Disclaimer: the plot and characters of the Twilight series belong to Stephanie Meyer, not me. I only own my own characters and my ideas for this fic.
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"I'll pick you guys up as soon as I can. 6:15 if I can manage it. Try to be around, okay? I want to get back to Chris as soon as possible."
"Relax, Cy," Dale sighs as he scoots out of the beat-up Bronco. "She'll be fine one day on her own."
I shake my head climbing into the front seat. "We'll be here. Even if I have to tie Goldilocks to the flagpole."
Our elder brother sends me a tired smile, trying to appreciate the humor. The circles beneath his eyes are darker and deeper than they should be for someone who just turned twenty. They're almost as dark as the mess on his head and the stubble across his chin.
He brings a hand up as if to pet my hair but abruptly stops. Instead, he awkwardly pats my shoulder.
I put my hand on top of his. "One day at a time, Cy."
He nods and I follow Dale out. Raindrops instantly hit the top of my head and the metal door whines as I shut it.
Dale waits patiently beneath the Front Office's overhead shelter. A pair of girls pass and he gives them a wink and smile. His dimples mixed with the slight gap in his teeth and the freckles across his nose sends one of them into an uncontrollable fit of girlish giggles. The other turns bright red and tries to shush her friend.
He enjoys their reactions. A lot.
"Good Lord." Nearly gagging, I speed past him and open the door. "Could you at least wait until I've digested my breakfast before you start?"
A small wave of heat rushes to greet us as we enter. The room is fair sized for an office. Poster boards and flyers litter the walls and a large clock ticks loudly in the corner. Three desks sit behind the long counter dividing the room. One is vacant but the other two are occupied by older women, perhaps in their forties or fifties.
"Don't hate the love," Dale argues in a hush.
"I hate anything that involves you being a pain in my—"
"Good morning, Miss!" he cheerfully greets the woman closest to the counter, cutting off my remark. The redhead glances over the rim of her glasses and smiles.
"Good morning. Are you the Dagwood twins?"
"We're not twins," we say together. We send each other a glare. "Really?"
She chuckles quietly, hiding it much better than the woman behind her.
"I'm Amethyst," I say quickly, relieved when my brother doesn't echo me in some way, "and that's Dale."
She nods and pulls some papers from her desk. She glances at them then behind us. "Shouldn't there be three of you?"
There should be, yes, but Chris was tossing and turning throughout the night. Choking down soft sobs outside our motel room at two in the morning. She looked exhausted before even cracking her eyelids open. One look at her bloodshot baby blues and I pulled the covers back over her weary form. It surprised everyone when she didn't start cursing and swearing in protest, making it clear just how much she needed to stay in bed today.
"Chris is home sick. She hasn't been feeling well since the move."
"Oh, I see," the receptionist hums confidently. "The first day at a new school is always scary, but it's never as bad as you think it's going to be."
I chew the inside of my cheek to keep from scowling. This woman doesn't know what she's talking about. Forks, Washington is barely a pinprick on the map. I'd be willing to bet there are only three schools in the area: an elementary school, a middle school, and this high school. If there was anyone who knew how "scary" new schools could be, it was us. And after the first five, you get over it.
"I'm surprised your mother let her stay home," she continues.
Neither of us says anything. We share a glance, our thoughts one in the same. Would Mom have let her stay home? Probably. She would've made someone stay home with her too. Cy, most likely. Or herself.
Dale shrugs softly. We both know we don't have that luxury right now.
"Chrysanthemum," the receptionist mumbles, breaking our concentration. She studies my sister's paperwork. "That's not a name you see every day."
I manage a smile. If Chris heard her, the baby fat on her cheeks would turn beet red and she'd grumble behind her dark, feathery hair for the rest of the day. We all inherited Dad's gentle waves but thanks to her choppy layers, Chris's are much more prominent. They're excellent for hiding in.
Dale starts talking again. Asking about the school, the teachers, and so on as the woman begins highlighting the best routes to our classes on separate maps. He casually asks if there are any part-time jobs available in the area. She mentions a few places then points to one of the notice boards on the wall.
"That's where we put up information about after-school opportunities. It's not all jobs and some pay with extra credit so if you're looking for a little spending money be sure to read them carefully."
I debate how casually I can stroll up to the board and take one of everything without looking like a desperate, greedy monkey when she hands us our maps, schedules, and a slip of paper.
"Have each of your teachers sign those and bring them back here at the end of the day."
Ah, perfect. I'll be able to sic Dale on her then and take everything down while she's distracted. If he can flash those pearly whites once or twice in the other woman's direction too, she won't notice me either.
We catch each other's eye. He grins, already liking the plan.
The two women bid us good luck on our first day. We thank them and step back out into the elements. Glancing at our maps, our first classes are on opposite ends of the school. Well, they call it a school. It's really a cluster of brick buildings, a huge parking lot, and a sports field that could probably pass for a swamp.
It surprises me that the rainiest high school in America isn't one large schoolhouse. The buildings aren't that far apart, though, and there are a few slabs of roofing connecting them together that offer some refuge. But unless you want to walk class to class following a perfectly angular route like Pacman, they're useless. Plus everyone must try to squish under those slabs while it's raining to avoid getting wet, and who wants to deal with that nightmare?
"We could walk into the woods right now if we wanted," Dale says eying the trees around the school. "Nothing could stop us from leaving. Do you think they even have security here?"
"I don't know," I mumble giving my map one last look. "I haven't seen any golf carts."
Our last school was so large campus security drove around in repurposed golf carts. Forks High School is microscopic in comparison.
Tucking the papers into my bag, I pull out the small tinted glass bottle Mom gave me before her most recent departure. Popping off the cap, I roll the mixture onto my wrists and the warm, familiar scent drifts into the air.
