Disclaimer: Don't own anything *runs and cries uncontrollably in a corner*

(BPOV)

The noise of my alarm clock pounded in my ears. I groaned, rolling over to hit the button with my fist. It was 6:15AM on my first day at school in Forks, Washington. It was also my first day at an American high school.

My parents, Charlie and Renee, had gotten divorced when I was a few months old. Renee hated the constant gloom and omnipresent rain of Forks, so she decided to move half way across the world to sunny Australia. I grew up in the suburbs of Perth, the capital of Western Australia and also the most isolated city in the world, and every January I would go and visit Charlie in Forks for three weeks, where we would have a late Christmas and celebrate New Years together before I had to go back in time for school in February. At least until the year I was thirteen. That was the year I put my foot down and insisted that Charlie come to us for Christmas. My mother Renee was not a happy camper, to say the least.

Two years ago Renee met Phil Dwyer, her new husband. He played Australian Rules football, so his job involved a lot of flying around. At first she stayed with me in Perth, watching Phil's games on TV. But she missed him, and hated not being there to support him, so I decided to uproot myself and move in with Charlie, who was only too happy to oblige, even if he was half way across the world. Renee half-heartedly tried to convince me not to go, but my mind was made up.

The plane ride to Port Angeles, which was three hours to Sydney from Perth, fourteen to LA and yet another two and a half to Seattle from there, was arduous to say the least. It was one of the many things I disliked about going to Forks.

I rolled myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom across the hall (there was only one bathroom), stepping over discarded clothes and tangled bed sheets that all threatened to topple me over. Thankfully Charlie had already left for work. As the Police Chief, he had to be in at work pretty early.

I turned on the hot water, stripped out of my oversized pyjama pants and tee shirt and stepped in. After fifteen minutes in the shower (Thank whatever god you believe in for Infinite Hot Water Systems) I turned off the water, wrapped a fluffy red towel around myself and stepped out. Luckily I had put my fresh clothes in the top draw of the vanity last night, ready and waiting for me.

In Australia, uniforms were required at every school. Style wasn't really an issue when you all looked alike (although that didn't seem to matter to most), but now I had to pick what I wanted to wear.

I put on a pair of faded blue skinny jeans with the ends tucked into my new black, waterproof boots and a long sleeved, collared white shirt with a black Doctor Who t-shirt over the top. My silver peace symbol necklace sparkled from left over water residue. I brushed and blow-dried my long, brown hair into a low ponytail with a few strands left loose to frame my face. I brushed my teeth and took a glance at myself in the mirror. I sighed. Why didn't I look like a girl from Australia was supposed to look? I should be tan, sporty, possibly even blonde, maybe a Netball or footie player, too. Instead I was pale white, without the excuse of freckles, blue eyes or red hair, as well as clumsy and awkward. I liked things like classical literature and music, British television and anime. I just...didn't fit in.

I strode down the stairs to the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. I checked the clock on the wall next to the sink. 7:35, time to go.

I collected my battered old backpack, which contained my iPod, some notebooks and a pencil case, my weather-beaten old copies of Wuthering Heights and Romeo and Juliet, my car keys, spare film for my antique Polaroid camera, a metal tin I kept my photos in, was covered in various pins and badges depicting characters from different anime shows and had a little 3D Tardis keychain hanging from the zipper, from its spot on the back of one of Charlie's mismatched dining room chairs. I shrugged on my grey raincoat; slung the water proof case I had bought for my camera around my neck (with it in there, of course) and exited the house, locking the door behind me.

My car was a rusty red, '54 Chevy pick-up truck that Charlie bought from Billy Black, an old friend from La Push, the tiny Indian reservation on the coast, who was now in a wheelchair. It couldn't go over 90 km p/h, and it made an awfully loud noise, but I loved it. Charlie taught me how to drive the American way, which is the literal opposite of what I'm used to in every conceivable way, but Charlie made a good teacher so I really didn't have much trouble after a while.

The drive to school was quite, save for the loud rumble of my truck. I made my way to the highway, knowing that practically everything in Forks was off it in some form or another. Soon enough I almost passed the high school. It had one sign, declaring itself as "Forks High School: Home of the Spartans".

The school was small, but that was to be expected in a town the size of a large suburb. The building itself was arranged into little brick boxes, each with a number on the wall.

I pulled up to the building in the very front, the one with the 'Office' sign on the door. I got out of my truck and made my way over to it. Once inside, I walked up to a counter crowded with wire baskets filled with paper of varying colours and pots of ferns, where a rather large lady wearing a dated purple blouse and cream slacks was tapping somewhat uncertainly at the keyboard of a boxy, outdated computer.

I took my camera from its case, lifted it to my eye and snapped a picture. The lady jumped in her seat with surprise, looking around for the source of the flash until her gaze came to rest on me. I smiled widely at her, showing my teeth, as I pulled the snapshot out of the camera to develop.

"Can I help you, miss?" she asked with a slightly annoyed, southern drawl to her aged voice.

"I'm Bella Swan, I'm new." I told her. Her shallow brown eyes, which were surrounded by cheap looking, overdone make up and over sized 80's glasses, brightened in recognition. Yep, she was defiantly a gossiper. She smiled pleasantly at me.

