Chapter 1: Survival Mode

S. Meyer owns all the good stuff, I'm just having some fun. No copyright infringement intended whatsoever.

Nobody is stronger, nobody is weaker than someone who came back. - Elie Wiesel

"That's a nice ride you got there! You think you'll be able to start it again after school?" a tall, lanky boy in a maroon letterman jacket laughed as he watched me pull into a parking spot. He and another boy began to jog towards the school without waiting for a response, the rain pounding harder against the pavement now. I sighed heavily as I cut the engine. I guess not everyone can drive brand new silver Volvos, I thought glumly, glancing at the one parked beside me.

Yanking the hood of my sweatshirt over my eyes, I grabbed my nearly empty book bag and climbed out of the cab of my old, faded pickup. It had been cloudy and rained every day since I'd moved to Forks, Washington, even though it was technically still summer. If the weather was any indication of how my day would go, I was in trouble already. I concentrated on dodging puddles and moving quickly through the parking lot to the entrance without tripping.

"That would be my luck," I mumbled.

Inside the brightly lit school building, I was relieved to find the main office easily, and I shook some of the rain off as I waited for the secretary to notice me. Behind the counter, towards the back of the office, a petite girl with short, dark hair was shuffling papers around on a table. She looked almost to be bouncing, though she stood in one spot. She flitted silently to smaller desk and back again, humming as she searched.

"I think I found what I needed, thank you!" I heard the girl chirp, her voice high pitched but not unpleasant. At the same time, the secretary stood and asked if I needed help. When I glanced back, the dark-haired girl was gone.

"I'm Bella ... Isabella, Swan," I said, distracted. "I need my schedule, please. I'm new." She studied me, literally looking down her nose and past her thick bifocals. I cringed.

"You're the police chief's daughter, right?" she asked, not hiding her intrigue. I struggled to not roll my eyes and nodded. News travels fast. A satisfied smirk crept onto her face, and she retreated around a corner and returned momentarily with a folder.

"Your schedule is in here, Isabella, along with a map of the school and your locker number. Most of your classes will be on the third floor. I can assign someone to help you find everything," she offered, still eying me.

"No, thank you," I mumbled. "I'll be fine." I turned and shuffled back out into the hallway, glad to join the flow of student traffic. In between the roar of reunited friends, slamming lockers and rain-soaked sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor, I heard my name murmured several times. I imagined the stares were made out of lasers, burning tiny holes through my clothes.

This is what celebrities must feel like, only worse, I thought. I swear to God I'll quit reading Perez Hilton now. I totally get it.

It took a painfully long time to reach the third floor in the crowded staircase. Once I did, I backed into a corner to take a look around.

According to my schedule, I had English first period. The bell rang then, and the hallways cleared in a hurry. Fantastic, there goes my chance to slip in unnoticed.

Since I was going to be late anyway, I ducked into the nearest bathroom, which was now deserted. I dropped my bag onto the floor and ran a hand through my long, mahogany-colored hair. It needed a trim, and the wet weather was causing it to frizz. No amount of patting it down was making it any smaller. I leaned in closer to the mirror and studied my complexion between the cracks and permanent marker graffiti.

Pale, too pale. At least most of the people in Forks were pale, too. Not like Phoenix. But still, too pale. The bags under my eyes were pronounced after a long night of tossing and turning. Frowning, I grabbed my bag off the floor and slipped back into the hall.

I found room 302 and, as smoothly as I could, breezed in through the open door and made a beeline for the first open seat I saw.

Our teacher caught my eye as soon as I dared to look up and she smiled before standing and addressing the class. I held my breath as she moved on to her first order of business, which was to hand out text books. I relaxed when I was satisfied she wouldn't single me out as the new girl.

For the remainder of the period, I kept my eyes straight ahead or down on my desk. I didn't care to look around at my peers, though I sensed those seated around me stealing curious glances when the teacher turned her back. When the bell rang and we were dismissed, I heard my name in whispers again.

Unfortunately, in my next two classes I was asked to stand and introduce myself. I'd known that, given Forks' small-town mentality, I might be expected to do so, but I'd hoped and prayed it wouldn't happen. I was a writer, not a speaker, and back in Phoenix the teachers never bothered with such formalities; my old high school had nearly five thousand students enrolled. Here, there were a couple hundred, if that. Apparently, they had all the time in the world.

