Behind The Curtain Chapter 1, a twilight fanfic

BEHIND THE CURTAIN

Bella is a bullied, plague-like student at Forks High, being treated like a slave in her own home. But unlike any other bullied-student, she knows how to hold her end. When popular Edward transferred to her school, he is immediately drawn to her like Romeo is to Juliet. Determined to remain unfettered by Edward's charms, Bella does everything in her power to act indifferent to him, with her will crumbling little by little as the seconds tick by. And as fate would have it, and more a test to Bella's self-control and Edward's persuasiveness, both were forced into a stage-play to act the leads, where they learn that reality and fantasy are much altered…and much alike.

A Cinderella and Romeo and Juliet combined tale.

"Tempt not a desperate man"

- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, 5.3

A/N: Hi! So, this is what I was talking about. My new work. The Stage Play changed into Behind the Curtain. (Hopefully I'll get to finish this though I am quite positive that I am heading in the right direction.) Anyway, I have a lot of thoughts, and being the obsessive-compulsive me, I decided to enumerate them.

So, here they go:

1. The characters are slightly OOC.

2. It will be a mixed POV, but Bella will get to say more than Edward.

3. I'm a bit eccentric so I will have some conversations repeated through Edward's eyes, but I'll try not to be overly repetitive (I hate reading lines again and again in one chapter).

4. Behind the Curtain was written as a modern-day twist to Romeo and Juliet and Cinderella.

5. As for Rumours, I have already explained it (vaguely) on my A/N therein on the 14th chapter.

6. Reviews will be highly appreciated. They give every author energy.

7. Thanks and happy reading! =]

8. TOODLES! ^^

Chapter 1 Teaser:

Bella

"What have you done again Swan?!" Jessica yelled ten steps away from us. I noticed a small crowd gathering to see what the commotion is about.

"Well, nothing but simply stating my version of what I think is true. Isn't everyone entitled to their opinions these days? Come on, America did not become a democratic country for nothing."

"You will pay for insulting her!" Lauren decided to join the debacle.

The next seconds consisted of them grabbing my bag, pouring out its contents for everyone to see, and pouring a bottle of water to these insides of my bag. I watched in fascination as the water slowly dampened my bags' intestines.

After they felt satisfied, they strutted away with the happiest smiles planted on their carefully make-up covered faces. I gave them my happiest as well.

"Thanks, you know! My things are in dire need of bathing! You did me the best of favors!" I shouted rather merrily.

Edward

On my way, I noticed that people were giving me the interest and others even began whispering. Others are even inconspicuously-obvious in trying to get my attention by smiling suggestively at me and straightening their postures for me to notice their chests. I only smiled politely, and tried my best not to pay attention to them.

Just before I got to the door, a girl ran fast in front of me to overtake me.

I noticed this girl because she had her hair down and wore the simplest and most sensible clothes among the other Forks' female population. I vaguely remember seeing shirt, jeans and snickers. And a certain smell of freesia and strawberry's.

~ BEHIND THE CURTAIN ~

Chapter 1: Two households, both alike in dignity

Bella

I have always had a nook for classics. They had always been my favourite genre in books, especially that of Romeo and Juliet. I learned before in our science class that not having a crush to anyone during the teenage years could either be because you are psychotic, or that you are simply abnormal. Well, I never doubted my incompetency of being in the same frequency as others. However, I refuse to be subjected to the non-crushing folk, for I, Isabella Marie Swan, proudly admit of having my own healthy and generic crush.

My crush, exceptionally like most others, is the most romantic man in the world. He is being admired by countless women. He is the epitome of the gentlest studs.

And he is none other than my fickle Romeo of the Montague household.

But why fickle, I say? Why, I think it's quite obvious, and I'm sure everybody is not unaware that before he fell head over heels to his fair Juliet of the Capulets', his eyes had been captured first by the beauty of Rosalind. Therefore, who can contend me of my remark about his fickleness? I dare say none. And, for all the love there is in the world, Romeo is Romeo: though love-sick-suicidal hero, he is the gallant Romeo.

