says that he had to punch you in the face to keep you at bay, which explains your lip."
I sucked in a deep breath. "General consensus is that I attacked him in a misguided display of affection?"
"It's been done," Dallas said, grinning at my quiet rage.
"Gawd, you talk like you're scripted. Love it. What happened?" Jamie propped his hand under his chin. Cutely.
"It's all Edward's fault," I began. Threw in details about why Edward is the epitome of every handsome jerk who bullied me. Ended with "after I fell down, he ditched me when Mr. Banner kicked us out." I omitted the hurtful detail of his failed attempt to transfer out of biology.
"Poor thing," Jamie said.
I considered smiling at him, but the hairs on my neck rose. Though I knew it was probably from Jess and Lauren spreading their nasty gossip, my gut told me otherwise. Dallas dropped her spoon. I saw my opportunity to turn around in my seat-which is difficult considering the width of my thighs and the limited space between the table and the chair-and check the cafeteria. My light brown eyes met with four identical sets of golden eyes. I managed to drop her spoon again, this time it skittered to the next table.
"Sorry Dallas," I said, giving up mine as a consolation prize since I inhaled my pudding. She probably wouldn't have eaten with her dirty spoon.
"Bit of a butterfingers, are we?"
"Don't mention it," I said, suddenly craving chocolate to soothe my nerves. "I think I just made eye contact with the pack of wolves."
Dallas and Angela regarded me with confusion, but Jamie caught on. "The Cullens! They do travel like a pack. It's really odd."
Dallas exclaimed, "And they only date each other!"
"Oh, gross, Dallas, don't make it sound like that." Jamie launched into a complicated explanation of how Dr. Cullen and Mrs. Cullen adopted, a beautiful couple in their early thirties, adopted five unnaturally beautiful teenagers. "None of them look as old as they say they are. The kids look like college graduates and the parents look only a couple years younger. If Mrs. Cullen ever sells anti-aging cream, I'd make bank investing in her product."
"You'd empty the bottle in a week," Dallas said. "And Mrs. Cullen is more than well off in her hubby's big ol' mansion. Christ, she probably spends all day baking cookies and donating to charity."
"Do I detect jealousy?" Jamie poked at Dallas. "You want to be a homemaker!"
I sigh and turn to Angela, who quietly informs me of useful details. "It's true that our Cullens are paired together. Rosalie and Emmett are dating. Jasper and Alice are the other couple. Which leaves..."
"Edward," I grimace out his name. "Maybe he's gay?"
Dallas hooted. "Jamie already tested that little rumor." To my astonishment, Jamie had two spots of color showing through his tan.
"He's stuck up for my tastes," Jamie sniffed.
"Is there a difference between being stuck up and being a queen?" Dallas continued her merciless ribbing. I had the feeling that Jamie was only okay with Dallas teasing him like that.
All of a sudden, Dallas stopped laughing and dropped her eyes to the table. Jamie did the same.
Angela opened her notebook and quickly scrawled: The Cullens are looking this way. Don't say anything in case they can hear us!
A chill went down my spine, almost as cold as Edward's hand on my chins, and I silently agreed with my new friends. The Cullens were freaks, bigger freaks than I was. And that's saying something.
Fortunately for me, an inordinate number of days speed by, because I am enjoying myself in the rainiest, dankest town in the Olympic peninsula once Jamie coaxed me out of my shy ways. I would've flown here ages ago if I'd known that friends like Jamie and Dallas were waiting for me. Angela isn't bad either, but she's sort of friends with everyone and not around as much. Despite that, I feel like I can trust her. Thanks to her, the vicious joke about me fangirling over Edward frigging Cullen died down, supplanted by the mystery of his disappearance. No one has any real idea where the kid is, and that works for me. I pop a bon-bon into my mouth.
"Bella darling, you don't sound like you miss me." Renee was amazed at the change in me. I sounded cheerful.
I paused in pulling strands of hair from my sticky lips and untangle yet more hair from the extension cord. "That's not it, Mom, and you know it."
"I just can't believe there hasn't been any... trouble."
"The transition was shaky but Jamie's really nice. A genuinely good person," I admitted, unwilling to dredge up the unpleasantness of my first couple of days in.
"I want to give you a camera for your next birthday, as proof positive."
I swear my face will crack if I'm smiling any harder. "Perfect! Jamie's always complaining about not having enough space on his phone to take pictures."
"The camera is for you," Renee states firmly. "I want to see my baby girl happy. You don't e-mail me enough."