My brother raises a brow. "You really think you're going to need that today?"
I shrug, rubbing my wrists together before dabbing each side of my neck. Like Mom always says: New people, new place; protection's never a waste.
Besides, this is high school. Lord only knows what kind of monsters walk amongst us here.
Dale chuckles.
By now, the parking lot is filled with cars. Our future classmates make their way to different buildings. A few of them glance our way, taking in an eyeful of the fresh meat. Dale is sure to reward all the girls who look with a smile until the first bell rings.
"Do you need me to walk you to your first class?" he asks.
"I'll be fine."
"You sure? You're not going to get lost and hurt someone?"
"The only person I ever want to hurt is you and you're ten times more likely to get lost than I am."
He laughs and ruffles my hair freely. I smack his hand away and punch his arm. Part of me wishes it was he who felt uncomfortable with me instead of Cy. Or maybe annoyed as Chris does. Anything to keep him from bugging me all the time.
But deep down I'm sort of grateful. He's the only one who ever treats me the same regardless of whether Mom's around or not. It would be wonderful if Chris and Cy could always feel as free and comfortable with me as Dale did — Head Witch or not.
Temporary Head Witch, I remind myself. It's just temporary until she comes back. Like always.
Dale's smile falters. For a moment, he looks just as vulnerable and lost as Chris. He pulls up the corners of his lips but his eyes, the same blue as hers and Mom's, don't regain their shine. He puts a hand on my shoulder.
"This is all just temporary," he echoes, then wags a finger in my face. "Remember the rules. Just because you're in charge right now doesn't mean you get to do whatever you want."
"I already know that. It's not like I break them all the time," I mumble trying to fix my hair.
It's a vain effort. Unless it's smothered in product, my hair always tends to look like I've recently stepped out of a wind tunnel. Complete with twigs on occasion. Every so often I can make the toffee colored mess appear intentional – what Dale calls my "beach-hair" look – but the frizz and the flyaways never quite disappear.
"No, you just break them most of the time."
"No more than you!"
He laughs and ruins my hair a second time as the warning bell rings. "Maybe. But I'm a thousand times more subtle than you!" I shove him into the rain. Snickering he says, "I'll see you at lunch, Sunshine."
A blast of thunder and lightning crackle across an otherwise calm sky. Some kid in the distance shrieks in surprise. Dale stops to look back at me once more, unimpressed with the display of power.
I pull up my hood, not bothering to fix my static hair. "I'll be good."
He hums, not believing me for a second, then runs off in the rain. I follow suit in the other direction and skid into my first class just as the final bell rings.
The room is a fair size. Maybe twenty-five desks total with less than twenty students to fill them. Everyone stares as I hang my raincoat on a hook beside the door. Some kids start whispering excitedly. I nervously flatten my bangs, hoping to keep them moderately restrained, then hurry to hand the teacher my note.
"Hello, sir, I'm Amethyst Dagwood. It's nice to meet you."
My teacher, an older man with large spectacles, looks down at my outstretched hand in surprise then shakes it courteously. He introduces himself as Mr. Varner and welcomes me before turning to the class.
"Students, eyes up front." The only ones not already staring are the ones whispering. They halt their conversation immediately. "We have a new student." He gestures for me to introduce myself.
"Hi, I'm Amethyst." I send the room a wave. "Uh, I was born in Maine, but we just moved here from California. This is my," I pause for the slightest moment, counting, "fourth high school so far." Someone lets out a low whistle and I grin in that direction. "I know. Crazy, right? So, yeah… I've got three siblings: one's graduated, one's sick today, and the other is probably flirting with your girlfriend as we speak."
I give the class a curt nod. There are a few chuckles as I turn back to Mr. Varner, who welcomes me again and tells me to find a seat.
A blue-eyed blond in the back-row waves and pats the empty desk beside him eagerly. The brunette in front of that seat glances over her shoulder at him then sends me a shy smile. I wouldn't normally choose to sit in the very back of a class but my grasp on math is fair enough that I decide to let it slide.
We only get through some quick introductions when Mr. Varner jumps into his lesson. My last trigonometry class was a section or two ahead of them and I'm grateful for the small buffer. Especially as the blond, Mike, leans over to continue our conversation.
"So, California, huh? I'm from Sacramento, myself."
"Neat. We were mostly down in the San Fernando Valley."
"What brings you to Forks?"
"My mom," I say simply.
"Oh, like work or something?"
I hum.
"It's one heck of a difference, right?" he continues, leaning closer. "I remember getting so sick of the rain my first month."
"I missed the rain actually. There's only so much sun a person can take."
"Really? Well if you're looking to hide from the sun, you picked the right place."
I chuckle softly and his face lights up.
"Mr. Newton—" Mike jolts upright in his chair "—while I appreciate you trying to make our newest addition feel welcome, save it for after class." A few snickers roll around the classroom at Mr. Varner's partly-suggestive, completely-disapproving tone.
Embarrassment crawls up my cheeks as Mike mumbles an apology. I turn the other way hoping to reel in the blush and avoid any more conversations. The seat to this side of me is empty, but across it sits the most stunning creature I've ever seen.
My brain cannot process him wholly. His chiseled features come to me in fragments: flawless porcelain skin, high cheekbones, pale lips. The most colorful thing about him is the wild field of bronze atop his perfect head, though the purplish shadows cradling his eyes deserve an honorable mention.
Perhaps he's fractured this way because my eyes refuse to tear away from the depths of his. They are blacker than the night sky and I get lost in them. The faintest trace of gold peeks around his pupils. An eclipse of the sun burning into my soul.
In a brief moment of escape, I see his handsome jaw lock and his white hands ball into fists. A struggle plays out in his eyes, muddled slightly by confusion. Something inside me shudders. Then it hits me.