I hated how vulnerable I felt as I stood and, facing the wall instead of my peers, told them my name, that I preferred my nickname, and that I'd just moved from Arizona. My face was on fire as I spoke and I wanted nothing more than to just run out of there and not return. No one interrupted me, or even moved as I spoke. Then again, no one turned it into a Welcome to Forks party either, which would have been far worse.

Silver linings, I guess.

Fourth period, I had study hall - and a headache. After claiming a seat in the back row of what looked more like an office than a classroom, I decided to try to learn the school map. While my first class had been easy to find, I'd gotten lost and been late to both history and math. I pulled the map from my pocket and smoothed it as I watched the room fill up. A few faces looked familiar from my classes, and they congregated in small groups and sat together, chattering away. I put my head down, hoping to remain as invisible as possible. It worked for about three minutes.

"Hey, you're Isabella, right?" a girl's voice rang out, causing the other conversations in the room to lower, but not cease. My jaw clenched as I looked up slowly. "Why don't you come sit over here?"

I recognized the girl from the hallway, though I hadn't seen her in any of my classes. She looked the type to be a cheerleader, or at least popular. Her long, straight dirty blonde hair was pulled into a loose ponytail and rested over her shoulder. She was much tanner than anyone I'd seen since arriving and in comparison her light eyes stood out. If she hadn't said my name, I wouldn't for a minute have expected her to even notice me. At the moment, she looked to be sitting by herself.

"Yeah ... alright," I blurted, dropping my map on the floor. When I moved to pick it up, then my pen dropped in its place. I am the least impressive new girl, possibly ever.

I finally arrived at the desk beside her in the front of the room and sat. The teacher assigned to monitor the study hall looked up from the newspaper he was reading before lowering his gaze again. I guessed that upperclassman study halls were simply free periods here.

"I'm Lauren," the girl offered, smiling. Her teeth were really white. Unnaturally white. I reminded myself to smile back, not wanting to offend her.

"Bella," I offered.

She seemed to take that as permission to release a string of questions about whether I liked Forks, school, and life in general. I humored her, because while I had been trying to just get through the day, it felt nice to be noticed by someone other than school faculty.

"So, have you seen any hot guys yet?" she asked, leaning closer like an old friend. I let out an involuntary laugh.

"Oh God, that's ... no, that's not...priority..," I mumbled, clearing my throat. "No, not yet." Lauren's smile grew, deepening my embarrassment.

"Don't be so shy, Bella. You're like, fresh meat. Don't you see everyone staring at you?"

"Doesn't everyone always stare at the new girl?" I asked, biting my lip.

"Well, duh," she laughed, "but they're staring because you're like, really pretty. Don't you know that?"

"I really don't think so," I said quickly. I knew right away she was preparing to disagree, so I changed the subject. "Does this school have a newspaper?"

"Um," Lauren paused, and sat back. I'd caught her off-guard.

"Yes," the teacher behind the newspaper interjected. "It meets on Wednesdays after school. In the library." Duly noted.

"Yeah, that," Lauren confirmed weakly, one eyebrow cocked in the direction of the voice.

I changed the subject again after that, feeling somehow pretty certain Lauren was the last person I'd want to know about my dorky after-school curricular interests.

My heart sank a little when I entered the cafeteria for fifth period lunch, as I'd hoped to see Lauren there. Most of the tables were already claimed, either by students sitting at them or books in their places while they bought food. I contemplated trying to find the library and skipping this part of my day when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You're Bella, right?" a voice chirped in my ear. I spun and looked down to see the dark-haired girl from the main office. Again she stood in place, yet I got the impression she was everywhere at once - as if my eyes were playing tricks on me. "I'm Alice! You're in my history class, remember?"

I froze, trying to recall faces from third period. I hadn't looked around. As I tried to remember, I looked at her - stared, really. It didn't occur to me not to; Alice was stunning. Her skin was very pale, but flawless, and she almost glowed. Her eyes were a beautiful greenish color with honey brown flecks. She wore a thin, off-white sweater with tiny gold stripes along the neckline, a fitted tan corduroy skirt over light gray leggings and brown ankle boots that looked kind of retro.

