It was early March. The heat and sounds of the sunny afternoon outside was creeping in the class through the rolled up blinds and half-open windows. I stretched and yawned. Ms. Denyali was continuing to cruelly butcher the English literature. Don't get me wrong, I love English. It is something I apparently inherited from my late mother, Kate Cullen. From Jonathan Swift to Kurt Vonnegut, naughty Miller to the impossible Joyce, I devoured them all. My father had kept her books, which now decorated two entire walls in our living room, and I practically grew out picking myself reads from her collection. But when this woman opened her mouth, I just wished we all spoke Korean and saved ourselves the trouble.

It didn't help that this was the last period before lunch.

Just as I was lusting over the all so delicious(insert sarcasm) school food that waited for me in less than 20 minutes, I saw something white and blurry pass through my vision and land right on my desk. As I picked the note up, I turned to the right where my best friend, as predicted, was seated two chairs away. Jasper cast me a crooked grin, his signature crooked grin- to be precise- and urged me to read the note with a wiggle of his eyebrows. I gave him a look in return and unfolded the paper.

Bored, Cullen?

I rolled my eyes and picked up my pen to scribble hastily.

What do you think, Sherlock?

I heard his low chuckle as he dipped his head to read my reply. Two seconds later, the paper was resting on my lap again.

You hurt my inquiry-loving, suspense-seeking alter ego, Nessie. Now apologize.

Get a hobby.

I already do. It's called getting an eye-roll from this copper haired chick every 30 seconds.

Get another.

I have another. It's called bothering my best buddy.

Get another best buddy then.

Absolutely out of question. I am content with the current one.

Only content? Look who is hurting egos now.

Jasper looked up and gave me a half-shrug with his hands in the air as if to indicate he was only being honest but his eyes were mischievous. I requested him to throw the paper back.

I absolutely loathe this period. Even the syllabus is full of shit. It requires an unprecedented lack of literary appreciation to bring together such crappy reading lis-

I was yet to type my last letter when the paper was scratched from my hands by a vicious, painted one.

"Mind if I take a look at this?" The witch herself asked in an icy voice, standing there with my note.

"I actually do." I panned.

"Too bad," She mused in reply, her eyes scanning over the paper and soon narrowing. Jasper was watching us in concern.

"Tell your father to meet me at my office tomorrow."

I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face.

"Fine."

My father is great. Well, what I see of him, anyway. See, Edward Cullen is a very busy person, being a surgeon and whatnot. He has always been so, but he was obliged to be more present- perks of being a single parent- until recently. But then I grew up into a semi-adult who preferred the company of her buddies over that of a parent, which seemed to be okay with him, and soon he was absorbed back into the crazy hospital duties. As of late, we were kind of distant. As distant as Cullens get.

So when I say he was irritated with the news of the exchange between Ms. Denyali and me that day earlier in the class, I don't mean to overlook his usual level of coolness. As cool as parents get. But boy, was he unreasonably annoyed.

We were having lasagna –which grandma Esme had sent earlier- in our kitchen bar when I decided to break the news.

And I had strategized well. When he got back from work, I didn't greet him from my seat by the television with a not-so-bothered wave and instead went to the door. He did not notice. Must have been tired. So I pecked his cheek and gave him the not so resistible Reneesme Cullen smile.

"Howdy, handsome."

This got his attention. Teenage Nessie was rarely playful any more I suppose (witty, yes; sarcastic, yes; moody, yes; playful, no). His green eyes lit in amusement and he gave me a half-hug which meant tucking me under one arm.

"Evening, love. How was your day?"

"The usual. Daydreaming in class, choking on school food in the cafeteria, reading a book as I waited for Jasper's practice to end."

"Sounds like my girl. I'll just go get changed then we can make some dinner." He said as he made his way to the stairs.

"No need, grandma stopped by and left some lasagna a few hours ago. I'll just heat it up."

He paused on the trail, and looking both grateful and tired. He did work himself out in the hospital.

"I love that woman."

"Ditto."

We were happily seated in our two-person kitchen with our lasagnas and apple juices ten minutes later. I waited for the food to settle in Daddy's stomach and for that content sigh he made when he was well-fed before I spoke.

"So dad..."

"Hmm.."

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

He gave me a funny look, raising an eyebrow. I wore that cynic expression myself so many times to miss it. Instead, I chose to ignore.

"What do I do on a Thursday?" He repeated.

"Well okay, what time do you get off work?" I amended.

"Around the usual. Why?"