I'm staring at him. No, not staring. I'm leaning over the aisle, wide-eyed, mouth open, like a predator who just caught the scent of the most perfect morsel in existence.
I'm not staring. I'm straight up gawking at this boy.
My mind screeches in horror: CONTROL YOURSELF, MORON!
Snapping my eyes shut, I force myself to face forward. I take a deep breath and hold the air in my lungs while fighting back a new wave of embarrassment. Eventually, my chest becomes too tight and I need to breathe again.
Carefully folding my hands in front of me, I open my eyes. Mr. Varner is still speaking. Some kids near the front are passing notes, a few others are whispering. Occasionally someone peeks over their shoulder to get another look at me, but no one else seems to have noticed my little creeper moment. Except the boy, of course. I fight the desire to look his way again.
It would be so easy, though… I could just flip my hair and glance his way. Maybe he's looking at me. In fact, he probably is. I'm new blood in a small town. Why wouldn't he be? I could flutter my eyes a bit and smile. Ask him if he knows where—
I shove the Dale-like thoughts out of my mind. It's too late, though. The damage is done. My cheeks are red again.
Something soft and wispy starts to advance on me. An invisible force circles the space around my head. I smooth down the top of my hair, trying to discreetly brush whatever it is away. It presses a little harder. Not against my head, I realize, but against my consciousness itself. The creature is pressing against the mental walls around my mind.
A small scoff escapes me.
Very easily, I focus on the energy around me and give it a surge of power. I imagine the energy radiating off my skin, forming a dome around me. It's harder than steel and pulses outward, pushing the invisible force back. It flounders then disappears.
A victorious smirk spreads across my lips, my mood instantly lifted. Too easy.
For the rest of class, I manage to keep my eyes on Mr. Varner. Whatever he says is entirely lost on me, however, because simply looking at him and not the boy to my right takes every ounce of self-control in my body. Whenever my head starts to shift in his direction I press my nails into my skin to force myself to face the board. The curious fog-like whatever-it-is comes back a few times but it gets easier to shoo away as it grows more and more frustrated.
The bell comes as a welcome relief. I grab the map from my bag and quickly throw a strap over my shoulder. Through the cloud-like haze of my bangs, I take a chance and peek at the black-eyed boy.
Now he's the one gawking.
I tilt my head up slightly in surprise, allowing us to stare openly into each other's eyes. What does he see in mine I wonder? Are they a dull and boring green? Does he akin them to jade or a foggy winter morning? The thin, splintering silver ring encompassing my irises clashes with the color. It's the Mark of an Essence but to a Norm like him, it probably just looks like some version of heterochromia.
His eyes, on the other hand, are as dark and deep as onyx. For a shade so void of color, they're quite beautiful. The gold trying to claw its way out is absolutely hypnotizing.
"—next class?"
"Huh?"
Mike stares at me, his eyes not nearly as interesting as the other boy's.
I shake my head quickly. "Sorry, what?"
He flashes a glare over my shoulder. Glancing back, I catch only a glimpse of the boy hurrying out of the room. My insides heave in disappointment. Then I realize just about everyone in the room is either staring at me or listening intently to our conversation.
"Do you need help finding your next class?" Mike asks again.
"Oh. Uh…" I glance down at my map. "Mr. Mason, building 3?"
"That's my next class," Angela, the brunette, says softly garnering my attention. She folds in on herself as she stands, making her seem small and meek despite being taller than most boys in the room. "We can walk together if you want?"
"That'd be great, actually."
We pull on our coats and head out into the drizzle. People often do a double take as I pass, surprised at the sudden fresh face. One kid even walks into a pole. There are whispers about me and my brother already. Mostly him, of course. Some poor soul is already complaining about his crush drooling over the gorgeous new boy. One girl compares him to Cullen you can actually talk to, whatever that means.
I can't help chuckling. Our arrival never causes this much commotion at a new school. Maybe a little chattering in our classes but the whole student body? Perhaps it's the size.
With less than four hundred students total, Forks is easily the smallest school we've ever transferred to. It's a pretty small town in general. New blood must be a rarity. I allow them their awe, knowing soon, like children with a shiny new toy, our novelty will disappear and they'll move on with their lives.
Mike walks as far as he can with us then invites me to sit with them and their friends at lunch with big puppy-dog eyes. Once I give him my word, he grins and rushes off in another direction.
Angela quietly leads me the rest of the way. Her nervous energy is palpable. All the eyes on me also rake over her and she isn't used to, or comfortable with, the attention. I thank her generously when we hang up our coats.
After handing Mr. Mason my slip, she introduces me to two other girls. Lauren, a blonde with green eyes and a snooty voice, and Jessica, a brunette with voluminous curly hair who's at least a foot shorter than Angela.
Once she finds out Mike invited me to lunch with them, Jessica is practically making plans for Mani Pedies and movie nights. Her eagerness is not as genuine as Mike's, nor is she as kind as Angela, but she's better than Lauren. The blonde is only passively interested in what her friends are saying and seems to find my existence tolerable at best.
I start to doubt my plans to have lunch with them but all three girls walk me to my next class despite theirs being in different buildings. Granted, my third period is almost directly across from our previous class, but I pretend they're being selfless and kind. For my own sake.
Stepping into the room, it looks like every other science lab I've been in. Long tables with black tops and walls covered with posters of periodic elements and different "fun" scientific facts. The air is filled with sterilizing chemicals and the unforgiving scent of puberty. Each table has two seats for partnered labs but only two of them are currently occupied, leaving me clueless as to where I might be placed.
I hand Mr. Banner my slip and offer him my hand. Instead of taking it or introducing himself, he plops the textbook in my hand instead. A small static surge runs between my fingertips at the snub. He instructs me to a seat near the very center of the class. My partner, if I have one, has yet to arrive.
