A/N: 'K, so for any diligent readers out there who check this story often, you've probably noticed something.

It sucks.

So I'm rewriting it. From Bella's view completely. Watch out for updates and keep the criticism coming! Love you all ~ Genny C.

Before Twilight

I marched through the cold and the wet yet again as another dreary day began in a dreary school, in this dreary hellhole I've come to know and hate. Forks.

Ew.

Climbing into the bulbous cab of my truck, I inhaled deeply. With the smell of gasoline, peppermint and old tobacco filling my brain, I mechanically backed down the driveway. I turned on my ancient radio to the only station I could find that wasn't complete static, and turned it down so low that I could barely hear it. I was starting to rethink my now obvious suicide mission. I'd banished myself to Forks a year ago, registering for high school as a Sophomore, taking care of my father, and buying my old red Chevy from one of Charlie's old friends, Billy Black, who was now confined to a wheel chair. And so far, those were the most exciting things that had happened since I moved here. My daily routine was: wake up, shower, scarf a granola bar, finish the homework I forgot I had last night, run to my truck, try three or four times to start it, and drive to school. At school, I would find my newly acquired boyfriend, Mike Newton, and walk to English. At lunch I sit with Jess, Angela, Ben and (shudder) Lauren. After school, I drive to the thrift way to pick up whatever I felt like cooking for dinner. Charlie didn't get home 'til about 6:30 so I usually have plenty of time to cook whatever I got and go hide upstairs with my Jane Austen books, imagining the perfect Mr. Darcy.

When Charlie gets home, we sit silently at the scarred kitchen table and he quizzes me about my day until I return the favor. Then he launches into some boring description of a 'high speed chase' where some native kid on a motorcycle drove off down the La Push line to escape charges of vandalism. Then I'd go upstairs (after washing the dishes of course) and do what homework I knew was due the next day. Then I'd go to bed to the comforting tune of Claire de Lune.

So went my 16th year of life.

Or, at least most of it. I was turning 17 in three weeks. Pulling up in the school lot I prepared to park in my usual spot. As I rounded the corner at the perfect angle to slide smoothly into my spot, I jerked to thunderous halt about two inches from the bumper of the shiny silver Volvo that currently occupied it. Damn. They took my spot! Whoever they were. Huffing angrily, I went around the lot in a circle until I found the closest spot I could to the door of gym, my last class. That way I could make a straight dash (hopefully without tripping) to the truck after class let out. Maybe if I left fast enough I could catch a glance of those spot stealers pulling out.

Shifting my book bag to my right shoulder, I trudged to the courtyard and picked a picnic table to wait at. I was almost always early, seeing as sitting at home doing nothing didn't really strike me as something I wanted to do with my mornings. So I dropped my bag on the seat and dug out my Calculus homework and started doodling in the margins. I had nothing better to do. I'd already double checked my answers and helped most of my friends with their problems. I was the best student in my class.

"Bella! Yo, Bella!" a hand waved in front of my face. Looking up, I saw mike smiling down at me.

"Hey, smarty pants," he sat next to me throwing his arm over my shoulder, "how much homework did you gave last night? You told me you were done when you helped me last night. Did you lie?" he gasped sarcastically.

"Haha, very funny. No, I'm just doodling." I started to shove my notebook back into my bag.

"I don't think so!" Mike snatched it back. "I want to see the latest genius of Isabella Swan. Today we have…eyes? That's unusually abstract for you, Bells. Isn't it usually a tree or something?" he teased. Frowning I looked at my upside down notebook. "Let me see!"

"Like you don't already know! You drew it. How do you not know what it is?"

I blushed. "I don't usually concentrate on my doodling. I just…doodle. Randomly. Aimlessly. Generally I'm thinking about something else. Now let me see!"

"Fine. Yeesh." He tossed it at me, only to realize the mistake as soon as he let it go. My fingers brushed the spine, my pinky hooking into a metal ring just before my homework landed in a large mud puddle.

Mike grinned. "Bet you couldn't do that again."

"Bet you're right."

He pouted. I wasn't going to bet against my own clumsiness. That was stupid. Being related to Charlie had it's ups and downs. That was a down. I can't walk across a flat stable surface without finding something to trip over. Examining my rescued notebook, I found 5 pairs of deep, dark eyes glaring at me from the edge of my paper. That was odd. No matter how much I didn't want to admit it, Mike was right. I usually drew trees or the ferns that surround me constantly nowadays. Maybe I drew eyes because I knew subconsciously that I was being watched. Glancing around, I located each of my friends in their normal areas until…bingo.

Who were they? And what were they doing here?