Well...my writing sucks, but in a parody it can be passed as humor, right? Eh...nevermind..-.-
Despite any future Twilight-bashing, I'm a Twilight fan. Just can't stand the rabid fangirls...no offense.
Hope you enjoy it :)
I don't own Twilight or the things referenced.
My name is Isabella Swan, which you may have guessed if you read the inside of the cover. If you read aformentioned cover, then you know where I'm going. Forks, Washington, an inconsequential town under a near-constant cover of clouds. Oh, and it rains a lot.
I was wearing a lace shirt. I luckily remembered to wear something under it before leaving the house in Phoenix. I also had a parka, but I looked ridiculous in the 75 degree heat. So it just sat by me in the car.
I was also shaking. I hated Forks. I loved my Dad, Charlie, but I hate Forks. I looked at my mom (who looks like me, but older) and started hyperventilating. I was about to leave my mother alone with her husband, Bill, who would gladly throw himself in front of a bus to save her.
Oh my god.
"Are you sure about this?" My mom said, glancing at me nervously.
"But mom, I wanna go!" I said. The lie was beginning to sound childish.
"Tell Charlie I said hi, and I want my strands of hair back."
"Why do...never mind. Yeah, I will."
I hugged her good-bye, and got on my plane, where a few seconds ago I was in a moving car. Feeling a bit startled by this, I got on the plane.
Planes don't scare me. Even though there were a few guys ahead of me looking conspiratorially around, and that guy next to me who was stroking my hair, they don't scare me. Nope. But an hour-long car ride, alone with my father, seemed horrible in comparison to a four-hour-plane ride with the hair-stroker.
I tripped off the plane, falling smack on my face.
"Holy crap, Bells. Are you drunk?"
"No, Dad."
"Oh. I thought you would have sorted out your...issue, by now."
In the Forks Chief of Police Cruiser (You MUST call it that, otherwise you AND your family WILL be shot dead and turned into Inferi. That's what Charlie says, anyway.) neither of us was very verbose (I love using big, long words, you should know that about me.) and I had nothing to say. Charlie just sang along with Michael Jackson.
He turned off the King of Pop and turned to me.
"I got you a car."
"What-" I began, but the Forks Chief of Police Cruiser bumped into the back of a red truck.
"...This car."
I threw open the door and walked out to it. "Woah. Woah. Woah." I turned to Charlie, who was pulling out my bags. "It's a piece of crap."
"Well, Bells, Billy Black gave it to me for free, and you get what you pay-"
"I LOVE IT!" I squealed, glomping him. Charlie hugged me back awkwardly.
"...Yeeah. Okay."
I threw open the door and brought my stuff upstairs. I looked in the mirror.
I wasn't a tan, blond, sporty cheerleader, just like my stereotype of Arizona residents states, but instead I had ivory skin. It looked sallow in the light. I had brown eyes and dark hair, and I couldn't even have blue eyes and red hair. But no, I was skinny and soft, chocolate-brown eyes, brown hair, translucent skin. I also never fit in with people, despite the throngs of men following me and swooning. I think my brain might be glitched.
Whew. Mouthful.
I cried last night. A lot. I blame the excessive thinking about people at my school. There was one 357 students...358, including me. Because you couldn't have gotten it by yourself. All the kids had known each other; their grandparents were toddlers chasing dinosaurs together.
In the morning, Charlie was quiet. He wished me luck and ran off to work. I scrutinized the kitchen, shooting off a mental description in my head. Boring.
The truck stank of tobacco, which I blamed on Billy. Or, his son, maybe. He had to be the one to drive it here.
I drove into the parking lot and sighed. There wasn't a metal detector or barbed wire fence in sight. This school seriously needed to get with it.
I made another mental description of the office, noting the lights and warm air. I wasn't expecting warm air. The lady behind the desk was dressed casually in a t-shirt, which made me feel overdressed in an outfit that is unimportant to mention.
"Yes?" She asked lazily, interrupting my soon-to-have-been run-on sentence. She was chewing gum, but experience told me if I did that she'd smack my knuckles and stick it on my nose.
Freakin' hypocritical-
"Can I help you?" She asked again.
"I'm Isabella Swan, which you may have guessed if you read the paper in front of you."
"Oh, yeah." She suddenly smiled. "You're Charlie's daughter, right? The daughter of his bitchy ex-wife?"
Bitchy? I rolled my eyes as she pulled out more papers.
"Here's your classes, blah blah blah, go here, blah blah blah."
I nodded and walked outside, slipping on the wet sidewalk and catching myself. Whew!
