Just A Girl

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

Summary: Bella gets a new English teacher. It changes everything. New Moon AU. Imprint.

It was two o'clock and Bella was chewing on her lip, anxious to get out of English class. She had taken the motorbikes to Jacob's mere days ago and was desperate to start riding – desperate to start feeling something. Of course, while Jacob was confident in his ability to repair the motorbikes, he always had confessed it may take time – weeks – until they were road-ready. Bella didn't know if she could wait that long. When she had first looked at the bikes, she had thought only of the danger – only of the possibility of Edward's voice caressing her ear once more. However, the more she sat thinking of the faded red paint on the motorbike that Jacob had teasingly proclaimed hers – the more girly of the two, he had said – she discovered this little twinge in her gut. The desire to do something. The desire to be free.

All this time she had existed desperate in her pain, but also, somehow, masochistically enjoying it. Her pain meant that it had happened. If she stopped feeling it – if this hole in her chest started to scab over – that meant that Edward was right. That time healed all wounds. That she would forget him.

She didn't want to forget him.

English was the only class that Bella paid any attention to anymore. All the others she would follow along, on auto-pilot, holding her hands across her chest like her ribcage could no longer contain the seeping visages of her heart. She maintained her grade point average, only because she had lost the ability to sleep for longer than two hours, consecutively. Bella had always been a reader. She used to read three books a week; long books, three-hundred or five-hundred page novels. Sometimes she would read a book so many times that the spine would crack and she would tape it back together. When she moved here, when she suddenly had the barest hint of a social life, even if it was vampires, all of her books she had painstakingly dragged to Forks sat unread, coated with dust.

Forks High had recruited a new English teacher – a Lucia Holston – after the last one suddenly won the Powerball and headed off to Finland. It had been a huge gossip a few months ago, as she had come in half-term, fresh from university. Bella hadn't formed many opinions. In fact, she was grateful that Ms. Holston felt the need to leave the classics behind this term. The idea of having to read Romeo and Juliet again made Bella physically ill.

However, it wasn't really the particular subject that kept Bella paying attention in English. There was something different about Ms. Holston. And it wasn't a supernatural different, either. She wasn't remarkably pretty or anything – pale skin, red hair, and hips that carried just a little too much – but there was something about her intensity, her enthusiasm for her subject that made Bella want to sit up and pay attention.

Today, however, was another matter. She was expected at Jacob's after school to start looking over the motorbikes. He had said he'd give them a glace over after she'd left a few days ago, but somehow she felt like his enthusiasm would be increased if she was there enforcing it.

She felt guilty, using his crush on her to her own advantage – especially when she wasn't paying him. Not that she hadn't tried. It was obvious that he was hoping something more out of this. Bella thought it was obvious that she had nothing more to give. But Jacob had pounced on that twinge in her gut – the desire of freedom.

As much as she hid inside of her pain, clung to it like a crutch, she was desperate to walk on both of her feet again.

"Okay, before we head out, I've got an exciting project going on. It's not mandatory – nor with it give you extra-credit. But I'd really appreciate it if you would participate." Ms. Holston looked straight on to the disgruntled looks of the Bella's full English class. "I have arranged a type of anonymous communication between Forks High and La Push High by forging a connection with their English teacher, Mr. Polcyn. We think it would be wonderful to unite a group of kids to see past cultural differences. It will be just like having a pen pal. You would receive a number instead of a name to represent the person you are paired with – it would be the same for them, they can only identify you with a number unless you volunteer your personal information. All the mailing would go through me – if you have a letter ready, you would seal it in an envelope, write the number of your partner on the cover where the mailing address would go and your number where the sender's address goes and I will make sure it gets to them." Ms. Holston shifted, leaning against the front of her desk. "I really think this would be a fantastic opportunity for some of you. Friends are hard to make for some – other times, it helps to talk about certain things to people who don't know you. It can be a very freeing experience and a great way for self-expression."

Bella had zoned out half way through her speech. Back in Phoenix, they came up with these projects all the time – talking about interracial communication and respect for other's culture. Some had been focused on the prevention of suicide and self-harm. All of them had failed spectacularly when they found out literally no high school student actually wanted to write down their deepest secrets to strangers. Especially if there wasn't complete assurance that it would remain anonymous. Bella had never participated in any of these projects in Phoenix and had no desire to participate now.

Some things had changed tremendously for her. Others had not.

