I didn't really wake up properly until I was under the tepid dribble that, at Charlie's house, counted for a shower. I stood there, waiting for the hot water to come through, and then suddenly my memories returned. Not in Phoenix. In Forks. At Charlie's. First day at a new school. I groaned. Oh crap, what am I going to wear?
I gave up on the hot water after two minutes, and focused instead on the important things: shampoo and soap. As I left the bathroom I wondered if it was normal to be shivering so much that your knees knocked together, then sighed. Not in Phoenix. Mustn't grumble, musn't upset Charlie. Besides, clothes were far more of a pressing issue. Jeans were a necessity, as a skirt would lead to hypothermia; and it was rare that a cami and a v-neck stood out. But still… what if Forks was actually really fashion forward? Or really backward?

My name is Isabella Swan, but most people call me Bella. For almost all my life, I've lived in the desert sun, in the sprawling city of Phoenix (population 4,170,000), with my mom Renee. But now I've moved to my dad's place, which is just about the opposite: the small town of Forks, Washington, population 3,200, where it rains pretty much all the time. It sounds like a strange move, but there are good reasons for it – mainly that it allowed Renee to go on the road with her new husband, Phil, a minor league baseball player. "Forks can't be that bad, can it?" I had said to Renee when I was trying to convince her that it really was the best solution for me to go and stay with Charlie.
"Don't ask me." Renee had raised not just one but both eyebrows. "We all know how long I lasted there."

But I was here now, and as I stepped out of the front door into the drizzle of what I guessed was a typical Forks day, I pulled the hood of my jacket up. "Better get used to it," I mumbled to myself as I got into my truck. The truck – a 1950s Chevy pickup – was a homecoming gift from Charlie, and kind of cool in a retro way. At least it was warm and dry in the cab, and I tried to ignore the thunderous noise of the engine as I made my way towards the school.

As I turned into the parking lot, I took a brief look around at the other students making their way towards the entrance. They looked… normal. Slightly less glamorous than those in Phoenix, but that was okay; I had never really fit in with the Mercedes crowd. It's fine, it's cool, you're wearing the right clothes, you're not going to fall over or trip in the hallways, or drop your tray in the cafeteria, or… As I edged the truck into a free parking space, the peace of the lot was shattered by a loud bang. That would be your truck, backfiring. There goes not standing out…
As I got out of the truck, my face matching the same crimson-orange of its paintwork, someone shouted across the lot. "Nice truck!" It wasn't a compliment. I looked for the source, and saw a tall, well-built guy with curly brown hair, standing with a couple of other guys. They all wore letterman jackets.
"Well, that's the dumb jock ticked off the stereotype list," I muttered under my breath. "What I want to know now is where the cheerleaders are…"

I found them just inside the main entrance, in a huddle by some lockers. One of them noticed me and nudged her friends, and they all turned to watch me walk in. I prayed that I wasn't going to perform my usual first day faceplant, and was shocked when I stayed on both feet. This meant, however, that the cheerleaders were still in my line of vision.
"Hi!" One of the girls detached herself from the group. "Are you new here?" She was tiny, barely more than five feet, with short, pixie-cut hair and incredibly dainty features. I was slightly cautious, as none of the cheerleaders in Scottsdale had ever been nice to me, but who knew? Perhaps they were different here. I put on my cheerful face.
"Yes. Could you tell me where the office is?"
"Sure. Straight down the hall, third door on the right. I'm Alice, by the way."
"I'm Bella. Thanks for the directions."
"Oh, that's alright. See you around!" And with a delicate twirl, she turned back to the group of girls, who had promptly lost all interest in me.

I moved on down the hall, and slowly relaxed a little. I wondered why I had been so worried – the kids here were perfectly normal, though admittedly they stared at me, the new girl. I found the office without difficulty, and picked up various things like my class schedule, locker combination and a map. My first class was Trigonometry, so I headed back out into the hallway to find room 215. The bell had already rung for classes and the hall was deserted. Sighing, I looked around, then dug out the map I'd been given. I scanned it for 215, but couldn't see it anywhere. The panic began to rise up inside me – first class, and you're late, you'll be in trouble, the other students will think you're retarded for not being able to find a classroom…

"Hey, can I help you?"
I was jerked abruptly from my panic attack, and spun around to find the source of the voice. Walking down the corridor towards me was a tall, slender boy with bronze hair, a book bag slung over his shoulder.
"I'm sorry?"
"Can I help you? You look a little lost." I realized suddenly that I'd been rude to someone who'd actually bothered to try to help me.
"Yeah, I am. I'm looking for room 215?" The boy nodded. I noticed suddenly that he was quite handsome, in an unconventional way; and that he had sea green eyes fringed with long, dark lashes.
"215 is upstairs. Go up the stairs at the end of this hall, turn right, and 215 is at the end of the corridor."
"Thanks. Hey, I'm Bella Swan, I'm…"
He interrupted me before I had a chance to finish my sentence. "New? Yeah, I guessed. I'm Edward Cullen." He stuck out a hand, and I shook it, feeling my face turning red. "Anyway, I should be going."
"Yes. I should actually find 215."
"See you around, Bella Swan," he grinned, and walked off down the hall. He had a guitar case over his other shoulder. Cute, and he plays guitar. Suddenly, Forks didn't seem like such a bad place, after all.