Forks High School, Freshman Year
I barely remember my first day of high school, even though I had just moved from Phoenix, Arizona to live with my dad, Charlie Swan aka Chief of Police in Forks, Washington. I had been nervous for weeks leading up to it, and woke up with a butterflies in my stomach for the first two months of high school. I was shy, new, and knew absolutely no one. But there is one thing that I can recall very clearly about my first day of high school.
It was the fourth period of the day, in French class, when I first saw him. My dad had tried to talk me out of taking French. He had told me how much more useful Spanish would be, but I didn't listen to him. Our French teacher was outrageous; he had quite the personality. The first day of class was spent telling these lavish stories of his youth. I've always said he could've been a renowned writer with the daring and daunting tales he told. Before Monsieur told his stories on the first day of class, he took roll. He wasn't like the other teachers who mispronounced our names and then threw the syllabus at us. Monsieur took his time to speak to each of us individually when he took role. That was the first time I knew of Edward Cullen, when Monsieur was taking roll. In fact, I sat right next to him on his left. I hadn't noticed him before Monsieur took roll, and never took notice of him for the rest of the semester before he dropped French. Edward Cullen was quieter than I was.
"Anthony Cullen." Monsieur called out his name and searched the room for the face to match it. A quiet but confident voice spoke up next to me with a slightly raised hand.
"Here," was his reply. I looked over at the guy who spoke, sitting next to me. We didn't make eye contact, and I don't think I thought anything of him other than his hair was a little long for my liking. But I was quiet and shy and I was afraid that the turned heads looking back to hear him speak would look at me too, so I turned my head and studied him while he spoke. He was in a pair of basketball shorts and graphic t-shirt with tennis shoes. It was the go-to outfit for all of the freshman boys. He wasn't ugly, though he wasn't down right attractive either. He was average really.
"Nice to meet you, Anthony," Monsieur added, "Or do you go by Tony?"
"Anthony's fine, but most people call me Edward." He then clarified, "It's my middle name."
Monsieur nodded and asked, "Do people call you Eddie?" to which Edward replied, "Uh, no."
Monsieur took note of his name on his roll sheet and called on the next person. All of the students turned back around in their seats. It really isn't a noteworthy first encounter with him, other than the fact that I surprised myself by even remembering it. I didn't actually remember this first encounter until years later when I was asked how I knew my good friend Angela Weber- someone who also was in my French class only for the first semester.
When Monsieur had called on Angela on that first day of class he took notice of her shirt asked her, "You actually paid money for that?!" It was a cute shirt, in her defense, though I suppose middle-aged French teachers aren't exactly experts on young female fashion. Angela and I didn't become friends over that comment, though that was the first time I took notice of her. Somehow remembering that first time I noticed her brought back the memory of when I first noticed Edward. It's a strange thing to think back on my first day of high school and recall the first time I noticed people. I had no idea how important some of them would end up being. In fact, that first day of high school in Monsieur's French Class is the only memory I have of Edward Cullen from my freshman year. My next memory of him wasn't until a year later.