"If you're interested, please stay behind class or catch me whenever. You guys probably remember my schedule better than I do." Ms. Holston laughed a soft, giggly sort of laugh and most of the class gave fleeting smiles. Bella's eyes focused on the clock.

The bell rang and Bella jumped up, shoving papers into her bag with a quick efficiency. When she turned around, there were a few people talking with Mrs. Holston, who was handing out forms of some sort. Bella brushed past them to the door.

"Bella?" Ms. Holston's voice stopped her. It had been forever since a teacher had actively tried to communicate with her.

Bella turned around, confused, holding her arms over her stomach.

"Would you stay behind for a minute?'

Bella nodded, pausing at the doorframe. The several students looked between the teacher and Bella with ample curiosity. Bella ignored them.

She had turned in her last English paper, hadn't she? It had been on some mainstream novel…about wizards or something. She could remember typing it. Even printing it.

The few students passed by her, silent. Bella felt their stares and her self-consciousness increased ten-fold. When they left, she stepped up to Ms. Holston's desk.

"Did I do something wrong?" Bella asked, her voice slightly rough from disuse. Her arms tightened around her abdomen.

Ms. Holston smiled. "No, of course not. You've turned in some impressive work, Bella. I think you could have a future in English."

"Thank you." Bella felt, for the first time in a long time, blood rush to her cheeks. She didn't smile.

Ms. Holston gave a small sigh. Bella shifted uncomfortably, her backpack digging into her shoulder.

"The thing is, Bella, you're a bright student. But you lack motivation. I think this project would be really good for you. I've spoken with Mr. Polcyn from La Push about some of their students and there are some that also have great potential in pursuing careers in writing. I would like to connect you with one of them, anonymously, of course. We would follow all the rules of our pen pal project, but I would make sure to pair you up with someone who has a high proficiency in English."

"I don't think…" Bella bit her lip. She greatly disliked the idea of having to write to a stranger. Write anything, really. The idea of even attempting to compose a letter to someone made her chest hurt. What would you talk about? If they don't know who you are, in a small town like this, you'd have to be very careful not to give too much information. Especially since everyone in this town knew Charlie, and therefore 'knew' her. Besides, she had always been an awful conversationalist.

"Please, Bella. If you decide that you'd like to stop sending letters, that's okay. But I'd really like you to try." Ms. Holston's eyebrows were pulled together. She looked so genuine. Suddenly, Bella thought she was going to cry. Everyone had given up on her. Well, mostly everyone. Jacob seemed to have hope. But Charlie started pretending she didn't exist. She knew, rationally, that she had started pretending he didn't exist first – that he had tried, really tried, to get her to be a person again. But she hadn't; she had fallen in too deep and there was no one throwing her a life-jacket anymore.

"I'm not… I'm not really good at talking to people." Bella shifted her weight, uncomfortable. She wanted this teacher to leave her alone, desperately. However, there was this smaller part that didn't. That wanted Ms. Holston to press it. That wanted Ms. Holston to make her participate.

"That's the thing, Bella." Ms. Holston grinned, all of her teeth flashing. "You won't have to talk to anyone. All you have to do is write."

Jacob's makeshift garage was comfortable. Probably the most comfortable place that Bella had been since the Cullens left. There was a ratty old couch shoved into the corner and that had officially become Bella's spot. Jacob camped out on the floor, body twisted in many interesting way as he dug around on the motorbikes, twisting and tweaking. He explained what he was doing a lot of the time, keeping up a steady chatter that made Bella relax. He never asked questions, but he had a way of leaving his sentences open ended that suggested Bella always had an opportunity to respond. If she wanted to.

It was nice. Really nice.

And Jacob never seemed to resent her company. She knew she wasn't the best person to hang around with, but Jacob never accused her of anything. Never forced her to participate. And somehow, that made her want to give him something. A little hope, maybe, that she was still alive, somewhere, around those sharp edges of the blackness that had become her chest. And Jacob made her feel a little better.

It had been almost two weeks since she had found the motorbikes. Jacob had worked diligently, but also slowly. Part of Bella wondered if he was drawing it out for a particular reason. Part of Bella wondered if the motorbikes were just that bad off. But it was Thursday today and that's the reason she had her notebook open, a pen in hand. When she had agreed to participate in the pen pal project between Forks High and La Push High, Ms. Holston had shoved the paperwork through, promoting the project with copious amounts of enthusiasm that made Bella feel slightly faint. Today, Ms. Holston had given her the identification number of the student that she would be writing to and said that she expected a letter from Bella to send on tomorrow – Friday.