Thinking of him makes me yearn to be in his world, too, where I will be the subject captured in his eyes. But as abrupt as these thoughts took me to the ninth cloud, a swift as they were to release me – head first – to the puddle of reality, for even I could not be fooled by myself. I knew that even in my wildest of dreams, never could dreamy Romeo look twice to the plague-like, more-interesting-next-to-a-furniture, hyper-imaginative me. Forgive me but I know my person, and I know that she shall never compare to thee lovely Juliet.

I sighed as I contemplated all these as I drove to school. I decided I was just too absorbed by my reading of Romeo and Juliet for the nth time in the evening so the story stuck on my head. Hearing the wake-up call by the loud spur of my old, rusted Chevy truck, I tried to think differently, using the noise as distraction. However, my thoughts drifted back to its initial cycle and I unconsciously envisioned how it might be if Romeo was real.

After much reflection, I figured that that cannot happen, or else, chaos will evoke. Girls will go crazy-stalking him. Guys would never catch their girls' attention. They will begin the contest for the most amiable man in the whole campus where they will have their assess kicked by Romeo's charms, and they will promise to get back to him in the most vicious and maleficent act that their fifth-grader minds could conjure up. Not that Romeo will mind in the least, or would even try to unravel the reason behind the enormous loathes he shall receive. His eyes are only for Juliet, and it shall be the feeblest attempt on the men's part to pry his eyes off of his love...

This, imagining something surreal, is my way of getting out of my dreadful life - the life where I have to live with my two stepsisters and stepmother ordering me about, and have to endure the disgusting stares of my stepbrother. Imagine my surprise when I learned that Charlie, my dad, remarried a woman who has three children – a triplets, even – before I moved to live with him? In here I have to admire the woman's ability to produce children. But going back, I mean, it's not that Charlie isn't capable of providing for a larger family – he is rich, after all – but it's more of I don't think he actually loves Victoria. And Victoria, for that matter, feels gregariously the same, where the best of her days are spent having dates with my father's credit card. And to top it all, when I asked my father why he married someone like Victoria, he claimed it's because he wanted me to have a whole family so that I can have people to relate to, which, I think, is the most highly logically thoughtless fate for someone like me.

I carefully eased out of my truck to go to my first class – English – my favourite. And, as fate would have it, our topic is none other than the cliché Romeo and Juliet. I cannot decide whether to be excited about it or feel enthusiastically bored that I cannot learn anything more from the close to a hundred times that I've read it. Well, at least school is far from home.

I came as one of the earliest students of the school – the usual, and what I always do to escape Charlie's house. The plus side: a good parking space. And because fate decided that I've already used up my luck bottle for the day by parking my vehicle in the best location, he made me catch the attention of Tanya Denali. Which is, suffice to say, the opposite of the plus side.

"Hey there, Swanny. You're looking as uninteresting as usual," she said as way of greeting and as my cue for the onslaught that is about to come.

"Tanny." My fake smile was immediate. "I could not believe it but so do you."

"Oh," she cooed. "But that's where our opinions differ, you see, because the attention that I'm receiving from the male species who will never even in the slightest give the same to you says otherwise."

Tanya Denali is the kind of student that occupies the head-seat of the popular people's table during lunch. And as is the job required of such persona in school, her mission in life is to bring more attention to the unpopular kids of the school: the kind of peer that wholeheartedly welcomes someone like me.

"Well, I cannot argue with that at all. I mean, if I were to dress as a crack on the sidewalk, I'd probably have the same volume of admirers, or even more," I retorted from her earlier deduction.

"Yeah. A shame, actually, because we will never get to see that what with Cinder-Bella never having her fairy god mother to flick her wand and sing Bee-bee-dee, bo-bee-dee, boo to her."