"I, yeah, of course, history," I managed to say. I hoped she couldn't tell I was lying. Suddenly I hoped she wouldn't recognize me as the rain-soaked girl watching her in the office that morning.

"Do you have a seat yet, Bella?" She held onto my arm and I realized that we were moving. "Come and sit with us, we have an extra seat!"

I just nodded, and my stomach growled. What ever was being served for lunch that day - turkey, maybe - smelled like dog food. I was grateful I'd packed an apple in my bag. Alice continued to lead me through the lunch room to a table near the back, next to the windows. It was the furthest table from the entrance and set apart from the rest of the tables, too.

"Guys, this is Bella," Alice said as we reached our destination. I looked around and saw three others sitting. The only other girl was a thin, beautiful blonde with striking blue eyes. She didn't speak, but looked up coldly as her blood-red nails picked at the zipper pull on the Louis Vuitton purse in front of her.

Next to her was a boy - a man, really - who seemed a bit old even for a senior. While his face was boyish, his physique was nothing short of intimidating. He grinned widely and held out a huge hand, which I shook.

"I'm Emmett," he offered warmly. "Don't mind Rose, she's pissy." The blonde quickly slapped him in his side, which didn't seem to do much damage, and he laughed. I tensed up and glanced at Alice, but she was still smiling.

"I'm Jasper," the other boy at the table said quietly, extending his hand. I shook it, noting a slight southern twang in his soft voice. If possible, his shy smile was even more pleasant than Emmett's. Jasper reached over and squeezed Alice's hand quickly, and I could tell by her reaction that they were an item. I surmised, based on Emmett and Rose's play-fighting, that they probably were, too. Against all logic, I felt a twinge of jealousy, though I was sure I had no business thinking of romance when I technically still had no friends.

"Bella's going to sit with us," Alice explained, as she plopped onto a chair and patted the one next to her. I sat just as the others stood to go buy their lunches. "I'll stay here with you," Alice offered. I smiled gratefully and reached into my book bag for my apple.

"So, is Jasper your boyfriend?" I asked once we were alone. Alice smiled ear-to-ear and nodded eagerly.

"We've been together since middle school," she said. "Rosalie and Emmett are dating now, too. They're seniors, but they've known each other since they were kids. I always sort of knew Emmett had a thing for Rose. My brother was the one who finally talked him into asking her out."

I pictured Rose's reaction to my arrival and silently wondered how anyone could like her, looks aside.

As if she could read my mind, Alice added, "Rose isn't as bad as she seems. She picks her friends carefully. She's been back-stabbed one too many times by other girls, but I think she might end up warming up to you."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well," Alice gulped, looking down at the orange she'd begun to peel, "the last time a new friend - a girl - joined our table, Rose told her to go straight to he-"

"Hey guys!"

Without warning, Lauren plopped herself down in Jasper's empty chair. I smiled, though I felt oddly annoyed by her interruption.

"Hey," Alice said, noticeably less enthused. "How's your first day going?"

"Oh, not bad. I got stuck with gym first period, though. Doesn't that suck?"

I found myself nodding. It was dangerous enough to let my lack of coordination loose in public, but an 8 AM gym class for me could probably be considered an act of terrorism.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Emmett, Rose and Jasper returning with their food. As if on cue, Lauren stood.

"Sorry that there's not enough chairs, Laur," Alice said, managing to sound genuine. Lauren shrugged.

"I actually told Jessica I'd sit with her anyway." I could tell she was lying, trying to act as if she really didn't care.

I suddenly felt like I'd lucked out meeting Alice. Were these kids Forks High School elite? It was too soon to tell, but all I knew was that I'd never been more than the quiet girl in the back of the classroom, despite my efforts over the years to open up. I'd never been a friend magnet.

As Lauren walked the empty distance between our table and the others, Alice leaned in closer to me.

"That's who I meant," she whispered. "She totally avoids Rose now! It's kind of funny. I mean, she's never done anything to me, but Rosalie can sniff out bad intentions like a bloodhound. She doesn't seem to mind you at all, though."