The problem was, Bella had no idea what to say.

"Whatcha doing?" Jacob asked, looking up from where he was twisting something on the side of the black motorbike – the one he had claimed for himself.

Bella looked up, startled. It was very rarely that Jacob asked her direct questions, after all. She felt compelled to answer him.

"My English teacher is kind of making me do this pen pal thing between Fork High kids and La Push High kids. For like cultural experience or something. I'm trying to write my first letter, but I have no idea what to say." Bella shifted uncomfortably on the couch, clutching her pen in her hand like a weapon. She looked up at Jacob when he didn't immediately respond to her, only to see his mouth half-open.

It occurred to her that this was probably the most he had ever heard her say at one time. "Jacob?" She asked, timidly.

He popped up, giving Bella a huge smile, all teeth. "Oh, yeah, I heard about that. Embry's in AP English and he's doing it, I think." Jacob rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. "I didn't want to take the time to, really."

Oh.

Bella immediately felt guilty. Jacob hadn't done this pen pal thing because he was working on her motorbikes. For her.

"Oh, Jake, I'm sorry. I don't mean to take up your time." Bella was standing up now, fumbling with her papers, desperate to get them back into her book bag before the tears started falling.

"Wait, wait! Bella, I didn't mean that." Jacob was standing up now, a good few inches taller than her, all legs. He grasped her right shoulder, hands warm against her long sleeve t-shirt. Bella stopped, staring at his arm. He dropped his hand, embarrassed, but persisted. "Don't go."

Bella slowly folded herself back on the couch, her shoulder burning. She looked up into Jacob's dark brown eyes and gave him a small half-smile beneath the curtains of her hair.

Jacob had no idea that he had been the first one to touch her in a long time.

Hi,

I mean, I don't think that's probably a good way to start a letter that's supposed to improve my writing enthusiasm. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what I'm doing.

I'm not a very good conversationalist. I don't really… talk much.

They didn't really tell us what to talk about in these letters, so I'm not really sure what to talk about. That sounds really bad, doesn't it? It sounds like I'm the kind of person that always has to be told what to do.

I don't think I am that person. If I am, I don't want to be.

When I was a kid, I always took care of my mom. She's a single mother, y'know. She's so scatterbrained. She couldn't cook. By the time I was ten I was mailing out the bills for her. I don't mean this in a bad way, but I think I'm responsible. Sometimes, I hate the idea that I have to be responsible. Because I've been such a good girl my whole life, it feels impossible to do anything that's…slightly reckless.

I just want to find myself, y'know? I just want to get rid of this…this alien that's inside of my chest. But at the same time, I don't know what I am without it.

I didn't mean to rant like that.

Thanks, I guess

Bella was once again chewing on her lip. She was sitting in the cab of her truck, her green rain jacket tucked around her, the heat on high. She wanted to drive out to Jacob's house, but it was Friday and she had been there every day after school for the past week and she didn't want to crowd him. She didn't want him to get sick of her.

And he would probably have plans. Why would a teenage boy that's as handsome as Jacob not have plans? She thought of his shoulders, straining against his teen shirt as he tightened a bolt on the back of the red motorbike – her motorbike.

Jacob was so peaceful, so cheerful, and so easy to understand. Yet, he kept coming up with these odd tidbits of advice that made Bella rethink everything she had previously thought about him. After he had touched her shoulder, his hand so human against her t-shirt, she really wanted him to touch her again.

It wasn't a sexual thing, but this little piece of her that craved human contact. She had given up so many things to this monster in her chest. It felt like Jacob had given her something back. Her ability to be affectionate – her affection for him.

It had been two weeks and Bella knew that she was getting attached. They had searched for parts for the motorbikes – for the Rabbit that he was rebuilding from scratch. He was constantly teasing her, but it wasn't an uncomfortable ribbing. It was easy. It was light.

It made her feel like she was tainting him. Just a little. But it wasn't enough to make her want to stop seeing him.

Making her decision, she jerked her truck into gear and headed to La Push, the tiny scrapings of her heart that were fighting against the monster taking over her willing him to be home.

And he was. As soon as she turned the key off in her truck, he had poked his head out from the tree line that led to his make-shift garage and gave her a smile that filled her. It was warm and fuzzy, like the unrefrigerated coke that he handed her as she sat down in her spot.

"I didn't know if I would see you today." Jacob said, sitting on the floor cross legged in front of her, the red motorbike leaning against its stand angled to the side of him. He wasn't looking at it though. He was looking at her. "I thought you might have plans."

