Disclaimer: we do not own anything related to Twilight (Carlisle {he'll be coming eventually} and plot transfers),that all belongs to Stephenie Meyer. But we do have our mini rights to our own creations (everything that isn't Twilight).
Thank you. And we hope you enjoy "The First Story Never Told".
I stepped out of the carriage and made my way up the winded drive to the main building of the institution in front of me. My steamer trunk rolled behind me, its wheels clicking almost silently against the paved ground. The trees on either side of the walkway casted it into shadow, not that it needed it in the overcast cay.
I better get used to not seeing the sun: Tele was the cloudiest town in all of France. I had long since said goodbye to the sunny summer days that I love at the same time I said goodbye to my father. My home back in London was now empty. My father was on his way to the war in Afghanistan while I have come to my new boarding school in Tele.
I trudged up the walk, my dark green skirt swaying in the light breeze. I shivered despite myself, finally noticing that it was quite cold for a November morning. I finally came to the administration room of the large school. The secretary looked up from her papers to smile welcomingly at me. "Hello, dear. May I help you?" The lady behind the mahogany desk was slightly plump and only a bit taller than me; which put her quite at the bottom of the stature measures.
"Yes, ma'am. I am a new student here, from London. I need to pick up my class schedule and room assignment." I replied timidly. Talking to new people was not one of my skills. "My name is Annabelle West." I told her, mentally cursing my obviously British name. How was I supposed to fit into this French school? I barely understood French, and I didn't have an accent anywhere near that of the woman before me.
"West,… West,… Ah, here it is." She pulled out a small pile of papers. "Here is your schedule." She handed me that paper first. "Here is your room assignments and such." She handed me a few more papers. "And here is a map of the campus." She handed me one more paper. "Would you like me to show you to your rooms?"
"No, I will be quite alright by myself." I smiled courteously. I wheeled by steamer trunk back out into the chill and trudged along to the far west side of the campus. As I walked along, I passed many of my now fellow students. Most were just returning from their morning classes. Today was a Saturday, and my schedule said that we only had a half day of classes; and there would be no classes tomorrow.
I came to my assigned dorm building later than I had hoped. I suddenly was very annoyed with where the school had placed me. I had a late night class, and I was not looking forward to having to walkthrough the campus when it was darker and colder. Now I had the grueling task of dragging my trunk up two flights of stairs to the third floor. It took me quite awhile, but I made it up. My dorm building was almost like a caste, with two 'turrets' on the far sides that made up the third floor. I had one of those rooms. The room was quite to my liking: the main room a bit small, but so was my room back home. It was round, like my previous turret metaphor. And the adjoining bathroom was better than I had expected.
I set my trunk by the bare bed and began to unpack. Half way through this, I found the pictures of my family wrapped in the blanket that I had had since I was a little girl. One was of my father, my mother and I. This was before my mother died four years ago. My father and I were at the park a few blocks with my mother. He and I turned for a few minutes, and when we turned back, my mother was gone. A trial of her blood led to the Thames. That was the last memory I had of my mother.
I didn't know I was crying until someone knocked on my door and I looked up to a blurry room. I quickly wiped my eyes and hoped that my voice was even. "Come in." I called.
In stepped a girl, probably a little older than me, with long and straight blond hair. Her face was tan and her eyes a clear blue. This was another reason I was worried about living in France. French girls were pretty, and tall. "Hello." She practically sang. "My name is Elizabeth. I saw you bring your trunk up here, so you must be new. I came to see if you needed any help." She smiled encouragingly. Apparently it was quite obvious that I was shy.
"Hello." I greeted back. Not only did my appearance pale compared to Elizabeth, but even my voice was plain. "Yes, I am new here: I am from London. If you would not mind to help, then I would greatly appreciate it." Then I returned to unpacking my things.
"What can I help you with Annabelle?" Elizabeth asked.
I started and shot upright to look at her in disbelief. "How…?" I began to question. She held up the sheet of paper that had my schedule and my name on it. "Oh. But please, call me Anna."
"Alright, Anna." She walked over to my steamer trunk and took out the books that I had fit in there. I dearly hoped that there was a bookstore near the campus. She gasped when her eyes fell on some of the titles "What has London been filling girls' heads with? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Jules Verne, Charles Dickens, H.G. Wells. The only books here I recognize are the Greek classics; and I cannot stand those." She chuckled delicately to herself as she went to place the books on my bookshelf.
After all my things were unpacked, Elizabeth looked up at the clock in the corner of my room. "Oh my! Most everyone is already at lunch. Come, Anna!" she lightly took my hand and dragged me out of my room.