Instead of taking a seat, I stand in the aisle and chat with my new classmates as they slowly pour in. They're all eager to hear about my life but there's only so many ways to regurgitate the same lies four hundred times and keep it interesting.
Just as the warning bell rings, a petite girl with short, wild hair comes dancing into the room. She grins and waves excitedly in my direction. My hand moves to return the gesture but I quickly look behind myself instead. With such a friendly expression I expect her to be greeting someone she knows, but no one in the class shares her jovial smile.
She slides into a seat at my table.
"Hi, lab partner!" Her big black eyes shine up at me. I'm struck by the familiar golden rays hiding behind her pupils then smile and sit beside her. She must be related to him somehow.
"Hi, lab partner." I stick my hand out. "I'm—"
"Amethyst Dagwood," she says taking my hand. Hers is as cold and smooth as stone. "I know. Everyone's talking about you. I'm Alice Cullen."
"Nice to meet you, Alice. Good things, I hope?"
"Oh, absolutely! Though your brother should really avoid flirting with Lilly Parker before her boyfriend hears about it. He could get a bloody nose and that would not end well. By the way, if you need any help at all in this class, don't hesitate to ask. I know this stuff like the back of my hand."
I chuckle. "You might regret saying that. Science is pretty much my worst subject."
"Don't worry," she says smiling. "I'm here for you. Could I see your schedule? We may have some other classes together."
She sounds very certain of this. Being at such a small school, I wouldn't be surprised if she were right. It's only third period and I'm pretty sure there are more familiar faces in this room than new ones.
She barely even looks at my schedule when I hand it to her. "We have Gym together next! My brother Edward has it then, too. And my sister Rosalie has Drama with you after lunch. I'm sure we'll all get along great!"
I can't help laughing. Her enthusiasm is contagious. "Does this brother of yours have light reddish-brownish hair by any chance?"
She nods, her smile getting even larger as she leans in closer. Then she freezes. She jolts back suddenly, her eyes shocked and surprised. I raise a brow and open my mouth to ask if she's alright but she jumps to answer my previous question as if nothing had happened.
"Yes, that was Edward." Her eyes flicker down to my schedule as she returns it to me. "You have Trig together with Mr. Varner first period."
For the entirety of class, Alice helps me take notes by translating just about everything Mr. Banner says into plain English. Every so often she looks off into space as though checking on something, then a second time like she's trying to make sense of a confounding puzzle. Before I can comment, she always returns to the present and explains whatever nonsense Mr. Banner is futilely trying to shove into my brain.
Once the bell rings, there's no doubt in my mind Alice is going to get me the highest grade I've ever gotten in a science class. Assuming we stay in Forks long enough to even get report cards, of course.
She leads me to the gym, the largest of the school's buildings, and introduces me to Coach Clapp. Like most gym teachers I've had, he's got more fat on him than muscle. He is kinder than others though and gives me the option of sitting out my first day. I politely decline as he hands me my new uniform.
By the time I finish changing and get back to the gym, everyone's being split into teams for indoor soccer. Alice sends me a wave from across the gym but Coach Clapp places me on another team. I return the wave before joining my group.
Lauren is there. Not being on a first name basis with anyone else, I go to her side and say hello.
"Are you any good at soccer?" She doesn't seem to care either way.
"Good enough, I guess. Anyone I should watch out for?" I ask scoping out the other team.
My eyes instantly latch onto the same boy from Trig. My brain stutters a moment, shocked to see him, before quickly shaking off its stupor.
Of course he's here. Alice said we all share Gym.
"Samantha Butler's pretty brutal," Lauren says somewhere at my side, "but she's on our team so whatever. Those boys over there," I follow her finger, "Kyle and Zac, tend to get really into it, especially with her, so keep an eye out. Also, just avoid Edward Cullen if you can."
As if he knows we're talking about him, Edward's head turns in our direction. I quickly give Lauren my full attention. I already stared at him obnoxiously in one class. If he caught me doing it again he might think I was some weird stalker.
Lauren has different plans. She pulls me a little closer and glances his way. She waits until Coach blows his whistle to start the games then points out the handsome boy.
"That's him. The pale, gorgeous one." Nearly everyone in Forks is sun-deprived but it's still obvious to whom she's referring. Edward's skin is lighter than any I've ever seen.
"Ah." He drifts over to the net pulling a bright, loose sleeveless shirt over his gym uniform. "That one."
She groans. "Of course they made him goalie."
"Is he that good?"
She shrugs. "He can be. Most of the time he doesn't seem to care but you never know. It's just best to stay away from him if you can."
"Lauren! Amethyst!" Coach Clapp calls. "C'mon, girls! Get in the game!"
Several people pass me the ball out of courtesy but I never get close enough to the net to try and score. Samantha Butler, a girl with bright blue hair pulled into a high braid, plows through everyone in her way. She gets really into it with one of the boys Lauren pointed out before.
Somehow, despite desperately trying to avoid them, I end up caught in the middle and squashed on the floor.
"Penalty kick!" someone shouts. "Penalty kick for the new girl!"
Everyone fans out along the sides of the net while I move to stand in front of it. Edward looks straight at me, as does everyone, but he's much too far for me to see his eyes properly and get stuck again.
In fact, from this distance, I'm not entirely sure why I got stuck in the first place. Sure, he's drop-dead gorgeous, but my brothers are good looking too. Thanks to them, I'm desensitized to handsome boys. I know firsthand how gross and annoying they can be when no one else is around. Up until now, that knowledge has helped me deter fanciful crushes on boys too good looking to be true.
The same has to be true with Edward. He's handsome, no denying that, but he's still human. Very soon I'll get used to his attractive features and be able to see the imperfect individual underneath. Especially if I end up being friends with his sisters.