I nodded, acknowledging this information, if not believing it all. If Rosalie liked me, I'd hate to see what would happen if she didn't... But I felt I could trust Alice and decided not to get too close to Lauren. Both girls had befriended me, no questions asked, on my first day, yet Alice had a certain positive energy about her that Lauren definitely lacked. In fact, it seemed like Alice was made of energy ... pure, buzzing, light-speed energy. I felt drawn to her from the moment I'd seen her in the office, and I liked it.

The rest of the period was spent talking about myself, a topic I kept hoping to avoid, to no avail. Alice wasn't pushy, though, and offered information about herself and Jasper often. It was an easy-going, enjoyable conversation, which I hadn't expected. My headache had even begun to fade. When the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, I could have cried, but Alice said she'd see me later. I didn't know if that was true, but I hoped so.

Just two more classes, just two more classes ...

Feeling refreshed from lunch, I eagerly shuffled into the room where my biology class was to be held. Unlike my previous classrooms full of desks, here there were only tall, concrete tables with two high stools at each. Most of the tables were filled already. I spotted an empty one by the window and raced over to it, not caring if anyone noticed. Who could really blame me? I didn't see any of my new ... friends? ... in the room, and I wasn't going to invite myself to anyone else's table on the first day of class. I assumed the tables of two were meant to pair us up as lab partners.

As I dug around in my bag for a pen, I saw a body slip onto the seat beside me out of the corner of my eye. A guy. I could faintly smell cologne. Sitting straight up, all I saw were his hands resting side by side on the table, and a black sleeve. Suddenly all nerves, I couldn't bring myself to look up at or acknowledge him. I decided that he had nice hands.

Nice hands? Who says that?

The teacher began to talk and I tried to pay close attention. He passed around text books and the syllabus and I busied myself taking notes on extra supplies we might need. Still, I was very aware that my neighbor's gaze was on me. I could just feel it. My cheeks were burning hot, but I refused to look up. Whatever he's wearing ... it smells amazing, I thought dreamily, followed by, Oh, snap out of it! I allowed my hair to fall forward to cover my ears, which were likely the same color crimson as my face.

"Do you have an extra pen?" he whispered finally, shattering my safe little thought bubble. Panicked, I managed to reach back into my bag, if not gracefully, and extracted a pink ballpoint pen.

"All I have is pink," I said stiffly. He reached over and took the offered pen, his fingers grazing my palm as he did so. My arm immediately broke out in goosebumps beneath my sweatshirt.

"Thanks."

The time dragged that period, as anything our teacher said from that point on had been reduced to muffled sounds instead of words. I managed to control my shameless blushing, but my neighbor's request for a pen echoed over and over in my head. He had a nice voice, too. Nice hands, nice voice. No face, though, because I've got the social skills of a kindergartener.

When the bell rang, I actually jumped and almost fell off my stool. My eyes betrayed me then, and I finally met Pink Pen Boy's gaze. His eyes were startling - green and intense, especially against the cropping of messy copper-brown hair, some of which hung down over his forehead. He wore dark jeans and a fitted black, long-sleeved shirt that clung to his torso in cruel ways.

"You're Bella?" he asked suddenly. I felt myself gasp. Smooth.

"Y-Yeah," I stammered. He nodded, hopped off his stool and exited quickly, leaving my pen on the table. I was so surprised, I didn't realize he hadn't called me Isabella.

Lucky for me, my last class of the day was gym. If, no, when I cause a disaster, at least it's the end of the day...

I did everything in my power to stay awake as we sat on the cold bleachers while an instructor discussed how we would be graded. Since it was only our first class, we weren't required to change into sweats. There were two separate classes combined for the initial introduction today, so two teachers were present. They were dressed in cheap-looking windbreaker pants and identical Forks High School t-shirts, and I tried to imagine them wearing normal street clothes. I couldn't.

It took me half the period to realize Alice sat about ten feet away.

"Pssst! Bella!" I finally heard. I looked over at her and waved, quickly pulling my hand back when half the class looked over. Ten minutes later, the last bell of the day rang, and I gathered my book bag and textbooks and met her at the gym doors.