We walked back through the campus to the north entrance, and then continued on to the small town of Tele. After a few minutes, we came to a small café, mostly full of students. We sat down at a table with some of Elizabeth's friends. A boy named Matthew, another boy named Trevor, and a girl name Lillian. They were making idle chatter about the gossip of the school while I gazed off, pretending to listen.
I was only pretending because my attention was drawn elsewhere. Sitting in the far corner of the room was a table of three people. They all looked different, yet somehow alike. Two boys and a girl sat in the corner, away from the other students; but it seemed like they preferred it that way. One of the boys had his back to me, but I had a clear view of the other two. The taller of the boys had short, curly brown hair framing his strong face. His skin was pale, almost white; this was the same with all three. And his eyes were a dark amber, near ochre; also the same for the girl. He was also quite large: maybe a full foot taller than me. The girl next to him was even more stunning than Elizabeth. She was graceful even sitting still. Her long dark blond hair wasn't as curly as her companion's, but not as straight as Elizabeth's. She seemed to be the most animated in whatever discussion they were having. The second boy, whose back was the only thing I could see, immediately had all my attention. His light brown hair was in disarray, like the wind outside had gotten the better of it and he hadn't bothered to smooth it out. He was nowhere near as large as the other boy, but he appeared to be strong, even under his overcoat.
I was drawn out of my admiring by Elizabeth clearing her throat to catch my obviously wandering attention. "Quite attractive, true?" she smirked at me; obviously referring to the boys I had been staring at.
"I… uh… what…" I was at a loss of words, caught off guard at her easy demeanor of things that were usually frowned upon back in London.
"Oh, do not worry about being a tight Londoner, here you are one of us free French girls. We can do almost anything want at almost any time. You will enjoy it soon enough. But not with them." She pointed to the table I had been looking at.
"Who are they?" I asked. Even with her remarks, I was still intrigued.
"They are the Marceaus and company." She joked. "They were all adopted by the local lawyer and his wife. The girl is Madeline, and the larger boy is her beau. We think he is Italian or some other country like that. And the other boy, the one with his back to us, is Westin Marceau. Quite a handsome young man, am I right?" She smiled conspiratorially at me.
"I… I suppose." I stuttered over the words and acted as distant as possible. Even though what I had seen of him was quite attractive.
"Well, do not get your hopes up; he is not interested in any of the girls around here. Trust me." Her new tone sounded like she knew firsthand about his disinterest in the local girls.
I nodded and turned back to the table I was sitting at. After a few minutes of the other students asking where I had come from and such, I felt a pair of eyes staring at me. I carefully looked up from the conversation and turned towards the feeling. I barely withheld the gasp when my eyes met ocher and were held there.
Westin Marceau was staring at me.
And he had the oddest look of concentration on his face. And he didn't look down when I caught him staring, or even when I locked eyes with him. And I couldn't seem to drag my eyes away from his.
But then Elizabeth called my name again, and I regretfully turned away from the boy who looked and acted quite strange. I quickly mused that he could be a foreigner like me.
My new acquaintances and I stayed there for a while longer, until Mathew looked down at his pocket watch and announced that he better be getting back to the school if he and Trevor were not to miss the school's rugby team win yet another game this year. I stayed at the table a little longer to ask the waiter if there was a bookstore anywhere nearby in town. It turns out that there was. As I turned to try and catch up with the others, I ran into a roadblock, literally. There was a slight scuffle between some patrons that had blocked off the door. There was another exit on the other side of the café, do I made my way to it. It would take me next to the table where the strange family sat, which was an added bonus. I prepared myself to steal a furtive glance at them from a closer distance. But when I did look up, I wished I hadn't. Westin was glaring at me with deep hate. The phrase 'if looks could kill' ran through my head, because that's exactly what it looked like; he looked almost like he wanted to kill me. And I had no clue why.
I hurried out the door and ran down the sidewalk to the others, trying to but the odd sight behind me. But I was failing miserably.
Hello, this is both halves of idkaname speaking.
This is our slightly long awaited Twilight fan-fic.
You can probably already see the comparisons, but we assure you that this is not simply going to be a rewrite of Twilight. There are fewer characters, more powers, more un-thwarting of powers, more Volturi, and so on. But there will be some Carlisle action: but you'll just have to hold your werewolves for that (bad joke, and I {C M} apologize for L W's stupidity for cracking it). But that bad joke does bring up the fact that there are no werewolves, sorry to all you Team Jacob people like L W here. We will also be throwing in one or two Anne Rice references. If you don't know who that is, look up Vampire Chronicles on the Web.
As with all our stories, reviews are cherished like vamps and their beloved blood (another one of L W's stupid jokes), and always replied.
Sincerely,
C M + L W = idkaname