"Yup, too bad, really, because I heard she's in traffic. What with her having little sleep yesterday night ceaselessly practicing the chant to make your brains show themselves. But unlucky, your brain is the best in playing hide-and-seek and never even once showed itself."

Of course, that's where she usually gets ticked off. The 'brains' is a sensitive topic, especially for her.

"You," she growled, pointing her index finger at me, "never even once try me. I can make your life miserable."

"I'm sure you could do that. Isn't that your specialty on these types of fairy tales?"

Tanya's fury immediately resulted to her hurling her palm towards my face, which is always her way once she got really pissed. But I already saw it coming so I used my book as deterrent.

The book made a huge collision with her palm, and came skidding towards the concrete floor. Tanya vented all her anger to it and kicked it nonstop, which I admittedly just watched like someone watching a TV show. This went on until her flanks showed up, to whom these said flanks sweetly consisted of my two stepsisters – Jessica and Lauren Sutherland.

"What have you done again Swan?!" Jessica yelled ten steps away from us. I noticed a small crowd gathering to see what the commotion is about.

"Well, nothing but simply stating my version of what I think is true. Isn't everyone entitled to their opinions these days? Come on, America did not become a democratic country for nothing."

"You will pay for insulting her!" Lauren decided to join the debacle.

After they felt satisfied, they strutted away with the happiest smiles planted on their carefully make-up covered faces. I gave them my happiest as well.

"Thanks, you know! My things are in dire need of bathing! You did me the best of favors!" I shouted rather merrily.

The small crowd then dispersed, having finished witnessing the drama for the day: some looking uninterested now that it's over, while some few giving me the looks of pity. But they know it well – Forks High always know never to mess with the popular people. In fact, I'm sure it is sort of an unwritten law in every high school there is in the fifty-one states of America. And so, accepting the order of things and being rendered defenceless to its design, I submissively picked up my wet things, deciding which to dry and which to give the final seconds of its life.

When the school signalled its bell for the first period, the earlier commotion was nothing any more than a whisper. This is part of the "order of things". People put too much interest to the hottest people, what they were doing, what they look like, the latest trends, and other "popular" things. But events happening to students who belong to the same clique as I shall be talked only by whispers, and shall never have the need to be remembered even though said events involve mistreatments from the "best peers" of the school. For who could stand up against the "popular" crowd? Someone only with a mighty power would be able to execute such a courageous act.

"Class, before we start with our lesson, I'd like to introduce you to someone," the teacher, Mrs Miller, announced with her perky voice the moment she reached her front table. Everyone's attention was caught by her words and the noise reduced to a silence.

"Today, I am delighted that we are to be joined by a gallant young-man." At this, the murmurings ensued, with people guessing who the "gallant young-man" is and how "gallant and young-man" he really is.

"His name is Edward Anthony Cullen. He came all the way from Alaska. He enrolled a week ago and today is, obviously, his first day here at Forks High. I hope you could all get along with him." The cheerful teacher gestured for this Edward to come inside.

And come inside, he did.

"Hi. As what Ms–

"–Mrs. Miller," supplied by my blushing English teacher.

"–Mrs. Miller said, I am Edward Cullen," the velvety voice started. "My parents decided to move out from Alaska and, seeing as I have no voice in the household, I now exile myself to the paradise place known as Forks where I have to endure being around beautiful people like your selves. Such a predicament, really. And with that, I hope that you shall ease a bit of my burden and try with your best, even if you need to fake it, to get along with me."

With only a few sentences, he won over not only the female populace, but every soul in that classroom. Mrs. Miller was positively vibrant.

And why wouldn't he win over us? I thought. He isn't that hard to look at. In fact, I'd venture every human with the woman's eyes in our class would find it no trouble to look at him forever. He really is such a good looking guy.

"A charmer, I see. So, what brought on your parents with-the-dominant-voices-in-your-household here at Forks?" Mrs. Miller went along with the guy's antics.

"A simple thing, really. Mom was fed up with the Alaskan life and dad holds the skirts of my mom."