"Hey Alice," I greeted her, feeling much more awake. "Are you in my class or the other one?"

"Yours, silly," she giggled. "I was trying to get you to look up at me all period! You must have really been zoning out." I felt my cheeks heat up for the millionth time that day, and I selfishly hoped Alice wasn't close to any of our classmates. I was already looking ahead to dealing with last-one-picked syndrome.

We walked together towards the main entrance and it felt strange, after practically charging through the hallways all day, to walk slower as several people stopped Alice to say hello. She politely introduced me each time while managing to keep the spotlight off me ("Bella, this is my old friend, Kate. She's an amazing artist - some of her work is hanging up in the lobby! Kate, this is my new friend Bella.") I couldn't have felt more grateful to be treated like a normal person instead of a sideshow.

It took us nearly fifteen minutes to make our way through the school to the lobby. I didn't mind and wasn't surprised in the least that Alice had so many friends.

"I've gotta grab some things from my locker, but I'll see you in the morning, okay Bella?" she said once we neared the main staircase. "Sit next to me in history tomorrow!"

I nodded and then Alice was gone, skipping across the lobby towards the stairs before I could even say goodbye.

Charlie had left a message on the answering machine before I'd even walked through the door saying he'd gotten held up at work and would be late. I smiled a little as I deleted the recording, realizing he hadn't thought to just call my cell phone. It occurred to me that maybe having me live with him was an even bigger adjustment for Charlie than it was for me to be there.

The weather had only become nastier, and I decided to make dinner rather than order a pizza, now that I had extra time to do so. Neither of us had grocery shopped since I'd arrived a week earlier, so I worked with what I could find - spaghetti and a jar of meat sauce. While the pasta boiled, I jotted down a quick grocery list on the back of a worn take-out menu.

My mother, Renee, had never really learned to cook or do anything remotely domestic. It would be nothing new to take the reigns here as well. It was the least I could do.

Charlie finally came home just after seven, weary-eyed. He hung his belt with his gun attached on a hook by the door and immediately his eyes lit up when he realized he smelled food.

"Bells, you didn't have to cook," he said gruffly, though I suspected he was holding back a smile. "I don't expect that of ya."

"Ch- Dad, it's nothing," I replied, spooning pasta onto his plate. "You should have a hot meal after a crappy day like today. Is it always this gloomy here in September?"

"Ah, you know how the Pacific Northwest is," he mumbled, reaching for the sauce. "You lived here too, once." I decided against reminding him how young I'd been when Renee packed our bags and left him. "I'll take a beer, if you could, Bells."

I snagged him a cold can of Budweiser from the refrigerator door and sat down and served myself. In between bites, Charlie asked me how my day had gone.

"Fine, it went fine," I assured him quickly. "Yours?"

"Long. Lots of paperwork," he responded.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence. It wasn't a comfortable silence, either, considering I'd inherited his gift of few words. It seemed that impending adulthood had robbed my father and I of the ability to appreciate each other's quiet company, one of the few things I once cherished on my rare summer visits to Forks.

And while I felt guilty for not having more to say after only a week of living there, I was afraid that if I slipped and let him believe I was unhappy, he'd rethink having me live with him. It had taken several long, awkward phone calls to get him to agree to it - not that he didn't want me, but he had trouble believing I'd be happier away from my mother. It had taken strategy to mention as little as possible about why that might be. I'd promised her that much.

After dinner, Charlie offered to clean up so that I could start on my homework. With a full belly, I suddenly felt so tired I just agreed and started for the stairs, failing to mention I had no homework.

My room was exactly the way it had been when my mother and Charlie divorced years ago, with the exception of a fresh coat of lilac paint. I transferred my book bag from the floor to the rocking chair in the corner and sat on the edge of my old bed, which groaned with disuse. I glanced at my cell phone on the nightstand.

"I should call her," I said, picturing Renee's face, tears streaming as I left her to board the plane to Seattle. I reached for the phone, then paused. What if she was drinking tonight? She's obviously still upset that I chose to live with Charlie. If Phil answered, he probably wouldn't even put her on. Ugh. Phil.