"Every other day is plenty. I have school and Charlie. I had to wean him off his take-out menus. And Dallas says she could give me a recommendation at Juice n Java." I sigh, a little put out that Newton's Olympic Outfitters turned me down, probably due to my un-sporty image. Then I perk up because Renee asks me about the clunker that Chief Swan gave to me after Jacob, Billy Black's son, tooled it up. I stopped calling my dad Chief Swan after I gunned the engine on my first car ever.
Renee sighed at the unglamorous portrait I painted of my red truck. My favorite thing about it was that it would win if it ever collided with any of the Cullens' sporty cars (out of sheer stubbornness). Then I'd drive it over to Jacob, who could pop out the dents cheaper than what they charge at Dowling's. He seriously takes peach cobbler as payment. You can't beat those prices.
Blatant interest creeps into Renee's tone. "Jacob Black? How old is that boy now?"
"He's fifteen," I said to her. "That's two years younger than me."
"Bella..." she sang into the phone.
"Two years younger. And forty pounds lighter. And a family friend," I inform her, worrying my lip again.
For a moment, I close my eyes and remember the conversation I had with him about the Pueblo ruins in Arizona and the odd Quileute legends passed down through his own family. Jacob had oil up to his elbow as he tinkered under the hood of my truck, but it didn't detract from his smooth brown skin. There was a rip in his rolled up sweater and strands of his fine, black hair stuck to his neck despite the frost on my side mirrors.
"You. Are thinking about him!" Gah. I hate when Renee calls me out.
"I'm tired, Mom. Can you call me when you hit St. Louis? Remember there's a two hour time difference."
"Okay, okay. You get mercy this time. Phil says hi. Love you, Bella."
"Mom?"
"Yes Bella?"
"Thank you." I hear a loud sniff over the connection, and then a soft click. With a foolish smile on my face, I roll over and sit up to wade through my Chemistry homework. I go back to drawing carbon structures until I can't see straight. My moldy copy of Wuthering Heights stares at me, as though it wants me. I resist, knowing that I cannot afford to lose focus on midterms. Perhaps due to the late hour and the cold room and my repressed desire to read that book, I have a nightmare that a shadow lifts my window noiselessly and bleeds into my room. It's not Peter Pan's shadow making mischief. It's something grim and awful like Catherine Earnshaw's ghost.
I sit up, gasping for warmth and safety. A cold gust has been pouring in from my window, which was open by a hairline. My footfalls are heavy but snap me to reality as I walk over and slam the window all the way down. It occurs to me that the nightmares started right around the time of Edward Cullen's mysterious disappearance from school. I get no sleep for the remainder of the night.
As a result, I also get to school at a much earlier time than necessary, almost as early as the band geeks and Honor Society kids. Since I skipped breakfast and left the empty house in a hurry after Charlie left for work, I am groggy and stupid despite the cold snap. In a foul mood, I stomp one foot after the other, effectively crushing the ice that would've broken my neck if I'd stepped out like a normal person. My stomach gurgles and for a brief moment, I miss my old school, which served breakfast to underprivileged kids in the early mornings. Then I recall that I left a bag of chocolate covered coffee beans in my bookbag. Without hesitation, I stick my book bag on the hood and rummage around.
Packet in mouth, gloves in one hand, and book bag in the other, I turn to get in the heated building when I notice the chains on my tires. Chains to help me drive safer on the crap roads that Charlie must have put on before the dawn. The warmth and safety that eluded me last night rushed back in full force. The packet of candies dropped out of my mouth, but I didn't need them as badly as I craved.
The hairs on my neck rise and my ears ring when the screeching of tires shatters the empty air. I only had time to look around and see Edward Cullen's horrified face and Tyler's van coming right at me. It was going to squish me like a Gummy Bear. Just as I realized how much I love my dad. I hoped that Renee wouldn't blame him. I hoped that Dallas would fall out of love with a hopeless cause like Jamie. She was amazingly good at hiding her true feelings that only a soul like me, encased in 200 pounds of fat, could see through her lovely black skin.
I shut my eyes tightly, and felt strong hands gripping my expansive waist. They must have been strong because I felt like I was being carried. I felt light, for the first time. My ears buzzed, and I realized that it was probably the violent clash of glass and metal and Izzy. I opened my eyes, expecting to see towering pearl gates. There were clouds, the same as the ones that constantly blanket Forks. It was raining crystals? There was an angel, removing his hand from a dent in a minivan that was parked over my lower body.