Sisters will gladly give all the dirty details needed to knock their dumb brothers down a few pegs. I should know. I do it all the time.
Though, a small voice in the back of my head mulls, that could just make it worse. Isn't it our imperfections that make us who we are? Certain flaws could even be endearing. Maybe he snorts while he laughs or sticks out his tongue when he's focused. What if I like him more for his imperfections?
On the contrary, what if his imperfections are something unforgivable? Maybe he chews with his mouth open. Or worse, he could be an unholy demon who insists on pineapple pizza like Chris and Dale. Gasp! What if he doesn't like pizza at all? Blasphemer! How could I ever fall for such a man?
My stomach protests. It's too close to lunchtime to be thinking about food. Especially pizza.
Sending Edward a small scowl – how dare he possibly not like pizza – I carefully set the ball in place and take several steps back. He gives me an odd look.
My eyes flicker between the left and right side of the net while I decide where to aim. Obnoxiously, the same invisible force from Trig starts circling my head again. Prodding at my mind, it requests entrance. An annoyed huff escapes me before I thrust the creature away and set my eyes on the right-hand corner of the net.
Edward's face scrunches a little. What the hell? Even the crease in his brow looks sculpted.
What if he doesn't have any imperfections? the same little voice asks.
Maybe that's his imperfection. He's not human. There. Case closed.
I take a running start at the ball. Edward shifts to the right. Still staring that way, I pull my leg back and kick as hard as I can. Edward realizes instantly what I've done. Instead of the right-hand corner I'd been staring at, the ball whizzes forward and curves to the left. A look of surprise crosses his face as he moves to correct himself.
His arm shoots out to block it. For a fraction of a second, his body seems to dart to the other goalpost. The movement's so fast his body blurs. Then, as if he hadn't moved at all, he's back where he was, staring like a stone as my trick-shot hits the net.
I do a double take. I could've sworn I saw him fly to the left but it's like he barely took a single step.
His eyes fly to mine so wide in surprise he nearly looks panicked. Like an animal backed into a cage, two breaths away from lashing out. My instincts kick in and adrenaline shoots through my limbs. Everything in me screams to run, get away. Raise a shield. Throw a lightning bolt. Run. Now!
"Nice one, Amethyst!" Samantha Butler says slapping my shoulder, breaking my frenzied thoughts. "Not too many people can get past him when he's actually trying."
I sputter out a thanks. A bunch of other kids come around me, too. Congratulating me on getting past Edward's defenses and introducing (and reintroducing) themselves.
Regaining a level head, I swiftly dismiss my unwarranted panic. Run away? From what? Some kid I surprised with a trick-shot? Ridiculous. Expose myself and my family because I threw a boy off his game in gym class? Even more ridiculous.
"That was an excellent shot," Samantha continues. "Do you play at all?"
"Just with my siblings sometimes. We all play pretty dirty, though."
Coach Clapp calls the games to an end and we start migrating towards the locker rooms.
"I'm Sam by the way," she says walking next to me.
"Nice to meet you, Sam. I like your hair."
She smiles. "Thanks. I've been dying it since I was 12. Hey, do you want to eat lunch with me and my friends?"
"Oh, that's—"
"She's already eating lunch with me, Butler." Lauren brushes up to my side. "You promised, remember, Amethyst?" she says with a sweet smile.
"Er… Yeah, I remember." I thought she didn't care either way about my existence. Maybe the aloofness is just a cover for her shyness. As soon as the words leave my mouth, however, her kindness is replaced by smugness and then indifference. Maybe she just doesn't like having things taken from her.
The gym and locker rooms are attached to the cafeteria by a long hall. Lauren and I are two of the first to go through the lunch line. None of the food looks particularly appetizing, not even the pizza, but I take a slice and hope for the best. If it's terrible I might be able to forgive Edward for possibly disliking pizza.
In no time at all, the lunchroom fills with students, as does our table. Jessica hurries to take the seat next to me, looking a little out of breath. Soon Angela, Mike, and a few others join us, including a boy from my Bio class named Tyler.
"Word on the street is you got a goal past Edward Cullen," he says taking a seat.
"He was going easy on me," I insist. "Is that what people consider newsworthy in Forks?"
"It's a small school," he grins. "I'm guessing you've already heard all about the Cullens."
"They seem nice. I haven't met the third one yet."
"Third one?" Jessica sends a glance around the table.
"Yeah, Rosaline? Rosalie? Alice said we have the same 5th period."
"Technically there's only three Cullens, but there's actually five of them," Mike explains.
At my confusion, he gestures for me to look past him. Doing so gets me an eyeful of the most painfully immaculate group of people I have ever seen in my life.
The first I notice is Edward – because it's impossible not to notice him first – but my attention is quickly taken by the huge guy next to him. He's as big as a grizzly bear, hair dark and curly, with muscles so large he could probably crush my head using just his fingertips. The beautiful blonde he has his arm around must be Rosalie and—damn. It's a kick in the teeth just to look at her. She has a face and body that could—should only exist in Photoshop. Yet here she is in all her glittering splendor. Destroying the self-confidence of girls everywhere one breath at a time.
Alice sits beside her looking small and pixyish. They don't look alike at all, one tall and blonde the other tiny and dark haired. She's not as outlandishly gorgeous as her sister either but still extraordinarily beautiful. She holds the hand of the last boy. Unlike Grizzly, he's muscular but lean. His wavy honey-blond hair falls over his eyes as he stares intently at the table before him.
"Oh. Five. How 'bout that?" I pause, staring at Rosalie again. "I think my self-esteem just got sucker punched."
"You get used to it," Angela says in a sympathetic voice.