Now that my mother had quit her job and was living in Jacksonville with her boyfriend, I had my doubts that she would wait for an acceptable hour to start drinking. It was nearly six o'clock on the east coast ... and deep down, I knew she wouldn't be sober if I called. I allowed myself to get angry.

That's why I'm here, isn't it? To get away from that, to deal with it the way a normal teenager should. To LIVE like a normal teenager should live.

The painful memories were only from the last couple of years. Renee had dated off and on throughout my childhood and it hadn't really bothered me, maybe because it never went anywhere. They were usually nice guys, and they'd take me places and buy me things to try to win my mother over. But eventually, they'd realize how flighty and unreliable she was, and they'd stop calling. She never got too upset over any of them, as far as I could tell.

Then Phil came along. He played minor league baseball, and he liked to drink. I couldn't remember Renee having a fondness for anything other than the occasional wine cooler until Phil. She began to come home at strange hours of the night, or early morning. She'd reek of alcohol, and laugh as she stumbled through the house, waking me up.

It wasn't long before Phil was coming over more, and they went out less. He spent the night more often than not, and a liquor cabinet I never remembered being there was suddenly always full. Renee developed a second relationship, with vodka.

For the longest time, I tried to justify my mother's behavior. I thought maybe because she'd married Charlie young, she was trying to experience the years she missed out on. I thought maybe she was trying to adapt to Phil's lifestyle, hoping to change the pattern of men that never stuck around.

Renee and I had always been close, like best friends. And I'd taken care of her, as my domestic ability grew from her lack thereof. We were an unlikely team, but we only knew how to survive with each other. Phil took that from us.

Renee stopped talking to me. Not completely, of course. But she was rarely home, and then home all the time, but wrapped up in Phil. Phil Phil Phil. She stopped asking me about school, about my hobbies. If I forgot a chore or forgot to cook, she didn't even notice - and of course, it wouldn't get done.

And then one day, for no apparent reason, Phil lost it.

He had taken to pestering me from time to time, usually when he was drunk. He'd mock me for being content to sit in my room and write in my journals or read my favorite books. He would ask why I wasn't out getting laid - right in front of my mother, and she would laugh.

One night, after she laughed, he reached around and put Renee in a choke hold and told her to never fucking laugh at him again. I could only look on in horror as he held her there for at least a minute before releasing his grip and storming out of the room. She'd fallen to her knees and just sobbed. It was the first time I'd ever seen my mother cry, and unfortunately, not the last.

Phil did similar things several more times over the last year. Usually I would leave the house when he did, thinking I'd been the one to set him off and hoping he would calm down once I was gone. The last time he'd gotten violent with Renee, I had called 9-1-1. When he realized what I'd done, he'd punched me in the back, sending me flying into the back of an old easy chair and then to the floor, face down.

After that debacle, I finally sat Renee down and told her if she wanted us to remain a team, she needed to stop drinking and lose Phil. We talked for hours, and she managed to refute all of my most important points in the conversation. For the first time I realized we were no longer close, that I'd lost her. My Renee would never in a million years try to justify a situation where we were both being physically attacked in our own home. That night, I made my first phone call to Charlie and tried to convince him to let me move in.

Tomorrow, I'll call her tomorrow, right after school. Maybe Phil will be at work.

With that decided, I washed up and changed into sweats and an old t-shirt, then climbed into bed, wiggling under the covers.

I tried to switch my mind off and fall fast asleep, but no such luck. I thought about Renee some more, but then I kept picturing Pink Pen Boy. Those eyes were mesmerizing. And his skin was pale, but I liked that too. He was really kind of ... beautiful. If he hadn't bolted, I couldn't say whether I would have been able to look away.

I shook my head then, willing those thoughts away.

He's a weirdo! I tried to convince myself. What was that all about at the end of class? I didn't even say anything! God ... I hope I didn't...

A few minutes later, I felt sleep finally taking over. I rolled over and burrowed further into my comforter, knowing I'd actually get some sleep this time. I wasn't stressing day two of Forks High anymore - I'd made a friend. Actually, I'd made a few. Maybe even more than a few, if Alice was right about Rosalie.

The last thing I remembered thinking was how I looked forward to seeing Alice again.