"Are you alright?" he asked me.
"I'm fine," I said, although I was cold.
"Careful, you hit your head pretty hard," he said. For an angel, he was pretty bossy. I got a grip on myself, and found myself face to face with Edward Cullen. This was impossible. My temples started throbbing from the impossibility of Edward Cullen muscling in on my piece of heaven. I grunted in pain as reality firmly reasserted itself. I was not in heaven, or hell. I was in Forks. Parking lot. High school. With that guy looking down on me. Reality just progressively worsened. I groaned at the unfairness of it all.
"That's what I thought," he chuckled at me, as though pleased I bumped my head.
"How did you get over here so fast?" I sputter, sitting up and bringing up as much of my legs away from the van that I could muster.
"I was standing next to you the entire time," Edward Cullen said. He drew his knees up to his chest and pretty much sat as far away from me as he could. For a moment, I thought it was odd how my breath condensed in the air and his didn't. I was torn from my thoughts by Jamie's screams. I sensed that Dallas was with him, hauling him inside from a gory scene. I couldn't let them suffer like that. Before I could stand up and throw something to indicate my evident survival, he put his clammy hands on my shoulder. Okay, fine, I didn't know they weren't clammy what with my thick winter coat. I did know that a pretty boy like him shouldn't have been able to get here so quickly or hold me down with one hand.
"Stay put Isabella. There's glass and ice everywhere."
I spotted the bag of candies. "But I'm hungry."
He stared me down in shock. Good. He was off guard.
"You were over there, by your car."
"No," he sighed tolerantly. "I wasn't."
"Why do you hate me?" I asked conversationally, popping some coffee beans into my mouth.
"I barely know you. I don't know why you don't like me," he said. I tilted the bag at him and he tightened his lips.
"Why rush over here and save me?"
"There wasn't a rush. I was standing over here..." God, it was like talking to a marble statue.
"I weigh 200 pounds, Cullen." I eyeballed him. "You look about 150 pounds. You ditched me very quickly in an open hallway. Strong. Fast. What's your deal?" I crunch down on a bean, satisfied as I throw the ball to his side of the court.
"I am next to you. It's not hard to shove anyone a couple feet out of harms way." There was that intensity again. It was only my second exposure to Edward Cullen, but it felt familiar to me. Recent. Ghastly.
Perhaps it was the cumulative effect of my adrenaline rush and the hits of caffeine, but I took a gamble. "Were you in my room last night?" If I was wrong, I could chalk it up to a concussion.
"Excuse me?" he asked, but there was a lull long enough for my heart to skip a beat. The hairs on my neck were practically generating their own static under his scrutiny.
"I don't know what your deal is, and I don't want to," I said, although this was a bit of a bluff. "But you stay the hell away from me, you hear? Don't save my life if you're planning to trash it."
I got a nod.
He was truly breathtaking when he wasn't being a jerk-off, and for that, I hated him. Just by breathing, he made me doubt my conviction of will. My heart skipped another beat as I watched him through my frozen puffs. There was something unreal about him. I blew out my breath harder, reassured when the resulting cloud was thicker.
"You know," I croaked, winded from playing with my lungs. "Humans lose water from their sinuses when they exhale. On cold days like this, the particles of water crystallize in the cold air, which is why people see their own breaths. Why little kids pretend to smoke." I put my fingers together and "blow smoke" in Edward Cullen's unreadable face.
He looked at me like I was insane.
I counted to three, and opened my fat lips. "Based on that simple tidbit we learned in biology yesterday, I would say that you aren't breathing. Of course, I'd be wrong." I watched him expectantly. My blood runs cold, but my head is clear as he purses his lips and nothing comes out, except an excuse.
"I have asthma," he said.
I close my eyes as I hear the frantic noises of firefighters and medics rescuing the two of us. Before they brace me to the stretcher and load me up, I look helplessly at the man in charge. "Is it okay if he rides in the other ambulance? I'm shy around boys." The ride is peaceful and lovely because they listen to Chief Swan's daughter, whale or not. They're still trying to calm down hysterical Tyler when my ambulance takes off for the hospital. Even if Edward Cullen catches a ride with that poor boy, he should not be at the hospital before me. I doubt the medics will let him drive in case he's also hurt.
I meet my doctor, who is extremely handsome. As he flicks a pen light over my eye to check for who-knows-what, I said to him, "I've also had trouble breathing. Is it possible I have asthma?"
