"Emily, look at me."
I sighed, turning down the corner of my page and looking up into the creased and weathered face of my Grandpa. He was frowning, holding his spoon to his mouth.
"Yes, Charlie?" I only used his full name to his face when he was irritating me. Which was considerably often. He had a knack for interrupting me when I was in the middle of something interesting.
"You gonna eat that?"
I glanced down at the bowl of cereal Charlie was brandishing his spoon at. I pointedly spooned up a mouthful, ate it quickly, then returned to my book. He chuckled.
"You are exactly like your mother."
I sighed. "Charlie, Oliver just got shot, and I really want to find out what happens."
"Well, don't ask me. And anyway, I was wrong. Your Mom went in more for Austen and Bronte. She never read Dickens, as far as I recall."
I gave up, shutting my book and putting in on the table. "I never was one for regency romance. Pride and Prejudice is the dullest book I ever read. Wuthering Heights is drivel."
"Bella would have murdered you for saying that."
I looked up into Charlie's face, and I knew from his absent expression he was thinking about my Mom again. Hardly a day went by when he didn't. I suppose he missed her, but it annoyed me a bit. I felt utterly inadequate whenever he compared me to her; I knew she was great, and all, but I never knew her personally. It was a conversation I couldn't contribute to, and I felt left out.
Trying to hide my feelings (which was quite easy; Charlie was always totally oblivious) I continued with my cereal. It was only a few seconds now, surely, before he would say-
"She was an excellent cook, your mom."
I groaned. I couldn't help it. "I know, Charlie!" he looked up at me, reproach etched on his face. I felt guilty, of course, I always did, but I wasn't in the mood for chastisement today. I swallowed the last of my breakfast, dumped the bowl in the sink, and picked up my bag from where it lay beside the kitchen table.
"Have fun," Charlie told me, as I shouldered the satchel, "be good."
"Well, if I can't be good, I'll be careful," I replied, stooping so he could kiss me on the cheek.
"Drive safe. And this is your last first day, so enjoy it."
"Yeah," I said, thinking this over. Last year of high school. Last first day. I sighed, as I walked through the kitchen, grabbing my keys from where they hung on the back of the door, and stepping out into the rain. The only difference this year, would be that the teachers would be using finals as an excuse to keep our noses so close to the grindstone they would be completely eroded by the end of the first week.
My Volvo beeped as I pressed down the open button on the key. It was an old car, and always cold inside, but I loved it. And it drove brilliantly still, and had an excellent gas mileage.
It was already busy at school, the studious population of Forks intent on not being late for the first day. I rolled my eyes as the traffic inched along, and turned up the radio to block out the cacophony of horns blaring outside.
A loud horn behind me made me jump. I scowled in irritation; wasn't it obvious I was in the same predicament as everyone else? Why would they beep me?
I stuck my head out of the window, and glared at the faded red convertible behind me. A pale couple looked back at me, a blonde, unsettlingly beautiful girl, and a thickset, dark, curly haired boy. They were looking at me in blatant surprise.
"Are you trying to blow out my ears?" I yelled at them, and returned to the windscreen. Stupid, convertible owners, thinking they ruled the road because they had a retractable roof over their heads. Who needed a convertible in Forks, anyway? If you took the roof down, you'd just get wet.
The traffic moved on.
It took me ten minutes to get parked. I could have walked faster. I twisted the key in the ignition, and opened my door.
The red convertible slid over and parked neatly next to my car, almost skinning me in the process. I opened my mouth in indignation. Slamming the door behind me, I flounced off, as the engine beside me stopped whirring.
I sensed eyes on my back as I walked away, and couldn't help turning- there was the two I had already seen, joined now by three people I assumed must have been in the back seat- a tall blonde boy, a short, black haired girl, and bronze haired boy. I could see even from here that they were all just as freakily attractive. I shivered. They creeped me out.
First lesson was Calculus; I stepped out towards building five, the rain not even registering in my brain; the only time the weather attracted any attention from me was when it wasn't wet, and even then I couldn't pay attention for long, because I probably would have fainted in shock. The rain in Forks was constant. Perpetual precipitation.
I hung my coat up inside the classroom, and walked over to a seat at the back. I didn't need to sit any closer. Maths came easily to me. Well, most things came easily. Okay, everything. I couldn't help it; I was just smart.
The class room already had a few pupils in; Max and Jane, arguing in the seats by the window – I was surprised that relationship had lasted all summer – and then Paul and Jasmine in front of me, cuddling in a sickening way. And a couple seats along from them, Karen was gazing at their soppy display in an obviously jealous way. I rolled my eyes, and took out my books.
The classroom slowly filled up, with chattering people walking over to their seats. No-one sat next to me; it wasn't like I was some sort of freak, it was just that they all had their little gangs and I didn't really belong to them. I didn't mind being left alone; I usually found idle chatter irritating. I didn't really fit in; like I was a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that didn't seem to fit in anywhere.
I took out a shorthand pad and started doodling on it, letting my mind go blank. I hummed quietly. Preparing myself for an hour of tedium; everyone would, of course, have forgotten everything over the summer and we'd have to go over the entire work of last year again.
"Excuse me, may I sit here?"
I jumped at the velvety voice, and looked up into the breathtaking face of the bronze haired boy from the convertible. His face was so amazingly perfect, it made me gasp a little.
And he gasped too, stumbling backwards and looking utterly shocked. He didn't take his eyes off mine; it was scary, like he was trying to bore a hole in my head.
"Erm, sure, go ahead," I said, gesturing at the chair. He didn't take his eyes off me as he sat.
I wondered whether or not he was scared I was about to morph into a huge monster, and was monitoring me closely; or if he was simply deranged. I turned to glare at him, and found that his expression had changed into one of amusement. I frowned.
Mr Gardner entered the room at that moment, so I had an excuse to ignore him, even though I could feel his eyes still on me.
"Okay, Class, I know it's the first lesson back, but shut up and buckle down! Get out your books, and I'll do role call- Paul, that is not necessary in any public place, especially my classroom."
I pulled my book forward, having already got it out. I wished Mr Gardner hadn't stopped Paul and Jasmine; their disgusting antics relieved the tedium of the class.
Next to me, the boy snorted. I turned to stare at him.
"What?" He was still looking at me; it was unnerving. "I'm sorry, is there something wrong with my face?"
He stared at me harder for a second, then said, softly, "No."
"Well, kindly look at something else."
He didn't stop staring. I rolled my eyes, and turned to the front. Mr Gardner was just taking out the list. I drummed my fingers on the table.
"Oookay..." he said, pulling his glasses out of his pocket and perching them on his nose. "Karen Adams."
Karen called out an indistinct 'yeah', while still staring at Paul and Jasmine, who were looking as if they were trying to eat each others faces.
The boy next to me chuckled. I pursed my lips.
"Something funny?" I hissed.
"Edward Cullen!" called Mr Gardner.
"Yes," the boy replied. Edward Cullen. It sounded like a name that suited him; snooty and irritating. And there was that annoying little chuckle, like he was enjoying some stupid private joke. What was there in calculus that could possibly be so amusing? And there he went again! I swore to myself, one more time and I would punch his lights out-
"Emily Swan?"
"Yes," I called.
There was a sharp intake of breath next to me.
Oh. My. God. Why was it that every little noise from him made me want to wring his neck?
"What?" I demanded, turning once again to look at him. He had a face like you wouldn't believe; like someone had shoved a bargepole down his throat. I ground my teeth, and looked away.
But he didn't. For the whole of calculus.