At this, a bit of laughter ensued.

"Oh, I see. So, what do these quirky parents do?"

"Well, my mom only needs to keep the household out of chaos, which is every day, apparently," laughter at this point, "but dad's work is extremely dangerous. It involves life and death."

Mrs. Miller's tone was one with trepidation as she spoke next. "Oh, dear. What would it be?"

"Why, he's one of the town's surgeon."

Laughter rolled in our classroom again. If the girls weren't already dreaming to be with this guy a while back, they now desperately desire to be his wife. Good-looks, charm, and money: the most dangerous weapons that a guy can possess.

"Well, we sure have to thank these parents not only of their professions but also by letting you come out into this world."

"Thank you, Mrs. Miller. I'm sure my mom would love to hear that – after all, she wasn't just eating cake at the 'letting-me-out' part," he said with a wink.

"I'm sure, I'm sure. Well then, Mr. Cullen, why don't you seat at any available seats that you prefer?"

"Sure, Mrs. Miller. Thanks."

The guy took a bit of a moment to choose his seat, which is peculiar for I deem it a very easy task, what with every girl classmates of mine looking at him as though giving a signal that their next seat is available, even though most of them already have neighbors.

The guy – Edward – took the seat on the right column of the room, my row.

And, as he walked towards his place, I'm not so sure but I'd still wager he glanced my way.

The school day ended, and so with a dreading expression, I entered my house. Luckily, the USS (short for Ugly StepSisters) hasn't showed up yet, and ESM (which is kind of easy to guess) was still out with my father's credit card. Brother dearest (insert sarcasm here) was the only one in the house.

"You're here early," I remarked, which is my subtle way of pointing out YOU'RE HERE EARLY?! WHY?!

"No baseball practice today. Just a try-out for some dude and coach kicked us out. You?"

"The same," I retorted, hurriedly running up the stairs to my room in case he processed in time that I was messing up with him.

A few seconds later and I heard him shout from the living room "since when did you start playing baseball?!"

It's so easy to mess with Max because he processes everything as fast as the turtle walks a meter towards its destination.

A few seconds passed, and I heard him shout again.

"Do everything mom says you need to do!"

"Alright," I murmured. I guess I need to face him again.

I never really liked Max. I hate his leering stares. But I can always get my way out of him by out-witting him, which doesn't require much. Based from experience, Max only knows two things: baseball, and the baseball bat.

Oh, and the occasional leering of course.

I cooked the meal and did my assignments. It was my routine ever since the Sutherlands invaded the Swans and dad chose to get married to his law firm. I suspect that Charlie became too busy with his cases because he refused to get busy with his new family. He thinks they are good for me. However, I cannot present this case to the judge yet, especially that dad might be my opponent at the hearing. Even though I'm his daughter, he's still good at these things by only a small measure.

And so, every day I endure them. After they have eaten, I will do the dishes, and if I have time, the laundry would follow. At weekends, I try wedging cleaning the house in between my schedule of taking part as one of the theatre arts' crew. Most of the time, I feel like such a superwoman.

"Isabella!" I heard again from the living room. This time, the voice came from a different source. It was Victoria and her red curly flame-like hair. "Prepare the food! We're tired!"

"Me too," I only whispered. Tired of all of you.

"Hurry!" chorused the USS and ESM. I rolled my eyes.

And so hell continued where it left off, where all I could see at that moment was red.

Edward

Here come the red coats. Here come the red coats.

Yes. Red. Red is the color of the day. It seemed to be of some fad here in my new school. Red. Forks High Red.

Why I was in the middle of an always cold and misting place in America was due to a certain tossed-coin decision that my parents did of where to relocate. My mother hated the Alaskan life. My father hated the Alaskan life, because my mother hated the Alaskan life. I hated the Alaskan life because my father told me to hate the Alaskan life because my mother hated the Alaskan life. It's not that we have any grudge to Alaska but my mom just thought that it would be a great idea for Carlisle to be a little freer from his surgeon life. Alaska seemed to have a tryst for getting themselves operated by only one man. And my mother, though she'd never tell, hated my father being put to too much stress and ceaseless work.