My eyes round back to Edward. Of all the guys, he's the most boyish looking. Thin and somewhat lanky, perhaps a hair shorter than the one beside Alice. Is he the youngest? He and Alice are both in my grade, so it must be one of them. He's certainly the best-looking of the bunch, which is saying something. No, wait. The soul-crushing pain in my gut says that's Rosalie. He's the best-looking boy of the bunch.
All five of them are as pale as the moon with purple crescents under their near-black eyes. Their faces, all of their features, are perfectly shaped and angular. But beyond that, they look nothing alike.
They're in the middle of a spirited discussion, speaking quickly with their food untouched. Edward shakes his head. An annoyed, nearly disgusted look rests on his face. His lips move so fast it's a wonder his siblings can follow what he says at all. Yet Grizzly responds with the same speed followed by Rosalie, whose face hints at offense.
Alice shakes her head at them. Her eyes flicker my way as she speaks and she catches me staring. She pauses, considers me for a fraction of a second, then gives me a friendly smile. The boy beside her takes notice and looks as well. The conversation at their table comes to an abrupt halt as all five of them set their gaze on me.
Whoops. A small blush crawls up my cheeks. Busted.
My instincts tell me to hide or turn away. Don't look them straight in the eye! part of me screams, but my curiosity insists on staring right back.
The Cullens' regard for me varies as vastly as their appearances. Alice seems warm and eager but the boy beside her is cautious at best. Rosalie looks haughty and disgruntled while Edward's brow wrinkles in frustrated bewilderment. Save for Alice, Grizzly's face is the most… accepting of the group. Confused and somewhat skeptical but accepting nevertheless.
Either way, I send the group a quick smile and wave. A few of them share fleeting glances and words between themselves before slowly returning to their conversation. Their lips move at a slower, normal pace. Edward doesn't move.
He sends me a hard look. The furrow in his brow deepens and his pale lips form a thin line. He studies me intently, trying to crack a code on my face I wasn't previously aware of. It's a bit unnerving but I don't let myself turn away. In fact, I start to scowl, too. If he's the kind of guy whose pride gets so utterly wounded over a simple soccer goal, this pointless, mild attraction I feel towards him is going to die even sooner then I'd hoped.
He tilts his head a fraction of an inch, curiosity taking a greater hold on him. His frown softens slightly, inspiring mine to do the same, which only seems to confuse him further.
Once more, that persistent, curious force that's been following me all day returns. I shut my eyes to it, and Edward's gaze, and shake my head to dismiss it. It presses harder against my consciousness. Scrunching my face, I swat at the space in front of me. A wave of energy surges from my hand. It manages to knock the fog-creature back to… wherever it hides when it's not bothering me.
I pull out my tinted glass bottle and reapply the mixture to my wrists and neck. The force doesn't seem malevolent but it is annoying. Perhaps this will help to keep it at bay. I nearly dab some onto my temples but decide against it. Norms don't put "perfume" on their temples.
"Wait," Jessica says in sudden realization. "You've actually, like… spoken to the Cullens?"
"Only Alice. She's my lab partner."
Going back to the original conversation, my brain tries to wrap around the possibility of having five children in a short enough timespan for all of them to go to high school together. Then again, seeing them side-by-side, the only ones with any kind of kindred features are the blonds — and even that's pushing it. Plus a few of them seem a little… close.
"Are they like… how are they all related?"
"Rosalie and Jasper are twins. Mrs. Cullen's their aunt or something and fosters them. The rest are all adopted. And they're all together. Like, together together."
"Ah." That explains it.
I ignore her baiting and focus on what's really important in life: food. Taking a bite of my pizza, I consider how much food my family can go through in a week with just four teenagers. Well, technically three now that Cy's 20 but whatever. His appetite hasn't changed so he still counts. I can't even imagine having another mouth to feed. Especially if that mouth were connected to a body as big as Grizzly's.
My face pulls back in horrific realization. "Their grocery bill must be through the roof!"
A loud, raucous laugh comes from the direction of the Cullen table and a few people glance curiously their way. I turn just in time to see Rosalie whisper something harshly to Grizzly, who's not even trying to contain himself. The others smile then roll their eyes or shake their heads.
"I heard," Jessica says in a cattier tone than before, demanding my attention return to her, "that Mrs. Cullen can't have kids and that's why she and Dr. Cullen adopt so many."
"So?" I ask sharply. "What's that got to do with anything?"
She flounders a moment, not expecting the sudden bite in my words. "Well… I mean… Don't you think that's weird?"
"Only as 'weird' as your apparent obsess—"
Lauren seizes my shoulder, cutting off my sharp retort. "Is that your brother?" she asks in awe.
Ah, yes. Que the choir of angels. My brother strolls up to our table, dazzling smile in place. He introduces himself to the boys first, then the girls, giving me time to cool down.
"It's very nice to meet you all. I hope you're taking good care of my sister?"
"Oh, absolutely!" Lauren gives me a friendly squeeze and leans closer to me. There's more energy and emotion in her voice than I've heard all day. "She's so sweet."
"Yeah!" Jessica jumps in. "I'm so glad she agreed to sit with us."
"I am, too. Otherwise, I might not have had the chance to meet you all." Dale winks and I swear every girl in the room swoons.
Me? I gag.
He chuckles at my response. "Don't worry, sister mine." He ruffles my hair. "You're still prettiest in my eyes."
I swat his hand, scoffing. "Clearly you haven't seen Rosalie Cullen yet."
"Actually her last name is Hale and I have. Alas, she's already found her true love, but so long as she is happy my misery matters not."
"Go spout bad poetry somewhere else."
"Or stay!" Jessica pleads. "I love poetry!"
I roll my eyes. She'd been complaining about it earlier in English.
"Would you like to join us for lunch?" Lauren asks. "I'm sure your twin wouldn't mind."
I scowl at her. It isn't her fault, but it bothers me to no end when we're lumped together as twins. We hardly look anything alike.