I casually took a bite off my food and chewed on it in no hurry. When I swallowed it down, I shrugged nonchalantly.

"My English teacher wants to see you."

Damn my father and his psychic ways. The man read people like a book, I swear he did. He gave me that look and I knew he knew exactly what was up. He still wanted me to tell him. He always did.

"Why does he want me to see him?" He asked calmly, not taking his eyes off of my face. I scratched the back of my head nervously. This wasn't a first for us. My father had gone to my school before, because I might have given Ms. Denyali trouble more than a couple of times (It should be noted that I would rather call it calling her out on her shit); but he still didn't remember it was a she and not a he.

"Ms. Denyali and I had a disagreement in the class." I replied with a poker face.

He wasn't pleased. He pinched the bridge of his nose and put his fork on the table before sitting back with an exasperated sigh.

"Nessie…"

"I know, dad… It was nothing! Absolutely no reason to have you come all the way to my school. I wasn't disrespectful or anything. Outwardly anyway."

"What does that mean?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. Always the eyebrow.

"I was expressing my thoughts about her class in a totally private manner, not interrupting the class in any way."

"You mean you were passing notes." Oh uh. I suppose I'm not the only Cullen good at calling people on their shit.

"Well… Technically, yes..."

Dad gave me this look, the slightly disappointed look that always made me feel bad. I wasn't a bad student, not even close. Most of my classes were A-s if not B+s. This thing with Ms. Denyali, however, was recurring over the past two years and it had my father convinced I was this badass teenage rebel person in school. My choice of words the witch loved to recite to him weren't very helpful either. On the other hand, everyone hated or opposed her to some degree and it seemed like she singled out me to dish her crap on. Well, I can't really sit back and take that, can I?

"I really have to try hard to clear my schedule and that puts me in a difficult situation."

"I'm sorry daddy."

I meant it. I was sorry I put him under a burden when he tried so hard.

He watched my face for a second, searching something, before giving me a tired smile and messing my hair affectionately. He got up with his plate in his hands and went to the sink. He returned to the table soon and gave my cheek a kiss along with a squeeze on my shoulder.

"I'm going up to catch up on some sleep. Night, love."

"Night dad. I'm really sorry."

He waved off my apology and walked out.

The next morning father was gone before I got up. I pulled my hair up in a messy bun and slipped on a pair of old tight jeans with my favorite flannels. I didn't wear makeup. I wasn't a girly girl, but I liked to think I had my own kind of femininity, one that didn't necessarily have survival of the species connotations. I respected myself too much for appealing to unsuspecting kids' fornication instincts on a daily basis.

On the honk of Jasper's car, I grabbed my tom's shoes, kissed my Morrison poster goodbye and hurried downstairs. No breakfast for me besides apple again. I grabbed two of them on my way out. Jazz was seated with his hand on the wheel, looking up from under his sunglasses.

"Come on, Ness!" He urged me as I locked the door. We carpooled since we got our licenses. I cared about the environment and Jasper liked riding with me, so it suited us both.

Two seconds later, I was in the car.

"Morning to you too charmer." I replied sarcastically, checking out my reflection in the mirror and running my fingers under my eyes in inspection. Jasper looked over and raised an eyebrow.

"Sleepless night with steamy hot sex again?"

I chuckled and reached out to turn on the music. "You know it. I just can't seem to keep those pants on."

Jasper joined in my laugh.

"No really, why didn't you get your sleep?"

I shrugged, slightly tapping my foot to the music. "I practiced the new song."

Jasper gasped and turned to look at me. "Without me?"

"Keep those eyes on the road."

He ignored me as he feigned hurt. "Why would you do that?"

"Because douchebag, you know you're better than me, I wanted to be ready for our session."

"Nonsense. You're a great player."

"Jazz! Look at the road for fuck's sake."

He gave me a grin in response and reached to tug at my pony before he slowly turned his gaze back to the road.

"Oh, I was meaning to ask. How did it go with Edward?" He asked after a few seconds.

"Fine, he's agreed to see her. But you know how daddy gets after meeting up with Denyali. He all but asked me if I did drugs the last time. I wonder what she's feeding him."

Jasper chuckled as he pulled up to his spot. "Don't worry. Your father's still in the unhealthy delusion that you are a good kid."

"I AM a good kid."

"Coulda fooled me."

I undid my belt, rolling my eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

Jasper followed suit but remained in his seat. Humor has left his face and he looked concerned and very young.

"What are you doing tonight, Nessie?"

I paused with my hand on my bag. "Hanging out in the Reservation, why?"