And so, we decided to decide whether our decision to leave home will be decided by a toss-coin decider. It somehow landed at the middle of the map in Washington, to a certain place called Forks – which is almost as cold as Alaska.

And I, please, would not want to hate Forks as well. But with it being red…

"Nice ride, buddy," a muscled-boy told me. He was smiling only a little but his dimples are so noticeable. Man, dimpled-guy and muscled-guy. Don't usually mix.

"Thanks man."

"You play baseball."

"I was captain at my former school." It was true. I was captain. But I didn't think I'd get asked straightaway on my first five minutes here in Forks about baseball.

"Bat?"

"Pitcher."

He smiled. Then offered his hand. "Emmett. Emmett McCarty."

I took it. "Edward. Edward Cullen."

"I'll wait for you at the gym after class. A try-out is in order for you."

"Cool."

With that, he went off, as I stood against my nice ride again – a Silver Volvo that I acquired for my sixteenth birthday from Carlisle.

And I saw the red again. Ugh.

I mean, not that I want to be judgmental to Forks High and its "student" body but Jesus, who goes to school wearing summer clothes on an always winter-temperature place? Maybe their bodies already adjusted to too much cold. But I came from Alaska, which is also always cold, and I didn't catch the same adjustment.

Just then, I happened to skim my eyes to a girl who looked like she walked straight from the shower to school with the clothes she's wearing. And red. She's strawberry blond, pretty, yes, but too suggestive. My eyes traveled to hers and she smirked, probably thinking that I like what I was seeing. Then she licked her lips in her most seductive way, and finally walked off, or rather, swayed her hips off.

Jesus!

I retreated to the inside of my vehicle before the other "red" girls drown me with their too-revealing dresses and waited inside for the remainder of the before-class time.

When the bell rang for first period, I immediately trudged to my first class. It's English: a boring subject for me because I could practically teach the subject myself from my former school. I've read all the readings in the syllabus that I was given. I was hoping that the teacher wouldn't be as boring as the one I had before.

Just before I got to the door, a girl ran fast in front of me to overtake me.

I waited outside the room for the teacher to introduce me. Once she did, I came in.

And all attention drifted to me.

"Hi," I greeted. The females looked cheered somehow. "As what Ms–

"–Mrs. Miller," corrected by the bobbly English teacher at my side.

"–Mrs. Miller said, I am Edward Cullen." I skimmed my eyes to the class. They were all silent so it seemed the perfect time to use my lousy jokes.

"My parents decided to move out from Alaska and, seeing as I have no voice in the household, I now exile myself to the paradise place known as Forks where I have to endure being around beautiful people like your selves." At this, I pretended to look miserable. "Such a predicament, really." I shook my head. "And with that, I hope that you shall ease a bit of my burden and try with your best, even if you need to fake it, to get along with me."

Mrs. Miller seemed to appreciate my effort.

"A charmer, I see. So, what brought on your parents with-the-dominant-voices-in-your-household here at Forks?" the English teacher humored me.

"A simple thing, really. Mom was fed up with the Alaskan life and dad holds the skirts of my mom."

Few people chuckled at my announcement.

"Oh, I see. So, what do these quirky parents do?"

"Well, my mom only needs to keep the household out of chaos, which is every day, apparently, but dad's work is extremely dangerous. It involves life and death."

"Oh, dear. What would it be?"

And now, for the punch line.

"Why, he's one of the town's surgeon."

At this, the class finally drew laughter. I smiled my unbalanced smile. At least I wasn't half bad.

"Well, we sure have to thank these parents not only of their professions but also by letting you come out into this world."

"Thank you, Mrs. Miller. I'm sure my mom would love to hear that – after all, she wasn't just eating cake at the 'letting-me-out' part." I winked when I notice the teacher was unsure of what to think of me. She seemed to grow more flustered and confused, and then relaxed.