Dale's nearly blond, the gentle wave of his hair always perfectly in place. His figure is taller and sharper than mine. If he didn't put so much effort into his appearance and charm, some might call him gangly. Meanwhile, my untamable hair is a light but undeniable brown and my body is altogether average in height and frame. Though I know my appearance is by no means monstrous, comparing me (or anyone else) with Dale's glamour is just laughable.
Except maybe the Cullens.
The Cullens might be the only group of people I've ever seen who are actually more good-looking than Dale. They probably don't use magic to look so good either, which gives them an added bonus.
"We're not twins. We've got nine months between us." Dale and I halt, wisely keeping our mouths shut.
It's one thing to say a sentence or two together… People think it's a funny, ironic coincidence. They brush it off and chuckle as my tablemates do now. But getting trapped in each other's words for ten sentences? Twenty? Our current record of one hundred and thirty-six? People start staring. Start whispering. Start considering explanations they'd otherwise call crazy.
"Thanks for the invite, Lauren," he says kindly, making sure it's something I can't echo, "but I'm already sitting with some of my own friends today. I just came to check on, Sunshine."
I stick my tongue out at him. He ruffles my hair again.
"Tomorrow maybe?" Angela asks shyly.
He grins. "Who am I to refuse the chance to see such beautiful smiles again?"
The girls giggle hopelessly as he winks and walks away. I groan and roll my eyes. All the guys at the table do the same.
I raise my juice to them, a toast, "Welcome to Hell, boys," and take a swing. "Well, this has been a swell time, gang," I gather my bag and tray, "but I ought to be on my way."
"Hang on!" Jessica says quickly grabbing her things. "You said you've got your fifth period with Rosalie, right? Drama? That's my next class, too!"
"Oh." I try not to grimace. "Goodie."
If she notices my lack of enthusiasm, she doesn't say anything. Though I doubt she notices anything right now. She's got that far away look most girls get after talking to Dale for the first time.
"He's sooo cute."
"Uh huh."
"Like… unbelievably cute."
"Sure."
"And so approachable! I mean, the Cullens are gorgeous, of course, but you can't actually talk to any of them. Dale is so…" She sighs wistfully then giggles. "Charming."
You'd think a person would get used to girls gushing about their brother nonsensically but it's still as awkward and uncomfortable as always. He really needs to tone his glamour spells down a notch or two before he starts doing some serious brain damage.
Jessica manages to lead us to the correct classroom on autopilot. I consider making an excuse to run to my locker so I don't have to sit next to her and listen to her gab for the next hour, but she'd probably just save me a seat. Not only am I the new girl, I'm the "charming" new boy's beloved little sister. To girls like Jessica, that practically makes me royalty.
Thankfully Mrs. Taylor asks me to stand at the front of the class to introduce myself once the bell rings. As expected, however, Jessica keeps the seat next to her empty and sends daggers at anyone who even looks at it.
There are fewer desks in this room than most of my classes. Maybe fifteen. Maybe. They're smaller than regular desks as well. Just enough surface area for a single notebook. I know from previous experience that the table pieces can be folded down, turning the mini-desks into simple chairs. That leaves plenty of room for the "stage" at the front of the room – a large platform maybe eight inches off the ground. Mrs. Taylor has a director's chair to the left of it and the podium she's currently standing behind to the right.
The warning bell rings and Rosalie steps gracefully into the room. Unperturbed by Jessica's glare – which gets less and less intimidating the closer the blonde gets – she takes "my" seat. Jessica's face falls dramatically and I have to turn around and chomp down on my lip to hide my laughter.
Mrs. Taylor gives me a very brief introduction before offering me the floor. I introduce myself in a similar fashion as earlier, amending it slightly to name a few of my favorite theatrical productions. Most are musicals and I'm pleased when Mrs. Taylor hasn't heard of two of them. After giving a brief synopsis both, she releases me to find a seat.
Of the fifteen or so mini-desks in the room only three remain. One is in the back, beside a group of girls who might be seniors and look like the type to be completely besotted with Dale. Another is beside one of the boys who nearly flattened me in gym. The last is on the other side of Rosalie Hale.
"You're Rosalie, right?" I offer her my hand. "I'm Amethyst."
"I know who you are." She shakes it lightly, somewhat aloof. Her skin is as cold, pale, and firm as Alice's. "You're that flirt's sister."
"Ah, yes. My favorite reputation: that flirt's sister. Please tell me he didn't try to confess his undying love for you in the hall. He has zero self-control when he sees pretty girls."
A small smile finds its way to her face. She forces it down. "No. It was during English class."
"Oh, jeez," I groan. "Sorry. His pea-brain probably short-circuited when he saw you."
She fights another tiny smile and shrugs. "That's fine. I think more people should fall to their knees and recite sonnets when they see me."
I snort. "I'm sure Dale will gladly do so for as long as you let him." Alice's warning about him getting a bloody nose rings in my head. "Was your boyfriend mad when he heard?"
"Actually, he was sitting right next to me when it happened."
My face drains. "You're kidding." I try to imagine my beanpole of a brother running from a pissed off Grizzly. Despite his long legs, the scene does not end well for him.
"No, but once he realized I was spoken for he told Emmett a woman such as myself should be worshiped and that he'd be very sorry if he ever heard I was being treated otherwise."
We both scoff, finding the threat laughable. True, we have some tricks up our sleeves, but only my idiot brother would say something that dumb to the face of someone that much bigger than him.
"Please tell me Emmett has a good sense of humor?"
"He found the whole thing hilarious."
I shake my head and mumble in thanks. The last thing we need is Dale's obsession with love and beauty to procure a hospital bill.