He blinks and says as neutrally as possible, "I think if you lose fifty pounds, you might find that your respiratory functions improve noticeably. Your records don't indicate any previous or family history of asthma."
"Does anyone in your family have asthma?" I asked. "What's it like to deal with it every day?"
He raises his penciled brows at me, obviously agreeing with his son that I hit my head a little too hard. "We're a lucky family. No sickness or disease to speak of." His lips quirk peculiarly as he humors me. "Aside from a spot of anemia, we're healthy."
"No one has asthma? Like ever?" I asked.
"Edward did have a worrying flu," Dr. Cullen said. His eyes are unbearably sad, and I feel ashamed of myself, preying on the man's obvious love and concern for his family to satisfy my pride. My bloated pride.
"He saved me," I said. "If you can, please give him my belated gratitude. And tell him that I won't say anything."
When Charlie picks me up and smothers me with his concern, I do my best to push down the guilt. On my way out, I notice Dr. Cullen hugging a teenager tightly. Before the boy's face is covered up, I see his tortured expression. My guilt flares up like a terrible case of heartburn. I trash the remainder of the chocolate covered coffee beans.
In honor of my survival, Jamie and Dallas announce their plans to drag me to Port Angeles tonight at the lunch table.
"It would take more than the two of you to handle me," said I.
They tried to drag Angela into their nonsense, but she was already spoken for. "Jess and Lauren are going tonight to pick out dresses for Sadie Hawkins."
Dallas grabs Angela by the shoulders and shakes her. "Make sure you tell us the color of her dress!"
Jamie raised his eyebrows at Dallas's enthusiasm. "Us? What 'us' are you yammering about?"
"Right, I forgot," Dallas exclaimed, smacking her forehead. She stood up and pointed at Jamie. "I choose you! Go to Sadie Hawkins with me."
Jamie grinned and pretended to grab at her hand for a kiss. I try not to notice how easily Dallas lets him.
"Why do you care about Jessica Stanley's dress?" I asked Dallas. Then it dawns on me, a normal girl's worst nightmare. "You're sabotaging her night by copying!"
"It's only sabotage because I work it better," Dallas brags.
Angela rolls her eyes. "We all know that Jess is likely to swing black or pink."
"She wears the worst sort of pink," Jamie acknowledged. "We should do it. Me in a gown and Dallas with a pink tie."
"They're not going to let you in," Angela deadpanned.
"But it's girl's choice," he complained, frowning his disapproval.
"I am staying out of this one," I said, extricating myself from their games. "Lemme ask Charlie." I went to the sole pay phone in the entire school because I wanted to give Charlie a heads up on my night being all booked. There was no way I was going to miss out on Jamie prancing around in a boutique.
"Crap, I don't have his work number," I groaned, rummaging through my book bag in vain.
"I thought you were smart. Don't you know the universal emergency number?" I suddenly understood why Angela brought her notebook to lunch when conversation drifted to the Cullens. I didn't bother turning around. There was no mistaking that voice. That arrogance.
I ignore him and dial 911. With some chagrin, I ask for the Forks Police Department and get transferred over a couple times in the search for Chief Swan.
"Is something wrong?" Charlie snaps on the phone.
I recoil from his sharp tone. "Hi Dad. Um. I wanted to ask you for permission to go to Port Angeles. Jamie and Dallas invited me, sorta last minute. Will you be okay for dinner?"
"Of course Bells. You have fun tonight, okay? Sorry I snapped."
"It's okay, Dad. Any word on who is killing the hikers?" I asked, knowing the source of his frustration.
"No, we're still turning up nothing but bodies. If you can, get a real boy to go with you if you can't get back before dark."
"Dad," I groaned. "Jamie-"
"Jamie would get his keyster kicked," Charlie said flatly. "You'd be the one throwing the punches."
"It's not like I'm going to get raped," I said. "For obvious reasons."
I am pushed to the wall and the phone is taken out of my hands. "Hello Chief Swan. It's Edward Cullen. I am more than happy to look after Isabella in Port Angeles." I am terrified by the pleasant tone of his voice and his angry, black eyes practically burning holes into me.
"What the hell are you doing?" I hiss after several failed attempts to yank the cord. Too soon, he confirms his intrusion into my night out and hangs up.
"I... am arranging our double date," Edward Cullen says.
"Why?" I grunted. "To keep tabs on me? I told you not to worry about your dirty little secrets."