"I'm sure, I'm sure." She tried to compose herself. "Well then, Mr. Cullen, why don't you seat at any available seats that you prefer?"

"Sure, Mrs. Miller. Thanks."

Now, for the hard part.

To sit at the available seat at the front part of the room would get me near a girl who continuously fixes her mini skirt. If she were to be my project partner, I'd probably do all the work. Not that I mind, really, but she seemed like the sort who would ceaselessly distract me unnecessarily while we work. I've met people like her before.

Let me see. To sit at the back part would get me near a girl who seemed more interested with her nails than the lesson. At the moment, she seemed interested with my hair. Yeah, no.

The middle part seemed to be the safe choice. Mostly because it's middle, but really it's because my neighbor would be a nerd-girl. I don't mind nerds. They're actually good project partners. They're usually kind and mercilessly brutal to finish with a high score whatever activities there is. She'll be helpful to me, if ever.

And, really, the most pressing thing about my choice would be the girl that occupies the seat on the left column.

She was the girl I've noticed before while I was outside the door. She seemed simple, and pretty. And if she wouldn't throw herself at me like the other girls I've encountered before then she's perfect.

So, I took my seat at the middle part nearest to her. And throughout the class, I kept glancing at her whenever she's occupied with something.

And she smiles a lot, so it's a good view.

Chapter 2 Teaser:

Bella

"Swan. I hope there is a valid explanation as to why you will come a half an hour late to my class, is there," she said, glancing at her watch while she was saying this.

Nervous, I thought of a fast way out of this. Lie, or tell the truth. The lie won over. "Yes, Mrs. Miller. There is."

"Well, please do enlighten us."

"There, uhm, there was a commotion in the Swan household this morning."

"And what was the commotion about?"

I glanced for inspiration in the class, and my eyes happened to fall to the real reason for all of this. I admit, though I blame him for my morning punishment, I can't erase the fact that he was looking really handsome in the morning.

Damn him.

"A cake. Uhm, a cake spilled in the living room, lacing the furniture with icing. I have had to use detergent, vacuum, scrub, and even dishwashing liquid to remove the stain. It was a conundrum, truly. The aftermath the cake left destroyed what little peace the Swan household has."

Some of my classmates laughed at this.

Edward

"They seemed double in numbers." Jasper commented as he nervously ran his finger on his blond hair.

"What, they have nothing better to do, or they just couldn't distinguish between Hollywood and 'Haul-the-goods'?" I asked looking over "the goods" they are currently hauling with the way they dress on their short-skirts. My companion laughed a bit.

"Apparently, they think that we are some sort of celebrities worth cheering over even on practice games. Just you wait until they acquire a jersey for you."

"They are that bad?"

"Yes. You should have seen them take pictures of every moment. Man, they seem like vultures."

I skimmed over the Fork's female crowd. They all are like die-hard fans. Then I happen to notice the team's expression. Some looks disgusted, some just don't care, some takes glory on the fame, but the stand-out would be the former-pitcher-now-just-covering-the-bases guy.

He was waiving to his every supporters. Then sending kisses.

"That guy sucks." Someone in my back says. When I looked over to him, he shot me a murderous look. I did not feel intimidated though. I glared back.

(A/N: "Two households, both alike in dignity," obviously the starting phrase of Romeo and Juliet, meant Edward and Bella. As you can observe by the first chapter, the way they talk with all their witty ways is the same, and soon you shall observe how more similar they are.

Edward seemed troubled by red, mostly because the Fork's female population took it upon themselves to get his attention with their wardrobes. Bella and Edward did not mention it but the girls of Fork's High knew of Edward's coming and dug from their wardrobe their most noticeable and flirty dresses, and red screams attention. Obviously, it was to no avail.)

So far, interested? Hate it? Like it? Hate my lengthy A/N? Hate that I left A/N at all? Leave reviews for me to know! =]