"No one is going to bite you," I said to myself. But I had a feeling I was wrong.
Following the two unisex raincoats into building '3', I began hyperventilating. They were pale, just like me. I wouldn't stand out, at least.
The teacher, as his name plate said, 'Mr. Mason', was gawking at me. I flipped my hair and winked, walking to the seat he pointed out and watched with satisfaction as he grabbed clumps of tissues and slapped them over his nose.
Yes!
After class, a pimple-faced chess club dork leaned over to talk to me.
"You're Isabella Swan, right?"
Hasn't anyone read the inside cover? But I replied, "Bella. Just Bella."
Everyone in the room turned and looked at me.
"Where's your next class?" He asked.
"Government," I said. "With Jefferson. In building six."
I did a double take at the paper. Jefferson teaching Government. Coool.
"I could show you the way?"
"No thanks," I said, standing up and doing my flirtatious hair-flipping. "But I got this."
He followed me anyway, asking questions.
"Different from Phoenix, huh?"
"Very."
"It doesn't rain much?"
"Three or four times a year."
"Woah, dude. Like, no way. What's it like?"
"Sunny."
"You're pale."
"My mom's part albino."
He apprehensively studied my face. His small mind must not have gotten the joke. God.
Skipping over the boring parts, Mr. Varner made me introduce myself. People stared, I stammered, I blushed, tripped, sat down, learned Trigonometry, the end.
At the lunch table, joined by that annoying girl who talked a lot, I saw them.
No, him. But yeah, them.
They were pale. The statuesque girl could be in a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue picture that hung on Charlie's bulletin board. The short girl was pixielike. One guy was muscular, One was muscular and honey blond.
But he.
He.
He was lanky, less bulky, and had messy bronze hair. He was staring at me and smiling like he saw kittens being born. Or something good.
But they were all so gorgeous.
"Who are they?" I asked annoying-talkative-girl-from-Spanish. She looked at him, he glared at her, then looked at me.
"Edward, Emmett, and Alice Cullen, and Jasper and Rosalie Hale. They're all dating each other, because they're adopted (except for Jasper and Rosalie) and can do that. They're all anorexic and don't eat and stare at walls. The only one who doesn't date is Edward. I think he's gay."
Edward smiled, still waving at me.
"He might be bi, though, the way he's looking at you."
I looked at him, ignoring the admirers looking at me. I knew with my supposedly boring looks I was going to have fawning admirers. That's how I roll.
"Did they always live here?"
"They moved here from Alaska two years ago."
I felt pity and relief. I wasn't the only outsider. And I wasn't the most interesting. But everyone still kept staring lovingly at me.
In my next class, Biology, I had to sit by Edward.
Without warning, he slammed his fists down on the table, slapped his hand over his mouth, and turned away. I started freaking out, sniffing my hair and armpits. I did not smell. Well, I smelled like strawberries, my favorite shampoo. Everyone loves strawberries.
I cautiously took a pencil out of my bag and jabbed his arm with it. He glared at me and clenched his fists.
All through class I stared at him. What was his problem? I didn't jab him that hard, and I only did it because he thought I smelled bad.
After the hour long period of utter torment, another guy walked up to me.
"Aren't you Isabella Swan?"
"Bella!" I shouted, exasperated, as more heads turned.
"Oh. I'm Mike."
"Hi, Mike."
"Need help finding your next class?"
"I have gym. I can find a gym, dumbass."
He looked offended. "Fine. That's my next class, so I think I'll follow you anyway."
He suddenly looked thrilled, but this was a small school, so I think that must be normal here. I felt so alien to small places.
By the time I was at the building, I knew Mike was several things; A former California resident until he was ten and he was also in my English class.
"So did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or something? I never saw him so pissed."
"Yeah, but he overreacted." I was going to play dumb, but that could ruin his perfect image of me. So I told the truth.
Mike nodded, and we entered the gym.
Gym was a nightmare. Even though I didn't do anything, I was a deadly being in volleyball. I once knocked somebody's eye out. And they were not happy.
After class I walked into the office. I suddenly froze; Edward was talking to the receptionist, trying to switch out of Biology.
Oh my freaking god. I just met the guy. What the hell?
The breeze blew my hair, making the room smell like strawberries. Edward froze, and I swear I saw his pants bulge. He mumbled something and walked by me, waving as he left.
"How was your day?" The secretary asked.
"Fine," I lied.
"Why are you lying?" She asked.
"I'm not lying," I lied.
"You suck at lying."
"Yeah," I lied.
When I got out in my truck, I stared out the window at nothing before starting the roaring engine. I sobbed all the way to Charlie's house.