Rosalie and I continue to chat on and off during class. It's a bit disappointing we aren't hitting it off like I assumed we might, but it's not from a lack of trying on my part. For whatever reason, she's quite set on not being anything more than polite with me. She forces herself to scowl whenever I make a quip and keeps judging me silently from the corner of her eye.
With a slightly bitter look on her face, she casually asks if I like to dance.
"Oh, I love dancing. I dance with my siblings all the time."
She scans lazily through her notebook. "Do you waltz?"
That throws me for a second. Waltzing's not usually the first thing people suggest. Usually it's ballet or tap dancing or, in the case of some boys, something more provocative.
She glances over at me, a curious and critical glimmer in her not-quite-black eyes. For not being related, the Cullens sure do have a lot of interesting little traits that tie them together.
"Yes, actually," I say slowly. "Dale and I taught each other when we were younger. He wanted to impress a girl," she isn't surprised, "but we tend to dance more in sync with each other than with other people. Why do you ask?"
She returns to flipping through her notebook, trying to act indifferent. "No reason."
I don't believe her but can't fathom why anyone would need to hide why they were asking about waltzing. Who even knows how to waltz these days? Is she embarrassed to talk about something most people our age consider old-fashioned?
"Do you know how to waltz, Rosalie?"
She nods, not lifting her gaze from the paper.
"Do you and Emmett waltz together?"
For once, she does not fight her smile. Her face melts with her memories. She and Emmett must have something special. I don't think I've ever seen someone look that deeply in love before. Not outside a Hollywood film anyway. It makes her beauty even more painfully apparent and my self-esteem gets pummeled into the dirt.
"Sometimes we do." She whispers it like a secret close to her heart. One she would shout to the high heavens if it weren't so precious.
I smile, her happiness infectious. "Is he any good?"
She nods, still smiling, and giggles. "Now he is. He was atrocious when I first taught him."
I chuckle as well, imagining big ol' Grizzly trying to waltz for the first time. I choose my next words carefully, making sure not to lump him in with her siblings. Lord only knows how awkward it must be to explain to people, like Jessica for instance, that dating each other was in no way wrong or immoral. A bit strange, sure, but not wrong.
"Do any of your siblings know how to waltz? Like Edward or—"
Rosalie snaps her head in my direction, scornful eyes ablaze. The sudden shift in her demeanor twists her from divine to demonic. I yelp at the sight and tumble out of my seat.
Everyone's eyes are on me in an instant. A handful of people snicker. Mrs. Taylors asks if I'm alright.
"Y-Yeah. Just… thought I saw a spider."
A few of the girls sitting closest to me shoot out of their seats shrieking, demanding to know where. Mrs. Taylor tries to calm them while others in the class roll their eyes. Some even shout for them to shut up and mock them for freaking out.
Amidst the chaos, the bell rings and Rosalie strides out without so much as a glance in my direction. I slip out as well and hurry towards my last class of the day.
Dale and I cross paths as he heads to Mrs. Taylor's room. Surrounded by a gaggle of girls, it's a wonder he even has the time to notice me and wave. Rather than return it, I shake my head at him. He'll tone it down soon enough, I know, but the first few weeks at a new school are always annoying as hell. He takes his first impressions very seriously no matter how short a time we might stay somewhere.
There's an abundance of familiar faces in Government. Samantha, with her blue hair, is the easiest to recognize. After turning in my note to Mr. Jefferson, I sit beside her. She introduces me to the boy from drama who nearly trampled me in gym, Zac, and their friend Kyle, who also tried to trample me in gym. Eventually, Tyler comes in and sits with us as well.
Government does not hold my attention as well as a proper history class might. Especially not with Sam and Kyle debating everything Mr. Jefferson says and Zac and Tyler chatting with me the entire time. I try to keep up with them but my focus is back on Rosalie and her harsh reaction.
I run our conversation through my head six, seven times. She and I got along on some level. That seems to be her biggest issue with me somehow. When we found something we both enjoyed, something most high schoolers don't have an interest in, I thought maybe I could convince her to move past that. But the look she gave me… I shudder at the memory of it.
An image of the Cullens staring me down at lunch resurfaces. Confused, cautious, curious… Rosalie looked huffy then, too. Was that when she decided not to like me? Edward was also upset about something. I thought it was leftover pettiness from the soccer game but maybe it was something else. Maybe he's decided not to like me as well.
I shake my head at the thought. Why does it even matter? I haven't even spoken to him yet. If Edward Cullen chose not to like me before even properly meeting me then that's his problem, not mine. In fact, it would help with my problem of forming the beginnings of an improbable, inexcusable crush on him.
We decided a long time ago that I'm too dangerous for that kind of nonsense. All it would do is give malicious forces another weakness to expose. Either they would hurt the person I cared about to get to me or I would get hurt or killed and they would be powerless to stop it. For me, being in a relationship like that could only ever end in tragedy.
Even so, the thought of him disliking me is hard to swallow. There's something about him I can't quite put my finger on. The eyes are the window to the soul and we couldn't tear ours away from each other. Doesn't that mean something?
Leaning back in my seat I consider the possibility of destiny and fate. Is it possible Edward and I were meant to meet? That our eyes locking has opened a new world of possibilities? Is Fate finally smiling down on me?
I scoff quietly. Yeah, right.
Fate is never kind to me. My fate was to be born into a family of magic, have too much magic, be hunted for it, and die. My whole life, and the lives of everyone around me, revolves around fighting that last part for as long as possible.
The universe would only ever present me a handsome stranger to taunt and distract me. To flaunt what I can never have. If a boy ever truly gave me his heart, he'd be signing himself away to suffering and Death. And that's just not fair. Just because I'm going to die doesn't mean anyone else has to.
Kyle says something and the whole class teeters. Resigned to my end, I force a hollow laugh and remove all thoughts of Edward Cullen from my mind forevermore.
.
.
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