"Blame yourself," Edward Cullen rasps at me. "You dragged my father into this. Did you think my brothers and sisters would take that lying down? They've been hounding me."
His scowling face was such a contrast to the sad little boy holding on to his father that I saw at the hospital.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset your family."
"Yet you wanted to upset me?"
"You are so highly strung that it's difficult not to," I said.
He continued looming over me. Firm and angry lines furrowed his brow; and a very, very minor chunk in my subconscious compares him to the Grecian god of war.
I sigh. "It's not my trip. If you want to go, ask Jamie or Dallas." I smirk at him, knowing that he was too high and mighty for that courteous gesture. He smirks back and winds his arm into mine, striding forcefully before I register that I'm moving. If it weren't for his stupid, solid biceps, I might have been able to throw my weight around before we are both in the cafeteria. I know there's nothing to do about it but smile helplessly at my friends.
My shock is rivaled only by Jamie and Dallas's as Edward releases me and strolls up to them. The general hubbub scales down a couple decibels as Edward makes small talk and invites himself into our low-key celebration.
While I'm standing there, Tyler slinks up to me and apologizes for endangering my life. A couple times his head turns back to his table where his girlfriend Lauren is watching him.
"Yeah, sure thing. How's your arm?" I asked politely. I decide that I'm more frustrated with another stupid boy for endangering my sanity. I'm looking over Tyler's shoulder at Jamie's exaggerated hand motions as he bats his lashes at Edward frigging Cullen. The guy looked extra pale and extra stiff, but maybe that was his way of expressing discomfort? I could only hope.
"Fine, it's fine," Tyler says. "No more sling." He stands around, fidgeting.
"Did you want something?" I ask Tyler, a bit unkindly.
Confusion, then relief spreads over his face. I'm missing something because he's got his confident smile, his hallway face, on again. "Oh, nothing, Izzy. Lemme know if you need a favor. Catch ya later." He swaggers back to the popular lunch table. While I'm puzzling out his reaction, Edward goes back to his special table, too.
I am definitely missing something, and Dallas's knowing grin attracts me like slices of cheese.
"What just happened? I need you to translate small-town mannerisms to a big, bad city girl like me."
She elbows Jamie who looks ready to spout off the answer. "In a place like Forks, everyone is part of a soap opera."
Jamie shrugs and sneaks glances at the Cullens' table while Dallas kills me slowly with her cryptic hints.
"I gathered that drama is a big part of Forks," I say. "But what does that have to do with Tyler being a weirdo?"
"Izzy, he almost got you killed. He owes you something."
"Yeah..."
"Can you think of any one event that's got everyone at school all riled up?"
"There's the rabid bear or wolf that's killing some of the Newtons' customers?" I do my best.
"Okay, pretend that you are a normal self-absorbed junior at Forks..."
She throws her hands up at my blank look and points to a banner reading SADIE HAWKINS.
"Wait, we're actually going?" I couldn't be more confused than if a minivan came at me.
"For Christ's sake, Izzy. Tyler was waiting for you to ask him to Sadie Hawkins."
I put down the bag of chips I'm munching on. I can't be hearing right, unless boys in Forks actually attracted mates by threatening them with near death experiences.
"Why would he do that? He's one of the people who was..." I grimace. One of the people in the hallways who commented on my arrival as a "let-down."
"Okay, so, like, Lauren was going to ask Tyler to Sadie Hawkins but then he nearly ran you over. She got it into her head that you were going to take advantage of Tyler and get him to take you to a dance cuz no guy would say yes to..." Dallas paused as Jamie glared at her. "I mean, that's what she thinks. We know she's evil and not to be trusted."
"Oh." I feel sick in my stomach. My hand goes into my hoodie pocket and I squeeze the fat rolling off my hip.
Jamie puts his arms around my shoulders and Dallas follows suit.
"It's not your fault," I mutter. "I asked for insight." And boy did I get it. The gent to jerk ratio in this town was severely out of balance. For every one Jamie, there was a Mr. Banner, Edward, Tyler, and Mike Newton to make up for Jamie's niceness. One to four. My odds in this town were terrible. Jake, that sweet boy, did not count since he was not brought up in Forks.
Thinking of him lifts my gloomy mood. "I am getting a free dinner, right?"
My friends smile and continue hugging me, and I don't mind not finishing my lunch when the bell rings again.
A/N: I don't own Twilight. Inspired by skimming through a published Twilight parody that wasn't funny. :\
I really meant no offense in writing this (big is beautiful), and I hope that you got a kick out of it.