"I never have plans." Bella admitted, staring at her hands. His eyes were burning her. But it felt nice. It felt like a better version of the warm, carbonated drink curling across her insides.

"Well," Jacob said, easily. "We'll just have to change that."

"What?"

"Quil and Embry, my friends, they're stopping over today to look at the bikes. I didn't tell them you brought them, of course, but Embry's really good with bikes and he's been just annoying me to death to come see them." Jacob looked up from the part he was fiddling with in his hands. "If you don't mind, because I can send them away."

"No, I don't mind." But Bella did mind. Selfish Bella did anyway. She wanted his attention. She wanted his smiles. And she knew that if his friends came, he would forget about her. She would get left behind.

She was so tired of being forgotten. She was so tired of not being able to keep up.

Jacob gave her a searching look, like he knew what she was thinking. Bella ducked her head and started picking at the skin around her fingernails.

Jacob started up his steady stream of chatter and her responses were automatic, unlike the last few days where she had been able to give him something back.

It had only been a few minutes when there were obvious signs of someone or someones coming through the tree line. Jacob looked at her briefly, straight into her eyes, and something about his expression relaxed some of the trembling that had begun in her lower legs.

"Jake?" An unfamiliar voice called.

"In the garage."

Quil and Embry were not what Bella had expected. They marched into the garage, very much like they owned it and it was their special space too, not just Jacob and Bella's. She half-resented them. However, when they saw her and introduced themselves, she found it very hard to resist them. They reminded her too much of Jacob, in a warm fuzzy way. Like coke.

"I'm Quil." He purposely flexed his bicep as he shook her hand and she felt something pull at her throat. For a second, she almost felt like she would throw up on his feet. But then she realized that she had giggled. A small, little burst of hope had escaped her throat. Quil looked pleased.

Jacob watched her, his eyes warm and wonderful.

"Hi, um, I'm Embry." He ducked his head and after he shook her hand, he shoved in harshly into the pocket of his jeans. She liked him. She liked the soft blush that took over his russet colored skin. It reminded her of herself.

Before she was damaged.

"I'm – my name is Bella." She said, somehow wanting them to know who she was. She wanted them to remember her name. The same way she had wanted Jacob to remember her name. But in a different way. She didn't understand herself.

"We know." Quil chuckled. "Jake never shuts up about you."

Jacob reached over and cuffed his friend on the back of his head, looking slightly angry. But she saw the teasing beneath the set of his lips.

It made her feel nice that Jacob talked about her. Wanted his friends to know about her.

She smiled.

Jacob smiled back.

Quil and Embry settled in. Quil sprawled out on the couch next to Bella, all arms and legs. Embry found a place on the floor, crouched over the red motorbike.

"That one is mine." She found herself telling Embry. He looked up at her, all eyes and ears, and gave her this look that wasn't mockery or disgust, but friendly and open. Quil shifted on the couch, the smallest amount. Closer to her.

Jacob's eyes were lighter as he looked at her and he reached out a hand and patted her calf, his skin warm against the denim.

She felt, for the first time in a long time, like she belonged.

Hi,

I think "Hi" is an excellent way to start a letter. I'm not quite sure what I'm doing either. And I'm not a proficient conversationalist, believe me. My friends, well, they're really loud and most of the time I'm not really needed. At least my voice, I mean.

I think everyone wants to be told want to do, sometimes. Especially in situations where they are uncomfortable or don't have the experience to deal with it. It's not a bad thing to want advice. But I think it'd be better to know what you want and what you would do and why you want it and why you would do it before you ask for the advice.

That was a really long sentence.

My mom's a single mother, too. She sounds like the opposite of yours though. She's kind of a control freak. I wish a lot of times that she would just give me room to breathe. I know that she's just worried. She wants me to make better decisions than she did.

I never knew my father, but when I was a kid I always pretended that he was like a superhero or something. Stupid, I know. But a part of me still wants to believe it. It's better than the whole jackass who abandoned my pregnant mom story, anyways.

You're a girl, right? Well, I'm not very good a talking to girls. My friend, he's got this friend that's a girl and he's very attached to her. She just came out of a really bad break up though and I think he shouldn't push it, but he doesn't listen to me. What do you think?

I think these letters are for rants, actually. And if they aren't, let's make them. I am officially the person you can rant all your troubles too. I mean, if you want.

Bye, I guess