Author's Note: I just want to clear up that this is set about... let's say, New Moon kind of time. I mean, when all the Cullens are still in high school. I thought it would be more appropriate because I couldn't see how I was going to incorporate the character otherwise. Speaking of incorporating, this story is a stand-alone, it doesn't fit into the plot of New Moon or any other books in the series. It's OC point of view, and I'm going to need reviews to continue this on, so do get right in there with those... Thanks – Razz.
One: Florence Jean Harvey
When a seventeen year old kid rolls into the school parking lot mid-winter in a black convertible Camaro with the top down, you know something's got to be up with 'em.
She was weird. Okay – that was an understatement. She was... ethereal. Kid strolled into the reception wearing torn jeans, a studded leather jacket and had a cigarette shoved behind one ear, for God's sake. It was... ridiculous, to say the least. She was supplied with a map of the school, a timetable. The usual crap. And she was wished a lovely day, to which she retorted, "No. You have a lovely day."
Smiling that hokey smile she used for special occasions like these, the girl strolled to her new science class, handing a note to the teacher with her name scrawled across it in that ramshackle handwriting of hers.
Florence Jean Harvey it read.
Admittedly, her father had named her and her father wasn't overly creative. A combination of obsessions with Florence Nightingale and PJ Harvey kind of slapped her in the face. "We'll call her Florence Jean Harvey!"
Pure parental genius. It's like looking around the room and finding an inanimate object to name her after. It's plain lazy, is what it is.
Of course, she didn't wish to disclose her last name. It was long, complicated and embarrassing. She was the kind of young woman who would maintain her cool at all times. And that was that.
Mr Banner, her educator, smirked at the name on the scrap of paper.
I don't know if he was looking for a sock in the mouth, or what.
"Down the back," he instructed her.
And so she started the journey to the back of the classroom, to an empty desk only occupied by an acne-ridden boy with gelled black hair. As she passed down though, meeting as many awkward gazes as she possibly could, she noticed what was obviously a couple seated together at one desk. A dark haired, plain looking little lady and some kind of underwear model slash Grecian god type.
But it was the pale skin that had gotten her.
Huh, she thought to herself, so Jack wasn't lying.
Sitting obediently beside the skin problem boy, and dropping her shoulder bag on the ground and flashed him a brief, yet intimidating, grin. He didn't seem to get the message.
"Hey!" he chirped, holding out one hand, "I'm Eric."
She stared at him blankly for one moment. Oh hell. May as well make friends.
"Florence," she said, by way of introduction, shaking his hand briefly.
"So," he continued, clearly trying to strike up conversation, "where'd you hail from?"
Where'd you- where'd you hail from? Where did he think he was, the Forties?!
"Um, Ohio," Florence said, lying through her teeth. "But, I mean, my brother and I have been travelling a lot, so..." This was what she added, as if to remedy the situation. Though it could have done without it – it just encouraged him.
"Oh, really? Like, where were you travelling?"
"Oh, y'know," she said flatly, "New... yeah, New York. Places like that."
He nodded. "So, how're you liking Forks so far?"
"I... haven't seen much of it. I arrived yesterday."
"Oh, right." Then he smiled. Oh, God, she wished he wouldn't do that. "Well, I could show you around if you want." Was he this eager with everyone? "I mean, it's not a huge place, but the rez beach is pretty sweet."
"The... rez?"
"The reservation," he said, looking at her as if she was slow, "Y'know. La Push."
"Oh, oh yeah. Sure. Sometime."
He shot a smile at her again, and she replied with a weak return. Silence struck him from there until the end of class. She didn't even pay attention – I mean, she didn't need to know any of this garbage, really. It was just filler, an excuse for her to be here.
Rolling on to her next class (which happened to be English, with Eric), she noticed people stared at her. Quite a lot for the average new kid. Florence guessed that it was something about the way her black hair hung like a shade around her face, how pale and pearly her skin was and probably the cigarette stuck behind her ear. If that was visible. She couldn't think of any other reason. Not any they'd be able to figure out by looking at her, anyway.
Lunch came around, and Eric invited her to sit with his posse. Oh lord. Well, she couldn't exactly say, no thanks, I'll just mooch over to this dark corner by myself, thanks for asking. He jabbered on, saying a gaggle of names she wouldn't bother remembering, though she smiled and nodded as each one was introduced.
Though, one interesting discovery was made.
Well, well, well, Eric was pals with the apparently deathly clumsy dark haired kid and her sculpture boy. Someone who stuck out like a sore thumb, as well, was this statue kid's sister, Alice or something. She looked like a warped Tinkerbell, and sounded like one too. She made a good act of being normal, stabbing Florence with questions about Ohio and all these fictional places she'd feigned living in. Her voice was giving her a headache.
Florence noticed that Tinkerbell, Calamity Jane and the Living Statue weren't really involved as such in the general conversation. Janey and the Statue stared at each other adoringly while she occasionally nibbled on a salad, and Tink tried her hardest to be involved in the swilled chat, but failed miserably. The others weren't having it. And thinking about it, neither would Florence.
Anyway, Tinkerbell had thought she and Florence had hit it off, so they walked to History together after lunch. Florence was very good at faking interest in people, and Tink clearly liked the attention, so it was a bit of a perfect match. All Florence had to do was buy some damn earplugs so she could block out that high pitched voice.
As they sat down near the back, the perfect class-chatting set up, Florence was made feel uneasy as the attention turned toward her.
"Listen to me, going on and on about myself!" Tink said, batting a hand in the air as if to say 'oh, gee whizz' or something along those lines, "I don't know barely anything about you. Florence, right? That's such a gorgeous name. I wish I had a name like that. I wish I didn't have such a plain ol' name like Alice. Florence is such a magical name. What did you say your full name was again? I bet it's something really beautiful."
"Er... Florence Jean Harvey."
"Oh, and is Harvey your last name?" Sure, why not. Wasn't going to stop her talking. "Florence Jean Harvey. Now that's a beautiful combination. I wish I had a combination name like that..."
Blah, blah, blah. And she managed to go through the whole class like this, in a voice that was barely a whisper in itself. But, thank God, for it was that low it was easy for Florence to block it out. Man, could that girl talk. Why she didn't go into debating, I don't think we'll ever know.
Right, so, get this, I suppose there was some small part of Florence that was fascinated by her. I mean, she sure was pretty, but there was something else. She was... weird. In a genuinely weird way, not a self conceived weird way.
Florence was sure there was a lot more than just the general story... there was something else this kid had.
She was determined to find out what – which is why she jumped at the chance when Tinkerbell invited her to dinner.
"Yeah, I'd love to!" she fake-gushed on the phone to her the following night.
"Sure. I'll just check with Carlisle to see if it's alright."
"Carlisle?"
"My adoptive father."
Right. So that was chapter one. Read and review, tell us what you think. It could get well interesting, really. I have plans for it, but I'm only doing chapter 2 if you review. So get to it. And... yeah. Thanks.