Reservation was a bar a few miles away from Fork by the beach in La Push. I usually went there a few times a week after school.

Jasper didn't say anything but stared forward. I insisted; "Why, Jazz?"

"I'm gonna come along with you."

"You hate it in La Push."

"Yeah, well. I don't want you to go by yourself."

I opened the door and stepped out. "We're not having this conversation again."

"If you don't want to, we won't. I'm just coming along."

"You're just doing it because why? Jared or Paul is dangerous? That's the stupidest thing ever."

"I don't trust them, Nessie. They are bad news. They smoke all kind of fucked up thing, you know that."

"Don't be all patronizing. You smoke too."

"Just weed. Geez, Nessie, are you honestly comparing them with me?"

I altered my steps, finally pissed. This is not how I pictured my day would start. "Jasper, for god's sake. Just let it go."

I didn't wait for his answer when a few of his teammates caught up with us and I left for my class. It was the same argument each week; it never got old with Jasper. A few months ago when Jazz and I were looking for places we could play our music, his sister mentioned this bar. We'd been playing together since 6th grade now, performing here and there once we hit 17. My father didn't particularly liked the bar scene, but he didn't outright oppose it, as a single parent I guess he thought he ought to give me some liberty.

Sam and Emily Uley were the couple who ran the place. Sam's brother, Quil, and his friends-cousins usually helped around and when they did not, they hung out there. It had such a nice atmosphere and I hit it off with the group right from the start. They found my quirky side endearing, appreciated my intelligence and adored our music. They were kind of intimidating, I suppose, by the all-American standards, with their motorcycles and their tribal tattoos, but they were really OK. Jasper had disliked the place, and the people, instantly and voted against a repeat performance. I went back to hang out from then on. Sam often insisted I played too, but I refused without Jazz.

When I was by my locker, I caught sight of Rose and Alice Brandon nearby. Rosaline Hale was Jasper's sister in senior year. She was gorgeous with her long blonde hair, killer legs and a rare piece in this collection: wits. She was one of those people who didn't take no one's shit. Given her level of coolness, I don't know how she got along with Brandon of all people. Brandon was in the cheerleading squat, and although she wasn't as bad as Jessica or Lauren Malloy, she was still quite a thing. Also, she had the century's biggest crush on Jasper. Who is her best friend's little brother. That is so wrong in so many ways I won't even start about it.

"Hey kiddo, my jock of a bro around?"

I shrugged and kept dumping my books into the locker. Rose raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything else.

"I heard you had a quarrel with Denyali yesterday." Brandon chirped in.

"I heard you had a boob job." I looked over her flat chest. "Apparently not."

I know that was kind of a mean move, but I hated her little sneaky nose always getting in my business. She narrowed her eyes and said the most predictable thing:

"Watch it, freak."

What is it with popular high-school kids and their lame insults? I mean it, is freak supposed to be offending? I closed my locker and started walking off.

"I'll keep that in mind, pixie."

I haven't talked to Jasper for the rest of the day, because he looked pissed off and kept ignoring me. I liked Jasper when he wasn't being like this, when he was his usual, care-free, fun and supportive self. I didn't feel like dealing with it when I knew I wasn't in fault, so I listened to the teachers, took notes and been all in all good. I haven't seen dad in school, but I was assuming he stopped by.

When I went to the parking lot with the last bell, Jasper was there already with his friends from the team. I didn't particularly like any of them. Mike, Tyler, James.. They were all the jock type. I suppose Eric Yorke wasn't that bad, he dated Angela for two years now, so that counts for something. But all in all, Jasper was just.. so much better than that. He loved books, cult movies, made great music for his age, cooked even better than dad and just.. didn't fit in with them. I was too shocked when he joined the football team. I mean, I suppose the muscles don't look too bad, but that meant Jasper, and by association me, had to be around those people often.

I suppose neither of us approved of each other's other friends.

"Yo, Cullen." Tyler bellowed. I nodded and put my bag in the passenger seat.

"Okay man, see you tonight!" Mike said and did that weird handshake thing with Jazz before they all walked off.

The drive home was silent. Neither of us seemed to feel like saying the first thing, so we did not.

When we got to my home, I simply said "Thanks" before getting off.

I always rode to the Reservation on my own car.

So, I know Nessie might be sounding slightly bitch-ish for now but bear with her. She's a cool kid! There's not much of Edward-Tanya action this chapter, but we'll be getting there slowly. Next chapter, we'll meet Jake. And prepare.. For an excess of hotness!