"Welcome to Forks High School, Bella. My, what a lovely accent you have. My name is Mrs. Cope. Now there are several forms I have to go over with you." I could see she knew exactly whom I was even without me saying. The daughter of the Chief's capricious ex-wife come home at last was obviously a familiar, not to mention popular, topic of conversation.

She went over some paper work with me, pulled from a precariously stacked pile on the desk, gave me my timetable, and highlighted the best route to each of my classes on a small map. She also gave me a slip that I had to get all of my teachers to sign and hand back at the end of the day.

"Thank you very much." I said politely, peeling the developed photo off the pale blue backing paper. "Nice." I mumbled, showing Mrs. Cope the picture. She smiled at me like a mother who can't punish her child because they're just too darn cute. I smiled back widely and mischievously, stuffing the papers into my bag and placing the photo in my small rectangular tin as I hurried out the door, not wanting to be late on my first day.

As I pulled into the student car park (having followed a long line of traffic all heading in the same direction), I was relieved to see that the condition of my truck wasn't going to stand out here. The most obvious looking car was a shiny silver Volvo and it stuck out among the many older, cheaper cars like a Goth in church. I cut the engine as soon as I parked, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to myself.

I pulled my timetable out of my bag to check my classes. I had English with Mr. Mason first in Building 3. I could handle that. I quickly stuffed my timetable back in my bag and hopped out of the car, locking the driver side door behind me. I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach, but quickly squashed it. No one was going to bite me. What was I worried about? All I had to remember was to keep my shoulders back, my head high and to never let them see me sweat. I sighed internally. That was easier said than done. But I would succeed. And with that I swung my bag onto my back, pulled up my hood and strode off to class, trying my hardest not to slip on the wet sidewalk or trip on a crack.

I followed two unisex raincoats to a smallish red brick building with a three painted on the wall by the door. I don't know exactly what I had been expecting an American classroom to be like, but it wasn't much different to my English class back home.

The floors were covered in cream linoleum, the two-man desks arranged in four neat rows of three. I guessed that I was close to being late because nearly all the desks were full. I copied the two people I had followed in when they hung their raincoats on a long row of hooks at the front of the classroom and went to hand my slip to the teacher. He gawked visibly at me when I told him my name. I raised my eyebrow at him questioningly and he quickly signed my form and told me to sit at an empty seat at the back of the room.

Class went by quickly. As I was packing up my bag, an Asian boy with an acne problem and black hair like an oil slick in both senses of the word, came up to me and introduced himself to me.

"Hi, I'm Eric. Are you Isabella Swan?" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Obviously Charlie had been calling me by my full name in my absence.

"Actually, I prefer Bella." I said as politely as I could. I had to keep reminding myself that he was only being helpful.

"Well Bella, can I walk you to your next class?" I wasn't so naïve that I couldn't see he was probably trying to flirt with me. "What do you have?"

"Umm…I think, History with Watson."

"Cool, my next class is near there." Yep, definitely a flirt. This could be a long day.

"So Forks is a lot different to Australia, huh?" he asked as we walked to my class. I could have sworn the people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop.

"Very."

"Does it rain much?"

"Almost every day during winter and spring, but summer and autumn are the complete opposite. Very sunny and hot." I said, drawing out the 'o' and making my voice high pitched.

"You don't look very tan." He replied.

"My mum is part albino." I joked. He didn't seem to get it.

We spent the rest of the walk in silence. It was kind of awkward because we really didn't have anything to say to each other, but I was too wrapped up in my obsessive little Naruto inspired Sasuke-Sakura daydream to really care.

When we reached the door of my classroom, he wished me luck and hoped that we had more classes together. I responded with a hell of a lot of fake enthusiasm, which he seemed to take as genuine, and went inside.

The rest of the morning seemed to pass the same way. Not many people came up and introduced themselves and those who did had their picture taken on the way over. After about the fourth person, people seemed to take the camera, the badges on my bag and my long rambling speeches about absolutely nothing as a sign to stay away. I didn't care. I was much happier on my own then with other people.

Mr Varner, my Trigonometry teacher who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught was the only one who made me introduce myself. I tried to hide the crazy as much as I could, which resulted in some rambling stammers, blushing and tripping over my own boots on the way to my seat. The girl whose desk I caught myself on whispered something that sounded like "What a freak" to her desk partner, who giggled in agreement.

I walked to lunch with the one girl (I couldn't remember her name) who had bothered to sit with me in both Trig and Spanish. She was at least two inches shorter than me, but her wildly curly hair made up most of the difference between us. I listened vaguely as she babbled on about school, teachers, how I would love her friends and blah, blah, blah, I really didn't catch the rest.

As we entered the lunch room, all eyes became trained on me. I felt the familiar blush of self-consciousness creep into my cheeks as I cast my eyes to the floor. I followed the girl's heels into the lunch line, only looking up when necessary. She led me to a table filled with people, who she introduced me too. I forgot all of their names as soon as she spoke them, though they all seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. Maybe it was because I was new and from a different country, or maybe because I looked like a freaky mish-mash of an art, sci-fi and anime nerd. Or maybe it was the pentagram necklace I wore. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room.

It was during that lunch time, trying to answer the questions of seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

That's it for the first chapter. I'm currently on holiday so the next update probably won't be for awhile. Pretty please review, it makes me update quicker! Constructive critisicsm is welcome, but please no flames!